Je quitte l'Inde - I leave India

Me revoici a Delhi, a Paharganj, comme d'habitude. Mon arrivee ce matin la a ete agreable. Alors que je decide de faire pause chai avant de m'enfiler dans le nouveau metro, je rencontre des homeless people avec qui je sympathise.

Il est 7 heures du matin au chai shop

Ils m'avertissent de l'arrivee du milkman. Je ne comprends pas de quoi ils parlent, jusqu'a ce que je voie un Monsieur, sur sa vespa, deposant coupelles au sol. Il les remplit de lait et les chiens errants accourent s'abreuver. Ce pays est incroyable...




Je rejoins ensuite Paharganj et prends ma chambre a l'habituel hotel. Il fait une chaleur suffocante ici aussi, la pollution de cette megapole n'aidant pas... Il n'y a pas de ventilateur lorsque j'arrive mais une sorte d'air cooler, comme ils appellent ca, qui fait un boucan du tonnerre.





Puis l'on vient taper a ma porte et ils m'installent un ventilo. 3 personnes sont necessaires pour l'intervention. Eh oui, il faut bien tenir l'echelle...

Je visite aussi mes amis Lionel et Namrata qui viennent d'etre parents d'une petite Aida. Elle est mignonne comme tout et c'est chaque fois un
miracle que de voir tel petit bout de chou. Alors bienvenue a toi dans ce vaste et beau monde Aida!

Je prepare la suite de mon voyage. La chaleur regnant ne me donne pas envie de rester ici. Je booke un ticket de train et partirais le 29 au soir pour le Nepal. J'arpente le marche pour de menus achats. Les etals de fruits sentent bon...

Et puis il y a les chauffeurs de rickshaws qui m'etonneront toujours par leur capacite a dormir partout, vraiment partout...


















Et c'est bien pour ca que j'aime l'Inde. A cause de toutes ces petites choses. A cause des guirlandes de fleurs et morceaux de noix de coco brises ou a cause des cloches qui annoncent l'arrivee d'un croyant devant son Dieu au temple, a cause du bruit regulier, le matin, de la balayette faite de branchilles, a cause du petit bruit des pieds nus sur le sol de pierre, a cause du parfum de l'encens, a cause des vaches qui errent dans les rues ou boivent aux fontaines d'un carrefour anime, a cause des vieux dans presque chaque bled, qui portent, maillees sur leur nez, d'ancestrales lunettes aux verres epais, a cause du chai servi dans de petites coupelles en terre cuite, toujours bienvenu, comme son vendeur, le fameux chaiwallah a la voix nasillarde, a cause des dodelinements de tetes pour dire oui, a cause des couleurs eclatantes qui dessinent les femmes comme des rayons fugaces, a cause de echarpes en laine portees autour de la tete, comme un oeuf de Paques, a cause des interminables trajets en train, a cause des Ganesh lumineux poses sur les pares-brises, a cause des gamins demandant un backschisch, l'oeil miteux puis partant d'un rire clair lorsque je leur dis au revoir en hindi, a cause des sourires, toujours des sourires...





























ENGLISH VERSION

Here I am, back in Delhi, Paharganj neighbourhood as usual. My morning arrival was pleasant. Stopping for a chai before slipping into the new metro, I meet some homeless people, I sit and chat with them understanding more from their smiles than I could from the combination of my hindi and their english. They are telling me to look out for the milkman, I am confused untill I see the Man stop his vespa, and produce 5 plastic bowls. He sets them in a line on the tarmac as a group of stray dogs run over and jostle for position. Milk poured from an old fashioned 5 litre can is devoured hungrily by the dogs, who then go back to defending thier little patch of roadside... It's 8am and the Man does that everyday. This country is stunning!

I get to Pahararganj and take a room at my usual haunt. The heat is suffocating here too, the pollution of this megapole serving to make it yet more oppressive. A hole in the ceiling aims a tangled wiry grin at me, dashing my hopes for a relaxing snooze under the fan. I settle for the "Air Cooler". It is damn noisy and not very cool.

There is a knock and 3 friendly faces appear,
"We fix fan, 2 minutes only ji, thik hain?" says the lead face, brandishing a three bladed ceiling fan.
"thik hain ji, come in".
Fan wallah climbs up the precarious step ladder and begins deftly twisting wires together, his two friends holding the bottom of the ladder, laughing chatting. 2 minutes later I have a fan. The "Air Cooler" is turned off.

I also visit my friends Lionel and Namarata, who are now parents of little Aida. She's a real cuty and it's allways a miracle to see such little things. So Aida, welcome into this vast and beautiful world!

I prepare to continue my trip as I must leave India soon, my visa expires before long, and the heat gives me no desire to stay. I finally decide pretty quickly on my next destination. The flight ticket to Tadjikistan, the country I would have liked to travel initially, is far too expensive for my budget. I will go in Nepal instead, a train ticket is booked for the night of the 29th.

I walk through the market for a little shopping. The fruit stalls are smelling good. I stick to mangoes, they just came into season and are incredible!
Around me, draped over every available flat surface of their beaten up machines, the rickshaws-wallahs never fail to astonish with their ability to sleep anywhere.
And it's why I like India, for all those little details.

Because of the flower garlands and pieces of broken coconut, or the bells annoucing the arrival of a believer in front of his God at the temple, because of the regular sound, in the mornings, of the brush made out of sticks, because of the little noise that naked feet make on stony floors, because of the smell of incense, because of the cows wandering around in the streets or drinking at the fountain of a busy corner, because of the old ones, in almost ervey village, wearing on their nose some thick, antique glasses, because of the chai served in small earthy cups, always welcome as is it's vendor, the famous nasal voices of the chaiwallahs, because of the way they say yes with their head while doing it in a funny, really flexible way, because of the flashy colours of the fabrics, the ladies like living rays of colour, because of the scarfs worn aroudn the heads like an eastern eff, because of of the endless train rides, because of the kids asking for bachschisch, a shabby eye first and then innocent laughter when I tell them goodbye in hindi, because of the smiles, always the smiles...