Just some observations from the train departing Delhi on the way to Haridwar .....
For the first hour, the city continues though I don't know if at some point this is considered Delhi or another "city." Seemingly endless squat, brick dwellings, all in need of repair since they are falling down or half done. I imagine this is absolutely not the way the people who live here feel .... they are what they are, a home and their neighborhood, their community. All manner of roofs, if there is a roof at all--- steel, sticks, concrete, some other things I'm not so sure of, some covered with bags of garbage, some with areas to walk and hang clothes to dry ..... there is garbage along the tracks where you can barely see the ground it is so thick, narrow dirt streets among the buildings and rock and bricks. A florescent light or bulb from some rooms with no doors to the outside of the dwelling. It reminds me of photos I've seen of people living in war torn areas, or places where natural disasters have devastated the surroundings. I feel almost guilty writing that. The critic in me assuming the worst in a way, and then saying it out loud. As though both are wrong, even though it is how these people live, it is just what I'm seeing through my own lenses and it is just what I happen to be thinking and putting out there.
As I go by these areas, it has me dreaming of what it would mean to have a red bell pepper plant there. Would that be strange, or would the seeds be a precious thing to others living nearby, something I could share? Would it even grow with the conditions of the air quality, the water content, the soil? Would it be possible here? I believe it would grow if there were attention, care and ?love? given to it. Anything can grow with enough attention, love and care .... anywhere. I know many might find such an idea naive, but maybe that is exactly how the world began. Out of nothing at all.
And there is something here.
There was a fog, before the sun came up, that sat so low --- an inversion where the tops of trees or bushes were visible, but you couldn't see the ground. It was lovely in its way. I can see now that the world here has woken up, people moving about, the sun up and seen through the thick haze ... the depressing state outside Delhi was, in part, an area still asleep ..... immobile because the day had yet to begin, not paralysis.
Now I'm among fields ..... a cart pulled by a cow, bicycles all over, people carrying all types of things. I find this place beautiful.
"Cow patties" drying in the sun next to the tracks. They burn them for heat, I think. A low brick wall separates the tracks from either the town or fields. Patties lined up in rows, or leaning against one another in whorls neatly.
More to write later about actually being in Haridwar. There is so, so much to see, to say. My friend Shailaja said to me she is looking forward to hearing how I process this trip after I return and have time to digest it more. She pointed out how much of the trip is what is taken home or comes up later on. so true. Shailaja grew up in Bombay / Mumbai, whichever you choose to call it, the same place. Of course it is not the same place, I'm sure. There are probably things that don't seem to change at all as she visits each year, and yet other things new here, surprises all the time.
As I ate my very late lunch or early dinner this afternoon and did some people watching on the street from the Big Ben Restaurant here in Haridwar ..... I noticed the clothes and variety, practically rags .... no, in honesty, rags draped all over a few people, or western jeans worn low with leather belts and cool shirts on good looking twenty-something year olds, women in simple long shirts--- I forgot what they are called-- in some bright colors, but more plain ... or vibrant, sequined sarees (not sure what the spelling is on that one) in brillant colors, school children in uniforms with backpacks or one child carrying his or her two year old brother in ragged, dirty tops and nothing on their bottoms.... Two female soldiers with their guns slung over their shoulders ..... and, what do you know, here is another cow! (this is so common I almost don't notice them anymore) ..... bicycle rickshaws (I got one to my hotel from the train station), scooters, motorcycles, bicycles, carts, carts with horses, carts pulled by men with roasted peanuts, vegetable, plastic Buddas that have tinsel around their necks, I can go on and on and on and on ............
I almost forgot the monkeys! On the patio of the hotel Haveli Hari Ganga, sitting along the Ganges (to you and me) there were about a dozen. I took pictures of the mother with her baby .... they walk along the railings .... a couple humping each other (there is a reason for the expression "monkeying around," of course) .... I'm fascinated initially. There is a sign that reads, "TO AVOID MONKEY MENACE PLEASE DO NOT DRY CLOTHES ON THE TERRACE." It is a good thing there is one of those pull out clothes lines in the bathroom. I am planning on splashing in the Ganga to wash away my sins (my Catholic girl is so thrilled!) and I will have some wet clothes since I'm most definitely not planning on jumping in nude or with the suits I've left in the States anyway ..... I mean, I am HERE for God's sake, why not get wet? So its cold, so what? This is close to where it comes out of the Himalayas, not where it empties into the ocean after travelling through the country. However, I am not planning on touching the monkeys. The guy with the big stick who is banging it around and scaring them away for maybe five minutes will help me make sure of that.
For the first hour, the city continues though I don't know if at some point this is considered Delhi or another "city." Seemingly endless squat, brick dwellings, all in need of repair since they are falling down or half done. I imagine this is absolutely not the way the people who live here feel .... they are what they are, a home and their neighborhood, their community. All manner of roofs, if there is a roof at all--- steel, sticks, concrete, some other things I'm not so sure of, some covered with bags of garbage, some with areas to walk and hang clothes to dry ..... there is garbage along the tracks where you can barely see the ground it is so thick, narrow dirt streets among the buildings and rock and bricks. A florescent light or bulb from some rooms with no doors to the outside of the dwelling. It reminds me of photos I've seen of people living in war torn areas, or places where natural disasters have devastated the surroundings. I feel almost guilty writing that. The critic in me assuming the worst in a way, and then saying it out loud. As though both are wrong, even though it is how these people live, it is just what I'm seeing through my own lenses and it is just what I happen to be thinking and putting out there.
As I go by these areas, it has me dreaming of what it would mean to have a red bell pepper plant there. Would that be strange, or would the seeds be a precious thing to others living nearby, something I could share? Would it even grow with the conditions of the air quality, the water content, the soil? Would it be possible here? I believe it would grow if there were attention, care and ?love? given to it. Anything can grow with enough attention, love and care .... anywhere. I know many might find such an idea naive, but maybe that is exactly how the world began. Out of nothing at all.
And there is something here.
There was a fog, before the sun came up, that sat so low --- an inversion where the tops of trees or bushes were visible, but you couldn't see the ground. It was lovely in its way. I can see now that the world here has woken up, people moving about, the sun up and seen through the thick haze ... the depressing state outside Delhi was, in part, an area still asleep ..... immobile because the day had yet to begin, not paralysis.
Now I'm among fields ..... a cart pulled by a cow, bicycles all over, people carrying all types of things. I find this place beautiful.
"Cow patties" drying in the sun next to the tracks. They burn them for heat, I think. A low brick wall separates the tracks from either the town or fields. Patties lined up in rows, or leaning against one another in whorls neatly.
More to write later about actually being in Haridwar. There is so, so much to see, to say. My friend Shailaja said to me she is looking forward to hearing how I process this trip after I return and have time to digest it more. She pointed out how much of the trip is what is taken home or comes up later on. so true. Shailaja grew up in Bombay / Mumbai, whichever you choose to call it, the same place. Of course it is not the same place, I'm sure. There are probably things that don't seem to change at all as she visits each year, and yet other things new here, surprises all the time.
As I ate my very late lunch or early dinner this afternoon and did some people watching on the street from the Big Ben Restaurant here in Haridwar ..... I noticed the clothes and variety, practically rags .... no, in honesty, rags draped all over a few people, or western jeans worn low with leather belts and cool shirts on good looking twenty-something year olds, women in simple long shirts--- I forgot what they are called-- in some bright colors, but more plain ... or vibrant, sequined sarees (not sure what the spelling is on that one) in brillant colors, school children in uniforms with backpacks or one child carrying his or her two year old brother in ragged, dirty tops and nothing on their bottoms.... Two female soldiers with their guns slung over their shoulders ..... and, what do you know, here is another cow! (this is so common I almost don't notice them anymore) ..... bicycle rickshaws (I got one to my hotel from the train station), scooters, motorcycles, bicycles, carts, carts with horses, carts pulled by men with roasted peanuts, vegetable, plastic Buddas that have tinsel around their necks, I can go on and on and on and on ............
I almost forgot the monkeys! On the patio of the hotel Haveli Hari Ganga, sitting along the Ganges (to you and me) there were about a dozen. I took pictures of the mother with her baby .... they walk along the railings .... a couple humping each other (there is a reason for the expression "monkeying around," of course) .... I'm fascinated initially. There is a sign that reads, "TO AVOID MONKEY MENACE PLEASE DO NOT DRY CLOTHES ON THE TERRACE." It is a good thing there is one of those pull out clothes lines in the bathroom. I am planning on splashing in the Ganga to wash away my sins (my Catholic girl is so thrilled!) and I will have some wet clothes since I'm most definitely not planning on jumping in nude or with the suits I've left in the States anyway ..... I mean, I am HERE for God's sake, why not get wet? So its cold, so what? This is close to where it comes out of the Himalayas, not where it empties into the ocean after travelling through the country. However, I am not planning on touching the monkeys. The guy with the big stick who is banging it around and scaring them away for maybe five minutes will help me make sure of that.
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