From Delhi, we drove to Jaipur, and several days later, on to Jodhpur, and finally to Udaipur. Able to glimpse some of India outside of what—to me—were all big cities. And I was struck, again and again, by the small tea shops or food stalls waiting for customers—even in lonely stretches of the roads. All of which had clusters of plastic chairs. The ubiquitous plastic chairs now found in every corner of the globe. Helen reminded me that many Indians don’t cook much at home—limited by work and space and funds. Street food is a way of life. When we left Udaipur relatively early in the morning, more of those chairs were occupied. Usually by clusters of men. In urban streets and byways, young men strolled along with their arms slung over another fellow. Girls in school uniform blue blouses and navy skirts walked hand-in-hand. In our Udaipur haveli (historic, multi-floored houses built around an inner courtyard), bigger brother (of the managers who lived there) played with little brother. Guides and car and rickshaw drivers knew each other and bantered back and forth. We could see women shopping in markets and talking, but more often managing children or tending to work—sweeping their front steps, for instance. A little less “together” in public spaces, but more than likely talking up a storm homes and yards.
India is, for sure, a land of people, densely inhabiting villages and cities. Almost one-and-a-half billion–in fact. And it’s a land of outdoor living. So at least in my looking, I “felt” a public camaraderie missing here in the States. A life outside often shared—really shared—with others. ©
