Wednesday, December 6, 2006
Dalits are cool.
From all over India they streamed into my neighborhood by the hundreds of thousands. The throngs of people who used to be called “untouchables” wore white in honor of their leader, Dr. B. R. Ambedkar, the fiftieth anniversary of his death being the reason much of Bombay was shut down today. Men in crisp kurtas and Nehru hats, women in flowing saris with kids in tow, their hair neatly cut and combed. Far from the violent threat that the Bombay papers had been headlining for days, this was holiday time.
The line to get into the main event at Shivaji Park, about twenty blocks away under the hot sun, started right outside the window of the Coffee Day where I ventured for my customary cappuccino at ten this morning. When I came back for my usual pick-me-up double espresso at three in the afternoon, the end of the line was still there, but perhaps a half million people had passed by in the intervening hours.
Caffeine-fueled, I set off down the middle of the street towards Shivaji Park. Traffic has been banned. Without the choking fumes and life-threatening daily dodge-em of vehicular madness, my neighborhood seemed lovely, joyous – despite the troops stationed on every corner carrying AK47s, plain clothes cops surveilling the crowd from temporary platforms. The vendors were also taking advantage of the once-a-year pedestrian mall. I bought some Dr. Ambedkar souvenirs, including a pin with his image – the bespectacled visage of a kindly accountant. I stuck it on and imagined myself, probably the only Caucasian citizen of the USA amongst the masses of dark-skinned folks for as far as the eye could see, just one of the crowd.
But a man with an official badge stopped me and a small mob gathered around. It seems I’d stuck the pin on my shirt slightly askew and the man would not let me continue until he’d pinned it on correctly. A drunk who "desecrated" a statue of Dr. Ambedkar two weeks ago had caused days of rioting. I hoped I hadn't desecrated the good doctor by wearing him upside down. The official guy struggled with the pin and… Ouch! I pretended he’d stuck me. Everyone cracked up. Finally he got it right and smiled. I thanked him in Hindi and suddenly everyone was shaking my hand.
“Where you from?”
“America!” I said.
From all over India they streamed into my neighborhood by the hundreds of thousands. The throngs of people who used to be called “untouchables” wore white in honor of their leader, Dr. B. R. Ambedkar, the fiftieth anniversary of his death being the reason much of Bombay was shut down today. Men in crisp kurtas and Nehru hats, women in flowing saris with kids in tow, their hair neatly cut and combed. Far from the violent threat that the Bombay papers had been headlining for days, this was holiday time.
The line to get into the main event at Shivaji Park, about twenty blocks away under the hot sun, started right outside the window of the Coffee Day where I ventured for my customary cappuccino at ten this morning. When I came back for my usual pick-me-up double espresso at three in the afternoon, the end of the line was still there, but perhaps a half million people had passed by in the intervening hours.
Caffeine-fueled, I set off down the middle of the street towards Shivaji Park. Traffic has been banned. Without the choking fumes and life-threatening daily dodge-em of vehicular madness, my neighborhood seemed lovely, joyous – despite the troops stationed on every corner carrying AK47s, plain clothes cops surveilling the crowd from temporary platforms. The vendors were also taking advantage of the once-a-year pedestrian mall. I bought some Dr. Ambedkar souvenirs, including a pin with his image – the bespectacled visage of a kindly accountant. I stuck it on and imagined myself, probably the only Caucasian citizen of the USA amongst the masses of dark-skinned folks for as far as the eye could see, just one of the crowd.
But a man with an official badge stopped me and a small mob gathered around. It seems I’d stuck the pin on my shirt slightly askew and the man would not let me continue until he’d pinned it on correctly. A drunk who "desecrated" a statue of Dr. Ambedkar two weeks ago had caused days of rioting. I hoped I hadn't desecrated the good doctor by wearing him upside down. The official guy struggled with the pin and… Ouch! I pretended he’d stuck me. Everyone cracked up. Finally he got it right and smiled. I thanked him in Hindi and suddenly everyone was shaking my hand.
“Where you from?”
“America!” I said.
“We love you America!” they shouted… none of us untouchable.
2 comments:
If anyone doesn't know what Rex means by the "life-threatening daily dodge-em of vehicular madness", you'd better have a look at this.
Just so you know that this blog shouldn't be taken metaphorically. It's pure first hand-account of actual facts. Reality. The one with a liberal bias. ;)
Nice to hear from you, Rex :)
Silvere, from Paris.
Yes, that's it! Merci, Silvere!
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