India--Settling In with the Locals

---

Part 7

January 10 Bikaner, India
It is surprisingly hard to connect to the low income lives of so many people in India. I hesitate to use the word poverty, as this seems somehow a more Western notion that is both judgmental and clinical at the same time. Poverty as most in the West know it indicates an income level that is inadequate, but still can support a standard of living in the developed world that seems to far exceed the basic standard here. And poverty in the west usually implies a degree of destituteness that rarely has any sense of vitality or vibrancy that somehow slips through life in India more often that one would expect.
By outward of appearances of where we have been (admittedly not even a tiny slice of this large and populous nation), hardly anyone is well off by Western standards. It is only the absolute rarest of buildings that would be considered modern or clean by US standards, and even these have touches of India that would make most Americans look a bit askance (and are always surrounded by squalor to take away a bit of the charm).
There are people everywhere in the cities, but out in the rural areas, there are long stretches with hardly anyone, interrupted occasionally by small clusters of humanity surrounding a water pump or shade trees. A vast majority of people look remarkably clean, especially surprising here in the desert where the sand is more like dust. Women's clothes sparkle in their brilliant color, and men inexplicably tend to wear white, which somehow is also shockingly clean as well. (Of course, those who are less clean are thoroughly dirty, and look like walking (if they are capable of walking) dust rags, their pencil thin legs emanating from their loose leg coverings).
While some buildings reflect the elaborate architecture of the Mughals, the interior rooms almost always are old and barren and crumbling. The places we'd expect to be more upscale--a college or school for instance--often look the most decrepit, with stained walls and an absence of furniture. Likewise, the basic Indian tea shop or restaurant is a blackened and dark hovel, with dishes and cups rinsed in the dingy water bucket, and food fried in the ancient black wok in oil that is changed more frequently then the rest of the surroundings would suggest.
Housing ranges from nothing to tarpaulin covered stick dwellings, desert stick yurts, high rise concrete block apartments, brick boxes, and free standing concrete houses here in the smaller towns. Nothing exudes an air of opulence, and at best, you could call the housing utilitarian, although far from homey in almost every case.
Growing up surrounded by these outward appearances (along with a touch of religious belief in one's place in the world and a fair degree of human resilience and adaptability), people seem to accept these standards without complaint. I would guess they can see subtleties of relative quality our untrained eyes miss. But this is their reality and the chance to go to school, regardless of appearances, or to get good food, no matter how bleak the setting, far outweighs pointless evaluations of decor.
So within the setting of what we would think of as close to squalor, people lead active lives and seem to find pleasure in countless things--shopping for bangles (bracelets) or saris, flying the almost free kites, sitting around a "cafe" with the guys, playing cards, hovering over a small street fire for warmth, riding in a bike rickshaw (no one who can afford it walks, and being transported helps put you just a bit above the filth of garbage on the streets), eating hot pakoras and samosas from a vendor, getting a shave from a street barber, and countless other transactions among the lively human community that characterizes every town and city. And this probably vastly understates the universal closeness of family, which is all the more important here where people may have little else beyond this to hold on to.

Jan 12 Jodhpur
I was cut off by time from the above entry, and there is much more to say about how India is full of energy and life despite (or maybe because of) the difficult outward conditions (I feel like I am using euphemisms to avoid saying poor or destitute or dismal, but these words are all too "American" and all too full of judgment and criticism that undervalue the many positive aspects of our experiences).
I am already getting a bit nostalgic about leaving India and feeling our time here is much too short. We have reached the point of comfort with the noise and smells and motorbike dodging (my eyes have yet to reach peace with the fumes though) so that an evening stroll through the crowded market seems a relaxing pleasure--meeting and greeting the genial population here in Jodhpur. It is easy to think that after India, everywhere else might seem dull (although I imagine Laos and Cambodia may hold their own for feeling a tad different than Vermont). There is something about India that hooks you in--the constant stream of senses, the sheer masses of humanity, the admirable way people shape lives amidst the craziness, the order that emerges (or is actively created) out of seeming chaos). Maybe it is something spiritual that relates to the 330 million Hindu Gods, but even Koby says that he likes the endless car rides because there is always something interesting to see (which has almost nothing to do with the natural landscape, which is mainly flat and dusty fields where we have traveled).
Jodhpur is a great city to end our gonzo driving tour. People here are friendly and unjaded by tourism. Our brief evening stroll last night led us to countless encounters with children saying hello and offering birthday wishes to Koby (and willingly posing for pictures that they so love to see on the camera afterwards), conversations with shopkeepers (including the wholesale bangle salesman who lives in a 52 room Haveli with his four brothers and their families), and sitting with the owners of Shahi Samosa, a thrivingly busy samosa stand that boasts "we have not any branch" and sells a "trade secret" of over 5000 of the best tasting snacks each day.
We are staying at Singhvi's Haveli, one of those special tourist guesthouses on the Asia circuit that have figured out that with low prices, friendly service, and nice accommodations, you can be a traveler's mecca and stay full year round and get a lead spot in the vaunted Lonely Planet guidebook. With allocation looking right up to the scenic fort and a rooftop courtyard for dining and relaxing, this is a perfect locale to celebrate Koby's on going birthday (after the elephant ride and camel safari and many inexpensive Indian presents). The camel trip to the desert was a real highlight, simply because it gets you away from the constant stimuli of urban life. It was so pleasant to be outside in the sand dunes at night, with nothing but the rather loud laughter of our group of 4 Brits and an Australian family with children ages 6 and 8 (a perfect companion for Koby). Camels are BIG animals, although the riding is nothing too wild as you are guided by the camel owner who has nothing better to do with his day than lead his camel along. We made Koby a banana birthday cake--not a cake actually but a banana on its side with 9 candles stuck through the peel. He beamed with smiles over all this and it was great to have a group with us to wish him a happy birthday.

Jan 12 Jodhpur
Travelogue Update: To get out of the more philosophical and into the more logistical--Our basic schedule has been to arise at 8ish (the adults earlier, the kids later) and eat breakfast at our hotel (excellent white bread toast with butter, often omelets, corn flakes (sometimes with hot milk), tea, sometimes amazing fresh orange juice, maybe plain yogurt, sometimes pancakes (Indians eat none of this and prefer either tea and nothing or some fried spicy snacks that I guess would be analogous to donuts with chili peppers and no sugar). After this, many days have involved getting in the car for a 200 km drive that ends up taking 4-6 hours. We are riding in a Tata SUV (complete with several holes in the floor) that has three of us in the back seat and Koby in the back where two bench seats face each other. It's a bit hard to anything more than watch the world go by, as this involves both observing oncoming (head on) traffic, wondering how you can pass in such tiny openings, and seeing a big slice of India as people live and work near the roadside. Some of the more regular sightings: camel carts pulling loads the size of houses (filled with grass to sell as camel feed in town), black and yellow three wheeled motorized rickshaws, Indians riding their upright black one speeds, road workers crushing stones by hammer and hand, gas stations that take up the space of 4 US stations but have only 3 well spaced pumps, roadside tea shops with strap beds serving as seating, rickety busses overflowing with passengers, railroad crossings that serve as business and begging centers as everyone waits for passing trains, and women in bright saris and men in colorful turbans. (I should note that pictures taken in Asia are usually tremendously skewed--every picture I take here is of women in saris and men with turbans, although probably more than half the people, and especially men, wear western clothes. Likewise, although we do see a fair amount of regular cars, the only transportation pictures I take are of rickshaws or camel carts or beat up busses.)
After sorting out the hotel hassle in Jaipur, we had a lovely, no car day wandering the streets (and getting stares from everyone who couldn't believe we wanted to walk when we clearly could have afforded the 25 cent rickshaw ride). We visited the astronomical tools of Jantar Mantar, the world's largest devices, built in the mid 18th century, and lunched at LMB, this restaurant in all the guide books that we expected would be full of tourists and instead was a bastion for well off Indians to eat in this combination of art deco and disco decorated dining hall with enough staff to almost assign one waiter per person. For dinner in Jaipur, we twice went to the Italian restaurant which made reasonably good pizza and great eggplant parmesan, which was a welcome change for all, especially the kids (the Indian food has been consistently excellent, no matter what the appearance of the restaurant, and for less than 2 dollars per dish, a real bargain. Not so popular with the kids (everything is too spicy for Manya) but they find enough to remain well fed).
After Jaipur, we left early to head to Amber Fort, famous both for its beauty and the Elephant Ride up to it. Koby loved this birthday wish he had anticipated since leaving Vermont. From there, we headed to Bikaner, and were pleasantly surprised by the smoothish and mercifully uncrowded road. We could hit almost 80 km/hr in sections, so the 300 km went by in less than 6 hours, and we arrived at the Camelman Guest House in plenty of time for a family dinner with our fellow camel safari trekkers. It turns out that camels are very tall animals, but we only went at a walking pace, so the only real chance of falling was when trying to take pictures over your shoulder. It was great to be out in the quiet desert (not really a wilderness as it is farmed every monsoon season for two months and is well traveled year round). Our entourage felt a bit like the Maharajah, with 12 tourists on camels each led by their owners, 4 camel carts with drivers carrying food and bedding and supplies, and a couple other hangers on for an expedition of over 30 trekking out over the desert sands. The dusty kids along the way all turned out to greet us with hearty and smiley calls of "Tata," which we assumed meant hello but could have been "you're a jerk." We ate well and appreciated the quiet of being away from the crowds, and enjoyed traveling with fellow adventurers, especially a family from Australia here for two months of summer holiday. We only had time for one day and one night of safari, which turned out enough as the desert looks kind of the same after a while and plodding along on camel saddles can lose its interest (and comfort) after a brief spell. So the next morning, we were carted back to town, from where we drove to Jodhpur on smooth roads except for the toll road bypass around Bikaner that was about as bad as anything we had seen.

Jan 15 Himatnagar
You get pretty close to your neighbors here. Not only are houses or apartments often right on top of each other, but much of your life is lived outside--a factor of space and weather. Here at Om Home, we use the basic outdoor intercom--a little yell from one house to another to announce meals or ask questions. Sometimes, objects are passed across the alleyway from balcony to balcony. And here amidst kite festival, to celebrate the equal length of day and night and the beginning of the light half of the year, the rooftops become a playground with everyone flying kites, playing incessantly loud and repetitive music, and everyone visible from one house to another.
The kite festival, Uttarayan, perhaps is another prism of Indian life. First off, the kites cost Rs 2 each (4 cents) and the labor to coat 1000 meters of string in ground glass laden glue (minimally an hour long affair) costs only 30 cents. Armed with a load of kites (a fair sized stack has maybe 80 or so) and the glass encrusted string, the better off head to the rooftops, the poorest left to the streets to collect fallen kites. From dawn into the night, the sky is full of these tissue paper kites, dodging and diving to cut the strings of another flyer (met with a loud huzzah shouted across the rooftops). There is the requisite hanging out time, reflective of the general sense that no one has particularly pressing business to attend to (thankfully we are not self conscious eaters as plenty of poele seem to have little better to do than watch us chew). Later in the day, the cook hired to organize the special celebration dinner arrives, and we join the local ladies in balling pakora and rolling out poori--a nice neighborly activity that is much easier than flying these tricky kites (even when the wind dies down). (An interesting sidenote: The cook tells us he spent 7 years as a cook in another country, brought there by a restaurateur and living in the kitchen, but he doesn't know what country it was as he was never out of the workplace! All he knows was that it was a plane flight to get there.)
We have dinner on the roof along with the neighbors and relatives under the spotlights that are live wired into an outlet. After eating, we move on to a circle dance to some Bollywood hit that involves some traditional step that even the old women can do. Finally, we finish the night with musical chairs played with a vengeance (and in a style that mostly involved sitting down while the music played, thus assuring a safe seat and lots of laughter and accusations of cheating. Needless to say, we rule abiding Americans were out early on). And all this without a touch of alcohol, as there are probably some hundreds of millions of non drinkers in India.
This was a day full of laughter and community and feeling at home, but when we awoke today and stepped out past the long horned cow in our tiny courtyard, there were the neighbors dressing their baby and next door the daughter was washing the family clothes outside and another neighbor was brushing her teeth. Not much is private here, and there are hierarchies of service that are often ignored when it comes to social life (and are probably enforced for other events).
Later today, it was time for the cheapest haircut of my life (66 cents for Koby and me)--as we are continually reminded, labor (and time) are cheap here. (By contrast, dealing with the police is costly, as they have a knack in Rajasthan for pulling aside those with out of state plates for contrived violations and surprisingly small payoffs of between 1 and 5 dollars, depending on their mood). In contrast to corruption in the police and party games, India feels tremendously safe and most people seem rule abiding (within the seemingly unruly chaos of driving and street business and life among large numbers of people)--another way of accommodating each other to function effectively with one fifth or so of the world's population.

Jan 16 Himatganar
We are certainly not getting the basic tourist experience, at least not here in Himatganar where we may be the only white tourists in town this year (or ever if you don't count Carol and Susan, whose house we are using). Most of our excursions beyond our compounds walls are greeted with curiosity and friendly staring. Last night's dinner at Dinesh's brother in laws was certainly no exception.
Although we were in the more wealthy neighborhoods (new 1100 sq. ft house, constriction cost about $12,000, monthly rent of $40, spacious but still far from opulent decor or outside surroundings), we seemed even more of a novelty than this side of town, where some people have seen Carol and Susan over the years. By the time we had finished dinner (being watched by only about 7 people, several who worry greatly about Manya's light eating and worry mildly over my consumption of "only" three of four servings), we could hear the crowd gathering on the porch to catch a glimpse of the foreigners. Koby and Manya were brave enough to sneak a view of the masses outside, and then to venture outside to cause a real sensation.
It turned out to be only about 40 people on the porch (although assorted, less brave nearby neighbors managed to sneak a peak from their doors). Everyone from babies to grandmothers were there, and Koby and Manya obligingly entertained them, first with the simple act of sitting on the porch swing and smiling (then surfing on the swing to greater delight), which led to their singing (Koby in his less than trained operatic voice) and then Gujarati-English language practice to great laughter, then the universal hand slapping/quick reflexes games introduced by the shy teenage boys, and finally arm wrestling and singing contests and general good fun for all.
Unfortunately, I didn't bring the camera, forgetting that the little dinner out would cause such a stir. But I don't think I could capture the laughter and bright smiles of everyone captivated by the foreign tourists, and all the genial handshaking and well wishing in saying goodbye. I think the kids appreciate these experiences as much, if not more, than visiting historic sites. This time inside Indian households has certainly given us experiences I don't think we will be able to replicate elsewhere.
PS We are off to Mumbai tomorrow and then to Bangkok the next day. We are saddened to be leaving India, as the colors and smells and vibrancy of life here does really get under your skin (in almost all positive ways).

---

Photos

The Colors of India
One of countless brightly colored individuals that I wish I could capture on film--sometimes they sit still long enough for me.

Koby's 9th Birthday
Koby celebrating his birthday with his birthday banana on the camel safari

The Center Of Attention
One of many times we are the center of attention--and not because we are riding some exotic animal! The animal is normal, seeing Americans is not.

Comments

[Hans]

It was wonderful reading your commentary and I wish you continued smiles in your adventures. Look forward to your future entries and smiles for your wonderful photos. www.travelblog.org/Bloggers/Hans

[George]

Thank You
Hello and thank you for your detailed writing. It was great to read about your time in India. I'll be visiting India next month for the first time and staying with about 3 different families. All the best from Bermuda......Geroge