Home beautiful

A number of the villages I visited recently had chalk markings such as this outside the front door - each house a slightly different design. My driver tells me they're done each morning and evening to "show off" (by which I assume he means "to make the house pretty"). Imagine if the taggers of the world could contribute their random little acts of beauty in chalk, ready to be washed away in the summer rain.

Marriage: toilet - important

I'm told this sign in an Orissan village reads...."you cannot marry my daughter unless you have a toilet." Fair enough criteria I reckon - and good use of leverage to reinforce a public health message.

Flamingos

Lake Chilika

Recently I took a dawn boat ride on Lake Chilika, an important migratory bird sanctuary in Orissa. The morning was still, warm and beautiful as the fishermen plied the brakish water, seeing where the fish might be running, casting their nets in hope. In the middle of the lake, whole flocks of siberian ducks and flamingos were restocking their bellies for the homeward journey. I've never been a bird man, but as a non-believer, this was pure magic.

A flash of indian truck

India's trucks are a astonishing feast of colour and they light up the highways by day and night. I love a country where truckers aren't afraid to bling up their rigs with tinsel, streamers, and flower pictures. I saw one last week which had a bunch of peacock feathers attached to the grill.

Futile act: Man washes sign in dusty Delhi construction zone

Man sands with his hands - next door

The lane behind my house

It had to happen eventually

Last week my theory that 'Delhi traffic may be mad but it works' hit a snag, or a Maruti Suzuki to be more precise. I guess it's implicit that where margins of error are small, errors occur. So it was that as one arterial road merged into Delhi's major ring road, a Maruti Suzuki cheekily pushed in front of my friend's car at a strange angle and was duly clipped. An almightly debate ensued, first in the middle of the intersection to the chagrin of the horn-honkers, then later on the roadside. Little Maruti man lept about in histrionics, pointing at a pre-existing scrape and gesturing for payment. Then a sour looking patriarch emerged from the Maruti to gaphump around, pass judgement and gesticulate unhelpfully. My friends fought the good fight on the side of calm discussion, but failed.... the goons were called - big burley lads in red. But the day was saved when a passer-by-of-note intervened (hard to define how this helped, but it did). Pulling out the camera probably helped too - it turned out the Maruti was an illegal taxi! I'm amazed this kind of thing doesn't happen more often.

Dawn at Chandigarh station

Tradition vs climate change

How's this for an environmental quandry. I've just been to Punjab where they are worrying about the carbon change consequences of traditional cremation. Apparently authorities have built electric crematoriums but nobody wants to use them. Fair enough I guess - I'd prefer a fragrant sandalwood cremation any day. But authorities are also worries about the denuding of the landscape and increasingly have to import wood from neighbouring states to meet demand.

For the record , Chandigarh has solar powered traffic lights and collects rainwater from large office buildings. The future is here.

Duck on debut

So I made my cricketing debut in the sub continent, all trumped up with expectation that my innate cricket skills would shine through. Despite a decade of once-a-year backyard cricket outings, I was sure my 'technique' would rise from the ashes of my junior cricket career. The first ball thundered down (ok I exaggerate - it sort of lumbered down) from the bowlers end and cannoned into my pads as I tried to flick it down leg side. A big appeal, but a lucky reprieve. The second ball hung in the air and swung in slow motion from right to left. I was bamboozled and my stumps were flat on the ground. As I walked off, a friendly outfielder offered that "you forgot to move your feet". Later in the car on the way home my driver - who had been watching from the car park - told me I had paid the price for playing across the line. This is a country of cricket experts, and everyone has an opinion - and they're more than happy to share it. Back to the nets for me.

India wow

A few things in the past week have opened my eyes. An activist group in Mangalore chased girls out of a pub for "indecent acts" (drinking and dancing). The same group wants to ban Valentines Day in the name of morality. A wider debate has been unleashed about whether drinking is un-Indian (and plenty of pollies think it is). Meanwhile in Delhi a married couple was charged for kissing in a train station - but the charge was disallowed by a higher court. In Tamil Nadu a man self immolated to protest against the treatment of Tamils in Sri Lanka. And in a mainstream newspaper a writer mused on whether the environmental degradation of the Ganges River was foreshadowed in scripture (the Ganga was only suppposed to be on earth for 5000 years and that expired at the start of the 20th Century). Finally at a bling 5-star ceremony the Indian of the Year Award was given to the country's chief space scientist who landed a high-tech device on the moon. Pretty interesting country!

The traffic light controller man

The most powerful man in South Delhi is the traffic-light-controller who stands in the shadows of the ring road overpass each night. As the horns rise to a crescendo around him, he orchestrates who goes through the intersection and who remains stuck. The secret to his power sits within a modest control box, set back from the road under a palm tree (I choose to imagine the box contains comedy-sized red and green buttons). Tonight the lights took 15 minutes to change - did he step out for dinner or did someone slip him a few roups?

Vanity or insanity

One of Delhi's endearing features is the ambition shown by motorcyclists. What fits in a car must be able to fit on a bike. Hence whole families ride around town on the back of a scooter - though shockingly the (generally male) driver wears the only helmet leaving wife and infant children to ride the bumps for dear life. And it is not unusual to see large packages riding on the laps of drivers as they weave in and out of traffic. But this takes the cake - surely wishing decapitation on himself or passing pedestrians. Wacko!

Mirror sculpture - Sanskriti