Readily able to face my own mortal end while riding on the back of a cycle rickshaw this evening, I came up with a joke:
"Why did the Indian chicken cross the road?"
"Because it lived in a Pure-Veg neighborhood and had a death wish."
But seriously folks, the other day I was very nearly hit by an oncoming truck. With no where to turn-run I put my palms together and looked the driver in the eye praying that he would turn his wheel in time not to run me over. I think I am going to keep a will on my person--as cynical as that might seem it is absolutely sensical here. People talk of crime but I am surprised by the extent to which I have seen it happen around me--purse snatchings and violations of personal space in the worst of ways.
And this diet of daal+chawwal+sabzhi is quite the diet, while the girls here joke about bottling faucet water to sell as a weight loss plan in the states since the possibility of it bringing about parasite induced diarrhea is so damn high, 15 lbs a liter ladies...we laughed as we ate falooda and in some weird moment of foreshadowing even spoke of its wormy-looking noodles the night before a friend realized she had a parasite--Who says you can't make friends in India? Who says you can't bring them home with you? Lord only knows of the kind of luggage we will carry back in turning tummies.
OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER
- bfa
- Although this blog details experiences had while studying at the University of Cambridge through a Fulbright Scholarship as well as at the American Institute of Indian Studies through a Critical Language Scholarship, it does in no way reflect upon the views of my funding source, the US State Department.