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More journal entry excerpts:
Picture the scent of magnolis in warm air. Imagine a dirt road lined with nice apartments and large balconies. Picture low hanging branches from high growing trees. Imagine small children criss-crossing the road on bikes with toys in hand. Picture gazing up and seeing glimpses of life in each of the lighted apartment windows. And, listen closely to hear the sound of bells and horns and dancing and singing and clappling and laughing and honking. Listen as the noises become louder the closer you walked toward the main road.
"It is very gaudy," said Ashima as she stared at the Indian wedding procession. "But, that's how we like it!"
I smiled trying to take in all the different colors, sparkles, and motion. The groom was decked out in gold colors and red tints as he rode a large horse. Men carrying huge bouquets of glow sticks marched on either side. Others danced with grins on their faces. Women held hands and laughed in their exquisite saris. My eyes were still trying to adjust to the darkness -so it appeared to me as though people were coming and going through the darkness -sinking into the night and then emerging in a flourish of sparkles and blurred motion again and again.
The entourage marched forward in a collision of noise, music, colors, and scents.
"They march from the groom's house to the bride's home," said Ashima.
"Would you like to see more?" asked Ashima's cousin.
"Okay!" I replied.
So, we walked further along the street following the procession. I stood and watched the lights and dancing and happy faces until they rounded the corner.
"Very elaborate," I said smiling.
"Very gaudy," said Ashima laughing.
* * *
It's hard not to like a country that holds cows sacred. Cows have the good life in Delhi. They own the streets, the sidewalks, the yards, the garbage piles, basically everywhere. They are even sponsored by the government. And they're the majestic-looking kind of cows too. The ones with the big humps on their backs and the particularly soft looking fur and doe eyes encircled by thick, black eye lashes. Looking at these creatures, its hard for me to believe that their counterparts are slaughtered for meat in other parts of the world and hung embarrassingly upside down as carcasses on conveyor belts. It's strange how from culture to culture the same thing can be viewed so differently. Cows transition from common food to common Gods in just a few hours of air travel.
* * *
It's like this. Grab the top bar of the auto (taxi...looks like a golf cart) and hold on as your body slaps the rusted side of the auto -fitting your bones and skin against its shell and cupping you as though in a glove -as the driver whizzes around a curve. Like motorcycles loudly buzzing a little too close and pedestrians swimming in haphazard schools horizontally across the vertical traffic. And, I find myself planning how I might save my life at each new turn:
Scenario 1: auto nears large bus too closely. Jessica feels bus exhaust on her face and if reached out her hand could touch wheels of bus with little effort. Bus sways closer to small, fragile auto.
Life saving plan 1: if bus collides with auto, Jessica will jump out of side door opposite bus quickly and with James Bond-like grace, before full impact of collision, landing (if timed correctly) on a pile of straw and trash that cows are eating from.
Scenario 2: motorcyclist isn't stopping soon enough, auto seems oblivious to fact that cyclist is no more than 8 feet away and only beginning to stop. Cyclist comes to complete stop and auto is now 4 feet away and still going at a speed.
Life saving plan 2: if auto crashes into cyclist, Jessica will quickly prop backpack up higher on knees and bury head in its soft parts therefore protecting breakable cranium from hitting unbreakable metal bar of auto. Jessica will use left hand to grab onto side bar of auto and use right hand to clutch bar on ceiling, therefore hopefully preventing un-seat-belted body from whizzing through air and smacking down on pavement.
Scenario 3: auto misses street we desire to turn on and decides to make u-turn and head toward on coming traffic. Auto weaves in and out of cars as they come towards us head on.
Life saving plan 3: cross fingers, close eyes, and hope it's over soon.
* * *
Food here is great and eating a meal is very much a close contact sport. Silverware is not used frequently (basically just for serving). One uses their hands to break off pieces of Japati bread. And, one uses the bread pieces to scoop up different dips, vegetables, and spices. It is extremely tasty. Though, everyone is disappointed that I am allergic to milk and mangoes. They keep wanting me to eat things with these ingrediants. Ashima is continually having to explain and re-explain in Hindi my predictment.
"Just have a few sips of the mango shake?" Nidhi's mother says.
"Oh, no thank you. I really can't."
"Just a sip or two. Here is your glass."
"No, no I really cannot. I would love to, but I can't, I get sick and get a rash."
"I'll leave it here on the table for you."
Picture the scent of magnolis in warm air. Imagine a dirt road lined with nice apartments and large balconies. Picture low hanging branches from high growing trees. Imagine small children criss-crossing the road on bikes with toys in hand. Picture gazing up and seeing glimpses of life in each of the lighted apartment windows. And, listen closely to hear the sound of bells and horns and dancing and singing and clappling and laughing and honking. Listen as the noises become louder the closer you walked toward the main road.
"It is very gaudy," said Ashima as she stared at the Indian wedding procession. "But, that's how we like it!"
I smiled trying to take in all the different colors, sparkles, and motion. The groom was decked out in gold colors and red tints as he rode a large horse. Men carrying huge bouquets of glow sticks marched on either side. Others danced with grins on their faces. Women held hands and laughed in their exquisite saris. My eyes were still trying to adjust to the darkness -so it appeared to me as though people were coming and going through the darkness -sinking into the night and then emerging in a flourish of sparkles and blurred motion again and again.
The entourage marched forward in a collision of noise, music, colors, and scents.
"They march from the groom's house to the bride's home," said Ashima.
"Would you like to see more?" asked Ashima's cousin.
"Okay!" I replied.
So, we walked further along the street following the procession. I stood and watched the lights and dancing and happy faces until they rounded the corner.
"Very elaborate," I said smiling.
"Very gaudy," said Ashima laughing.
* * *
It's hard not to like a country that holds cows sacred. Cows have the good life in Delhi. They own the streets, the sidewalks, the yards, the garbage piles, basically everywhere. They are even sponsored by the government. And they're the majestic-looking kind of cows too. The ones with the big humps on their backs and the particularly soft looking fur and doe eyes encircled by thick, black eye lashes. Looking at these creatures, its hard for me to believe that their counterparts are slaughtered for meat in other parts of the world and hung embarrassingly upside down as carcasses on conveyor belts. It's strange how from culture to culture the same thing can be viewed so differently. Cows transition from common food to common Gods in just a few hours of air travel.
* * *
It's like this. Grab the top bar of the auto (taxi...looks like a golf cart) and hold on as your body slaps the rusted side of the auto -fitting your bones and skin against its shell and cupping you as though in a glove -as the driver whizzes around a curve. Like motorcycles loudly buzzing a little too close and pedestrians swimming in haphazard schools horizontally across the vertical traffic. And, I find myself planning how I might save my life at each new turn:
Scenario 1: auto nears large bus too closely. Jessica feels bus exhaust on her face and if reached out her hand could touch wheels of bus with little effort. Bus sways closer to small, fragile auto.
Life saving plan 1: if bus collides with auto, Jessica will jump out of side door opposite bus quickly and with James Bond-like grace, before full impact of collision, landing (if timed correctly) on a pile of straw and trash that cows are eating from.
Scenario 2: motorcyclist isn't stopping soon enough, auto seems oblivious to fact that cyclist is no more than 8 feet away and only beginning to stop. Cyclist comes to complete stop and auto is now 4 feet away and still going at a speed.
Life saving plan 2: if auto crashes into cyclist, Jessica will quickly prop backpack up higher on knees and bury head in its soft parts therefore protecting breakable cranium from hitting unbreakable metal bar of auto. Jessica will use left hand to grab onto side bar of auto and use right hand to clutch bar on ceiling, therefore hopefully preventing un-seat-belted body from whizzing through air and smacking down on pavement.
Scenario 3: auto misses street we desire to turn on and decides to make u-turn and head toward on coming traffic. Auto weaves in and out of cars as they come towards us head on.
Life saving plan 3: cross fingers, close eyes, and hope it's over soon.
* * *
Food here is great and eating a meal is very much a close contact sport. Silverware is not used frequently (basically just for serving). One uses their hands to break off pieces of Japati bread. And, one uses the bread pieces to scoop up different dips, vegetables, and spices. It is extremely tasty. Though, everyone is disappointed that I am allergic to milk and mangoes. They keep wanting me to eat things with these ingrediants. Ashima is continually having to explain and re-explain in Hindi my predictment.
"Just have a few sips of the mango shake?" Nidhi's mother says.
"Oh, no thank you. I really can't."
"Just a sip or two. Here is your glass."
"No, no I really cannot. I would love to, but I can't, I get sick and get a rash."
"I'll leave it here on the table for you."
