Ride to Work
I took a rick to Vinod’s apartment where my boss picked us both up. In front of Vinod’s house there was a boy (of about 12 years) with an improvised stall set up on the sidewalk. He had an old dirty iron, and he was ironing clothes. The iron was a flat piece of metal, with sides on top tall enough that hot coals can be put in. There was also a handle. It basically had the shape of a modern American iron, except that it was all dirty black metal.
All up and down the sidewalks there are stalls set up, or ladies sitting with baskets in front of their laps. All manner of goods are sold. Packaged goods even. Lots of produce – squashes, onions, tomatoes. I wonder if the produce came from the countryside earlier in the morning. Those people musta woke up early to get it to the sidewalk by 8am. (Keep in mind, this city is filled with strugglers from the countryside, here to earn money, and they sleep on sidewalks or live in shanties; these are barely city folk; they’re really country folk.) There are families sitting out on the sidewalks, making breakfast. There are huge heaps of trash, huge heaps of, I don’t know, some type of crop refuse. There are skinny dogs bouncing around, eating from the refuse in the streets. Less frequently, skinny cows doing the same. I saw a dog lifting his leg on a parked rickshaw. I saw a dog sleeping in a parked rickshaw. There are people sleeping in the narrow median. There are more and more and more make-shift stalls. I saw bulls pulling carts making deliveries. I drove by the Marriot on the beach in Juhu. There’s supposed to be a hot club there. I also saw a billboard with a bowl of Asian noodles on it. It said, “Have you seen this lately? You must have been to China.” It was an advertisement for a new Chinese restaurant opening in one of the up-market hotels on the beach in Juhu.
And about the red lights. My boss doesn’t stop at them either unless there is actually traffic blocking the road – and even then he’ll try to wiggle around and through the intersection, no matter what the color of the light.
Now I’m at work, maybe I’ll dial triple 2 and have a pantry boy bring me some “dip chai” (which means tea from bags, not from the bizarre all-purpose beverage manufacturing machine) and some “wheat bread toast.” I’m for sure going to continue my study of the Indian Constitution.
All up and down the sidewalks there are stalls set up, or ladies sitting with baskets in front of their laps. All manner of goods are sold. Packaged goods even. Lots of produce – squashes, onions, tomatoes. I wonder if the produce came from the countryside earlier in the morning. Those people musta woke up early to get it to the sidewalk by 8am. (Keep in mind, this city is filled with strugglers from the countryside, here to earn money, and they sleep on sidewalks or live in shanties; these are barely city folk; they’re really country folk.) There are families sitting out on the sidewalks, making breakfast. There are huge heaps of trash, huge heaps of, I don’t know, some type of crop refuse. There are skinny dogs bouncing around, eating from the refuse in the streets. Less frequently, skinny cows doing the same. I saw a dog lifting his leg on a parked rickshaw. I saw a dog sleeping in a parked rickshaw. There are people sleeping in the narrow median. There are more and more and more make-shift stalls. I saw bulls pulling carts making deliveries. I drove by the Marriot on the beach in Juhu. There’s supposed to be a hot club there. I also saw a billboard with a bowl of Asian noodles on it. It said, “Have you seen this lately? You must have been to China.” It was an advertisement for a new Chinese restaurant opening in one of the up-market hotels on the beach in Juhu.
And about the red lights. My boss doesn’t stop at them either unless there is actually traffic blocking the road – and even then he’ll try to wiggle around and through the intersection, no matter what the color of the light.
Now I’m at work, maybe I’ll dial triple 2 and have a pantry boy bring me some “dip chai” (which means tea from bags, not from the bizarre all-purpose beverage manufacturing machine) and some “wheat bread toast.” I’m for sure going to continue my study of the Indian Constitution.
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