Tuesday
My parents and I are in sitting in our little white maruti driving to my husband's office. My father is scanning the dusty tar roads, the crowds of people and the shop front signs; at old, blackened building facades, at plants that have taken root in forgotten crevices, cyclists jostling for space with handcart pushers alongside long, shiny silver cars. He says, "this city lives in so many different centuries." I don't know why what he said stayed with me. It's not like it hasn't been said so many times before about this country, especially in those glossy tourist brochures for India, with their soft-focus photographs of 'God's Own Country,' in the stock photograph of a coyly curving stone goddess and her gravity-defying, plump, round breasts. Come, come see the country of unparalleled history, culture and beauty, that mystic land of temples, priests and yoga. Those documentaries that constantly hone in on holy men, the kumbhmela--come see, come see how ancient rites still live on. But i guess all cliches are true--which is why they became cliches in the first place. India is a kinky town, a freak show, an "IT hub" (to use that awful new economy term), a growing economy struggling with its endlessly procreating hordes.
I was thinking about this today as I scanned the news wires and saw two bizzarre stories on ritual sacrifice; a so-called magician who sacrificed a nine-year-old boy and a group of tamilian madmen who were caught worshipping a six-foot high idol, wearing human skulls around their necks. They told the police they bought the skulls for Rs 20 from a graveyard?!
Tuesday, December 03, 2002
Sunday
I'm showing my father this weblog...and he is quite fascinated by it.
Sunday, December 01, 2002
