There is an amazingly thin line between perpetrators and victims. It's a line of a similar diameter that keeps the hand, and sometimes fist, of justice from being just as guilty as those it attempts to punish. Despite the fact that society sanctions the job executioners it is still inherently immoral to tighten a noose or flip the electric switch on a defenseless person. Even the super hero role models we all grew up with, when looked at from outside the fantasy land of good vs. evil, existed in a moral gray zone when the exorcised vigilante justice. The police...do I need to even comment?
When we first heard the shrieks coming from the ghat two stories below the Waiter told us to sit down, that people were just preparing for the upcoming debauchery filled holiday called Holi. It was the second round of yells for help that got just about everybody sitting on the deck to jockey for a better view. By the time we were all situated the purse snatching and groping was over but the retribution was just starting. The Asian couple who had been accosted was out of sight and the local militia of fifteen to twenty five people were swarmed in a semi-circle around the Indian man who was pressed up against the fortress like wall of the ghat. Crying and pleading was interrupted by punches and hard kicks to the head. The blows were not the type that were just for show. The dull thuds echoed as if to reinforce what one might have missed from the visual presentation.
The scene degenerated over a period of maybe twenty minutes. The man made a thirty yard dash into a boat of packed with brightly dressed Indians who were headed onto the Ganges to release candles. The echo of kicks and slaps changed to the thud of bamboo poles as my bowl of ice cream was brought from the table to my nose bleed section seats above the event. I snacked on my dessert vaguely contemplating my moral responsibility while a Frenchmen shouted "Hay" like he really meant...something or another.
The police eventually showed up and after more smacking with sticks and an involuntary dip in the Ganges the perpictim was taken away. The response from other travels was interesting. Nobody could condone the actions but somehow felt like the benefactors of brutality. The beating was done in the name of our well being.
On a less depressing note:
the holiday Holi was a day ago. I don't think anybody knows what the holiday is about and if they do know, even more people know that that person is wrong. As far as I can tell its an excuse to throw small water balloon like bags full of toxic paint at each other. It was Awesome. The crew of people I have been hanging out with decided to start the game three days early. Just about everybody in Varanasi decided that no matter where they may be going, there was an easier way to get there if it involved walking by our guesthouse. Once Holi was over and we still had hundreds of bags...well next time some bible thumper jumps on you and asks why the monkeys aren't still coming down out of the trees and evolving, you can tell them its because your buddy Branden hit the furry fucker up side the head and it decided things really weren't so bad up in the trees after all.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Goldie Hawn a German Girl and a monkey
The word consequence walks hand in hand with many names, words, and deeds. The consequences of a persons actions. The ability to be a person of consequence. When making a mental note of people of consequence there is a name that certainly, and with good reason, does NOT come to mind: Goldie Hawn. How ever, after a few days on the ghats in Varanasi it becomes apparent that there is a power struggle that exists in the hearts of the people of the city. While historically Varanasi has been a center for Shiva worship, the equally ancient Goldie Hawn seems to be giving him a run for his rupees amongst the people.
The well remembered visit of the mildly unattractive to the city in 1982 still has the people talking, and is an important tool for instigating commerce on the ghats. The typical hustle starts: "From What country friend?" I have found that answering 'Pakistan' usually does the trick if you are trying to be left alone. If not: "special price, just for you," which quickly degenerates or regenerates to "I show you picture of Goldie Hawn."
Its actually genius. You dig through your brain trying to think of who Goldie Hawn is and why this person would have a picture of Goldie Hawn, then onto 'maybe this is a...compromising picture of Goldie Hawn and could be a story in itself.'
Boom, next thing you know you are in a silk shop looking at tame pictures taken two years before you were born of an actress who looked washed up at the height of her career. Oh Shiva, these are dark days indeed.
So after a couple days of buying gifts and taking temple tours I met the person I was hoping to meet while traveling. A cute German girl ( I have gotten along really well with Germans since high school, don't know what it is, I click with Germans) who was fearless, down to explore all day, and kept me laughing my ass off from the minute we met to when she left.
A key component in judging a persons character is seeing how they interact with the hustle of commerce oriented locals. I do appreciate Jeffery's approach of not acknowledging their presence excepts for a wagging at the wrist of the thumb and pointer finger in the shape of an 'L' that is lowered to waist height. The six copper bracelets he wears adds a raucous element that I think plays a huge roll in the effectiveness of the technique. Every time I see this my not so P.C. side pushes a wide grin to my face and conjures up an image of him riding an elephant while wearing a white suite with monocle and safari hat, cursing the 'dashed natives' while taking swings at monkeys with a walking stick. While you cannot deny its effectiveness it lacks compassion.
My German friend used a kind of exasperated compassionate tone in a demand for privacy that, for manners sake, was masked as a plea.
"sir, please"
It was just as effective as if Jeff had used the imaginary stick on the salesman.
We trucked around all day in unfamiliar and mostly tourist-less places of the city that I thought I had seen enough of.
The highlight was an after dark walk across a never ending "bridge" that had me feeling like my dreams of being Indiana Jones were coming to fruition. Large medal tanks floated across the Ganges with less than confidence inspiring planks of wood bolted on top. If it had been used for light foot traffic I would not have been worried. This being India, there was no point in thinking that was a reality. There was a constant flow of cars, motorcycles, rickshaws, bikes, and people. Each seemed to have the potential to be the bridge's last occupant.
During the night crossing the headlight of the vehicles attracted a blizzard of moths and other insects. We both had to cover out mouths, ears, and keep the eyes pointing down. Every time I snuck an upward glance the headlights revealed a fog of bugs swarming the bridge. Kristin's comment "It's like a Hitchcock movie" summed it up pretty well. The only thing I could do was keep going while trying to not inhale bugs every time I laughed.
Certain places and certain people people bring a certain mojo that allows for small experiences to take on a certain significance. What I have seen of India it is one of these places, and the two days of Kristin, she seemed like one of these people. Our paths were about to part after a last minute trip to Agra fell through. We were standing in my room with the door open when a punk of a monkey sauntered in like it was his room, gave me a look that made me think maybe it is his room and that I was mistaken in putting my bags in his way, reached for my marble carving of Ganesh, smashed it on the ground and walked out.
Fucken A Monkey! That Ganesh really tied the room together!
It was a nice reminder that there is always a lot around the corner.
Been sick for a few days now. If I don't get better I'm headed to the doc tomorrow. I get vertigo and a pain in my chest after walking thirty feet. Heart starts pounding and I just get wiped out. If I am lying down everything is cool. I have had the shits for so long I can't really call them a symptom of anything and the puking made me feel so much better I almost wish I'd start again.
It'll be great as soon as I feel better. I'll be well rested and ready for more adventure. I needed the time off. Everything thing is great out here.
The well remembered visit of the mildly unattractive to the city in 1982 still has the people talking, and is an important tool for instigating commerce on the ghats. The typical hustle starts: "From What country friend?" I have found that answering 'Pakistan' usually does the trick if you are trying to be left alone. If not: "special price, just for you," which quickly degenerates or regenerates to "I show you picture of Goldie Hawn."
Its actually genius. You dig through your brain trying to think of who Goldie Hawn is and why this person would have a picture of Goldie Hawn, then onto 'maybe this is a...compromising picture of Goldie Hawn and could be a story in itself.'
Boom, next thing you know you are in a silk shop looking at tame pictures taken two years before you were born of an actress who looked washed up at the height of her career. Oh Shiva, these are dark days indeed.
So after a couple days of buying gifts and taking temple tours I met the person I was hoping to meet while traveling. A cute German girl ( I have gotten along really well with Germans since high school, don't know what it is, I click with Germans) who was fearless, down to explore all day, and kept me laughing my ass off from the minute we met to when she left.
A key component in judging a persons character is seeing how they interact with the hustle of commerce oriented locals. I do appreciate Jeffery's approach of not acknowledging their presence excepts for a wagging at the wrist of the thumb and pointer finger in the shape of an 'L' that is lowered to waist height. The six copper bracelets he wears adds a raucous element that I think plays a huge roll in the effectiveness of the technique. Every time I see this my not so P.C. side pushes a wide grin to my face and conjures up an image of him riding an elephant while wearing a white suite with monocle and safari hat, cursing the 'dashed natives' while taking swings at monkeys with a walking stick. While you cannot deny its effectiveness it lacks compassion.
My German friend used a kind of exasperated compassionate tone in a demand for privacy that, for manners sake, was masked as a plea.
"sir, please"
It was just as effective as if Jeff had used the imaginary stick on the salesman.
We trucked around all day in unfamiliar and mostly tourist-less places of the city that I thought I had seen enough of.
The highlight was an after dark walk across a never ending "bridge" that had me feeling like my dreams of being Indiana Jones were coming to fruition. Large medal tanks floated across the Ganges with less than confidence inspiring planks of wood bolted on top. If it had been used for light foot traffic I would not have been worried. This being India, there was no point in thinking that was a reality. There was a constant flow of cars, motorcycles, rickshaws, bikes, and people. Each seemed to have the potential to be the bridge's last occupant.
During the night crossing the headlight of the vehicles attracted a blizzard of moths and other insects. We both had to cover out mouths, ears, and keep the eyes pointing down. Every time I snuck an upward glance the headlights revealed a fog of bugs swarming the bridge. Kristin's comment "It's like a Hitchcock movie" summed it up pretty well. The only thing I could do was keep going while trying to not inhale bugs every time I laughed.
Certain places and certain people people bring a certain mojo that allows for small experiences to take on a certain significance. What I have seen of India it is one of these places, and the two days of Kristin, she seemed like one of these people. Our paths were about to part after a last minute trip to Agra fell through. We were standing in my room with the door open when a punk of a monkey sauntered in like it was his room, gave me a look that made me think maybe it is his room and that I was mistaken in putting my bags in his way, reached for my marble carving of Ganesh, smashed it on the ground and walked out.
Fucken A Monkey! That Ganesh really tied the room together!
It was a nice reminder that there is always a lot around the corner.
Been sick for a few days now. If I don't get better I'm headed to the doc tomorrow. I get vertigo and a pain in my chest after walking thirty feet. Heart starts pounding and I just get wiped out. If I am lying down everything is cool. I have had the shits for so long I can't really call them a symptom of anything and the puking made me feel so much better I almost wish I'd start again.
It'll be great as soon as I feel better. I'll be well rested and ready for more adventure. I needed the time off. Everything thing is great out here.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Roots and Culture to Poops and Culture
In life we rarely grow from the experiences that do not ask something of us. The lessons we carry through life and provide if NOT the fondest of memories, certainly the most charecter defineing moments always seem to be born of situations where one steps ouside of their "Comfort Zone." We this in mind I decided this morning it was time for me to step up to a challenge I had been shying away from since my pass port was stamped in Delhi. Indeed, it was time I wiped my ass with my hand. Manning up to the old squatter, trying to keep my feet from slipping into the abysmal abyss while poseing like a cather in a base-ball game and not knowing if I was facing forwards or back, it struck me that these holes in the ground need instruction manuals. After just a few more moments of this it dawned on me that at some point there may have been instruction manuals, but fully knowing what I would have done with even a single peice of lamenated paper, anything short of painting them on the wall would have ensured that their existance would have been as equally transient as conveniant in nature.
Now a veteran of the situation, I provide the best approach to the squatter.
A) Hold your bussiness at all cost.
B) Go directly to hotel reception and demand that they immidiately produce the room with private bath (read TP available) that you reserved a week before arrival.
The alternative situation involves napkins that share qualities with People magazine in both slippery texture and ghastly, gassy content. I do not neccisarily advise...but I cannot necisarily advise against.
Because you do emerge. Yes, emerge and emerge a better man (woman or child). One that is far less disgruntled by the odors of the urchin, tout, holy cow and their holy shit over populated Indian streets. Ah yes, one step closer to being a truly cultured human being.
Almost got bit by a cobra that was sitting in a basket. Later on got dragged into a parade that had some heavy Sadhu rideing around in a silver chariott, a mobile DJ in a wagon, and an elephant.
Since being in the world's holiest city I have seen two fights (one person punches another repeatedly while he takes it looking indignate and unfased) a motorcyclist try to kick over a bycyclist (while he took it looking indignate and unfased) and been offered cocaine dozens of times (while not taking it and looking indignate and unfased.) The dead body floating in the river made an impression too, but that dead people motiff is in the past.
Ghatts are wild. Went for a late-night walk with a new friend down them away from the tourists. It was amazing and helped me get over all the BS of being in a town that is over run with Gorahs (crackers, honkeys, howlies, gringos or white devils if you perfer) that are doing to tourist bit. Great experience. Visual and spiritual. Wha.
Now a veteran of the situation, I provide the best approach to the squatter.
A) Hold your bussiness at all cost.
B) Go directly to hotel reception and demand that they immidiately produce the room with private bath (read TP available) that you reserved a week before arrival.
The alternative situation involves napkins that share qualities with People magazine in both slippery texture and ghastly, gassy content. I do not neccisarily advise...but I cannot necisarily advise against.
Because you do emerge. Yes, emerge and emerge a better man (woman or child). One that is far less disgruntled by the odors of the urchin, tout, holy cow and their holy shit over populated Indian streets. Ah yes, one step closer to being a truly cultured human being.
Almost got bit by a cobra that was sitting in a basket. Later on got dragged into a parade that had some heavy Sadhu rideing around in a silver chariott, a mobile DJ in a wagon, and an elephant.
Since being in the world's holiest city I have seen two fights (one person punches another repeatedly while he takes it looking indignate and unfased) a motorcyclist try to kick over a bycyclist (while he took it looking indignate and unfased) and been offered cocaine dozens of times (while not taking it and looking indignate and unfased.) The dead body floating in the river made an impression too, but that dead people motiff is in the past.
Ghatts are wild. Went for a late-night walk with a new friend down them away from the tourists. It was amazing and helped me get over all the BS of being in a town that is over run with Gorahs (crackers, honkeys, howlies, gringos or white devils if you perfer) that are doing to tourist bit. Great experience. Visual and spiritual. Wha.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Athletic accomplishments
Hoped on the metro and went to the last stop and started walking around. I was taking some pictures of this big field that had maybe three different Cricket games going on. Cricket...who knew base-ball had a retarded half brother? A group of twenty plus kids ranging from eight to maybe eighteen saw me shooting and started shouting for me to come over. I tried to play it off like a pack of panhandlers and just kept moving but I was literally swarmed with kids saying "hello, nice to meeeet you," and shaking my hand. It was the extent of their English. The next thing you know I had a cricket stick, bat, waffle, club, smashy thing in my hand and all eyes were on me. The first toss went behind me. Being no cricket expert I thought not swinging was the thing to do. The pitcher, tosser, hucker fellow moved in much closer in what seemed an attempt at charity. Your bad buddy. BRAAAAAHHHHHH BITCHES WHERE'D IT GO AHAHAHAHAHA!!!! I felt like all that was man. That F'er WENT! The crowd went wild. The two or three older kids that were no longer alphas (or just wanted to get back to the game) immediately were pushing me off the field and wanted nothing to do with me while the rest were back in 'gather round' mode. The odds of me hitting the ball like that again were next to zero so I was happy to oblige while I still looked good.
Shot some photos at a meat market the other day. I'm well on my way to forsaking flesh. It was far from sanitary and while seeing brains and entrails may not make one fiend for a salad, it doesn't really tickle the apatite into the mood for some ribs either.
I woke up the other morning and realized, even if all goes really well, I am 25% done with being alive. It was the first thing that went through my head as I became conscious. It seemed like it was a left over thought from sleep that snuck into the world of the awake. ARHHHH some god parents take their god children to... baseball games and golfing? Yeah OK I did come out on top, but I think its for the best that today was the last day at moma T's joint. Got to walk into the chilly room they use as the morg.
Onto to VeraBanaresAssi tonight.
Shot some photos at a meat market the other day. I'm well on my way to forsaking flesh. It was far from sanitary and while seeing brains and entrails may not make one fiend for a salad, it doesn't really tickle the apatite into the mood for some ribs either.
I woke up the other morning and realized, even if all goes really well, I am 25% done with being alive. It was the first thing that went through my head as I became conscious. It seemed like it was a left over thought from sleep that snuck into the world of the awake. ARHHHH some god parents take their god children to... baseball games and golfing? Yeah OK I did come out on top, but I think its for the best that today was the last day at moma T's joint. Got to walk into the chilly room they use as the morg.
Onto to VeraBanaresAssi tonight.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
More almost dead folks
Interacting with the almost dead on a regular basis...it makes the gears turn a little differently. I got a little shook today and as a side effect started a conversation with a bible thumper about one of the thousands of things you just don't start a conversation with a bible thumper about... fatal flaw... Next time I see him I plan on singing the praises of masturbation and random anonymous sex. Drop your jessus shit on me will ya?
I'd love to get this moment of clarity that some people claim when they see something that shakes them or is on some level meaningful. This old guy who looks like an Indian version of a severely spinach-less Popeye fell asleep while I was holding his hand and feeding him. I thought it was the big goodbye. This did a job on my mind state and I staggered strait out of Mother T's, followed my nose down an alley and ended up in this half out-door lunch spot where I ate a small pile of Samosas and retired from the game of blinking for a half hour or so. It was pretty surreal. The world got distant and I got deep into the old noggin.
Calcutta is full of life. Struggling, painful life. I see the people at Mother T's, this one armed begger who lies face down on the side walk flopping his nub around for rps and all sorts of other people just struggling to get a bite and I wonder if being dead isn't a better option. Its not a lack of compassion or ill will, its just the only way I can imagine there suffering coming to an end. Its like in the Departed. Leo finally gets shot and its almost a relief. Because of his humanity and the will to live that comes with that, of course it is a tragedy, but on another level you kinda go "well shit, at least we don't need to worry and suffer through that any longer." There is peace there.
So the storage device I have had for my photos decided it wasn't going to charge any more. It was causing a lot of stress. Jeff sent me off to go find some electronics market on my own. I'm lucky to find my arss to wipe it, never mind some electronics market. The quote was "It'll be good for you." That's right up there with, "It adds charecter." The only other time he dropped that on me was when I was thinking about quitting wrestleing senior year. Looks like the old bugger is two for two. I had a great time finding the place. I asked one person and followed their directions until they stopped making sense and then asked the next person. I found the place, bought a converter that did not do the trick and got back.
Next day I was wondering around and couldn't figure out for the life of me why I was walking into this mall. Not even ten minutes later I walked past a store that was half stocked and sort of painted. In the window there were a couple dozen random electronic devices mp3 players and one red box...ah yes...India provided.
Well the city still feels safe but seems stranger and stranger. Every taxi looks like it is from the 1940s. The company that makes the car kept the same body design until I think, the 80s. There are Rickshaws... I mean that one really doesn't need any qualifying...rickshaws... along the river people are bathing in water I wouldn't wash my feet in.
Just a few days and I'm off to Benares. I'm looking forward to a little change of scenery.
I'd love to get this moment of clarity that some people claim when they see something that shakes them or is on some level meaningful. This old guy who looks like an Indian version of a severely spinach-less Popeye fell asleep while I was holding his hand and feeding him. I thought it was the big goodbye. This did a job on my mind state and I staggered strait out of Mother T's, followed my nose down an alley and ended up in this half out-door lunch spot where I ate a small pile of Samosas and retired from the game of blinking for a half hour or so. It was pretty surreal. The world got distant and I got deep into the old noggin.
Calcutta is full of life. Struggling, painful life. I see the people at Mother T's, this one armed begger who lies face down on the side walk flopping his nub around for rps and all sorts of other people just struggling to get a bite and I wonder if being dead isn't a better option. Its not a lack of compassion or ill will, its just the only way I can imagine there suffering coming to an end. Its like in the Departed. Leo finally gets shot and its almost a relief. Because of his humanity and the will to live that comes with that, of course it is a tragedy, but on another level you kinda go "well shit, at least we don't need to worry and suffer through that any longer." There is peace there.
So the storage device I have had for my photos decided it wasn't going to charge any more. It was causing a lot of stress. Jeff sent me off to go find some electronics market on my own. I'm lucky to find my arss to wipe it, never mind some electronics market. The quote was "It'll be good for you." That's right up there with, "It adds charecter." The only other time he dropped that on me was when I was thinking about quitting wrestleing senior year. Looks like the old bugger is two for two. I had a great time finding the place. I asked one person and followed their directions until they stopped making sense and then asked the next person. I found the place, bought a converter that did not do the trick and got back.
Next day I was wondering around and couldn't figure out for the life of me why I was walking into this mall. Not even ten minutes later I walked past a store that was half stocked and sort of painted. In the window there were a couple dozen random electronic devices mp3 players and one red box...ah yes...India provided.
Well the city still feels safe but seems stranger and stranger. Every taxi looks like it is from the 1940s. The company that makes the car kept the same body design until I think, the 80s. There are Rickshaws... I mean that one really doesn't need any qualifying...rickshaws... along the river people are bathing in water I wouldn't wash my feet in.
Just a few days and I'm off to Benares. I'm looking forward to a little change of scenery.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
