Random Thoughts Leaving India

Driving along on the highway through Mumbai I thought, “I really like it when men wear sandals.” Even when they are roughened labourers’ feet in broken down old sandals, I like to see them. There’s something vulnerable and endearing about naked feet.

In the south I like to see men in their lunghis and I don’t know why more men don’t adopt them. The world is heating up, men, put on a sarong to cool your jewels!

Financial transactions have become more difficult for foreigners these days. India used to run on cold hard cash but you might have needed to go to a larger business to change a larger bill. These days no one has change. Including larger businesses. Most things are paid by Indian bank transfer via phone.

Modi’s demonetization in 2016 moved more businesses and individuals away from cash and towards bank accounts, as did the push towards the Aadhar biometrics ID card required to access many basic services. Now many people here have access to digital payment methods and that is what’s required to book excursions or safaris. Credit cards either aren’t accepted, or the point of sale machines randomly reject them, or the website portals for them no longer work properly. There still are relatively few foreigners travelling India so I don’t think that consideration has landed for them yet.

Mansplaining - for the love of all that’s holy, stop it! It happens all over India, but it was painfully non-stop while seeing the caves. There are signs at many of the caves and, as I tended to arrive at them before K, I would read bits off to her so she could go straight to the cave, sometimes adding some info I happen to know. And invariably, immediately after, some man would repeat to me exactly what I had just said as if I needed to be informed. And they would use my exact words, often shaking a finger to drive the info in.
Me to K: “Cave 16 - Kailash Cave. This represents Lord Shiva’s home in the mountains.”
Local dude standing right beside me, addressing me and shaking his nose picker in my direction: “This cave 16 - Kailash Cave. Lord Shiva’s home in the mountains.”              
Me: “No, really? Glad you were here to tell me.”

Don’t mention the pandemic to anyone here who depended on tourism, either foreign or internal. Just don’t, unless you want to see a look of eternal sorrow that will break your heart.

Roads full of wandering livestock should just be everywhere.

The first time I came to India I was bemused and a teensy bit grossed out at how openly people nose pick. I’m talking 2 knuckles deep and then wiping it on the metro hand rail.???? All it took was a few days in Delhi to realize that regular nose irrigation is essential here with all the dust that gets trapped in there. Can it be done more discreetly with a hankie? Yes, but why bother? It does raise questions for me, though. Were people able to refrain during the pandemic? Pop science articles suggest a causal relationship between nose picking and Alzheimer’s. Are there higher rates of Alzheimer’s in India and nose picking cultures? Inquiring nose pickers want to know.

As maddening as the persistent hawkers and beggars are, the tragic ones are those who don’t even bother anymore. They just huddle on the side of the road, unwilling or unable to compete. Giving to beggars here makes human trafficking more profitable and doesn’t provide any actual help. I already donate monthly to charities that help create sustainable solutions to world poverty and do disaster relief and this trip has made me resolve to increase my donation amounts when I return home. Access to a safe home, food, medical care and meaningful work would make a real difference in their lives.