The Zoo or the Circus?

Since I arrived here, I've been trying to think of a metaphor which captures my experience in India. I thought I had it, but after last night, I think I've changed my mind. Originally, I liked to think of India as a very large zoo, with no cages and no zookeepers. I mean, literally, there are animals everywhere. Dogs roam the street, sometimes chasing tourists, and sometimes laying down with total disregard of everything else that's happening. Yesterday, Sam stepped on a dog which incited a loud squeal. Two days ago, we saw a dog laying in a hole in the middle of a motorcycle's path. The motorcycle slowed down, assuming the dog would move, and then proceeded to just run the dog over (it was a mess trying to dislodge the dog's leg from under the bike). There are chickens and goats who run around, usually sticking to their own business. There are monkeys who sit on top of buildings, in their own established societies, and descend to the streets for the occasional stolen snack from a vegetable merchant. And then there are cows; who can walk wherever they want, shit wherever they want, and eat whatever they want. However, none of these literal animals are the reason I think India is like a zoo. It's more the chaos and noise, the pollution and garbage, and the interactions that make me feel this way. I see things in the culture that are so polar opposite to everything that I am used to in the western world, and simply fall into a state of jaw-dropping utter disbelief. This should not be taken at all as an insult to Indian or Hindu culture. I do not actually think Indians are like animals, it's just the way the entire culture fuses together, in a crazy way, that makes me feel like I'm in a zoo.
And then, after last night, I decided that India might be a circus, because sometimes the most bizaar, most hilarious, most improbable events happen that no matter what, will always put a smile on your face, or in our case last night, will incite a case of hysterical laughter.
Rather than spending the whole post telling you about what I've done for the entire last week; how I nearly cried when I saw the Taj Mahal, how it was harder to get alcohol in Jaipur (the capital of the state of Rajastan) than it was in high school, how we went on a camel safari, or how we found a small pink log cabin restaurant with one stove called Joney's that makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches in the world, I'm just going to tell you about a 2 hour segment of my night last night, because it reminded me of a circus.
It started when we left one of the all-too-similar Israeli restaurants and headed back to one of our friend's guest houses. Walking down the street, we saw the stand that sells brownies and cakes, and special brownies and special cakes. Several of our friends had a terrible experience several nights ago with the special brownies (special everythings are sold everywhere in Pushkar), and so we decided to inquire to the cake baker into what these cakes were all about.
"Have you ever had one of these cakes?"
"Ahh, yes, I had one at 4 o'clock."
"Is it really only jarras (form of marijuana) that is in these cakes?"
"Yes, only jarras. Full power jarras." Bullshit. This guy was walking proof that there had to be more than jarras in these cakes. I've seen really, really high people before, but this guy was on another planet. His eyes were focused on completely different sides of me, his colorful brimmed hat was halfway off his head, his hands were moving in uncontrollable directions, his tongue was hanging out of his mouth like a dog, and his shoulder was twitching in ways it shouldn't.
"Umm, OK."
So we've seen this cake baker every night, and he always seems to have the same amount of cake, but never has any customers. So, we decided to inquire about his business model.
"How often do you bake a new cake?"
"Whenever it runs out."
"How old are these cakes."
"15 days, 1 month, 2 months, hahahaha."
Hahaha. We'll get back to him later.
So we walked some more, and several hundred meters before the guest house, I spotted a Hindu wedding. Knowing how welcoming and hospitable Hindu people are, and having seen the movie "Wedding Crashers" over 30 times, I decided to go inside and check it out. It turns out it was just the pre-wedding night party, but after an hour of a combination of smiling, bowing my head, and bullshiting, I made friends with the groom's brother, and got an invitation to the wedding tonight. Wedding crashing will be the topic of my next blog post.
I arrived at the guest house after about an hour, and chilled with our friends there for a while. We watched some Israeli do some crazy fire numb-chuck show with trance music. It was all fun, until the owner of the hotel came down to the garden, half naked with a blanket wrapped around his neck (why it wasn't around his entire body is beyond me), and told us it was time to leave. So Sam and I, as well as the 2 Australian girls we were with starting walking back to our guest house. It was around 11, so most of the shops were closed. However, one small food/drink/general store was open, and there were two Indians sitting outside with the owner, so we decided to join them for a chat. The owner sat relatively quiet at his desk, perched over the others like a bird guarding his nest. One Indian sat on his motorbike, slurping an ice cream cone, with a face full of chocolate and laughs. And the other Indian sat on a step, his head buried in between his legs, unable to bear his surroundings while keeping a straight face. This is going to be fun, we thought. We sat down, and started listening to their conversation, which happened to be entirely in Hindi. However, we understood every bit of the conversation because nothing was actually said; they just laughed the entire time. It was an amazing sight, two full grown Indian men laughing like little school children, nearly in tears, eating ice cream. Then, the more coherent one, the one on the bike eating ice cream, started to explain to us what was going on.
"My friend is a Bollywood movie star."
"Haha, cool."
"Yes. My friend has many man friends who will pull down their pants for him."
"Haha, not so cool."
Laughter ensued for another 3 minutes. Then, the one sitting on the step pulled out an air vaporizer or something that was still in its box, and the laughter between the two rapidly increased. It would have been hopeless to figure out why this air vaporizer sparked so much laughter had another man, who appeared completely sober, not decided to join in on our get-together.
"The man says that he purchased the air vaporizer from the shop owner for 150 rupees (3 dollars), but he has absolutely no idea what it is or what it is used for. His friend just told him to buy it because it looked cool."
OK, it's funny for several high school freshmen, stoned out of their minds, to buy something completely useless for 3 dollars. But when 3 dollars could be half your day's salary, and your over the age of 50, it's frickin' hilarious. The laughter continued for another 5 minutes. All the while, the men were attempting to build up the strength and focus to tell us something in English. Finally, the man eating the ice cream was ready to speak.
"My friend says that if he could pull down the pants of anyone here, full power, it would be him (pointing to me)."
The place erupted in laughter. I jumped up and ran. The man sitting on the steps starting yelling "joke, joke!" and began slapping the man on the bike. This put the man on the bike over the top- he was now on the floor, rolling around, saying "full power, full power," laughing at his friend's inability to explain himself. They were probably joking, but it was also probably our cue to leave. So we left, and thanked our friends for some good laughs.
We approached the main street of Pushkar, which several hours ago was bustling with tourists eating laffas, and merchants trying to sell whatever kitschy items they possessed. It was now relatively empty and easy to walk through, the vegetable and fruit merchants had gathered their goods off the street, the chai shops along the street had pulled their chairs and benches in and locked up. The dogs, goats, and cows had settled into their respective corners and ledges for the night. However, there was a group of people gathered around several awake cows, as well as our friend from earlier, the cake baker. We scrambled to an angle from which we could see what was going on, and watched as the cake baker fed cakes to the cows. Uh oh, I thought.
"What kind of cake did you give the cow?"
There was no response, as the cake baker was fully involved in a conversation with the two cows.
"I give cow apple cake and special cake because he pays me 100 rupees, the other cow pays me nothing so I give him nothing, you pay 100 rupees I give full power cake to cow."
No thanks, I thought. I'm not going to encourage anymore of this, I decided, especially after the cow which was being fed special cakes began coughing and sneezing, and sliding his front hooves in a rapidly aggressive manner. Another cue to leave, we decided.
It was now midnight, and the streets were empty. The streets were nearly quiet, as the wedding music had died down. However, as we turned into our guest house's alley, we began to hear a very loud, yet indiscernible noise which faintly sounded like a type of music. We walked through the alley, and approached a small cul de sak, with two massive amps stacked on top of one another, under a tree, blaring this obnoxiously loud music, with a crowd one no one sitting around listening. We searched the area nearby, and ceased to find any sign of the music. We finally came across a group of about 5 people playing instruments, singing, and clapping. Why the elaborate sound system with no audience, and why the ear-splitting volume at such an hour? It's possible there is an answer to this question, but most likely, there isn't. Because like most other things in India, some of the most bizaar things occur, with absolutely no plausible explanation behind them. But I've learned that it's just the way things are here, and there's no real point in questioning them or trying to change them. It's better to just enjoy the show, or the circus, or the zoo, or whatever it is that India is.
I'm having a hard time finishing this blog post because outside there is a 30 piece marching band which has created a huge traffic jam. In the middle of the whole jam is a woman sitting on a cart with two pieces of luggage being pushed by a rickshaw driver. Around her are a group of 30 women dressed in traditional and colorful saris, as well as several small children, all stuck in a bottleneck trying to squeeze into the entrance of a small temple. Several motorbikes are laying on their horns, and obviously, there are several cows in the pack, and one dog. No one is moving, and no one seems to be doing anything to fix the jam. But like everything else in India, something will happen, possibly on accident, and the situation will be solved.