|Colour of India|
India continues to keep me on my toes. I sat for a moment in Agra only to be greeted by a holy man who blessed me, kissed my hand then went to kiss it again and bit it!! Drawing a little blood. Before I could even begin to decide whether to be cross or thankful a monkey jumped from high above onto a electric power pylon. The pylon exploded sending lightning all around and 3 very large explosions (luckily the monkey scampered off) and when I looked around the holy man had disappeared. A group of school children dressed in beautiful blue uniforms caught my eye and we walked up the steps near by to the school taking pictures and conversing in separate languages. When I got up there a group of men 5 metres away beckoned me over but I was too busy with the children and monkeys to py them any attention. The school had a wonderful view of the Taj Mahal, I thought how lucky these children were, but on closer inspection they also had a great view of the men injecting heroin into their crutch and legs. The above happened within the space of about 2 minutes.
One minute India is beautiful, A Ma Zing, magical, tantalising, the next its nasty, repulsive, vile, angry but before you know it it’s back to being mystical, tender, wonderful, breathtaking.
Men on motor bikes think it’s fun to ride into my handle bars and wheels, buses play with our lives like a baby with a ragdoll, children throw stones at our heads, men make dirty homosexual hand gestures towards me.
These men grow up surrounded by men, starved of female attention, then are forced to marry a women they don’t even know, who could end up being a bit of a minger, or not your type at all. Totally different interests they end up despising each other. Is it any wonder they turn to each other for affection and love? And I guess a white, milky bar kid is a new delight.
In fact we’ve noticed an inverse correlation between the number of women in a village and the levels of aggression in the men. More women less aggression and visa versa.
In Pakistan the women were not allowed to leave the house. In India they are forced to do all the work. They mix cement, they carry huge burdens on their heads (whilst men walk along side), they work in the fields (whilst men sit and chat reprimanding them now and again for not working hard enough).
A super attractive girl blew me a kiss today. What a highlight. It was my closest encounter with the female form in months and it felt GOOD!! I was ready to settle down, get married and have kids within the month :o) Kevin (irish guy cycling round the world) dragged me away (be it kicking and screaming) and got me to our current destination Bundi – I’m glad he did. A bustling town drenched in colour, surrounded by a ancient palace in the hills and a putrid lake on the other side.
We went tiger hunting yesterday. Shooting only with cameras. We saw monkeys, all sorts of birds, deer, a leopard kill, crocodiles – but no tigers.
I’ll keep my eyes peeled except when I’m camping. If I hear a roar when I’m in my tent I’m going to hide in my sleeping bag and hope for the best. (After kung fu chopping the little blighter and then giving him a judo throw to the ground of course – I’m a tough guy, you know that).
Never put your camera down, never take your eye of the road – India is very much alive and not afraid to show it.