Sitting in the Hotel Bar here in Jaipur after a Train Travel that was more of a time-travel: Nothing ever changes in India. It's the same trains with their AC Maharajah class where they bring you fresh tea whenever the wallah catches your eye, at 18 Celsius - don't ask me the Fahrenheit (64 something: COOL) - while the rest of the train is dimly lit, with 50% of the ventilation fans defect. I'm so glad we booked 1st class. Not because of the people, but because there are so incredible many of them, in closest contact, yet very respectful, no touch, half an inch distance. I feel so clumsy amongst them, like the proverbial elephant. And, of course, they all bring their bedroll with them, and some cages with feathered animals, not all of them chicken. Saw a few fighter cocks on the platform, maybe there's a major cockfight event somewhere. On the platform, they stole my cameras (both Lumixes, the old DMZ GF2 and the new elegant TZ 7.) And I had contemplated carrying the small one in my shirt pocket, but, alas, there are worse things happening at sea. A bit of a bad start.
But after a few minutes on the train, as we approached the countryside, all the helter/skelter of Delhi fell away (we stayed in the old town, not in the Capital City, and paid the price of authenticity). It was like running into a soft kind of invisible pudding that slowed every movement, like a camera on slow motion and fast motion at the same time. Can't explain it better. Very Time-Machine like, almost unreal to sit near an AC and watch the 36 Celsius barren landscape drift along outside - it's cloudy today, and we met two small thunderstorms which were very refreshing.. All the archetypal figures on display, the group of migrant workers afoot, the old sadhu, hyper colored Women in Shalwar kameez, wide trousers and a long shirt, a dress previously worn by muslim women, but so much more practical than saree, so today many, if not most women wear it ( That is: in Delhi, which is a city. We'll see how it's in the country). After a while the first water buffaloes arrived (to Pranee's astonishment they look somewhat different from the kind Thais keep.)
Pranee is - untypically - rather quiet and somewhat careful. After a while - the train had stopped for some reason, and the thunderstorm was just abating - she told me that she was - totally irrational - afraid of (or unconsciously expecting) sudden ethnic violence, especially towards Muslims. Well, not that such things don't happen at all, but they are rather unlikely. There are still 15% Muslims in India - outnumbering Pakistan, ironically, and there are Muslim Ministers and such, but there is still tension. But it was Pranees Idea to have a stopover at Delhi, not mine...
My wife was brought up in a strict Muslim household, and although she lives a rather urban and irreligious life, those childhood tales about the bloody separation of India and Pakistan still linger on.
I told her that people look at her not because she's Muslim (no hijab, European clothes), but because she's so beautiful and exotic with her white skin and Chinese eyes. But like all women (that I've known good enough to give an informed guess) she would not believe it. After a while a small girl started befriending her in a sweet mixture of Hindu/Urdu and simple English, and after another while the girl's family asked her to come over to them and have a typical snack. Now India - like Italy, we'll see, we'll see - is one of those countries where the best food is served at home, and Restaurants are second rated. There are beautiful restaurants in Delhi, but my opinion was that - like in Singapore, Bangkok or Jakarta - the best food is served on the streets. Indian cuisine is very local, drive 50 miles and they do just about everything different... (and people look different, and Sarees have other ornaments) Anyway, it was absolutely true. the home-cooked food - looking like nothing special, just plain dumplings - was so rich in taste, just a bit on the peppery side, once - said Pranee - once you start eating it you have to stop immediately, lest you'd eat the whole family portion. I had a try (big clumsy ferengi was invited after a while), and was so visible surprised by the taste that I didn't have to say anything to praise Atta, the cook woman...
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