It started with the guy with a sweet smile who looked up from the strip of resin he was bending around a red-hot stake and said kia ora -you want look my bangle shop? The kia ora he'd learned from some passing kiwi tourist ensured that we bought a few camel-bone and silver bangles from him and not from any of the dozens of other bangle shops.
You've got to have an edge to make a rupee, but really, how often do New Zealanders wander down that dusty, narrow street in Jodhpur? Kiwis that want to buy bangles, that is. To tell the truth, the charm and persuasiveness of Indian shopkeepers often means that when you set out to buy shampoo, you come home with a new shirt or a set of framed miniatures.
Everybody asks you what is country, and some try to pretend that the Black Caps are more of a success and less of an embarrassment compared with a team that proudly represents a billion people, many of them small boys who bowl and bat away for six in dusty villages.
But it was the guy in charge of shelves of sandals at a temple in Udaipur today that really impressed. Namaste, kia ora, haere mai, he grinned. Bells clanged, incense wafted and ladies in saffron and orange saris chanted . A boy shared out a cardboard box of barfi. The mothers-in-law come every day to gossip and wait for this moment, when the gilt-edged purple velvet curtain in front of the image is drawn back and the ebony face of the god revealed. And on the way out, hopping across the scalding-hot midday marble, the slipper guy said it again. Haere mai.
And this is the world's largest democracy: not a perfect one, as none are, but a country where in Jodhpur there is a free public newspaper reading room where people (men) gather to read the news. Literacy is around 60 % - higher for men- much improved in the last 20 years. The reception staff of the hotel we stayed in squatted on the verandah together, reading the news in Hindi and in English.
The Times of India, in English, seems a good solid newspaper. I've read stories about people fighting corruption, about scandals involving accidents and about women courageously fighting for justice over rape complaints and exploitation. Movie stars and their marriage plans, too. The death of the maharajah of Jaipur, reported very even-handedly. The death of Sai Baba, also not uncritical.
And, the other day, the story of the snake charmer's protest. They picketed the house of the Minister of the Interior, a woman because they want to be recognised as an official minority.
I hope they get their recognition quickly because, if I was the lady minister, some of the last people I'd want to piss off are the snake charmers of Delhi.
You've got to have an edge to make a rupee, but really, how often do New Zealanders wander down that dusty, narrow street in Jodhpur? Kiwis that want to buy bangles, that is. To tell the truth, the charm and persuasiveness of Indian shopkeepers often means that when you set out to buy shampoo, you come home with a new shirt or a set of framed miniatures.
Everybody asks you what is country, and some try to pretend that the Black Caps are more of a success and less of an embarrassment compared with a team that proudly represents a billion people, many of them small boys who bowl and bat away for six in dusty villages.
But it was the guy in charge of shelves of sandals at a temple in Udaipur today that really impressed. Namaste, kia ora, haere mai, he grinned. Bells clanged, incense wafted and ladies in saffron and orange saris chanted . A boy shared out a cardboard box of barfi. The mothers-in-law come every day to gossip and wait for this moment, when the gilt-edged purple velvet curtain in front of the image is drawn back and the ebony face of the god revealed. And on the way out, hopping across the scalding-hot midday marble, the slipper guy said it again. Haere mai.
And this is the world's largest democracy: not a perfect one, as none are, but a country where in Jodhpur there is a free public newspaper reading room where people (men) gather to read the news. Literacy is around 60 % - higher for men- much improved in the last 20 years. The reception staff of the hotel we stayed in squatted on the verandah together, reading the news in Hindi and in English.
The Times of India, in English, seems a good solid newspaper. I've read stories about people fighting corruption, about scandals involving accidents and about women courageously fighting for justice over rape complaints and exploitation. Movie stars and their marriage plans, too. The death of the maharajah of Jaipur, reported very even-handedly. The death of Sai Baba, also not uncritical.
And, the other day, the story of the snake charmer's protest. They picketed the house of the Minister of the Interior, a woman because they want to be recognised as an official minority.
I hope they get their recognition quickly because, if I was the lady minister, some of the last people I'd want to piss off are the snake charmers of Delhi.
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