Sunday, May 31, 2015

India. We’re not that bad



I recently read a blog piece by an American tourist flaying India and Indians, our roads, our poverty, our hygiene. Sure, it’s probably all true. But one does wonder that in a country of 1.2 billion people, with as many languages, traditions, habits and idiosyncrasies, is that all he saw?

HE DIDN'T...
He didn’t see the willingness of people to tell you directions,
the resilience of those poverty-stricken children with laughter in their eyes,
insisting on selling you balloons you don’t need.

He didn’t see the volunteers who set up stands to provide cold, life-saving drinks in the heat,
or lines for samosas and jalebis that are way longer than the ones at McDonalds.

He didn’t taste the pickles made by the grandmothers of India, 
with secret ingredients of maternal love, 
nor did he see anyone transform the simple unforgiving onion 
with a few drops of lime and some salt into something edible.  

He didn’t travel in a local train or metro
and hear a thousand stories in a thousand accents from a few hundred regions. 
He didn’t see strangers smile and converse in sign language, 
or share a meal on a train.

He didn’t see the telephone man climbing a rickety pole to fix a line, 
or the indulgence of the motorist towards the cow, the camel, the stray dog on the street. 

He didn’t see the bowls of water kept outside windows for the birds, 
or the scores of women who have turned colourful nighties into a uniform for gossip.

He didn’t see the cheerful old men sitting on a corner in a park, 
sharing tales of their youth that they’ll forget soon 
or the reverence of the kids towards them and other elderly.

He didn’t see the milkman hard at work amid the dung, 
whistling a cheerful tune while the world slept. 
Or the mangos, the sweet juicy balls of heaven, 
over which many a debates are fought, 
in dining rooms and fruit carts.

He didn’t see the multiple cricket matches being played on a single ground, 
or girls playing seven stones amid giggles of uninhibited glee, 
or young boys washing buffaloes in the dirty water, 
throwing cusswords with gay abandon.

Can you sum up India in a word, in an article, in a book?
Not likely.

We’re the chaos. 
A colourful, noisy, smelly, headache-inducing chaos. 
But if you open your eyes, you will grow to love it and live it.
He didn't open his eyes.