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Bharat, Bharat

From Parveen's because

(...)

In India, it is a certainty, it's cold! Or so I tell myself, in front of our car. Parveen Kumar our driver, to please us, put the air conditioning on fourth power, and despite 40 degrees outside, we frôlons, my parents and me a certain hypothermia. There's something ironic to live in as many fresh, taking the road to a country as huge and hot. It's like if it were a protective cocoon against the power of the giant Bharat.

(...)

India, at first glance, the brothel, even behind the windows of air-conditioned coach. When we arrived at 6 am in Delhi, the sun rose in the middle streets without sidewalks or tar. Its rays across the canvases of electric son, hundreds of haphazardly connected son, giving the impression of being caught in a spider web. After filing cases at the hotel, we ventured into the streets and in the fourth dimension. A Karol Bagh neighborhood yet easier than Old Delhi, a seething mass of people, no sense of traffic on the road, horns everywhere, people who want to sell anything and everything, noise, sputum, cows, children, even a little noise, screaming and ulcerative poverty, work (it was on it before the bad beginning Commonwealth Games), Hindu music, a giant statue of Hanuman, noise, some noise, but noise! Blackout! Back panicked at the hotel and nap in air-conditioned room stinker ... "Do not ask me ever released! "I told myself.

A Cow on top of the Men

(...)

India requires some acclimatization, which requires flexibility to adapt. The brain is constantly stimulated by things that we never arrive. At first we felt a real sense of aggression. It is not uncommon, when get into the taxi, women with their babies crying you ask for money. This horrible act: the hand touches the mouth before positioning itself to beg, as if to mimic his hunger remains etched in my memory as a dance macabre. We were locked in the car until the driver while they were beating with their rings against the windows, showing us their children scream. They were five, all with a baby in her arms. The noise of the air a bit obscured their litany beggar, and the inevitable guilt of affluent West.

More drive to Pushkar time monsoon

(...)

Enjoy!

Leave the air conditioning is possible. But he must expect to see warm and India, relentlessly plural. We visited the Rajasthan and the Ganges Valley (Uttar Pradesh), which is in itself, two different worlds, although both in Northern India. We went through Jaipur, Pushkar, Agra, Vanarasi, Haridwar and Rishikesh before returning to New Delhi, our starting point. Alternation between large cities and tiring and devouring small towns that inspired the hippies of the world: my heart between the two scales. Big city, small village: tradition and modernity? This cliché is nonetheless real in India, although less duel and sliced. I do not think the two are a real couple to the contrary. Here, tradition has really brought into modernity: there is a reality that most Indian identity that is struggling to regain its traditional roots. This conflict seems to exist, certainly. But it not to think of a paradise lost when you see two Sikhs in drinking a Coca Cola at a street corner. India is a bit like a "Jack-in-the-box. Surprises are around every corner, good or bad. The most impressive may be the religious, ubiquitous, powerful, colorful, noisy and incomprehensible. India is a world well-tempered political system, government ubiquitous despite the apparent chaos, own culture and cinema, dozens of different languages, a particular food, its own facts and its own religious shrines, a History endless its industries and monopolies ... You feel so tiny in his car as a tourist.

A store of Karol Bagh

(...)

"Dear Amelia, dear Dylan ... Thank you for welcoming me in Delhi during the holidays. I was very happy to see you and wish you all the happiness in the world. I hope you are well and that you get to the native customs. I envy you! Enjoy! " What's funny is the pleasure that one has to find the known when you are in complete blur. Spend hours in a restaurant of Tamil speaking a distant reality, to gossip, to tell each other our Lives, our setbacks and our successes. No doubt about it: experience, love is good only if it is shared with others. I love sharing my life in the midst of a thali!

(...)

How to love a film without understanding it?

"I want he sees what I see . Vanarasi is a major holy city. However, I managed to find small streets, small maze filled with tiny shops and restaurants. A labyrinth alive with crowds and laughter, yet very quiet. He then started to rain. And not a little rain monsoon, or each drop is a bucket of water that overflowed the streets. A merchant, for once not envious of me to buy any tinkering, I was offered to sit in his shop until the rain stops. Without a sound, we waited for the end of the rain. I told myself that I needed to get them there, we see our mutual friends to the four corners of India. We had people that I see it, they see what I saw. Some go on a trip to cut their lives, to forget, or try to forget what is behind the leak problems. I love traveling to impoverish myself, question everything, and finding places that other love, to love them more later.

(...) I do not bathe in the Ganges. But in the distance, she came out of the water, back, dripping. Strange feeling of capsizing, though to get back quickly on the right path of travel.

"In her sari na plin zimage"

(...)

Fatigue

India had crippled ...

fatigue. India for three weeks, it's tired, and when you're a tourist, you are alone. And how not to think?

... but she continued to look to the future

(...)

"In the rain, we could not see That
air orange and red
And the buildings of an old dream
Lined with light green and pink. "

course I happened to think. How not to think about when you sit on the ghats of Pushkar, a wonderful small town in Rajasthan, a town of hippies. I always had a propensity to daydream. I like to think of love, because it makes me live. Some do not think, or are afraid to think. Me too I think. And how not to be a machine to love, when we see such a city. Orange city when it rains, white city. One could spend hours and not return. What we can learn from India, it is this fascination that can take us anywhere and this diversity that explodes our codes and values. If Europe likes Unity, the One, India is divided ever contingent and multiple, in a harmonious chaos. So Parveen asks us back into the car for the next destination. And you go back on the road in Bharat, with Indian music to the ears and eyes open. Jai ho, my friend, Jay ho!