Some of the Things I Like About India

Young Indian men are seductive little brats. Cocoa skin, big brown eyes, long lashes, thick dark hair, 100 watt smiles, nicely scented and flirty as hell. They occasionally exhibit physical mannerisms that would be seen as camp or effeminate in the west and they do this high pitched giggle that drives me crazy. In a good way. They just stand around all lanky in their brightly coloured dress shirts and make eyes at the ladies. No wonder there are so damn many Indian babies.

Older Rajasthani village men look like they are in on an amusing secret. Under those massive turbans they have a twinkle in their eyes and they gossip and giggle together like school girls. Their facial hair would make a hipster rend his craft beer brand shirt in despair of ever reaching such follicular heights.

When someone tells an Indian that he cannot proceed to do a thing, the common response is to answer “ha,” giggle, and then do it anyway. I kinda love that, although I might find it maddening if I lived here. 

People frequently ask what India smells like. A lot of incense, flowers, sandalwood, wood smoke, the whiff of sewer or burning trash and the delicious aromas of perfume oils as men and women walk by. If you are near a restaurant there will also be the smell of ghee and spices. A fair bit of exhaust in the cities. Some areas, usually near walls, reek of piss. The desert just smells clean with a faint odour of camel. You would think it all smells like cow, but it mostly doesn’t. 

The kitsch. Indians love kitsch and decoration and I love them loving it. Huge faded pictures of white babies taped to the wall, pink teddy bears wedged into niches, cheesy images of the gods and goddesses everywhere, plastic flowers stuck throughout the palace garden. They have the most exquisite fabrics and craftsmanship available to them but they almost always overdo it and add in the oddest things. You never know what you will see when invited into a home. The interiors of cars and rickshaws can be a work of art.

The way people pitch in to help out. Citizens will step in and direct traffic if things are tight and there is an impasse. If a rickshawwalla is lost, everyone will help him find his address. One night our driver was completely lost and a young guy on a motorcycle said, “follow me” and led him to our homestay. Since the demonetization year before last, no one has change for the big bills the ATMs put out. When you buy something the merchant rarely has change and will sometimes just get it off another guy or send his boy to the next merchant to get change. Presumably they get their money back later. There would be no way off the Kolkata metro if people didn’t work together to form a wedge to ram our way off the train car against the on-pushing crowd. 

Life is lived in the streets, even when the streets are only as wide as your outstretched arms in some of the old walled cities. You have auto rickshaws and motorbikes dodging cows and dogs and stalls as well as stunned looking tourists. People are sleeping, gossiping, praying, singing, sometimes bathing, peeing, shopping for their daily food and all right out in the community. Funerals processions and wedding processions happen in the street. Yesterday there were brass and drum bands for multiple weddings in our cramped old city area complete with fully costumed cows, horses and camels, and wheeled displays of ancestor portraits. One band was playing “All the Single Ladies.” The streets were completely closed with people out clapping and cheering and taking selfies. All the animals in town are in the street, doing all the things they do - fucking, defecating, fighting. Last night traffic stopped for a high speed bull /cow chase. He clearly had amorous intentions she didn’t share. It all makes for a lively vibrant scene that I miss when I go back to Canada.

Indian driving impresses me. It should be an Olympic sport. There are general patterns but people then just do what they want. What side of the road to drive on? Whichever side you fancy and can fit your vehicle. Just be sure to be honking. Want to pass the rickshaw, the cow and the guy pulling a cart by hand? Just honk. They’ll move over for you to pass. If they don’t, just squeeze in. A millimetre apart? Perfect. The general rule of the road is that the bigger vehicle has the right of way, unless the rickshaw driver has nerves of steel. Oh, and never, NEVER run over a cow.

I can’t even begin to imagine what driverless cars would do in India. Algorithm that, Tesla!