FOOD

I thought, upon first arriving to India, that Elliot and I would end up losing weight during our trip. After all, we would be walking everywhere, and we’d mostly be eating vegetarian food.

We have been dangerously full more times than I can count on this trip. We started in the North, where the dishes were heavy on the creamy sauce. Butter chicken with naan, Punjabi style, was a favorite. I’d order seconds, and regret it later.

In Mumbai, the Sham family showed us no mercy. We would travel from streetcart to streetcart, eating freshly prepared sweets like mango tarts and custard apple icecream. At one point, the Shams took us out for an authentic Rajasthani experience. The food came in a large silver plate, with several smaller cups withi it. As soon as we thought we were done, waiters would come by and refill the plate. Mrs. Sham explained that the speed of service was deliberate; it was meant to bombard your stomach so that you were full quickly. That way, you wouldn’t linger at the table and abuse the buffet privileges.

This also meant that we were fit to burst upon completing our meal. When we were done, we rang a large bell to signify our contentment with the food. The entire restaurant staff yelled out “auhjo!” (I’m gessing on the spelling), a Gujurati word that meant “come back!” I don’t know how we could possibly come back to that restaurant, however, unless we fasted the day before.

We thought we couldn’t possibly get more full than Mumbai. Then the Poddars made a power move for the title, “make James and Elliot so full, they can’t think about food ever again.”

The Poddars, the family of my friend Harsh, are dedicated vegetarians. I assumed that whatever food they had couldn’t tempt me. I was wrong. Our first night in, they invited us to a large family dinner, serving us stuffed mushrooms, ‘puchkas’ with aloo (potato) filling, pasta, and nachas with Indian salsa. We ate to our hearts content, till our stomachs gently signaled surrender.

That’s when we learned that those were just the appetizers.

When the main course came, we were always convinced to ty ‘a bite of this’ and ‘just a taste of this one’. Our plates were refilled before we could finish our first helpings.

After main course, there was dessert. Three different kinds of dessert. After that, we had to drink some lassi, “just to help digest the meal.”

Mrs. Poddar says tomorrow she will make us an authentic Rajasthani meal. We know what that means.

And next week is Thanksgiving.

I don’t think we’re gonna make it.

-J.&E.

My Least Favorite Thing About India

I’ve been pretty much in love with everything in India so far. Even things that I would never tolerate back in the states take on a certain exotic charm here in India. Pouring buckets of cold water over myself for a shower? How energizing. Sour lime juice as a drink? That’s a new one! Cyclones that hit when you’re miles from your hotel? What a great experience! A paucity of toilet paper? Ain’t life grand!

There is one thing about India that I feel I could never get used to, however. One thing that gives America a decided advantage in the ‘places to live’ contest. One thing that I strongly believe should be changed immediately, for the sake of the country’s future.

The smog.

The air quality here came as a bit of a shock; I’d had Indian friends warn me beforehand, but I still did not think it would be as bad as it is. In Delhi, the uniquely congested traffic made me fear to roll my windows down. On the sidewalk, piles of trash had been lit on fire, and the resulting smoke produced an unpleasant smell. After a few days in that city, I felt the full effects of the smog, coughing constantly and negotiating to minimize our time spent at the center of the city.

When our friend Danish offered to drive us up to the North Indian countryside, I jumped at the chance, assuming that once I got out of the city, my lungs would be in a happier state. As we drove north, however, the sky remained a dull grey. Danish explained that the Punjabi farmers cleared their fields by burning them after harvest, despite the illegal nature of such activities. We passed several burning fields on our way to Ludhiana. Uttar Pradesh, as well, had several large factories that would belch pillars of fire from its smokestacks; our friends explained that the UP had a lot of industrial plants.

Bombay has been better in terms of smog, but coming into the harbor by boat allows you to see the air quality more clearly: the entire city seems bathed in a grey mist that is reminiscent of a Northern European fog. Coming back from the island of Elefanta, Elliot and I were able to see the sun set behind the city. It was a beautiful sight, a huge red ball of flame peeking out from between the skyscrapers that stood proudly above the city. However, the fact that we were able to stare directly at the sun without blinking gives you some idea of how much the smog had colored the Bombay air.

Gandhi wrote that “If we cultivate the habit of keeping the air pure and of breathing only fresh air, we can save ourselves from many a terrible disease.” Of course, it’s easy to admonish India for its air quality, but economic development through industrial modernization cannot easily occur without its ill-starred offspring, industrial pollution. And in a country of 1 billion people, it’s hard to regulate individual habits that contribute to pollution. If I had any solutions, I’d happily offer them here. In the meantime, when I see small street children running between stopped traffic in central Delhi, or South Bombay, I simply wonder what the price of this air pollution may turn out to be.

-J.&E.

Whiskey Lullaby

Considering our weak gora immune systems, it seems prudent to avoid unfiltered water in every possible situation when traveling in India. If you had seen the apartment we were staying in, you might have overreacted too (James is cleaning his razor with whiskey, if you didn’t catch it).

The Chillimonger

James mentioned the spice market in a post a while back, but I would like to provide some more context to his words (a picture is worth a thousand, right?). Considering the air was almost too spicy to breathe already, I stayed well away from this man’s stall.

The Setting Sun

Again, this picture is from the park full of the astronomical instruments. I’m not sure what exactly this one was used for, but I love the sunburst pattern. India is full of textures, patterns and colors that make my photographers heart beat fast.

Climbing

One day, when we were trying to figure out the problem with my plastic that left me pretty much penniless, we realized we were near a set of massive astronomical instruments that a Mughal emperor had built to measure the sun, stars and planets. So we decided to climb around on them.

James and Danish

This is a photo of my two partners in crime, the Punjabi warrior “Danish” (his real name is much longer) and the enigmatic James Tager, whose words you might have already read on this page.