A Brief Moment

Note: My last two posts were mediocre attempts to entertain you. I was not inspired, yet chose to post anyway. This, on my part, was a mistake and I am here to redeem myself and dazzle you with fresh ideas and experiences. Back to the basics, the tale of one man setting sail into a sea of millions.

I wish I had brought a tape recorder. I could express my thoughts and feelings to you as they come to me. In the places in which they came to me. It becomes difficult, skewed if you will, my sitting in front of a computer screen hours after the rush of thoughts. It does not allow for things to flow as they did sitting on the walls of an ancient fort, high above the city, overlooking the colourful carts filled with fresh fruits and vegetables, being pulled or pushed by men who live far beyond our definition of poverty. Gazing at the kids flying kites, the auto-rickshaw drivers reupholstering their seats, and the women doing laundry and leaving the beautiful array of coloured saris and cloths to dry on the roofs in the sun. The views are spectacular.

I am presently reading 'the white tiger', a book based in India. It has given me much insight into the lives of ordinary men. I use ordinary loosely here, there is nothing ordinary about India. It gives me insight and motive to ask more questions about the buildings and sewage plans that have not come to be but have been promised by the government. The havelis built by workers, regular men, from money meant for communities but instead kept by crooked politicians. The poor sit hungry and homeless just outside, having built these palaces with money meant for them.

Taylor and I walk through the narrow roads of Jaisalmer to find hundreds of shops filled with colourful bed covers, shawls, scarfs, trousers and shirts. Somehow within these narrow roads a few kids find places to play cricket, to practice their throws and swings. A cow or bull moo-ssies by, a motorbike whizzes through with unthinkable precision, still the kids play on. Taylor and I join in their game. It turns it to more or less a game of catch. For no less than 45 minutes we toss the ball, quickly, the kids pretending to throw the ball behind them in order to cause a wicket (an out in cricket). They are fast and eager. They enjoy our company, encouraging us to keep playing.

Only a foot away from me, as I toss the ball, a bull with horns a foot long stops mid-step. It lowers it's head and and begins to chew an empty silver chip bag -The streets are littered with garbage which the cows and bulls eat. Just then the bull begins to urinate. This bull seemed aged, maybe it's just malnourished but I think the sudden urination was as much of a surprise to him as it was to me.

Cows are owned collectively by neighbourhoods. They use and share milk. The excess is sold to neighbours who do not share the cow.

We went into a Jain temple. Jain is a division of Buddhism. As in temples of Hinduism we had to remove our shoes but there was more here. All leather had to be removed and menstruating women were forbidden to enter. How they can tell I am not sure, but the simple fact that women, during this time, are shunned, was a shock.

I'll change topics now and move to trains, but first, I must tell you that today while walking to the market in Jodhpur, where I am now, I saw, not for the first time, two young children around the age of 4 taking huge shits in the road. They squatted beside the cows chewing garbage, the auto-rickshaw drivers chewing pann, waiting to give rides and the many people walking by, to simply defecate. Bazaar? Not at all, really, it is perfectly normal here. Okay so, trains. The trains are sweaty and hot by day and freezing by night. They are from a fleet of trains made no later than 1960 and if you haven't put together the line of similarity that exists in this country, they are dirty. Everything is dirty. I ask people if they have a garbage, they respond with a yes and throw whatever it is I've handed to them into the street.

Back to the dirty yet fantastic trains. They clunk and bang day and night. In the day, sleeper class, the lowest way to travel while still having a seat, gives you a very minimal place to sit and absolutely no possibility of laying down. The bunks, on which I sleep on night trains, have 5-6 people squished together in the day. There is luggage packed all around us as well as people. The upper berths are piled and packed with people's belongings. There is NO personal space in this entire country. The people, though they may not know each other, cozy up and smile, babbling on to each other while laughing (sometimes at the tall white people's expense). Let's talk about this for a moment.

The people in India, as far as I can tell, are happy. What I mean by this is that people, smile frequently, they laugh constantly and seem quite content. I know that this, considering some peoples' living arrangements, seems hard to believe but it is true. They are peoples' of high spirit.

I am in Jodhpur now. I think this is the most beautiful place which I have been so far on this journey. I want to share with you a moment of peace which I was fortunate enough to have yesterday. I had climbed the rocky hill to the fort which has never been concurred due to it precarious position. I was looking out upon the city, upon the blue houses below. It was close to sunset and the call to prayer began to ring through the city. Upon the hill things seem to stop, all except for the sounds of this call. I cannot describe to you what is being said, I do not know. I do know that the birds, soaring high above the city, seemed to stop, the air became still but the song kept going. The call to prayer comes several time a day and booms through the city. I have heard it many times and have begun to enjoy it, it is soothing, but today it was even more so. It was prefect. There are few moments in my life where I have felt such perfection.