Water Wallah

26 January 2010 Coimbatore, Tamil Nadu, India

Yesterday I went to a drugstore called Nilgiri's (it's a chain).  They actually had a scanner to scan the bar codes on items... the only one I've seen so far in India on this trip.

Power outages occur almost daily here in Coimbatore, for a few hours mid-day.  Most of the shops have generators, which add to the din  when they're running and also to the air pollution.  One of the main impressions I've received from cities in India is the noise, from the motors and horns of various types of vehicles (cars, buses, auto-rickshaws, scooters, motorcycles).  Horns seemed pitched to the size of the vehicle, low base tones "hong, hong" for the buses, high frequency "beeee, beeeee" from the scooters, bells "brrrnnnggg, brrrnnnnggg" on the bicycles.

We see a few beggars every day, not any more than one would see in any warm climate city in the U.S.A.  I never give them money (although Catherine sometimes does).  It seems to me that giving a beggar money is not helping them, it's creating dependence and an unearned sense of entitlement.  Instead, I tip waiters, rickshaw drivers and other service providers lavishly.  They are productive members of society, and I love the idea of giving them a little extra to help improve their life a bit.  Maybe some of that tip money will help fund their child's education or help them start their own business or pay for a dental appointment.

Several excellent books by Indian authors or about India have fallen into my hands on this trip, and I've mentioned them in previous posts.  I bought another novel yesterday, called "Shantaram", written by an Australian.  I'm about a hundred pages into it, and it is really good.  Really funny and insightful.  It gives one the flavor of India, and addresses many of the same interesting and delightful quirks of the culture that I have written about in this blog.  You've got to read this book.  I often burst out laughing while reading it, resulting in sidelong glances from nearby strangers.

When one shakes hands with an Indian man, it's a very soft handshake, like a man would expect when shaking hands with a woman in the west.... not the firm, hearty shake one would expect in the west.  Probably it would be considered aggressive to shake hands in the western way.

One sees oxen pulled carts carrying a man and a two hundred gallon cylindrical metal water tank slowly wheeling down the street every once in awhile, or stopped in front of a restaurant with a 3 inch hose draining water from the cylindrical tank into an underground concrete tank.  I don't know if the water is potable or not.  I don't understand why people would buy water from these people when they can get it from the city pipes.  Perhaps the water in these tanks is for drinking, and one can't drink the tap water.

You take your life in your hands when you cross the street here.  And, since they drive on the left and we are used to traffic that drives on the right, when we step off the curb, we tend to look the wrong way, adding to the danger.  Catherine and I each want to lead, which elevates the danger to the level of folly.  She, having the more advanced and subtle state of consciousness, finally agreed to take the subservient position, and now she takes hold of my shirtsleeve as we cross.  We've actually got the hang of it now, just as we are about to leave.  I find it quite hilarious that there is a crosswalk across the busy street we cross several times per day.  It's hilarious because nobody ever uses it and I'm sure that it has no meaning to the cacophonous horde of vehicles and pedestrians crisscrossing every which way up and down and across the street.  Or perhaps the driver of a vehicle would get more points for hitting you if you happen to be in a crosswalk at the time.  No, that's not fair, they don't really try to hit you, they just figure an inch or two clearance is plenty.

Doing hatha yoga twice a day, eating a pure vegetarian diet and no alcohol has made me feel really good.  I must have lost more than 10 or 15 pounds, my asanas are surprisingly good (considering that I was very stiff when I left New Hampshire) and my mind is quiet and serene.  Upon leaving the USA, after several days of eating pure vegetarian in India, my sweat no longer stank, and I could wear the same shirt for a few days without it stinking under the arms, even though I would sweat quite a bit in the heat.  When we traveled to Kannur, they served us fish and beer every day at lunch, and even though I would eat only a very small piece of fish and drink only a small glass of beer, my sweat started stinking again.  Back in Coimbatore now on the vegetarian diet, no stink.  Body feels really good.

I'm going to invest in an India-centric mutual fund when I return home.  India doesn't have the demographic problems that China has (China will have relatively few young people supporting a lot of older people in a few years, as their one-child policy catches up to them).  Also, Chinese banks have over-lent and Chinese infrastructure has been over-built in the name of fiscal stimulus.  India is chaotic, but it is also very dynamic.  The Indians are natural entrepreneurs.  Yes, they have a lot of government bureaucracy and corruption, but I am willing to bet that those will decrease over time rather than increase.  They value education and they work hard.  And they have a huge, inexpensive labor pool to draw from.