Saturday 27 February 2010

Incredible India

I saw something I will never forget: a cow stepping up to the counter in a street shop and being fed rooties by the shop owner, one by one, chewing them like chewing gum!
The cows lie in the middle of the road: a black and white cow on the black tar and white markings of the road in the heavy late afternoon traffic in Chennai - and everyone drove around it!
Then I also saw cows rummaging for something to eat among the rubbish piled up on the side of the road together with some threadbare stray dogs.
And baboons playing on the steps of the hotel - completely unafraid of people.
I saw mountains high, covered with tea plantations on either side, as far as you can drive with the car. Who on earth drinks so much tea? The English?
And I saw shrines everywhere on the most unexpected places - with priests waiting for your offering.
I saw every man with a white smear on his forehead.
What is that? I asked.
Cow's dung. The priest mixes it with ash and puts it on the forehead as a sign that the man visited the temple. They wear it with pride.
I saw an old man pick up cow's dung to take to the temple. Compensation from the priest, perhaps.
I saw moustaches that belong to the old colonial age on doorkeepers: the more prestigious the hotel, the larger the sergeant-major handle bar moustache!
I saw Mahatma Ghandi everywhere, statues, busts, head and shoulders, paintings, T-shirts, book covers, restaurants.
I saw the motorised riksha's and travelled in one with Yve, my daughter, who accompanied me on the mission to India.
We travelled by train through the night from Tirupur to Chennai and back again after a few days. The age old Indian train: fuller than full, curtain and bed affair, dirty toilets, or actually no toilets, just a hole in the floor!
And they sell curry on the train - like everywhere else.
But the curry we tasted was delicious, it was delicate, it was exquisite, it was divine and the different breads, the rooties, the parata's and the wonderful spices and sauces, the freshly squeezed juices ranging from watermelon to coconut, mango to melon, berry to grape fruit, paw-paw to banana the never ending freshness of fruit to tantalize the palate of the weary traveller.
And the congested cities, the ancient villages, the narrow mountain passes, the risky crossing of a street with hundreds of 50 cc mopeds charging at you!
And all the hooting - every car has a sing on the back - honk please! And they do and they communicate that way: it means, I'm coming through, it means, I am through, it means, thanks for letting me through! It means watch out! It means hello! It means there is another car coming! It means I am turning off now! It means goodbye! Hooty is a national language, to say the least.
And everyone plays cricket everywhere on each and every available space.
And the people are really friendly, everywhere, without expecting a tip or anything else in return. It is genuine friendliness.
And the tilting rolling heads from side to side meaning I agree, I agree! The more they like what you are saying the more the head rols from side to side.
I saw pilgrims, barefoot, carrying heavy idols as punishment, travelling alone or in groups until they reach the temple where they will pay their vows.
I saw signs saying 'Bollywood movies are shot here'.
I saw sunsets sublime, sunrises like an artist's palate, I saw the sun reflect on a lake, I saw the moon from our window, I saw colourful sahri's, dohties, and I saw innocent children run free; I saw great poverty and I saw great wealth; I saw streetsweepers accepting their role in this life graciously and I saw proud businessment swaggering into hotel lobbies; I saw faces that will remained engraved on my memory stick forever, with wrinkles and lines and piercing eyes that burn into you telling you what has taken place for thousands of years in a moment's glance...
Ah, India, a land of mystery and a land of beauty, a land of contrasts and a land of deep sorrow, yet silent joy.
Will I go again? Who knows. I hope I will. India is Incredible.