When the group started pleading, 'But Sunday is Jamna's wedding and she wants to have just one dance with you!' I knew I would not be able to leave Bhadvasia today without another performance. I have been saying 'kal' 'kal' 'kal' (tomorrow) for the last week or so when the train of children start shouting 'Dance, dance!" but they weren't going to let me get away with it today. It was three o'clock and 108 degrees. I can't say I felt like being more of a show than I already am on a day to day basis but Jamna, sitting on the dirt floor while her mother combed her long black hair, was wearing the most beautiful Marwari dress and traditional wedding jewelry- I couldn't say no! At first, the news of someone's upcoming marriage resulted in my sing-songy 'congratulations!'- an excited exclamation and an arm squeeze perhaps. These days, after quickly learning that about 99% of the marriages are arranged, I do not opt to give as joyous a reaction. Indian weddings are a spectacle to say the least and I am no longer surprised when I realize I have passed the third one of the day on the way home from work. Invitations flow into the Sharma's house, each extravagantly decorated with gold trim and depictions of Ganesha, the god of prosperity. Marriage, from what the girls have told me privately in our interviews, is more a power from the woman's father to her husband. It is seen as a necessary familial obligation; more a chance for family and friends from near and far to come together in celebration of cultural longevity. But nevertheless, the wealth of bejeweled saris, vibrant turbans, mouth watering sweets, and spirituality over the four day span of the occasion is truly breathtaking. I have already 'RSVP-ed' to three of the girls' upcoming weddings. A few of the more playful girls from the sewing center joined in the dancing and led me along as I made a fool of myself attempting to mimic their spiraling henna-ed hands and swerving hips. I think I need to practice before making my wedding debuts. The promised 'Sirf ek dance!" (just one dance!) turned into four and even that left me fending off grasping hands as they tried to pull me back into the booming beat of the Marwari music.
The tempo 33 drivers have come to recognize me, know where I'm going, and around when they'll see me waiting on the side of the road. I no longer have to shout 'Ruko!" in front of Bhagvati Tires, the landmark of the GVSS office or furiously wave them down as they weave through camel carts on dusty streets. When they see me at my usual post after work at 5:30, I don't have to worry about calling out from underneath the babies and bundles of the 25 people that have managed to squeeze themselves into the 3-wheeled vehicle smaller than a mini-van. The luxury of having a seat means that you are expected to share the load of the other who don't. If a woman climbs abroad with a baby on her hip, multiple pairs of hands reach out to bounce it on their laps as she stands hunched under the tattered fabric roof. Men are relieved of their canvas sacks of flour and I often find myself peaking into bags of fresh market vegetables that land on my lap out of nowhere imagining them mixed with turmeric, chili, and cumin. Despite the heat, the sometimes uncomfortably close proximity to each other's breath, and the unavoidable grasping on to your neighbor's arm as the driver dodges a cow enjoying the afternoon sun from the middle of the road, everyone coexists untroubled as we zoom down the road, always passing my favorite sign 'Vinay Computers: Ethical Hacking.' As I hopped off in front of the group of children from the tent colony that also know around when they can expect me to emerge from the overflowing tempo, a man buried deep within the tempo called out, 'Which country is crying without you?'.. at least it's one of the more poetic creeper remarks I've heard!
Tomorrow I will be traveling from 'Blue City' to the 'Lake City' on the 7 hour bus ride from Jodhpur to Udaipur. Known for it's beautiful lakes and temples, Udaipur is an inciting break from the lakes of desert sand that have spanned my horizons for the last 7 weeks.
The tempo 33 drivers have come to recognize me, know where I'm going, and around when they'll see me waiting on the side of the road. I no longer have to shout 'Ruko!" in front of Bhagvati Tires, the landmark of the GVSS office or furiously wave them down as they weave through camel carts on dusty streets. When they see me at my usual post after work at 5:30, I don't have to worry about calling out from underneath the babies and bundles of the 25 people that have managed to squeeze themselves into the 3-wheeled vehicle smaller than a mini-van. The luxury of having a seat means that you are expected to share the load of the other who don't. If a woman climbs abroad with a baby on her hip, multiple pairs of hands reach out to bounce it on their laps as she stands hunched under the tattered fabric roof. Men are relieved of their canvas sacks of flour and I often find myself peaking into bags of fresh market vegetables that land on my lap out of nowhere imagining them mixed with turmeric, chili, and cumin. Despite the heat, the sometimes uncomfortably close proximity to each other's breath, and the unavoidable grasping on to your neighbor's arm as the driver dodges a cow enjoying the afternoon sun from the middle of the road, everyone coexists untroubled as we zoom down the road, always passing my favorite sign 'Vinay Computers: Ethical Hacking.' As I hopped off in front of the group of children from the tent colony that also know around when they can expect me to emerge from the overflowing tempo, a man buried deep within the tempo called out, 'Which country is crying without you?'.. at least it's one of the more poetic creeper remarks I've heard!
Tomorrow I will be traveling from 'Blue City' to the 'Lake City' on the 7 hour bus ride from Jodhpur to Udaipur. Known for it's beautiful lakes and temples, Udaipur is an inciting break from the lakes of desert sand that have spanned my horizons for the last 7 weeks.
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