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Aziz in India
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Some photos
I will be posting some photos from now on (the first ones are below--click on the small photos to see the larger, hi-res ones). The great thing about Indians, maybe Gujaratis only, is that they love to be photographed. I mean, when you pull out a camera, people literally drop what they're holdings (pots, food, babies..) and run to where you are pointing the camera. They don't seem to care if they will ever see the photo, or if others will. And they don't believe you actually took the photo unless they see the flash, so a farmer I photographed last week was bitter when I saw him last time because he didn't think that I actually took any photos of him (i hadnt used flash).
I'm sure I have priviledged access to the villagers, as AKI has gained their trust. In fact, when some independent photographers came by a few years ago they were chased out because the villagers thought that the photographers were terrorists mapping out the area.
Random, unrelated note:
The monsoon is really here now, and it has rained heavily. Every time it rains, new animals appear and old ones change.
after the 1st rain:
ants grew wings. frogs everywhere.
after the 2nd rain:
huge, jumping green things.
after the 3rd rain:
moths.
today:
millions of ants. unsightly rash on upper shoulder.
This little fellow must have been pretty tired--he slept right through the village meeting. As the food was cleaned up around him, I was wondering if any of the ladies was going to claim him. His mother did eventually come by, but only to smooth his hair for the photo.
Lesson learned, part one: don't interrupt a Gujarati man enjoying his ladoo and gathia (sweets and fried dough). Lesson learned, part two: if someone else interrupts him, make sure your camera is ready.
Tapu Karsan, who does not own any land. He works for 50 rupees per day labouring on others' fields (less than $2 CDN. In purchasing power terms, less than $10 CDN per day). He is only able to work for a couple of months per year. He is lucky; his two grown boys send home 600 rupees per month ($20 CDN).
Sunday, June 13, 2004
Big Bazaar
There is a monstrous store called Big Bazaar on the outskirts of Ahmedabad, right next to the McDonalds ('family restaurant') and the two equally giant megaplexes (Fun republic and Wide angle). Big Bazaar on a Saturday night is upper-middle class Ahmedebad exposed, and I had the chance to enjoy it last night.
Entire families, which is to say parents, kids of all ages, cousins, aunts and uncles and grandparents pile out of cars, buses, and scooters and descend on Big Bazaar in a sort of entranced, consumerist euphoria. They step lightly over the trash and homeless people scattered around the store, and bounce through the sliding automatic doors into the air conditioned, five storey building.
The ordered, western-style setup inside the store has no effect on the customers who are used to the chaos on the streets of Abad--they pour through the store, autorickshaws replaced by shopping carts, cows and donkeys replaced by obese grandmothers and speedy, over-sugared kids. It is the agoraphobe's nightmare: people everywhere! Sweaty, sari-ed, plump women step on your toes while their husbands reach their greasy arms over your shoulder to reach for some product. It is easy to get caught in a swell of people moving in one direction, and I have more than once been within arm's reach of a toothbrush or some other essential item when I find myself swept up in some movement of people that is so far beyond my control and so unworth struggling against that I have just lifted my feet and enjoyed the ride.
If such an overwhelming press of people ever gathered in Toronto (the closest thing I can imagine is Christmas shopping), people would be snapping at each other and decrying the lack of personal space. But at Big Bazaar, everbody is very happy.