A wide road, closed to traffic, runs around the temple district. It is a blessing to be able to move around without the risk of being run over at any moment. It is quiet, less noisy, less hurried, you can walk the street in slow and leisurely steps, sometimes stopping here, sometimes there.
Since I left Goa with a single pair of pants, I bought a pair of trousers yesterday, horrible, the worst ever. It once again confirms that vanity is a perennial phenomenon and belongs to man as much as the tendency to do incomprehensible things. Well, there's no fashion show today, and no one knows me here.
But the pants really bother me ...
The thin man
From time to time I sit down and watch the life around me. A middle-aged man, emaciated to the bone, apparently has a laundry day and is just about to dry his few clothes over a barrier. Every movement is slow, deliberate, dignified.
Then, with the Longyi wrapped around his belly, he sits down near me, and as I watch him from the corners of my eyes, he rummages in a bag he carries with him. I assume that all his belongings are hidden in it.
I'm curious to see what he's looking for, and I'm flabbergasted when he fishes out a cigarette, ignites it with skill and draws the smoke into the lungs with sheer delight. It's been a long time since I've seen someone smoking with so much relish. These are the inspirations that are finally found somewhere in stories. .
Then he digs again in his pocket, the tension rises, and he takes a comb from the bag, with which he now combs his dark hair, long on the side, for the next ten minutes, first in one direction, then in the other.
That's exactly what I want to see and why it keeps me coming back to these Countries pulls. Just wonderful! It's just like that - India is a world of its own.
Bicycle rickshaw with Mobile Phone
An Indian addresses me in broken English and offers me a round trip with his bike rickshaw, 50 rupees an hour. Why not, I think and follow the man to his vehicle.
A good decision, because after a short time we reach in dense traffic the vegetable and fruit market, which I searched in vain in the morning. I let him drag me through the stalls, while he tells me the names of the vegetables and fruits. Some of them I have never seen before.
Madurai Corporation Modern Gents Free Urinal
It's the little things usually overlooked. But they are the things that offer a real view onto a country and its society. Like this public toilet for men. It is not just an urinal, it is the clear and unambiguous communication from the authorities that people are cared for, at least for the male part. To which extent the claims of the female part of the society are met is apparently secondary ...
My elephant is being washed
The tour continues to other urban areas, we approach a pretty dirty river, on which shore women wash clothes and lay them out in the meadow to dry.
And lo and behold, coincidence wants my old friend from the temple, the elephant, to endure the daily washing procedure. I let the driver guide me nearby and so a very special spectacle takes place in front of me.
The elephant seems to like it and it also seems as if the men and boys who scrub on it do so in a very professional and gentle way. It takes a while until he finally rises and splashes himself with his trunk.
Indian Business Sense - The case of the price
The rickshaw driver, although already quite in years, has not missed the modern time. While he drives me leisurely from one place to another, every now and then he organizes the next trip with his mobile phone.
I finally realize that he actually meant 50 rupees, but 50 rupees for every hour. In the meantime we've been on the road for quite some time, but only when he wants to guide me first to an exhibition of absolutely horrible Indian art and then to a museum, I make it clear that it's time to go home.
So it's finally 3 hours that the trip is supposed to have lasted, well, let's be generous, but when he asks for an extra 100 rupees for the elephant show, I get a bit angry. But what the hell, he probably has to support a family with many children.
It's evening, I buy some food for the long ride on the train and eat dinner in a small restaurant. Whether the mistake is done here or elsewhere, I'll probably never find out (see later).
And then ... I'll wait for the train again, write some text messages to my friends and children and rave about how beautiful and wonderful it is with the millions of Indians and mosquitoes.
Something is wrong
Two hours later I'm on the night train, lying in my sleeping bag, the comfort and security of which I was looking forward to, and listening to Marianne Faithful's "Kimbie" with headphones and am satisfied and happy.
Before the song is over, I feel that something is wrong. The bloated belly was a first sign, the red lamp so to speak, but then I realize that something ugly is going on. The first visit to the train toilet reveals the ugly truth: I've caught diarrhea.
After all, the toilet is a stand-up toilet and very clean by Indian standards. So I spend the next few hours either there or in my compartment, waiting for the next attack.
Imagine: I'm in a compartment with three other passengers, so I have to be as quiet as possible searching for my shoes in the dark, slipping in and going quietly outside, always in the dark, if I can make it to the bathroom on time.
But somehow I survive the bad night, in Bangalore most of the passengers get off, and I am finally alone in the compartment.
But just like the following song sounds, I feel …
P.S. Matching Song: Flyleaf - I'm so sick
And here the journey continues ...
