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| A t-shirt i got. It says, "We are all Hindustn | " |
The other day when I was going to the mall and the Sikh temple I saw a horse drawn cart. Though have I seen myriad homeless, hungry, people on the streets and countless stray dogs, this horse touched me the deepest. I think it is because, though I love all animals, my love for the majestic equine triumphs all. The horse was white, though his coat was dingy and brown with dirtiness. His Skelton was clearly drawn out and only lined by his skin. The horse reminded me of when I use to practice drawing horses from art books. The art books would always show how to draw the horse figure in steps. Usually the steps began as lines, sketching the baseness of the soon to be horse. Slowly, I would fill in the area around the line sketching, first with more lines and then with circles to provide the outline of what would become to full bodied horse. But this white horse seemed permanently stuck at just a sketch, nothing but a bare minim of lines. I do not feel bad for the horse, because I know the people that own this horse are short for food and do what they can to give some of their rations to this horse.
Today, I was reading an (English) Indian newspaper. There was an article on horses in small villages that are the sole provision on income for families. The horses are used to tow and ferry people from one end of a village to a main road for travel. This job is what brings income to the horses’ owners. An owner in the article was talking about how he paid 30,000 rs (about $640) for a mare. It was difficult for him to feed his family and his mare, but he needed his mare to make the money to buy his family food. Unfortunately, a horse-illness called Galander began to spread around the village and within two years his mare was dead. The government (I assume they are in charge of preventing such illnesses) only pays 30-50 rs (about $1) in compensation. The owner was in a quandary because he could not afford a new horse because he now had no income.
It is not uncommon to see horses in the chaotic streets of Delhi. My Delhi University guide told me of a time when there was horrible traffic: she was sitting in a car for a very long time when all of a sudden a horse and rider walked by, squeezing through the maze of jam packed cars. I must admit, when she told me this, I instantly wanted to move to Delhi and use horses and my main transportation.
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Yesterday, before I moved into my host house, my IES supervisors took all of us to an Indian lunch place. This place served street food in a sanitary and healthy way, so we (Americans) were able to eat it. For those of you who live in Memphis, it was like going to Las Tortugas—Saratoga, like going to Putnam’s for lunch hour. But you have to multiply that chaotic-ness by at least 200%. First, remember how I was saying that there are now rules to Delhi driving, that cars do not stay in the lanes—Well I now believe that Delhians simply do not abide by any structured formation, especially lines. To order, you clump into a bigger clump of people and push your way to the cash register (you order first). I ordered a meal of rawal masla dosa, which is a pancake like break that is stuffed with delicious potatoes and spices. My meal cost 94 rs, but with tax it was 104 rs (about $2). However, I only handed the guy a rs.100. He kept saying something I couldn’t understand, even though he was speaking in English. Finally he showed me the receipt any pointed to the digit 4. I owed him 4 more rs. When all that was settled I had to go find the counter that would serve me my dosa. When I did, I had to, again, clump into a massive group. The experienced people at the lunch joint were pushing against each other in an attempt to hand the workers behind the glass counter their ticket for their meal. Finally, I got to the counter and handed over my ticket. Again the guy said something (in English) that I could not understand. I felt bad because he was speaking English, just with a thick accent (though I guess really I am the one with the different English accent). He asked me about three times until finally I understood, “here—to go?” Okay, so now I was just waiting for my food. I was waiting, still in the massive clump of people, hoping my food would find me. Eventually a guy came with my food and set the tray on the counter. I tried to take it, but he held onto the tray. I was very confused and tried again to take it. Obviously, I am a foreigner in this great country, because an Indian man looked at me and with perfect (British) English said, “He has to put more food on the tray, it is not ready yet.”
Finally I got my food and found a table with my friends. The place had tall tables, but no chairs, for a fast in-and-out eating experience. So we ate, and of course my dosa was delicious. Yay!!
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Also, Yesterday I got mindi—also known as Hena.
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