The Physical Reality of India

I got a haircut here for 10 rupees. Helps to have less hair on the head when it is 30 degrees and humid out (that's Celsius, for y'all Americans).

The fan in my room has been fixed, although the management at my hotel were kind enough to let me sleep in a different room for the two nights it was out.

I took the Metro and walked for about 30 minutes to a beautiful Jain temple in North Kolkata yesterday. The area was more wealthy and very laid back. Hardly anyone on the streets, and when water flowed through along the edge of the sidewalk, it was clear! The temple itself was built in 1910, and its grounds featured statues of various militaristic-looking people throughout history- from Romans, Greeks and Persians up to Imperial Germans. Strange for Jains (they are so tied to nonviolence that many wear masks to avoid breathing in incests, and many refuse to eat root vegetables because it will kill the plant). Perhaps they were making a comment on the nature of reality- even the proud with their ornamental shields, spears, and rifles suffer the fate of all the beings and objects of this world. On the way back to the metro I was talked at by a rickshaw man who apparently thought I was Muslim (the "Abe Lincoln"/Amish look is a Muslim thing here) about how Bangladesh and Kolkata are one, and how Mahatma Gandhi and Mohaman Sign are bhalo na (translation done by my friend who speaks rather good Hindi and decent Bangla). At least the rickshaw man was belligerently friendly, if perhaps mentally unconventional.

While waiting for my e-ticket at the China Airlines booth in SeaTac, I was standing by a middle aged Indian man and his children. I asked him if he was perhaps going to Kolkata on the same route that I was. In fact, he was going to Singapore, but had grown up in Kolkata. He told me that he thought I would enjoy my first time in India, but that even for him it takes some getting used to the "Physical reality of India" when he visits home. He said this in such a way that he seemed to imply I would eventually know what he was talking about. Now I believe I am starting to understand.

On the streets here, pedestrians almost never backtrack as they weave their way through traffic. Forward progress is more valued than the safety of one's toes.

The rain here is very different than Seattle rain. About once or twice a day, it simply "turns on", and then 10 minutes or perhaps 2 hours later, it abruptly "turns off". Westerners may refer to Forest Gump's time in Vietnam for more on this.

The heat seeps into one's bones. It is very draining. Many histories of India I have read (as written by Indians) mention the trend of how foreign conquerors have bursts of great expansive and creative energy, but are then sucked into passivity by the heat and humidity of the Ganges plain. As if the Muslims invaded while the Aryans were too sweaty to do anything about it, and the British tiptoed in while the Mughals were taking a nap! Actually, this is quite possible. Every day I need a siesta, and by rules or simply convention many establishments and tourist attractions close from noon to three.

There are guards everywhere- one for each ATM, for example.

There are people everywhere. Everytime I walk down the street (unless I am in my lungi), I can find someone looking at me. Most simply find me interesting to look at or want to sell me something. Occasionally I get vaguely hostile looks from teenage males, as if they want to challenge the giant foreigner to prove their own masculinity. Most people through, from beggars to police men, are greatly amused by a sideways nod and a Bangla greeting.

There is life everywhere. Insects are ubiquitous, as are geckos. There are geckos in the bathrooms, geckos in the internet cafes, geckos in restaurants, and geckos in churches and temples. Also lots of street dogs, cats, and rats. I'd imagine the combination of tropical heat and urbanization is very attractive to the world's most successful rodent. After all, rats were originally from the jungles of Asia.

The noise here is almost nonstop. Horns are blaring, goats are moaning, people are sining and arguing and gossiping and praying. Like the heat, one becomes desensitized, but it still subtly drained. The noise dies for about 3 hours around 1 AM.

Smells. Everywhere rotting garbage or delicious spices or chai . Westerners should be made aware that in Bangla this is the word both for the noun "tea" and the adjective "cheap". I drink 4 liters of water a day on average (as well as various soft drinks and lassis) and I believe most of this is sweated right out of me.

About a week ago I talked to a French man who was apprehensive about volunteering for the SMCs. He said he didn't want to be so close to death and the dying. There are things that all people should remember at all times. First, death is a part of life. The presence of much death is in part a symptom of the ubiquity of life. Secondly, every single one of us is always one stray blood clot, one errant bus, one charge of atmospheric electricity, or one accidentally-launched nuclear war away from the end of the existence of our physical forms. We should behave accordingly.

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