December 20, 2004

• I'm finally home after the required visit to sundry relatives. Am glad
  I survived the various roadtrips. What do I mean? Well, for me it's
  surviving a heartattack at the rate of ... maybe one a minute. Yup,
  that sounds about right. My tailbone hurts from all the bumps in the
  road.
  

  But I'd do it again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  9 am on the road. We left at 7.30am for my aunt's place in Moradabad, a
  small town about 200 km from Delhi. The fog did not disperse till later
  in the afternoon. Visibility ranged from ten metres in good places to
  less than two metres in others.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The buffalo rest before starting their day, lugging huge loads of
  Sugarcane from their villages to the sugar refineries located in the
  towns dotting the highway.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Usually the loads are ten times larger than this measly one. The
  sugarcane in this cart is most probably headed to a juice shop. It's
  been ages since I had fresh sugarcane juice.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Goavas and Chikus. My favourite fruits. Along with Pineapple and Pears
  and Pomegranate and Peaches and Plums and can't forget the Bananas.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The traffic gets worse.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Home-assembled trucks pulled along by tractors. They're called "jugad".
  I can't quite figure out the best translation for that in English.
  They're hustled up out of odds and ends, the only necessary parts being
  the engine (usually a farm tractor) and the body which vary in sizes
  from long trailerlike add-ons or small bughys. The vehicles don't have
  numberplates or any sort of identification. You can usually find them
  on rural tracks.  Never in the city. They transport sugarcane,
  vegetables or any other local produce including people, over short
  distances. Scary shits. They're build to last and don't look around
  twice before trying to overtake you. If you get in their way, heaven
  help you.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Peanut seller!!! The white stuff is roasted rice grain.It makes a puffy
  ... er... puffed rice!! phew, ok. So that's what it's called.  It's good stuff.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This was outside my aunt's house. The horse was carting bricks for the house next door which is being rehabbed.
  
  
  
  The trip back took a lot longer
  than the trip to. The traffic was at a standstill for about two hours.
  The only thing to do was sleep.

  Baki later folks. I'm trying to bring my pulse back to normal.

  • 10:10 pm
  • 3 Comments