(Part 3 of the “Unshod in India” series)
The more I get to know this place, the more I realize how
much there is to discover and understand. How distant my logic is from what
thrives on the ground. And the neutral corners I always run to for safety are
exactly what they are: corners in a world, in a life that is round. While I
initially cringed at the idea of walking inside homes and temples barefoot, I
understood it is a necessary step to make peace with the truth. And again, for
security or for balance, it is never a bad idea to keep one's feet on the
ground. In grace and in gratitude. One can’t get footloose and fancy-free in
life just like that.
I arrived early morning in Bangalore a few days after my introduction to India through Mumbai. The cool weather gave me goose bumps not
so much a physiological reaction as a psychological one. Life seemed pretty
laidback. From my quick showers in Mumbai at least three times a day, this
southern city was inviting me to soak up in this lukewarm bath, testing its
waters and mapping out many possibilities for this time I felt that I am here
for the long sail. Another step towards
a certain understanding of this great subcontinent.
Bangalore was no different as India's I.T. capital still has
its streets randomly matrixed with peddlers in carts and cycles. Just outside
of my house, two men under a makeshift tent were ironing clothes for a living
using a pair of traditional iron.
So you ride my tide: Bangalore is about the
charm of old world and the chase towards the future. That somehow explained the
dust: old roads being reconstructed. At one point, you'd grow a longer neck
waiting for that fresh mango juice as the vendor would have to peel it by hand
and whatnot, and then, just upstairs,
some grown up kids in an office try to continue knotting the whole world beyond breakneck speed.
However, Bangalore is also a city that still sleeps. Here,
before trees of avocado, neem, what looks like a relative of pine, and a
moringa almost as tall as the neighbor's mango, I caught the city still in the
land of dreams. In the quiet of its midmorning chill, I felt every part of it
breathing. I woke up to this, after a night tranquil, dreams of elephants
marching to a crow's rhythmic pleadings, echoes of laughter over a young man's
late night phone call about his struggles with the underside of young love.
I also had my very first haircut in India at the Bombay
Salon, here in Bangalore. The first part went the usual. Short and clean,
despite Mr. Barber Guy watching Bollywood half of the time even during crucial
moments like clipping around the ear area. And then, when he asked me to choose
between coconut and almond oil, I thought it was some sort of hair gel or any
hair product. But what ensued or what I could remember to have happened was a
series of some serious head slapping and banging that had sent my spirit away.
And then, just when one think it couldn't get any weirder than this, Mr. Barber
Guy brandished what I deemed to be an interior of an electric fan fortunately
without the blades, wore it over his hand, plugged it in, and voila!: an
improvised vibrating massage machine that he let loose about my head. When he
asked if I would want some facial massage, I politely said no, and headed home,
my hair flat heavy with oil, and my spirit still somewhere else.
Then, there’s this constant adventure with Bangalore traffic
and its rickshaw drivers, which is yet another story.
Coming from an archipelago, for me it used to be that the
sea was the only link. And every time I am before the sea, I strongly feel a
certain connection. But Bangalore is landlocked, so sometimes it made me feel a
fish out of water. The great thing about this city though is that it is in the
heart of South India, from where you can reach the country's many other
interesting cities.
Slowly, I’m learning that India is not only about marveling
at the great beauty of its people and the complexities of its culture. But
also, it is the act of embracing what is different, what makes you
uncomfortable, what rattles your cage, what tips your top. It is having the
grace to face the children of this generation when India is in a tug-of-war
between modernity and tradition.
Then, it’s about gratitude for the chance to be part of this
history, this episode in India’s great history as it opens its doors to the
world, but not without asking its visitors to keep their feet off the rangoli.
I am not so sure yet about eating with my hand all the time or wearing long
shirts, even skirts, on all occasions.
But for the nth time, I am taking my
shoes, sandals, slippers off before I let myself in. I am thinking of home not
as the ability to resist or be very comfortable in a place for the longest
time. I kept telling myself, home is a journey. And I should be ready to walk,
even barefoot. // Unshod Rover for Oasis Holidays
For an all-India tour in 22 days, you may want to check out this .
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Unshod Rover is a worldwide-eyed wanderer currently based in Bangalore, India. You may follow his musings and wanderings on this blog. "Unshod in India" is a series of articles based on Mr. Rover's adventures and discoveries in this very interesting and incredible subcontinent.
