Some of us are saved from the fate of low self-esteem thanks to our parents or the media. But with both feeding us messages that are inclined to make us hate ourselves if we don’t conform, what hope is there for little ones?

But then I think I became a little numb to it when I saw the mother of an 8 year old asking the woman in the salon if the baby’s legs could be waxed.

Call me traditional, but I felt like slapping the father of the 3ish year old the other day on the bus. Kid says ‘fuck’, and father grins. Brilliant. It’s probably tough being a parent, and I’d probably screw up as much as the next one, but some parents just make me feel violent.

Among other things mentoring, media, husbands, people, weather, pompous organisations and food were discussed. And would you believe it – we discovered we had people in common. The kinds that are not in media. People I know from India in another lifetime. We had a lovely (yes, that’s how the Brits say it.) time. I think I was full as a helium balloon by the end of it. We strolled into the park and spotted this sign. I couldn’t resist a photograph. I googled a bit for it and apparently Cabbages and Frocks is a bit not my style. However, this almost Lewis Carroll sounding name is just too beautiful to be ignored, no?

Blogging doesn’t always increase your circle of influence. But it definitely makes a difference to the number of people you know, and the kinds of people you know. For instance at the GV dinner we had Rachel (of Frizzy of Frizzy hair fame), Eduardo, Lisa, Rebecca, Kamla, Salam Adil and his wife (whose amazing stories of shared wi-fi connections had us in splits) and Mary Joyce. Gushing over Kerala cuisine and the pink walls of the restaurant – it was hard to tell that we were literally from all over the world. Between us we had almost every continent/ region and ahem.. age range covered. I was thrilled to meet Kamla after months of google talking with her. Mary and I found a lot in common and we couldn’t stop talking. I think our bonding reached a critical point as we made it through some very strange streets in SoHo. Lisa “Dah-ling” and I went immediately into gossip, anguish and linking mode. From the second we met outside Marble Arch station, there wasn’t a minute that went by quiet.

At the conference – I met my share of the movers and shakers of the online world. Far more than I usually meet. I think the interesting bit is that many of them were deceptively modest. Like Scott Rafer who was all quiet on a white cube and said – well, I am sort of involved with Winksite, MyBlogLog and Feedster. Sort of? Yeah right! Well the problem of hanging around with modest people is that after a while you end up sinking into a little hole. Heh! Other interesting people included Michael Tippett and Graham Holliday. Michael and Graham were going goo-goo over their respective two and a half year old babies while I met Matthias – a German blogger. There was more German to come as Graham and I were interviewed by a German journalist. Lucy Hooberman and I shared many a wink and laugh during the entire conference. There was David Gyimah who managed to catch Andrew Lih and me on video while we discussed Hindi-Chini Bhai Bhai (Indian-Chinese are brothers. Eh!), history textbooks, media and the world beyond Shanghai, Hong Kong and Beijing. Amanda Leskin was an interesting find. She was in Nepal even as it was going through the “April Revolution”. She told me about her experiences in Nepal, and how tourists were spared the rod of the curfew. Fascinating side (and fringe) conversations with Mark Glaser, Suw Charman and Kevin Anderson. While rubbing shoulders at the event with some very big names from Mainstream Media was interesting, the conversations that were held outside of the Conference Hall were some of the most insightful.

(Note – I am from Delhi and in all obviousness, name dropping comes very naturally to me. However, this is more an exercise in linking and remembering conversations and people. Because the biggest take-away from this conference has been talking to people. the likes of which I would have probably never met if I didn’t blog. Afterall this blog is an archive of my own life as it appears – and even if business cards get lost, URLs shouldn’t be!)

Rachel blogs at Frizzy Logic. So today lunch was had with her and Maizy. Among other things we discussed the habits (quite literally clothes) as worn by early Brits who made it to India, Rice Cultivation, Big Dogs, Small Dogs, Snappy Dogs, Chocolate, Food, Chocolate, Democracy, Tribes, Africa, India, White Mughals, Global Voices, Brats, Men Who Hate Dogs, Grandmothers, British Imperialism and other Very Important Things. We obviously tickled each other’s funny bone well because we laughed a lot louder than any of the bawling babies in the room. Munching food, and dusting off crumbs – I couldn’t help but wonder how in any situation we’d have been deathly polite to each other, but having read each other’s blogs the conversation jumps to a different level from the very beginning. So one is not as wary of stomping one’s feet when one burts into fits of laughter as one might be otherwise.

Note: Frizzy is the word. Maizy is snappy, but she means well. Or she means “Give me Food!”

Dover castle was brilliant. All fried food and bad coffee was forgiven. Dover is a small town. The white cliffs aren’t really white. However the one place where we expected a little less inspiration – the castle was the redeeming factor. Overcoats were flung, and we decided to ROLL down the grass field. I think we scared away many of the legendary ghosts from the castle with our high pitched desi laughter. History lessons came alive in the World War II tunnels. An underground hospital, casemates which were dormitories for soldiers, Churchill-touched-phone (our guide gushed – I am honoured to be in the room that Churchill was. Oh, well!) and a telephone exchange!

The seaside by Dover is exactly as one would imagine it. White cliffs to one side, and the other pebbled bit embraced the harbour. Pebbles, pebbles everywhere.

I am very alert to all war memorials that mention the subcontinent. So it was that I saw a memorial that read “In memory of comrades who fell during the Indian Campaigns of 1857, 1858 and 1859. Erected by the 1st Battalion 60th Royal Rifles August 1861.” One side of the memorial had Delhi inscribed on it and the other Rohilcund. In tense little black letters it declares “Celer et Audax” (Swift and Bold?). That is the motto of the 60th Royal Rifles. For some reason I remembered Charles Griffiths’s book. Much as Wendigo points out – one senses a strange disconnect in Dover.

Everywhere you go in the UK – India stares down at you. In the buildings the motifs come from subcontinent. Some term that you remember staring at in a History book. War Memorials that erupt with desi names. Like when I met Albert on the bus from Hounslow to Central London one day. He was 80 years old and had been in India in the 1940s. He looked at me with all the gravity the situation always brings and said “I was never in the Army my love. Now, I just was doing business. Never the Army. ” More on that story another time.

For now, we look back at Dover with a somewhat-sigh. :)

An online petition has been started. From Global Voices

Rebecca launched the letter writing campaign earlier today, and we’re encouraging readers to write to their national governments, to the Chinese ambassadors in their nation, to their local newspapers, and to Chinese President Hu Jintao. Her post offers key pieces of information to include in letters or op-eds as well some useful addresses.

We’ve also launched an online petition, demanding that President Hu Jintao release Hao immediately.

Of course it would appear that this doesn’t affect those in India. The Reporters Without Borders report for 2005 indicates otherwise. The Worldwide Press Freedom Index for 2005 places India at 106 out of a total 167 countries ranked. Press freedom cannot be guaranteed in a country where the Freedom of Expression is routinely kicked out of perspective.

Every cab in Bombay has a personality. The cabs are more unique than individuals. (Sorry Kundera). Sometimes late at night, you call for a cab and what looks like a strobe light hangs from the roof. My personal favourites were cabs with purple lights fitted inside. Spooky, but really put you in the Bombay mood. Especially if you were with friends. The loud ones.

While the afternoon drowned into the evening, SD and I caught a cab to Churchgate. This one had almost-bright blue seatcovers, a bead like thing hanging right behind the driver’s seat. But best of all, a huge mirror on the roof. So we looked upward and made faces for a while. This photograph was taken camera facing upward, giggling and in a cab that shook like crazy over the smoothest of roads. SD was trying to touch the mirror, and the light bounced off her hand. A Bombay Blue moment. (No, not the restaurant.)