NEW YEAR'S EVE. Happy New Year from India! We experienced the beginning of 2007 exactly 12 and a half hours before the folks in the American heartland rang in the New Year. Indian celebration of the New Year is similar to what happens in America, but our experience of it was among the poor. We spent some time in the markets at a busy intersection earlier in the evening—a bazaar full of what most North Americans would find bizarre.
SOAKING IT IN. Cattle roam among the crowd and traffic. A man sitting crossed legged on the ground repairs bicycles while patrons wait (I watched him repair a punctured tube without taking the wheel off the bike!). Three men carry on a vigorous conversation in sign language. The smell of curry and myriad spices wafts through the marketplace. Ripe bananas hang in bunches. Coconuts pile high on the ground. Tamil-language newspaper headlines broadcast gory details of Saddam Hussein’s hanging.
Fireworks explode in the sky, barely discernible above the noise of honking traffic. Women walk by in brightly colored saris and Punjabi suits, as ancient as Bible times--bought right off the rack! Men dress casually in a shirt and skirt-like dhoti. Instead of huddling for the midnight countdown inside--away from the harsh cold--folks go about their New Year’s Eve activities outside in eighty-degree heat and humidity. The old year passes and the new rings in. I’m sure I will never experience a New Year’s Eve like this again.
A SOUL FEAST. Pedaling along Indian roads is a feast for the eyes and soul. Taking in what is unusual becomes usual. Before long, you come to expect nothing less than another encounter that is beyond anything within range of normal in Western mentality. I was impressed by rich colors in women's dress, by great banyan trees, vast rice fields, hard working laborers, deep poverty, ingenuity and gracious hospitality.
