After 2-weeks, and in spite of saying I was only going to post fresh pieces, I still have a few last thoughts on India. In fact a part of India travelled with me to Australia in the form of an intestinal parasite. Nobody gets to have 4-months of blissful bowel action without some darn bug breaking through the defences. So here it is, a resurrected draft, a ‘to be continued’ post on the ongoing state of Ashby and his relationship to India.
Time’s up! A final hour left before the taxi grinds through the early evening Calcutta traffic to drop us at the airport. There’s still a lot to say about this country and with so little sand left in the hourglass now is not the best time.
I have spent nearly a year of my life in India and have not made huge advances with the main language, Hindi. This lack is in large part due to so many Indians having a good working knowledge of English. Thus I have become lazy when I travel here and fall back on my native tongue.
If there is one noise in India that will ultimately test the patience of even the most battle hardened traveller it is the blast of a horn – or horns as it is rare that you hear just one.
Being a cow can really help in India given the massive cultural respect and significance paid to the bovine race by those of a Hindu persuasion. For Indians honouring the cow is believed to inspire in people the virtues of gentleness and connectedness with nature.