The disconnect between sitting on a broadband connection with 300ms RTT to Hartford and posting to LJ while sitting in a house in a knot of other houses on dirt roads with trash fires, bullock carts, the odd beggar, and all those other things India, is not lost on me. Nor is the disconnect between nearly having heat-stroke yesterday, being terrified by traffic, and totally overwhelmed by just everything and being told by Asha that I’m doing really well. Both states of being are apparently true despite being contradictory. Which, from my very limited experience here, sums up what living in 2007 India is all about.
Today’s plan includes visiting with Asha’s cousin Pushpa, at whose house we will also see Aunt Saroja (the matriarch of Asha’s father’s clan) and other couins. After yesterday’s automotive baptism by fire, I get to have my first ride in an auto-rickshaw.
Funny: when I was a kid, we never wore seatbelts in the back seat, or in any of the trucks. Heck, in most of the Nursery’s trucks you couldn’t find the seatbelts. Yesterday, riding around in Sudhi’s ’72 Fiat -- which does not have seatbelts -- I felt like every moment I was at dire risk of being hurled through the windshield. Amazing how change creeps up on you.