D he roars cool wind around my head. A goat horns colliding with my knee. Whirring wing patter against my helmet. Helmet? The seating position of the much too small head protection rather like a Jewish Kipa: at the place where he was supposed to protect my forehead, he pressed me on the skull. It is 19.12Uhr. Stock darkness. Prabahkar juggles the two-wheeler on the bumpy and pitted roads. Cows, sheep, stray dogs, people overloaded Rickshas, people do the roadside their nightly business. It freezes me something. In my mind I'm still at the meeting of which we are now. One observation concerns me, however, more than the contents of the meeting. I think I have come behind it, why Indians can always and everywhere find sleep: in the rickety buses and trains in the busiest courts and even sitting on the hood of a moving jeep (the loading & painting of a jeep, and the consequent limited view the driver is another story ...). Like so much (eating with hands, sharply, sitting in the most impossible positions, the touch of red-hot things) to learn the most the Indians shortly after birth, so my observation and knowledge.
Tahera sits across from me. Only when the little bundle moved to her left knee, I notice that her son is present. He wakes up, looks around, quängelt. Quite intuitively begins rumzuklopfen his mother to him and pat what a German Youth Office would probably be happy and well regarded as a shock and would have long since removed from her custody. However, I will never witness a child abuse but rather more of a motherly care. Face, head, chest - the little body is set in violent motion. My spontaneous thought "Oh God, what are you doing with your child? It just want to sleep?" The answer to my question gives me the little boy himself: he rolls his eyes, yawns and starts a few seconds to snore softly. My surprise is not bad. As the next awakening, the first "Rüttelmethode" no longer helps to embed it on the mother: the bed frame is cross-legs , linen saree. This time the baby is thrown by up and down movements of the mother's lap around the knee. The Hanna Tattoo painted and equipped with infinite Jewellery hands take the beating in the neck and head up again. A bus from the race over a pothole on the other hand is garbage. Viswuas sleeps soundly.
[...]
Arrived on the home campus, I find myself short time later at cultural part of the weekly back campus meeting. A few weeks ago this was still quite comfortable, it was sung laughed. Having now but 50 boys between the ages of 16-23 years have moved in here a decibel meter would probably have to beat in the red alert. Like every week, the most popular game is played all the sing-song games, the rules are simple: It also forms two groups that try to answer each of the final syllable of the previous song with another song. The whole could truly describe as a "battle of votes." It is shouted, danced, jumped called, gesturing wildly with his arms. Before long, it does not matter who is in which group, yodels and screams all together well-known Indian Mugams, interrupted only by roaring laughter. Only a few can still hold on the floor, the rest is himself body and soul towards the event. I never could imagine such a thing to me in Germany and I never found the expression "with heart and soul" matching ...
a while later: after some had to be persuaded by some physical force from the fact that the game is over now and it's about time for food is (21.30) all sit together at dinner community. Once in two weeks, there are chicken, so even today. I thought I had already gotten used to the sharpness to some extent but for that I received this evening the receipt, tearful eyes, runny nose. Easily given up but I enjoy the food. Then I notice however that my watery eyes are not the only ones. "Tumba kara!" Fakeerasab me smile with her mouth open, and on the other hand, the focus clearly makes evident. I'll never satisfied the burning mouth dropped.
How could such an Indian Friday evening will be rounded? Of course, tea & Bollywood! This time, even with English subtitles. Even if they sense a part or only a fraction of a second shutter speed, which statement could hide behind the structure of grammar and spelling errors, which is called English. In the infamous dance and singing is the way forward playing forever!
Tumba kara! Very sharp.
PS: Have a nice move St. Martins!
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