School Visit: Madantoosi School

Summary: By far the most frustrating visit I have had to date, the visit to Madantoosi exposed some of the key issues DSH is working to solve, including teacher attendance and teaching methods. Additionally, the test we deployed to evaluate student’s comprehension post-DSH shed light on the fact that we’re operating within the confines of a system that rewards rote memorization rather than critical thinking, though we’re (very) slowly making headway in changing the system.

Madantoosi (~1.5 hours by car from the office) is the only government school in our current local network, though it’s effectively another one of Urvashi’s pawns. The school has adopted DSH from the beginning, going on its fourth year. It has two sets of equipment; one for the lower school, and the other for upper school. However, this was a sobering visit for me, and it raised a number of critical issues.

DSH Testing Methods: Our goal for this visit was to evaluate the students on how much they learned from the DVDs, and we did this by deploying tests developed by the model teachers. We tested grades 5-8 on English and science. Looking at the English test, I noticed that some of the questions were unfair and didn’t seem to test understanding / comprehension at all. Below are two examples, the issues they raised, and the resulting discussion with Tanuja:

Sample Question: “What year was Florence Nightingale born?” To me, this seems to test memorization of dates rather than English. This, however, assumes that students have a basic understanding of English. What if we ‘grade’ the paper based on whether or not they can construct a sentence that appropriately answers this question, rather than whether they get the date right? Perhaps then that becomes an English test.

Instruction: “Rearrange the words below to create a sentence.” Why are we asking students to memorize a sentence and recite it at will? (I still disagree with this type of question, and will try to change it in future testing.) This raised the bigger question about the current goals of DSH. Are we conforming to the existing institution, which tests students on memorization rather than critical thinking? If success is defined by the students’ performance on the board examinations, then we have to conform to the system. To succeed in this system (i.e., get into IIT), students must memorize and recite. Until the system changes, we’re trying our best to work within the confines, increasing the students’ knowledge base and understanding of material beyond the subpar, minimalistic state curriculum. Furthermore, DSH is changing the common perception of teaching as a pedantic endeavor by using teachers that encourage class participation and two-way interaction. I’ve also noted that for the most part, students are encouraged not to take notes in sessions conducted with DSH, as note taking encourages memorization over true comprehension.

Teacher attendance: Five teachers for 8 classes, and this is with full teacher attendance (one is on maternity leave, with no substitute coming anytime soon). Additionally, the following experience made (and continues to make) me want to pull my hair out. Rahul was giving me a tour of the school, and we ended up at the second and third grade classrooms. I asked, “Where is the teacher?” He looks behind us and, motioning toward the teacher who had been tagging along and chatting with us, says, “He is.” “Why is he not teaching?” Rahul shrugs and simply says, “Because we’re here.” This whole time, I thought he taught one of the classes currently taking our test. According to Rahul, he’s actually one of the better teachers who interacts well with his students. Why he would not teach his two classes (he is responsible for both 2nd and 3rd grade) because we’re there is beyond me. Somehow, that makes sense to folks around here.

Teaching methods: That we were deploying tests to classes that regularly use DSH meant I had the opportunity to observe a regular class in operation. The only class with a teacher (see above) was 1st grade, and I tried to make myself invisible (ha!) in the back of the classroom. This is what I saw: each student bringing a notebook to the teacher, who stood by the door writing letters of the Hindi alphabet for students to copy. On the chalkboard was text written in Hindi that the students had memorized. A designated leader carried a stick and called on students to come up and recite the text, with the rest of the class repeating (to a certain extent). This student teacher was on a power trip like I had never seen before; I saw her hit other students on the head for not listening to her. In the 30+ minutes I was there, I didn’t for even one minute see the teacher “teach,” as I understand the word to mean.

Not seeing the class going anywhere, I started engaging Assa, the quiet girl I was sitting next to. Other students noticed and brought their books to show me (as if I were their teacher). Nadeem proudly “read” the Hindi alphabet to me. Other children demonstrated their English ability by reciting the alphabet. Yet when I pointed to a random letter, few could read it. A few ingenious students started at the top of the page they had memorized, “J, K, L, M…M!” Others giggled in shame. So, they know their ABC’s by heart, but they can’t read. (Reminds me of what I’m doing with Hindi.)

It’s very easy to get disheartened by experiences like this. On the other hand, it gives more reason to push harder and be invigorated by the work we are doing, because if we can execute effectively and expand our operations, we can, in the long run, make a difference. Maybe not in these children’s lives, but in future generations. Education doesn’t have to, and shouldn’t, be like this. Children deserve so much more; we should not, and cannot, accept status quo.

School Visit: Kannar

Summary: The high quality of teaching at Kannar reinforces the role of DSH as a supporting actor. While most teachers can benefit from the DVDs, there is variation as to how the DVDs can be used (e.g., for experiments and demonstrations the teacher might not be able to perform live). Additionally, the decreased attendance at its afternoon tutoring program may provide DSH the opportunity to expand into a neighboring school.

Vidyasthali School, located in Kannar (~1 hour from the office by car), was founded by Urvashi and houses two sets of DSH equipment. Kannar currently uses DSH in two capacities: during the formal school and in an informal afternoon tutoring program open to the public.

We observed three classes at Kannar, and the quality of teaching was impressive. One teacher (science) only used the DVD for its demonstrations and for its resources (e.g., to show the class a picture of the human skeletal system). On her own, she was very effective and engaging, and related the material to the students. We need to recognize that in such situations, the teacher should not be forced to use and/or rely on the DVD, but rather to use it only as needed. One alternative, should we ever reach a point where a substantial number of teachers need DSH support only for demonstrations and pictures / resources, we can create a new set with only such material. As it stands, few teachers are of this caliber and the costs far outweigh the benefits of convenience for the teachers.

The afternoon program at Kannar is unique: two 11th grade students teach / tutor younger students; one teaches math, the other English. This program has suffered attendance problems as of late for several reasons: (1) the nearby feeder private school for this program decided to forbid its students from attending, (2) the students that joined the school mid-year had successfully caught up to the rest of the class, and (3) parents couldn’t mandate and enforce their children’s attendance. The second reason is actually a good outcome; as for the first, this provides DSH opportunity to approach (and embrace) the competing private school and offer its services. This may be a blessing in disguise after all.

It is, however, certainly ironic that a school whose aim is to educate children would forbid its students from supplementing their education (outside regular school hours, at that). How did they lose sight of this central mission of their operations?

School Visit: Springdale School

Summary: Springdale teaches kids through 4th grade, with the goal of feeding them into the formal school system at that point. It’s also where I first experienced first-hand teacher absenteeism and its implications for the students. DSH can be a powerful tool in these situations, if only we could get the substitute / a student to play the DVD.

Operating out of rooms donated by a school in Lucknow, Springdale exists as an afternoon program for nearby kids who otherwise do not attend school. The school runs from nursery through 4th grade, with the goal of getting kids up to par and feeding them into formal, local schools. Teachers are university students who work on a volunteer basis, and often do not show up when exam period approaches.

On this particular visit, the 2nd / 3rd grade teacher was absent, and the nursery school teacher was forced to take her place. She was planning on simply doing dictation, as she wasn’t comfortable teaching them actual content, but we insisted that she actually teach. (After all, why can you not teach, particularly when you have a DVD to use with the lesson already in place?) She ended up teaching the alphabet, as that was within her comfort zone. These kids had already done the alphabet, and they were all capable of reciting their ABC’s. I questioned their comprehension, however, when the principal sat in and probed the students. (Which is the letter “M”? What does “M” stand for?) Few of the students were able to identify letters without reciting the entire alphabet, and even fewer could rattle of sample words off the cuff.

I just don’t understand how you can operate a school where teachers can simply not show up. Then again, I think teacher absenteeism is a pretty substantial problem throughout government schools; I just haven’t seen it because DSH currently doesn’t really operate in government schools. Even in those cases, however, DSH can be a powerful tool, because the DVD can run not only a pretty good class, but it can also facilitate peer-to-peer teaching. It’s just a matter of getting schools to adopt it and simply play the DVD when a teacher doesn’t show up.

School Visit: Maivaya School

Summary: DSH runs and operates is latest addition, Mavaiya. While benefits of running and operating a school can be numerous (e.g., increased usage and effectiveness of DSH at the school), I currently believe that the costs are far higher and do not think that this is the appropriate long-term direction for DSH.

Maivaya, the newest addition to DSH, is the in-house name for a school founded for slum children in the Mavaiya neighborhood in Lucknow. SEWA had shut down its operations in the area, and DSH decided to rent a few rooms to start and operate our own school.

There were approximately 20 students of varying ages in second grade, learning the Hindi alphabet and the multiplication table. These kids attend school from 10-1 pm, after which they help their families as much as possible. Some of these children were mature beyond their years (e.g., a 6 year old taking care of younger siblings as a mother would). When we left the school, I saw one older but very bright girl, Sangita, on the street helping her mother do laundry. It was good to see, however, that the conditions these kids were in didn’t crush their spirits, as they were as fun as any I’ve interacted with.

Maivaya is a way for DSH to test its ability to grow through establishing brick-and-mortar schools. An additional benefit of DSH starting brick-and-mortar schools is that DSH is likely more readily adopted and incorporated into the school’s functioning if it’s there from the beginning. Also, because DSH has full control over Maivaiya, the school will be an important testing ground for programs or features we may want to launch in the future.

At the moment, I’m far from being convinced that DSH should grow through establishing schools, as that would pull us away from our core competence of content development and exponentially increase our operational costs.

Weekend: Bara Imambara

Summary: Exploring Bara Imambara with some coworkers-turned-friends over the weekend heightened my experience as a foreigner and a tourist. I’m looking forward to improving my Hindi so I can pass as a local more easily.

After a full week of work, we took advantage of our free day on Sunday by touring the Bara Imambara, one of the only tourist attractions in Lucknow. It used to be a palace / fort, and contains in it a sort of maze or labyrinth. Anna and I originally planned to visit after Elizabeth and/or some other friends arrived (Anna has already been there countless times), but we had a visitor in the office (Matt York) and wanted to show him around Lucknow. (Matt was trying to test and set up a solar panel / projector / hard drive as an alternative to our current generator / TV / DVD setup.)

That’s how Matt, Anna, Sumeet, Anand, and I ended up at the Bara Imambara. The place itself had some impressive architecture (e.g., arches that reminded me of Stanford), though some looked dangerously close to disrepair. But the architecture was only half the experience.

I’m somewhat used to being stared at around here (my eyes are inadvertently glued to the ground to in order to avert the stares), but this was a whole other experience. We were the subject of many pictures; some of the best were from folks who pretended to take pictures of the scenery but whose camera followed us as we walked past. When Anna and/or I stopped to admire something, we were often approached by people who wanted to talk to us (us being these weird creatures from a foreign land). At one point, Anna’s posse spanned five different arches.

While I want to see and explore the city, I think in many ways I’d like to experience it as a local and not as a foreigner. As much as I want to wait for my Hindi to improve to achieve this, I also believe doing some exploration itself may be a means of getting to that point faster. (In my interactions with kids at schools, I’ve had them teach me Hindi. The best was the second graders who were learning the Hindi alphabet; I couldn’t keep up.)

The Impenetrable Castle: Part “Do”

As a follow up to the last entry, I’ve now been both locked out and locked in. Waking up to go for a run this morning, I found myself ready to go at 7:30 with nowhere to go. See, when you lock doors here, they tend to only be accessible from the side from which it was locked (think: deadbolt). For example, if Anna is in the apartment, there’s no way for me to lock the door while still providing her the freedom to leave freely.

Which is why I’m now sitting here writing this.

My Faux Pas: The Impenetrable Castle

Summary: Coming back from watching a movie with some colleagues at 11 pm, I found myself locked out with both the gate and front door deadbolted from the inside, with the only known keys in the landlord’s possession. Needless to say, it was embarrassing.

I’m sure this is the first of many culturally insensitive mistakes I will make.* By way of background, I’m currently staying with Anna on the third floor of a house, and the owner / landlord, Sadna, lives below us. Sadna is a very nice, respectable, motherly figure who has been nothing but kind to us. That is the Indian way.

It is also the Indian way (around Gomti Nagar, at least), for people to take security very seriously. There are usually gates with security guards, as well as at least five different potentially locked doors you need to get through until you can walk into your house. (This may lead many to think that India is in fact not a safe place, when Gomti Nagar is in fact as safe as it gets. I haven’t figured out exactly where the paranoia stems from.) Apparently, these doors get padlocked (from the inside) by 11 pm (maybe earlier). I discovered this the hard way.

Tonight, I went with a few coworkers and another visitor from the U.S. to see Delhi 6, a new Bollywood film (great movie, by the way). We saw the 7:35 pm show, but stayed for coffee afterward and I didn’t get back home until 11 pm. Anna stayed in for the night, so I figured I could just ring our bell and she could let me in. After about 5 minutes, Anna pops out from the second floor balcony and says that the entire house is locked down, and she can’t get out. Both the front gate and the front door are padlocked, and only the owner has the key. I therefore have no choice but to ring their doorbell and hold my head in shame while she let me in.

This may mean I now have a curfew, but when?

Update: Upon further thought, this was not the first culturally insensitive faux pas I’ve made. At SEWA, I greeted everyone I saw with “namaste” and raised my hands as if praying, only finding out at the end of our visit that “namaste” is a greeting used mainly by Hindus, and that Muslims instead use “adab” with one hand raised to the face as if about to eat.

School Visit: SEWA (Self Employed Women’s Association) School

Summary: Situated in Lucknow, SEWA benefits tremendously from having a dedicated leader and enthusiastic students. In schools lacking a strong principal that holds teachers accountable, how do you reach beyond apathy to create a culture of care?

SEWA is a school for children whose mothers work for SEWA by doing chikan embroidery. Aside from Study Hall school (founded by Urvashi), SEWA is the best-resourced DSH school I’ve seen yet. (I say this simply because it’s in an enclosed building.) Students have benches that serve as chairs and desks, and classrooms are interconnected (i.e., rooms are separated by a wall but have no door, only a doorway on either side).

Its student population is mostly Muslim, and boy are these kids charming! I took some time out toward the end of our visit to interact with the students, and it turned into a performance where they showcased a very talented dancer, in exchange for which I had to sing a song. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star it is. End of story.
But that’s just the beginning of the DSH story. DSH has been at SEWA for 2-3 years now, and the teachers are some of the most dedicated teachers DSH has worked with. Before there was a room to safely keep the equipment, the equipment was housed in the office building next door, and teachers would walk to the office, watch these lessons and take notes before teaching their class. A big reason is because the principal of the school holds the teachers accountable and creates a “culture of care,” as Urvashi calls it.

A culture of apathy amongst teachers may be one of the biggest challenges DSH faces. How can you create similar “cultures of care” elsewhere, or rather, how can you expand your existing “culture of care” to influence the behavior of others? (For example, Teach for America has decided to tackle this by essentially making the “culture of care” a selection criteria for their candidate teachers.) When you don’t have the luxury to pick and choose the best and the brightest, what other tools can you use to break through the long-standing culture of apathy?

School Visit: Mauthri School

Summary: Located in a small village, Mauthri is an informal school run by an amazing woman. In addition to embroidering (for pay), the girls get minimal education through DSH. A major issue that arose is that most of the girls get married and leave the village within the year, prematurely ending their education.

Incredible women can be found everywhere, even in a small village outside of Lucknow. Kanta runs a nonprofit that teaches young women (ages ~14-16) the local Lucknow embroidery (chikan). Girls get paid for their four hours of work everyday, and Kanta has also adopted DSH to incorporate teaching into their time. (Kanta also independently runs an evening DSH / education program for the other village children.)

20 girls (+ DSH equipment + a small chair / table) sit on the floor in a very small room about the size of a soccer goal (if that) to learn math, English, and/or science every day. They have no books, no writing materials; they just have DVDs, a great attitude, and an amazing, caring teacher.


What’s particularly sad is that most of the girls will be married off within the year, after which they will be mainly confined to their homes and limited to the wishes of her husband. (Of the ~20 girls from last year, only 4 remain and are repeating last year’s lessons because the majority of the ‘class’ are new.) A small subset of children who are wed particularly young (around 9-10) will stay with their families until they’re old enough to leave the village.

This particular situation is particularly frustrating because it means that they only get a year’s worth of education before they leave. How can you keep these young women to continue their education, whether with Kanta or elsewhere? How can you fight the institution of marriage and the existing culture?

And, the more disturbing question: What is the value and importance of education when these folks never leave (or aspire to leave) the village, and learning things like reading and writing are secondary to understanding of farming crops and techniques?

Running Around Lucknow

Summary: Went for a run yesterday and found the experience of running around Vishal Khand / Gomti Nagar / Lucknow a frustrating experience, as I was trapped by cars and people.

In the past year, I’ve come to see running as a good way of exploring an area and becoming familiar with it. It’s difficult (though not impossible) to get lost when running, as long as you maintain a general sense of where you came from. I saw running in Lucknow as a win-win: I’d get some exercise, and I’d get to learn about the area.

On my run yesterday, I found myself in something akin to a rat maze, confined to an area about 6 blocks by 6 blocks, bordered by schools (kids were just arriving by bus) and major roads. In this small area, I twisted an turned, ran back and forth along the small streets, and around any “park” I saw. After about 10 minutes of flustering running, I settled for a small ‘track’ (i.e.,an overgrown walkway) in a ‘park’ (a closed-off area / meadow of dead plants). With some crude measurements (a phone and familiarity with my own pace), I found this track to be about 1/5 of a mile long, and ended up running around and around for the next 20+ minutes.

Running in Gomti Nagar (Vishal Khand, specifically) is similar to what I would imagine trail running to be like. Broken roads, potholes, piles of sand, and mud. It’s also a little like being in a race; random folks will gawk and stare. Running for exercise is almost unheard of around here (few areas are traffic-free), and on top of that, a foreigner!

What can I say, I like to make my presence known?

Pictures

Pictures are and will continue to be loaded to Picasa at http://picasaweb.google.com/lavidalucknow. The link is also always available on the right hand side, “Pictures on Picasa.”

Battle of the Languages

Summary: My (in)ability to learn Hindi is being stymied by my past attempts to learn commonly used words.

I’m “desperately” trying to learn Hindi, but I’m finding that the hodgepodge of languages I’ve attempted to learn in my past are haunting me. (German, Spanish, and Tamil are repeat offenders.) When trying to say “dhanyavaad,” I have to stop myself from saying “dankenshen.” “Dos” instead of “do” (two). “Vanakkam” before “Hello.”

I have the vocabulary of a child, age 5 days.

School Visit: Educational Academy

Summary: My first site visit was to the Educational Academy, a small LKG-8 school located in the outskirts of Lucknow. This visit has further convinced me of the value of DSH to teachers and schools.

Yesterday, I followed Tanuja on a school visit to the Educational Academy in Kannar (the outskirts of Lucknow). This school, founded by Pratyush, houses village students in grades LKG-8 and is a relatively new DSH site. Classrooms are open-air (they have 3 walls and all open to the central ‘quad’), and two grades sit together in a single ‘room.’ Yet this is still better than many other schools; students had benches / desks and teachers show up. (Low bar, I know.)

It was great seeing DSH in action; we observed three different teachers use the equipment. (I would’ve loved to see a non-DSH class for comparison.) DSH does not want to replace the in-person teacher, but rather to mediate in the lesson and lead / demonstrate with effective teaching methods. Teachers are encouraged to teach according to the students’ pace, and should pause the recording frequently to test comprehension and interject with their own follow-up questions or examples.

To me, the value proposition of DSH is quite clear (intuitively). The question remains: Why would teachers / principals / schools not want to adopt it?

The Usual Suspects

Summary: The DSH folks I’ve met have all been very impressive and incredible. Included on the roster are a former CS professor, a well-respected educator, a former teacher, an IIT graduate, an international citizen, and a hospital ER technician.

It’s hard to believe I’ve been in Lucknow less than a week, of which I’ve spent a good chunk talking to folks in and affiliated with DSH. These conversations have typically revolved around one of three things: (1) who they are and what they do, (2) culture of and life in India / Lucknow, and (3) their thoughts on DSH’s operations.

The folks at DSH are absolutely incredible and amazing. Given that I’ll likely refer to them frequently in my writing, let me take a moment to introduce you:

Randolph (Randy): I met Randy, the brainiac behind DSH, at a tech conference in Santa Clara, and he’s served as my main point of contact to DSH. An ex-CS professor at Princeton, he’s a typical nocturnal CS nerd. He’s a straight (and sharp) shooter and probably the first Chinese inhabitant in Lucknow. Interestingly, he dislikes most things Indian (particularly the food, which may partially explain his lankiness). Remember to ask him about his family (which consists of rats he’s caught at the office).

Urvashi: The co-founder of DSH, Urvashi has the spirit of a warrior and is easily one of the most amazing women I’ve met. Her list of accomplishments include: (1) attaining a PhD in education from UC Berkeley, (2) co-founding and running DSH, (3) founding Study Hall, one of the top prep schools in Lucknow, (4) founding and running a foundation, (5) founding Prerna, an afternoon program for slum children / girls, (6) founding Diddi’s, a women’s self-help organization for mothers of the Prerna girls. Not only is Urvashi is still very involved in all of her operations, but she also manages to find time to visit friends and family around India and in the US.

Anna: As my guide and hostess, Anna is responsible for helping me maintain sanity this first week in Lucknow. She has one of the most interesting and international backgrounds of anyone I know: born in Tonga, and raised in Africa, India, the U.S., Korea, Thailand, and Kazekstan. I am blown away by her ability to speak Hindi and Indian-English. She leads and runs the Digital Polyclinic operations. (DPC is a DSH subproject focusing on health education for women.)

Tanuja: The first employee of DSH, Tanuja is responsible for monitoring and evaluating the school sites, as well as general office management. Before DSH, she worked with a newspaper and before that, taught computer classes. With family roots in Pakistan, she breaks most conventional stereotypes I know.

Pratyush: The all-purpose guru and go-to guy, Pratyush not only manages the technology of DSH, but also our personal affairs (e.g., helping me find an apartment). He owns one of the spoke schools DSH operates in (Educational Academy, run by his brother Praveen), and also has a computer company “on the side.” I’m starting to think that there are more hours in a day in India than there are in the US.

Priyanka: Former teacher at Study Hall, Priyanka is responsible for content development. DSH content includes not only the curriculum videos, but also digital stories and plays.

Roshan: A former hospital ER technician, Roshan was snagged by Anna and works on DPC. Haven’t talked to him much, but he seems very sweet.

Sumeet: IIT grad, he codes all night and sleeps all day in a room next to the office. He’s leading the voice monitoring system project, which aims to automate the monitoring process. He and Randy seem like two peas from the same pod.

Rahul: Works with Tanuja on monitoring the schools; I only met him briefly.

How does such a young startup in “cow town,” India attract such amazing people? This is just one example of the incredible power of a great idea and tremendous potential for large-scale impact.

Lost in Lucknow

Summary: I've arrived in Lucknow and have nothing much to report. Spent a day at the DSH office and am trying to look for an apartment. I've also come to the very important conclusion that I need to learn Hindi.

Namaste. After a relatively painless 30 hours in transit, I arrived in India only to remember how a difficult place India can be for foreigners. Even the simple task of transferring from the international to domestic terminal at the airport in Delhi was a worrisome experience. Only if you spot a small sign diverting you from the exit after passing through customs and only if you have 30 minutes to spare will you be able to use the shuttle to get from one terminal to the other without much stress.

Being in Lucknow, I realize how futile it will be to try to navigate the city without learning even a little bit of Hindi. In my first day, I've mastered perhaps two words: "namaste" (hello) and "dhanyavad" (thank you). I'm lucky to have a great guide with me (Anna), a colleague / friend from DSH who is in the second phase of her DSH experience.

I spent most of yesterday in and around the StudyHall School and DSH office, as well as running errands and looking at an apartment / room that might not work out. We're trying to find me a place in Gomti Nagar, near StudyHall School and the DSH office. Finding an apartment in Lucknow is a whole other experience that relies solely on word of mouth. And I don't even want to think about how the furniture-buying process might go, as most places here are unfurnished.

I'm sure it's only a matter of time before I actually do get lost, even though I already feel quite lost. Hopefully that will happen after I master a functional level of Hindi, though Murphy's Law dictates otherwise.

The Indian Visa Process: Then and Now

Summary: A more organized, outsourced visa process may reflect changes in India. The differences noted, however, may be little more than a façade, and India’s infamous bureaucracy may still be just underneath the surface.

Having experienced the visa process in 2007 and again in 2009, I've noticed some stark differences that makes me speculate how India has changed. First of all, the entire process has ironically been outsourced to a third-party vendor. The paperwork is standardized and the process accelerated through an online application, and the wait time is significantly diminished through use of a reservation.

Two years ago, my fellow Dosti volunteers and I arrived at the Indian consulate in SF to be greeted by what seemed to be a chaotic crowd. The small space was packed, and order didn't seem to be particularly enforced. This year, the visa office was large and spatious, and I walked in greeted by order and a clear line (and process) - sign in, pay, submit paperwork. Perhaps this implies a more efficient and less bureaucratic India? (The major downfall of this outsourcing business is that it appears the SF office serves all of CA and other parts of the West coast, making it significantly less convenient for most folks. Perhaps this is the price to pay for increased efficiency for some?)

Returning to pick up the visa, however, showed that the cleaner and more efficient user interface may simply be a facade, and that the real India may be lurking just underneath the surface. A pickup process stated to run from 5:30-6 pm didn't start until 5:50 pm, and there were no instructions given as to how pickup would run (e.g., wait in line vs. called by name). As a result, folks stood around not bothering to get in line until a maverick took the initiative; only then did the rest of the crowd race into formation. Perhaps this is how India works - there are rules, but often creating your own is more effective as few will bother telling you how things run. [As an update, I did experience this in Delhi as I was trying to transfer to the domestic terminal.]

As a fun sidenote, I applied for the 5-year visa (only special people can get the 10-year). Upon pickup, I noticed that my visa was slated to expire in 2019 and asked the folks at the counter if this would pose a problem when I enter. The response? "You're lucky! Consider it you just got 5 years free!"

Perhaps I am returning to a new and different India. Or perhaps the noted differences will only be superficial, and India actually remains unchanged.