Archive for April, 2009

We’ve Got A Bike !

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bikes
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We bought two new Atlas Goldline Super bicycles today. The bright green color in the picture above is protective wrap. The gentleman with the bikes is bringing them out to prepare them for delivery: we need heavy-duty racks in back, mine will have a top-guard only over the chains, they both need seats with big fat springs, and the most important part: installation of the signature Atlas hood ornament. Cost ? Sixty bucks.

The Atlas bicycles, as well as the Hero brand bikes, are ubiquitous in India; and by “ubiquitous,” we really mean ubiquitous: these beasts take people to work, to the movies, to the villages and back; and with the rack on the back they can hold a family of four, several bushels of produce or sticks, or, tied together properly, a moveable showroom of cane furniture. With a few alterations they can pull an ironing cart, a fruit vendors cart, a pony-cart schoolbus, or a barbershop in a box. Sounds weird but we will get around to posting on those subjects at some point ;) Anyway, like the beautiful Roya Enfield Bullet motorcycles and the Hindustan Ambassador automobiles, the designs are virtually unchanged from 50 years ago. I like that.

Tonight, Rathnama and the rest of our band of gypsies are planning on making a puja for the new bicycles, to keep the riders safe during the coming year. How cool is that?

Motorcycle Nation

cycles
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Endless rows of motorcycles parked off of Commercial Street.

Commercial Street At Sundown

dusk
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After this shot, Pam and Cara and Cleveland and I crossed the street and rocked the KFC.

Our Loveless Kitchen

kitchen
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You remember how gorgeous our house is ? Here is the one exception: our kitchen, the most lovelessly executed room in this otherwise beautiful dreamhouse.

It boggles the mind, for a Californian, to see a kitchen like this: small, mean, gray rectangular room, fluorescent lights, meager stove and sink, cabinets little more than chucked at the walls, sharp edges everywhere, and no ornament at all. Where we come from, the kitchen is where the cool people hang out at parties; it’s where PIE is made; people talk and commiserate and chop veggies and zest lemons; wisdom is passed on, and life is lived. It’s the heart of the house.

This upper-class Indian home starkly reveals a different mindset: the kitchen is for somebody else. All the assumptions and attitudes that follow that single statement are distasteful to put into words; and thankfully, there’s no need: it’s all expressed pretty effectively in very structure of the house.

Now Is The Time When We Dance

dance
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Indians love to dance; especially, it seems, the boys and men. Today at the City Center Market here in Bangalore marks the second time I’ve been pulled into a crowd of ecstatic temple revelers and coaxed into dancing. The spectacle of Cara and I, and even Phil, dancing with these young men, and a tranny in an orange saree, drew quite a smiling crowd.

Don’t look at this photo for too long, or that guy will yank you in as well…

It Does Get A Bit Whiffy…

whiffy
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My daughter Cara and her fiance Cleveland arrived this weekend, and through their eyes we are seeing India again for the first time. Also, through their barely stifled gags as we cross the “River Stynx” heading into town, we smell India again for the first time :)

We took them to the City Market in Bangalore on Saturday with a full entourage in tow; Bhaskar, Bhaskar’s daughter Cynthia, Rathnama, Cara, Cleveland, Phil and myself. The market is miles and miles of crowded, trafficky, flowery madness. Being surrounded by chaos makes both Phil and I feel alive, but I fear it may have made Cara and Cleveland want to kill us.