Lucknow - "Look now, you said TEN rupees!"
Greetings from Planet India, where it is always going on, 24 hours a day. All of it.
Woke this morning at five a.m. to walk to the train station in Alahabad and catch the "express" to Lucknow. It was still dark, and all across the city you could hear the sounds of the mosques calling the faithful to prayer. It is interesting that my sunrise and sunset should both be intertwined with Islam - - tonight at sunset I found myself in a park in Lucknow surrounded by twenty-five to thirty young Muslims, listening intently as one of them asked me questions about the U.S.A., George W. Bush, Abraham Lincoln's hometown (!) and my opinion on Osama Bin Laden. But, more on that in a minute, I'm getting ahead of myself.
My last day in Alahabad saw me taking a sunset boat ride to the Sangum, the confluence of the three holy rivers (nearly all things in India are regarded as holy, I am coming to believe) the Ganges, the Yamuna and the Saraswarti, the mysterious "underground" river. This river is not currently visibly flow into the confluence, but did in ancient times and is said to simply reside underground now. The confluence is very impressive, for a confluence - - the clear green water of the Yamana meets the silty, brownish Ganga in a near-sharp line that slightly blurs as it swirls and eddies. A series of platforms have been built along this line and various holy men and mendicants tie up to these platforms and bathe or administer ceremonies to those who come, willing or unwilling. I realized why my boat price had been so cheap as some holy fellow on a boat my boatman tied up to put a tika on my forehead (the red or orange mark you see on Hindus), blessed some cocconuts (!) and asked me for 300 Rs for the priveledge of throwing these cocconuts into the river. I think this is a big deal to someone, but not to me, so I said "thank you," handed back the cocconuts. I then got involved in one of those typical moments in India where the Indian tries to guilt you into paying by getting mad or acting insulted and you just have to be firm. I got away only minus 50 Rs, which seemed fair for his thirty-second blessing and some red paint on my forehead. I figured this might happened as we approached the fellow, but I have been letting things in India initiate even if I am suspect in order to try and disable my western tendancy to be suspicious of everyone and every act as engaged only to seek rupees (which, sadly, they often are).
In the morning it was foggy for the first part of the ride to Lucknow and mostly what I saw were the people who live near the railroad tracks and who work in the fields near the tracks relieving themselves before they began their day. Really. Kilometer after kilometer, that is what I saw everytime I looked out the window - - people squatting, maybe smoking a bidi (Indian cigarette), staring at the train or just off into the distance. Some right near the tracks, some out in distant fields, partly shrouded by fog. That is India, folks. It is one of the intimacies of Indian life I am coming to know well. People here are not afraid to just pee mostly where ever they want. A common sight, people just by the side of the road, letting it all hang out. This was not common in Nepal. I suppose the Nepalese have some societal taboo, much like ours, against public display of bodily functions? I find it great - - it's like being in the wood all the time. You can pee anywhere! It does make for some super-sketchy walking, however. Avoid the puddles . . .
Those puddles could also be paan juice, however. Paan is really a leaf, a large, broad, heart-shaped leaf. This leaf is taken, wetted, and then a combination of lime paste, beetel nut (also called areca nut?) and perhaps some tobacco, cocconut, or other weird things also placed in this leaf and then the whole mess rolled up and secured. This wad is then stuffed in the mouth and the combination of the beetel nut, paan leaf and the lime paste form a solution in the mouth that is a mild stimulant. Everyone and their dog (and there are a lot of loose dogs, folks!) chew this stuff and spit the unbelievable amount of froth that is produced from chewing it where ever they please. Well, not everyone chews it, and there is some sort of discretion in where you spit it, but the stuff is super-popular. You can tell a paan user by their red-stained lips and teeth. It is kind of like chewing tobacco down south in the states, but more of a free-for-all and a lot more variety in the ways of preparing it (many different spice combinations and additional flavors).
I had the unfortunate experience to try it. I was buying some water on the way home the other night in Alahabad and in an attempt to make some conversation with the stand-owner, pointed at his neatly laid out paan preparations (it is not uncommon to see a line of leaves lain out with the lime paste and other ingredients being added) and commented "paan?" Duh. He promptly returned my change (I had just given him a bill) minus five more rupees, a bottle of water and a sweet paan preparation for me. Sweet pann has cocconut and other sweet things (?) in it. It is often easier here in India to just let things go and not argue the point, so I took the paan and tried to figure out how to use the damn thing. I think I got it all wrong. maybe I was supposed to eat the leaf with the wad of stuff on the inside or some such effort, but I did manage to produce a bunch of spit, which seems to be a major goal. I find the habit pretty disgusting, much like chewing tobacco, and the stained lips and teeth are majorly nasty-looking, so I don't think it will become habitual with me.
America is called the "disposable society" but I must note that the culture here accepts throwing whatever trash you have in your hand at the moment right down on the ground. Trash cans are hard to find, and the moment someone finishes a cup of chai, food, whatever, you just huck it where ever you want. It is indeed hard to get used to, and as I let loose a wrapper or chai cup, I feel slight pangs of guilt from my well-imprinted anti-littering habits my culture has taught me. Interesting.
Other intricacies of being Indian include learning the "sideways head tilt." I don't know what else to call it. It is the Indian "yes" (which is said "ha," in Hindi, by the way). So, during conversation, one frequently tips their head to one side and says "ha" to indicate you are picking up what the other person is putting down. The ole head tip is good for agreeing to something, such as that way-too-much amount of rupees you handed the rickshaw driver. If you did well, you get the head tilt. Waiters, store clerks, people on the street. It's all about the head tilt. I'm still working on exactly when to use it, but it appears that, like the horn on your bike or car, the answer is frequently and enthusiastically.
I have already talked about the horns. I won't again, other than to say if I had one wish in this world, I would silence the horns of Asia. Madness, I tell you, madness.
Let's see. Waving to get someone to "come over here" (rickshaw?) is a sort of seig heil gesture (apologies to my German readers), but with the elbow held a little loose and the fingers curling inward rapidly. You can tilt your head a little to the side to authenticate the gesture more.
Ah, hand-holding. Men here in the streets hold hands as they walk. I have found myself doing this with the various Indian people who come up and want to talk (at least a dozen a day) when they say "let's walk!" and suddenly your hand is grasped and you are walking hand-in-hand with another dude. Okay, weird, but I have been going with it, and so far I still seem to like girls quite a lot. No ill effects on my sexuality.
Indian men in general hang on each other quite a lot and stand real close when you are waiting in a line. And quite a few Indians and one westerner can fit on a train bench, no problem.
So, yes, the train ride was about four hours and I stepped off onto the platform to see a minareted and domed railway station looming over me. Lucknow is full of Arabesque architecture and this seems to be one of the the main tourist draw-points. As well as a point for Moslem faithful, as most of this architecture is attached to mosques and the tombs of very famous, very dead Islamic heros. Which brings me to the crowd of young Moslems . . . I went to visit one of these large tombs, which has a labrynth atop it around sunset, hoping for some good pictures. Met resistance from the "guides" working the entrance to the main tomb who wanted to charge me 300 Rs to see the place. You are supposed to only have to pay 75 Rs and apparantly they are really working the scam. I will go back tomorrow and press the point. Many Indian Moslems cruising around and lots of Indian tourists, too. Several people wanted to have their picture taken with me and I obliged. This is a popular thing to do - - people really like to have a picture from their vacation with a "Real American Tourist!" in it. I do my best peace sign or two thumbs up and grin like an idiot. I should start charging 100 Rs per picture or something.
After that hoopla I was leaving when a young Moslem and his crowd of four or five friends ran up and wanted to start talking. You can tell they are Moslem by the full, white kurta (man-dress-shirt-thingy) the round, flat cap and the full beard. We (the "spokesperson" with the best English, I guess) began talking and walking (not holding hands - - it doesn't seem to be a Moslem thing) and ended up in a park nearby, sitting on the ground. An intense and friendly young guy, he was full of questions, such as if I had read the Koran, why I did not convert to Islam, cricket (they had been playing shortly before), what I thought of various political situations and many questions to refine his knowledge of America and Americans. The whole conversation was very friendly, even the sticky bits about Osama Bin Laden and "why has Bush labeled him as a bad man?" All the while his friends were listening, and as we sat there more and more Moslems kept coming up and listening until there were twenty-five or thirty listening intently. Very interesting. I think we would have stayed all night, but the call to prayers began and I was starving, so I thanked him and his friends for talking and listening and, as I have been often ending my conversations with Indians, "now you can tell people you have met someone from the U.S. who is a good person and did not vote for Bush!" As Micah pointed out and I also firmly believe, it is important to tell people you are from the U.S., and exemplify through your conversation and action that you are the portion of the population that is what is good about America, not just Nike, guns, bombs, McDonalds and oil.
This morning on the train was another question and answer session at one point in the ride, with many edging surepticiously closer to listen as one or two asked questions. One of the more popular questions is "do you know Hindi," and as I bought a book on grammar a few days ago, I can have an extremely brief conversation. My name. Your name? I can tilt my head like a professional, though, and my "ha" is becoming very natural.
Woke this morning at five a.m. to walk to the train station in Alahabad and catch the "express" to Lucknow. It was still dark, and all across the city you could hear the sounds of the mosques calling the faithful to prayer. It is interesting that my sunrise and sunset should both be intertwined with Islam - - tonight at sunset I found myself in a park in Lucknow surrounded by twenty-five to thirty young Muslims, listening intently as one of them asked me questions about the U.S.A., George W. Bush, Abraham Lincoln's hometown (!) and my opinion on Osama Bin Laden. But, more on that in a minute, I'm getting ahead of myself.
My last day in Alahabad saw me taking a sunset boat ride to the Sangum, the confluence of the three holy rivers (nearly all things in India are regarded as holy, I am coming to believe) the Ganges, the Yamuna and the Saraswarti, the mysterious "underground" river. This river is not currently visibly flow into the confluence, but did in ancient times and is said to simply reside underground now. The confluence is very impressive, for a confluence - - the clear green water of the Yamana meets the silty, brownish Ganga in a near-sharp line that slightly blurs as it swirls and eddies. A series of platforms have been built along this line and various holy men and mendicants tie up to these platforms and bathe or administer ceremonies to those who come, willing or unwilling. I realized why my boat price had been so cheap as some holy fellow on a boat my boatman tied up to put a tika on my forehead (the red or orange mark you see on Hindus), blessed some cocconuts (!) and asked me for 300 Rs for the priveledge of throwing these cocconuts into the river. I think this is a big deal to someone, but not to me, so I said "thank you," handed back the cocconuts. I then got involved in one of those typical moments in India where the Indian tries to guilt you into paying by getting mad or acting insulted and you just have to be firm. I got away only minus 50 Rs, which seemed fair for his thirty-second blessing and some red paint on my forehead. I figured this might happened as we approached the fellow, but I have been letting things in India initiate even if I am suspect in order to try and disable my western tendancy to be suspicious of everyone and every act as engaged only to seek rupees (which, sadly, they often are).
In the morning it was foggy for the first part of the ride to Lucknow and mostly what I saw were the people who live near the railroad tracks and who work in the fields near the tracks relieving themselves before they began their day. Really. Kilometer after kilometer, that is what I saw everytime I looked out the window - - people squatting, maybe smoking a bidi (Indian cigarette), staring at the train or just off into the distance. Some right near the tracks, some out in distant fields, partly shrouded by fog. That is India, folks. It is one of the intimacies of Indian life I am coming to know well. People here are not afraid to just pee mostly where ever they want. A common sight, people just by the side of the road, letting it all hang out. This was not common in Nepal. I suppose the Nepalese have some societal taboo, much like ours, against public display of bodily functions? I find it great - - it's like being in the wood all the time. You can pee anywhere! It does make for some super-sketchy walking, however. Avoid the puddles . . .
Those puddles could also be paan juice, however. Paan is really a leaf, a large, broad, heart-shaped leaf. This leaf is taken, wetted, and then a combination of lime paste, beetel nut (also called areca nut?) and perhaps some tobacco, cocconut, or other weird things also placed in this leaf and then the whole mess rolled up and secured. This wad is then stuffed in the mouth and the combination of the beetel nut, paan leaf and the lime paste form a solution in the mouth that is a mild stimulant. Everyone and their dog (and there are a lot of loose dogs, folks!) chew this stuff and spit the unbelievable amount of froth that is produced from chewing it where ever they please. Well, not everyone chews it, and there is some sort of discretion in where you spit it, but the stuff is super-popular. You can tell a paan user by their red-stained lips and teeth. It is kind of like chewing tobacco down south in the states, but more of a free-for-all and a lot more variety in the ways of preparing it (many different spice combinations and additional flavors).
I had the unfortunate experience to try it. I was buying some water on the way home the other night in Alahabad and in an attempt to make some conversation with the stand-owner, pointed at his neatly laid out paan preparations (it is not uncommon to see a line of leaves lain out with the lime paste and other ingredients being added) and commented "paan?" Duh. He promptly returned my change (I had just given him a bill) minus five more rupees, a bottle of water and a sweet paan preparation for me. Sweet pann has cocconut and other sweet things (?) in it. It is often easier here in India to just let things go and not argue the point, so I took the paan and tried to figure out how to use the damn thing. I think I got it all wrong. maybe I was supposed to eat the leaf with the wad of stuff on the inside or some such effort, but I did manage to produce a bunch of spit, which seems to be a major goal. I find the habit pretty disgusting, much like chewing tobacco, and the stained lips and teeth are majorly nasty-looking, so I don't think it will become habitual with me.
America is called the "disposable society" but I must note that the culture here accepts throwing whatever trash you have in your hand at the moment right down on the ground. Trash cans are hard to find, and the moment someone finishes a cup of chai, food, whatever, you just huck it where ever you want. It is indeed hard to get used to, and as I let loose a wrapper or chai cup, I feel slight pangs of guilt from my well-imprinted anti-littering habits my culture has taught me. Interesting.
Other intricacies of being Indian include learning the "sideways head tilt." I don't know what else to call it. It is the Indian "yes" (which is said "ha," in Hindi, by the way). So, during conversation, one frequently tips their head to one side and says "ha" to indicate you are picking up what the other person is putting down. The ole head tip is good for agreeing to something, such as that way-too-much amount of rupees you handed the rickshaw driver. If you did well, you get the head tilt. Waiters, store clerks, people on the street. It's all about the head tilt. I'm still working on exactly when to use it, but it appears that, like the horn on your bike or car, the answer is frequently and enthusiastically.
I have already talked about the horns. I won't again, other than to say if I had one wish in this world, I would silence the horns of Asia. Madness, I tell you, madness.
Let's see. Waving to get someone to "come over here" (rickshaw?) is a sort of seig heil gesture (apologies to my German readers), but with the elbow held a little loose and the fingers curling inward rapidly. You can tilt your head a little to the side to authenticate the gesture more.
Ah, hand-holding. Men here in the streets hold hands as they walk. I have found myself doing this with the various Indian people who come up and want to talk (at least a dozen a day) when they say "let's walk!" and suddenly your hand is grasped and you are walking hand-in-hand with another dude. Okay, weird, but I have been going with it, and so far I still seem to like girls quite a lot. No ill effects on my sexuality.
Indian men in general hang on each other quite a lot and stand real close when you are waiting in a line. And quite a few Indians and one westerner can fit on a train bench, no problem.
So, yes, the train ride was about four hours and I stepped off onto the platform to see a minareted and domed railway station looming over me. Lucknow is full of Arabesque architecture and this seems to be one of the the main tourist draw-points. As well as a point for Moslem faithful, as most of this architecture is attached to mosques and the tombs of very famous, very dead Islamic heros. Which brings me to the crowd of young Moslems . . . I went to visit one of these large tombs, which has a labrynth atop it around sunset, hoping for some good pictures. Met resistance from the "guides" working the entrance to the main tomb who wanted to charge me 300 Rs to see the place. You are supposed to only have to pay 75 Rs and apparantly they are really working the scam. I will go back tomorrow and press the point. Many Indian Moslems cruising around and lots of Indian tourists, too. Several people wanted to have their picture taken with me and I obliged. This is a popular thing to do - - people really like to have a picture from their vacation with a "Real American Tourist!" in it. I do my best peace sign or two thumbs up and grin like an idiot. I should start charging 100 Rs per picture or something.
After that hoopla I was leaving when a young Moslem and his crowd of four or five friends ran up and wanted to start talking. You can tell they are Moslem by the full, white kurta (man-dress-shirt-thingy) the round, flat cap and the full beard. We (the "spokesperson" with the best English, I guess) began talking and walking (not holding hands - - it doesn't seem to be a Moslem thing) and ended up in a park nearby, sitting on the ground. An intense and friendly young guy, he was full of questions, such as if I had read the Koran, why I did not convert to Islam, cricket (they had been playing shortly before), what I thought of various political situations and many questions to refine his knowledge of America and Americans. The whole conversation was very friendly, even the sticky bits about Osama Bin Laden and "why has Bush labeled him as a bad man?" All the while his friends were listening, and as we sat there more and more Moslems kept coming up and listening until there were twenty-five or thirty listening intently. Very interesting. I think we would have stayed all night, but the call to prayers began and I was starving, so I thanked him and his friends for talking and listening and, as I have been often ending my conversations with Indians, "now you can tell people you have met someone from the U.S. who is a good person and did not vote for Bush!" As Micah pointed out and I also firmly believe, it is important to tell people you are from the U.S., and exemplify through your conversation and action that you are the portion of the population that is what is good about America, not just Nike, guns, bombs, McDonalds and oil.
This morning on the train was another question and answer session at one point in the ride, with many edging surepticiously closer to listen as one or two asked questions. One of the more popular questions is "do you know Hindi," and as I bought a book on grammar a few days ago, I can have an extremely brief conversation. My name. Your name? I can tilt my head like a professional, though, and my "ha" is becoming very natural.
posted by JAshby at 6:06 AM
2 Comments:
james dear, you really must not litter. Your Grandmama would absolutely have a fit. In fact i'm sure that she would advise you to convert all of India to a country that puts litter in its place!! yeah.
luv - your sister.
What a great post. Had me laughing out loud in places. Sounds like a heck of an experience. Continue to be safe.
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