Loving India, ever so kindly won't you accept a warm visit from
your young native son? In a past life I was an Untouchable schedualed to a life of street sweeping and loo scrubbing. Now, I am above Bhraman, from the modern Western world, a prince amongst oiled peasents, and everyone wants my friendship and business. They want to give me a rickshaw ride, they want to apply olive oil to my locks, they want to sell me tea or have a conversation; I have come home India, after so much plan making and day dreaming.
I left Bangkok for Calcutta via Yangoon wishing Andrew Burden the best as I left, and boarded a jet in the rainy afternoon. There were several grey clouds to pass through, but the airplane didn't end up floundering in the Bay of Bengal or diving into a smoking pile of tangled metal and that is good enough for me. The airplane food was really great some how.
There are few words to sum up the extremes of squalor
and strangeness of the place, but it is on par with
any far fetched Tim Burton film oneone has ever seen in
it's grimness and inappropriate comicalness. People
bathing literally in the gutters and sewers, no street
lights, superfluous hordes of street people begging
for coins or alms, grimy plastic tent-like dwellings
lining the sidewalks with little cobblestone hearths
inside cooking the day's meal, seemingly every
car from the 50's and 60's in style, animals
everywhere, smoke and ash always coming out of somewhere, strange clothing and stranger customs, gender segregation on buses and trains, great food but no utensils, people relieving
their bowels in the streets, crow encircled mountains
of garbage with goats towering upon them, sooty
antique trains on rusty tracks, unimaginable traffic congestion, the
list unfurls into infinity....Everything
is so old, that in of itself makes it all seem like a
movie, and the food is rich. It's as hot as the
devil, but the rain cools it down every so often, but
that floods the sewers into the streets and pieces of
feces can be seen chugging their way down any given
alley like evil tugboats on a demon mission. I try to
stay on dry ground and drink the hot Chai tea that is
sold on every street corner out of little terra cotta cups
that crunch in your hand if you hold them too hard; the Indian version of our one-use disposable cup. The people are friendly and they all seem to shake their heads as they speak. They fancy themselves the apex of human evolution, the advanced classes that is, and they hold their culture and country above all others. It is refreshing to see a culture that doesn't bend over backwards to emulate the United States, though English is in ways the second official language. Hot sun, dusty streets, spicey curry, fine silks and chaotic street happenings; there is a morbitiy about it all that makes it seem like a cemetary with a nose ring. But lively so. I aim to volunteer a day at Mother Terresa's hospital, and then head south. I have been taking small sips of water each day to serve as innoculations against coming sickness, I hope to lessen it's sevearity by exposing my immune system to small doses at a time.
Loving India
Firsthand accounts from members around the world.
- lovingpenfull
- Posts: 119
- Joined: August 10th, 2005, 10:52 pm
- Location: USA
Loving India
Post by lovingpenfull » September 11th, 2005, 10:57 am
I am looking for a home for my thoughts.
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