Rabsi and auntie were later on getting their brows fixed at a beauty salon and it was most interesting to me to see how this was done with a thread; not with tweezers. It’s amazing how the same problems can be solved in so many different ways. We dropped auntie back at home and went to Khan Market to pick up lunch and some groceries. *Since it was literally her first day, we thought it would be better if we go to a more western environment to eat a pasta lasagna lunch at a nice place, however I was only to know later she’s an excellent sport for Indian food and would enjoy it a lot more than the regular western cuisine.*
Many people had warned me beforehand for the striking differences amongst people in India. You’re either poor or rich. This was obvious indeed from the surroundings. Or even just from what’s rolling on the highway. You have people with regular cars. To own a car in India; you must be good off. There were two categories of cars: the fancy ones and the small ones. Then you have the rickshaws. A rickshaw is an open car on three wheels. They provide taxi services to people who cannot afford to buy a car or to use a car service. Because they are cheap vehicles, their service is cheap as well. Then I saw many people on bikes. Sometimes entire families. Usually the man was at the steering wheel, the woman in Amazon position on the back, and a child squeezed-in between them. Sometimes there were up to four people on one bike; but mostly two or three. It seemed utterly dangerous to me; to move in the crazy Indian traffic in such unprotected way and amid the exhaustion of the cars and rickshaws. Finally there were people on bicycles, and those by foot. Everybody travels on the same road, honking his or her way along if possible. Occasionally there were slumps next to the roads, not many, maybe for 25 families. Rabsi explained that these people probably were working on the road and hence had moved closer to the working zone, temporarily. I was soon to learn not to look at people. Especially the men stared excessively and without scruples. I instead focused at surroundings or at Rabsi. I guess two young women * especially when one of them is a pretty blue eyed foreigner* on the road in a nice car was something to stare at.
I was happy I would not have to drive in India. The driving on the left of the road was quite confusing to me; and despite markings to distinguish between different lanes, half of the people just drove on the lines as well. Nobody uses direction signs (occasionally you see a hand out of a window); communication happens through honking. After lunch and some quick groceries, we returned home. We needed to get ready to go to an engagement party of one of Rabsi’s best college friends, Mihir. It would be very small scale -only friends and family- and hence it was quite exceptional that I was allowed to join. But knowing Rabsi, she had used her negotiation techniques. It was with either she take me or she won’t go at all. I love that about her.
Rabsi drove us to the engagement location. The house was huge, and on a big lawn, which was beautifully lit for the festivities. The dad of the groom-to-be is involved in foreign affairs. There was a big open tent with tables and lots of flowers. It was very pretty; but it was rather cold outside and the ladies in their thin dresses were shivering. I kept my jacket on for most of the time.
At around 10 pm local time, after we ate, we left the place. We would have to wake up around 4 am to catch our flight to Udaipur, and we still had to pack. We reached home around 11 pm; finished packing about half an hour later to catch a four hour sleep. As usual, I woke up to go to the bathroom overnight. It was around 3 am. I got out of bed and marched quite fast direction bathroom. I wonder what was on my mind. I hadn’t forgotten there was a door between the room and the little hallway to the bathroom; but I did smack full force with my face to the door. As I was moaning and groaning to take in the sharp initial instance of pain, I was quite surprised that I didn’t hear Rabsi ask what was going on. She had told me she was a steady sleeper; but I almost could not imagine she would not wake up from such a big bang. But no sound came; and hence I thought she must have been really tired. I pulled myself together; thinking by myself how much of a fool I was, and crawled back in bed. I could feel some bleeding in my nose; but nothing spectacular; and immediately fell back asleep.
Uncle opened the door. “Rabs, don’t you think it’s time to wake up? Heidi, is Rabs here?” I mumbled, “Yeah, of course she is,” and reached my arm and hand out to her, padding the bed space next to me. “Rabs?” Empty. Uncle had left already searching for her; he found her sleeping in another room. It was 3.30 am. Rabsi and myself, opportunistically as always, had put the alarm at 3.45 am. 15 minutes would be more than sufficient to put our clothes on and wander in the car to the airport, right? Actually, I guess it wasn’t. The flight would be leaving at 5.45 am and we had a 45 minute trip to the airport, luggage to check in, and security to pass.
We arrived quite smoothly to the airport, but to our surprise there was a huge line of people waiting at check in (plus minus 150 people). With 15 minutes left for check in; that potentially would impose a problem. Rabsi signaled a passing airline representative. “Eh, excuse me. We need to get on the 5.45 am flight to Udaipur.” “Oh… I can help you. Come this way” he said. And so he led us to a counter where there were no representatives at all; he wasn’t going to let us pass that line was he? Sure he was… We just bypassed 150 people in line. Only Rabsi can make such magic happen.
And so here we end for now, in the plane to Udaipur. Strangely enough this plane touched ground in Jaipur where some people got off; some more people got on. And some, like us, just stayed seated. It was a one-stop flight, as they call it here. As if you are taking the bus or so.
No comments:
Post a Comment