Today, feeling the sun. Sun, heat. No more emotion. And pictures. I start by double Electric Cafe in Nizam with a double toast with chocolate. I meet with my pleasure Belgian boyfriend, Fred. Owl, he took over the colors. Very interesting conversation. He gives me my first lesson in Hindi. A new expression that fits well with the philosophy serendipity "Tora tora" (not to be confused with the battle cry of samouraïrs Japanese) or "gradually", "little by little" what I mean: step by step, one day at a time.
My morning is going to relax on the terrace of the guesthouse. Big heat. Various rumors that surround me, the songs broadcast by loudspeakers, bells, ... make this a while sunbathing very soft and almost spiritual. Again this mixture which is arguably one of the secrets of this continent - a continent because it is similar to Africa or America, a country even more if it is unified.
There is no single, 'India, but so many ... From such a wealth of such diversity, such intensity as to who is not only a journey of 10 days behind the windows of a luxury bus (but this is one of many ways to discover "India"). To each his own, that's all.
Nothing happens here, as we hope or as we would like. This is probably why we can not to adopt an attitude of wisdom and detachment: Shiant Shiant, tora tora. At Pushkar, I realized that people did not understand that one can be pressed. Who really wants to transfer the "slow life" is an idyllic setting in Pushkar. Squatting or sitting positions appear multiple ... (I learned that from "the bird" on the bench eating, seen yesterday at the restaurant, is one of the most difficult).
Around noon, I returned home where I enjoy Nizam to swoon a steak veg 'as I had ever eaten. A true leader, the Nizam. While I had fun taking pictures of the containers used for coffee - aluminum bowl of warm milk, battered aluminum bowl containing the coarse white sugar bowl / coffee cup - a woman is for me, Valerie, Marseille, has all left to travel for 3 or 4 years. But the conversation has revolved around more she appreciates a lot of Marseilles. Over time she has specialized massage and it is India that she learned a lot.
After the "salam" to Nizam, I put myself out for the photos. I decided to do all around the lake. I see surprisingly few friends gypsies (caste Nuds) running towards me and we went together. I stop regularly to pick up something, I'm looking ... Most temples empty and lifeless due to the dry lake (only stay a few basins, near our guesthouse) are reminiscent of a ghost town. Everything is as abandoned, dusty, locked in the past.
How to avoid the postcard? An incident put me on the way: my buddies, who know the area as their pockets, take me to the entrance of one of the many temples that surround the lake dried up this year. A Brahmin appeared and handed me a few petals, inviting me to a puja - I decline politely. Here, making this type of puja is also - he told me himself - the "passport" that allows tourists to walk then freely around the lake. I feel that the current between the Brahman and children not pass. And they tell me that the priests do not poor children. I tell them that a priest who does not like poor children is not my friend. We continue to progress and slowly I begin to perceive the city differently. I'm becoming an anarchist and iconoclast, and I find any other angles for the pictures of temples. Until a few photos without doubt politically (and religiously) incorrect. Hoping that shiva vishnu and like they, the poor children. We had fun (and I always thought that god was broad-minded).
Say what you want and merchants Temple (and even not putting all the Brahmins in the same bag, thank you god, he is honest), the priests of Notre Dame of Paris do not force the tourists in the confessional to elicit 25 euros . I am very sensitive to the depth and sincerity of religious and mystical aspirations, but the manipulation of ritual for purely financial, it's more than m'insupporter.
I promised my young friends a chai at the end of the ride photo, a cafe quite withdrawn, expanded at the rear by a beautiful garden, where coffee before we were gone. I loved the place, I felt like myself were in Africa. During our walk we had a good laugh and I had great fun. Once at table, my friends ask me a plate ... ; Accept a certain price range and we agree. But one of them, raju, wants more and asks me to buy him, his family, flour. Lengthy discussion ... Inwardly, I am torn and increasingly sad. Raju starts to cry and I do not know what to think.
Finally we leave the garden cafe and ... they have had their meal.
Tagore says it is dangerous to be too good and this award is full of wisdom.
As I said Fred morning, you must position themselves. As much as I feel pretty clear - here as in Paris - compared to begging, as once an emotional bond was created, the boundaries are blurred. And limits are shattered. Still, knowing what I am and what I did not, the decision to share is difficult and even painful. Because it could be dangerous to be top right - but if the danger is obvious, what is the border of "too"? Poor are often able to give even what they do not and it's far from the case of the rich. And Christ rented this old woman who had specifically given an offering at the temple "by taking on his need" - and not on its superfluous.
Nijinsky who did not miss one ("the stock market is a mess") writes flatly: "The poor is a rich man who has no money." And the poor are at war and s'arnaquent them (they n'arnaquent not that rich). Survival is at stake. But what the moral lesson it is secured the right to give it exploits and enslaves its like to increase its capital or remove a competitor? We do not like getting ripped off by a poor, but what we do even less is poor himself ("Poor bastards," said Coluche). If no address is more or home, it is the suspect and the parasite. We do not like getting ripped off by a poor - but there is nothing wrong with the scam scientifically and internationally organized advertising. Cheers com '. The rich do not like the poor do like him because for the poor, the scam is visible.
But here the poor and especially the children laugh.
I learned from my companions because of the fact that wonder since my first steps on the concrete Delhi: Indians spit all the time and anywhere. According to my information, it is because u'qils chew tobacco.
During lunch, I had the pleasure of seeing climb on my lap Nizam's cat - it is only the second cat I see in India. It is true that to them, the streets are very dangerous ...
As for Fred, he gave me this morning a very, very valuable info ... Yes India can do on a bike, but not with any one. For 400 or 500 euros you can buy here, new, a Royal Enfield. No electronics on board, super strong. Pure mechanics. So repairable everywhere is the motorcycle traveler (but they are also the Western riders are most killed on the roads. After my rodeo rider yesterday, I understand why).
I finished the day in the "cell" which I use almost monastic chamber. All dressed in blue, simple and sober view of the lake, liturgical chants and prayer bells.
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