first day

Sincerely, I do not know how to describe it. Neither what I see nor how I feel. Not really even what I want. It is a lot of reality at once and any role I might be playing is not easy at all. It is not easy to feel good on my first day, and I’m not. But this is all so real, so brutally solid and exciting: utter beauty and brutality mingle, unbelievable wealth and misery. Aberration is nothing abnormal, be it physical, urban, of smells and of life. what I post here are maybe the things closest to my imagination and to the reach of my words, for the rest, I might get better with time in telling them, or go over the overwhelming, disturbing and oppressing load of things of the first day. yet I am ready for my second day.



In the morning on young little lady with a beautiful sari rang the bell and came in the house. With her, her 14 years old daughter, incredibly beautiful as well to my eyes, she’s getting married soon, an arranged marriage as normal. they both sile a lot. I am told they come every day, prepare tea, sweep and clean the floor, cook, they bring our clothes home to clean and iron them. They are very nice and only speak hindi, or, rather, I only speak enlgish. The chai was excellent, spicy but gentle.
Then I got changed, ready to start my day, and they stared at me and then stated laughing so hard they had to sit on the floor. I had put odd socks, one pea-green and the other sky-blue. I knew. They could not believe it. I could not believe either I was exotic enough to be hilarious. Well, I guess yes. Now we have some sort of conversation on colours of socks when we meet.

“Serf meter se”: if you want to get a rickshaw without paying the tourist price, well try to move your head like someone has been there for a while, little waiving from right to left with the top of your head still while speaking, to say yes. And insist: “only with the taximeter”. A 35 minutes ride costs 80 pens. The atmosphere is loaded with heat humidity and noise, I can feel my lungs full of pollution as well.

In the city centre you get these huge spaces, lawns and trees and ponds and imposing buildings, the spaces needed for the national government of a nation of over one billion people. In Connaught place, the hart of the city centre, there is this architecture of the thirties, elegant and very very very lively all around.
I saw a tiny baby sleeping naked on the pavement, not the kind of thing my delicate white conscience can pacifically bear. I had to skip him/her walking and literally felt like shit. In one day I came across such moments so many times I wonder what I need is maybe not an habit to it but being pragmatically cynical. Hard to say, not much easier to do!

This Saturday is Ganesh’s birthday, the elephant God is at the centre of celebrations all around India (particularly in Mumbay). I got into one temple I came cross by chance. Incredibly crowded. I had to take my shoes off and stood in a queue in the middle of a little room where everybody was full with deep urge. From the queue I got to a place where altars, statues (murti) placed within an incredible set of adornments and images where all over, covered with crown of flower constantly added by priests from the hands of people. Plates with burning flames were going around and people would quickly put their hand in the fire. In the meanwhile formules where said out loud, bells played and people would respond to the invocation of the priest by saying something like “jai”, i.e. “hail” I guess. Outside, in an irregular courtyard, more flames and more murtis, black little statues of Ganesh around which groups of people gathered, on which people constantly poured oil, embellished with crowns of orange flowers and spread powders. I did not understand much of what was going on, but it was a continuous flow of sounds, voices, people moving around, some glancing at me and my camera I had badly dissimulated in my hand. At the exit, the row of sick and harmed people I had skipped at the entrance was waiting for my confused sight, asking for food and money. All around sweets and food were boiling in big pans of oil and people eating around the stalls. The traffic absolutely incredible in the night. I understood little of what was going on and looked for an auto rickshaw to head home.

My Indian flatmate told me: “You have seen a lot in one day”. I think so too...