New Zealand and India have some obvious differences. One of the things I think I will miss most about India is how alive the world is there. The streets are always busy; there is always something going on. In this piece, I have tried to capture the electric atmosphere of India through a snapshot recount of stopping at an intersection.
The light goes red and I look out the bus’ dusty window. A man operates an electric concrete breaker machine on the side of the highway. He is wearing a plaid white and blue shirt, dark blue jeans and orange and white sneakers. Sweat glistens across his brow. Down the road, a group of boys are kicking around an old football. They laugh and shout at one another as dust flies up around their feet. An old woman perches on a red plastic chair nearby, her skin wrinkled by sun and time. A metal bowl half-full of seeds and grain rests on her lap. From this bowl her weathered hands scatter the feed to pigeons cooing at her feet. Two dogs skip past and the birds flit away. The dogs make their way further down the street to a drainage ditch where they stop for a drink. They lick away at the greyish-brown puddle, their soft brown eyes quietly observing the scenes around them. Across the road a man sells a colourful array of carefully lined up snacks and drinks from his immaculately presented stall. His shop sits in the shade of a Hindu Temple, where people come and go throughout the day from dusk until dawn. A woman dressed in yellow with a toddler on her hip walks out of the temple and into the sun. She waves out to a moped, who stops to let her hop on, and they putter off. As they weave through traffic they pass a mother cow and her calf, resting in the shade of a tree. The mother cow licks her baby’s ear affectionately, simultaneously flicking her tail at the flies hovering near her. A group of young girls walk past, chatting and laughing as they make their way home after a day at school. Each of them has smooth pigtails with blue ribbons at the end. As a plane drones overhead, one looks up and dreams of being a pilot. They skip over the cracked and dusty path, moving out to the road when the path is not clear. Just as they look up at the bus, the light goes green and I wave as we drive off.