Indians on the move

Today has been a pretty dull day, been working on the plasterwork and it’s restoration inside and outside the mosque. Not exactly riveting stuff but it’s not terrible either. Basically I have to discuss what we (the company) have done to restore the mosque’s artistic plasterwork (or stucco if you want to sound cool). I have to detail all the methods tried and why we’ve finalised on using one (steam for those that are interested). It keeps me busy and to be fair they aren’t too demanding on me so I can do it at my own pace. Only gripe is that we work for so long and then it’s a train ride home. The train home is actually the most stressful thing. It’s the reason I end up home stinking of sweat (sometimes not my own!) and exhausted. Yesterday going to Santacruz, a suburb of Bombay) to see Gayle at work and my god. The train was packed, even in first class. I travel first class, which is quite a bit more expensive than 2nd, instead of paying 7 rupees you pay 50rs, but it means that all the weird and dodgy dudes can’t afford to be in your carriage. Sounds elitist but when you ride on these trains yourself, you know what I mean. Besides, 50rs for a 15km journey in one of the biggest cities in the world is pretty cheap still. I have a pass now for the next three months, which makes life a whole lot easier, no queuing (if you’re a squeamish type never queue in India, give up and wait till it’s died down). That’s one thing I’ve come to realise about Indians. They are the nicest people when you meet them. They’ll take you in and fill you with food and drink and go out of their way to help you find something but my god, Indians in motion, that’s another story! Seems to me the moment an Indian needs to be somewhere they’re not a little switch flicks on (or off, depending how you look at it) and they go into some sort of madness. The same guy who’d go out of his way to help you will barge past you walking, cut you without indicating while driving, and push you on the train.

We had a discussion last night on how one could get Indians to use their indicators and we eventually decided the first thing they needed was lanes. There are no lanes in India, the only way to know you’re in the right lane is that you’re not facing oncoming traffic (and even then you can’t be too sure with some drivers) or by the huge concrete dividers they have on some of the main roads. Forget the innocent white line of Ireland! But you know what, it’s great. I really love the mad gung-ho attitude Indians have. Sure Ireland is a lot more pleasant getting on trains, but where is the sense of achievement? When I got off at Santacruz station I was like “Yeah! I got off despite the massive crowd pushing me back in! Yeah!” For me, my train pass is like an honorary citizen of Bombay award. And as sure as eating spuds is Irish, tacking the rush hour train to work is Indian.

here's a little video some guy took of Indians drivig outside his house. THere's no reason they are driving like that. There's no emergency, no alcohol, jsut indians and portable combustion engines.