Peppers in the road

We were driving along and I was lost in thought when the auto driver did some crazy stunt driving, swerving around in the road. He was making an attempt to grab a bag of something out of the middle of the speeding traffic.
The motorcycle behind us screeched its brakes and went around us, scolding loudly.
The driver decided it was too dangerous and he pulled over. Still a dangerous maneuver--he, himself, ran out into the middle of the traffic and retrieved a bag of peppers, which he stowed inside the auto.

And we drove on.
Whoa.

I hadn't seen where the peppers came from, but apparently the driver had, and in a matter of moments he was yelling to another driver to come up next to him.
At the upcoming stoplight, the other auto pulled up beside us. "Have you got them?" the driver breathed.
"Yes, yes, they're safe," my driver handed the bag full of red and yellow peppers to the other, whose auto was full of vegetables.
"Oh," he sighed, "Thank you, thank you. Meherbani. You have done a good thing for me." He touched his forehead and chest in deepest gratitude.
"Yes, yes, take care. You have many vegetables there. I went out and got these for you."
"Thank you, thank you, brother," the other driver pulled out a cigarette, lit it and inhaled deeply to settle his nerves. "These ones are hard to find. I was going back for them."
My driver nodded, "I saw. I saw."

The light changed and again we drove on.
And for the rest of the ride, the driver alternated between whistling and singing.
Yes, it was a good deed.
Well done, sir.

Drought is my opportunity to do something

I remember watching tv when I was small about drought and famine happening in Ethiopia and other African places. I remember feeling like a kid--someone who couldn't do anything.
Now I'm a grown up. And I still feel the same way.

In reading other news this morning, I saw the 1' x 1.5' photo link to a news video. It was tiny and not calling much attention to itself, but I was so horrified by what might be there that I had to close the web page.

It's easier not to know.

Isn't it?

Ignorance is bliss, or something like that?

I get to enjoy my ignorance while others are suffering?
No, Lindsay, this is wrong.

I was able to come back to the video later because I also found a link to Compassion (or there's Samaritan's Purse--or any number of other reputable charities), a way I can at least do something small.
It doesn't help--not me or anyone else--to ignore the suffering of others.
I'm not a helpless kid with an empty piggy-bank watching tv on the other side of the world anymore. And I'm sure not one of the helpless children, malnourished with so little hope for eating today.

Eating.

I was hungry this afternoon because I was lazy. I had no electricity and couldn't use my microwave to warm up one of the many choices of leftovers sitting in my fridge.
Laziness and discomfort are all I suffer from.

Oh selfish, lazy me.

I choose to take the opportunity to be a little less selfish and self-centered today.

If you are reading this on a computer, you are one of the wealthy. You can do something.

Zangoora

People flying and somersaulting in the air.
Color, sparkle, dazzle, and dancing.

It was over stimulation.
It was incredible to see.

The story of the musical Zangoora itself was not that spectacular, but the effects were. What they could do with the LED screen backdrop was pretty nifty.
Not everyone is thrilled with Zangoora. And I must agree that it's expensive.
But the "wow, I'm seeing bollywood dancing in real life"--there's not really any other way to come by that.
Imagine, seeing this live:
Yeah, I pretty much sat there grinning the whole time.

Kingdom of Dreams

Welcome to the Kingdom of Dreams.
I am reminded of Disney World. Or maybe that should more accurately be: Las Vegas--but I've never been there to compare.
We've got glitz, sparkle, facades, required shopping, and high prices.
And the prohibition of weapons. What does that sound like to you?

It's also a place with a fake sky and an indoor beach.
There are people walking around drumming and ringing bells, with dancers appearing in windows and between tables.

There is also genuine artistry happening--like the stairway and walls of this side shop.

From the showy displays of wealth to the poverty on the streets, India is diverse place.

Motorcycle mass

Is it a parking lot full of motorcycles?

No.

It's only your average, everyday stoplight.

Lotus temple

It's so close to where I live, but I've never been to the Lotus Temple before.
Visited by thousands every year, but not by me.

Today I had my opportunity to go, so I took it.

With so much rain lately, the surrounding gardens are green green.
And keeping the lawn mower busy.

It's pretty architecture, but really there's not much there. It's kind of a great big emptiness. There's nothing to the Bahá'í temple but a shell.

The biggest impression it made was on my feet. Shoes have to be removed to enter, but then there are red sandstone paths to follow which have been baking in the heat of the day. Ow!

The other thing I could do was get a view of my own house, opposite my usual view of the temple from my rooftop.
Imagine me standing beneath the center huddle of water tanks with my hands up to shield my eyes from the sun and you have an accurate picture.

Avocado lament

My avocado is gone. I accidentally gave it away.

You see, I asked the vegetable man if he had broccoli, and he had to go to the market special just to get it for me. Broccoli is out of season and expensive, so he then checked back with me to see if I really wanted it before he brought some. When he did, I showed him the avocado and asked him if he knew of them so that he could find those for me, too.
He understood the avocado was a gift for him and he took it away with him.

Sniff.

Now that I think about it, isn't an avocado a fruit? So I guess I'm asking the wrong guy anyway.

I had big plans for that avocado.

Aw man.

Language barriers: boo.

Wreck and destruction

How does something as horrific as this happen?
Train cars piled on top of one another, wheels torn off and metal crumpled like a soda can.

It must have been terrifying for those on board the train.



The Kalka Mail derailment was all over the news headlines.
Until it got eclipsed by news of the blasts in Mumbai.
Then the news of the terror attack in Norway and it's strange aftermath story took over. Hatred, by the way, is one destructive force.

One after another after another.
I think it's terrible that these things happen. I think it's worse that we can gorge ourselves on one gory tragedy after another and then forget them all together.

I have wondered, but haven't heard much about how the people of Japan are faring. They are an "astonishingly" resilient people.
Haiti is no where near recovered from the earthquake that hit in January of 2010.

It's much easier to live inside a bubble where the world's troubles don't affect me.
But that isn't good for any of us.

So I'm making it a goal to pay attention to the pain of someone other than myself today.

34 °

Upon arrival at Indira Gandhi International Airport, the pilot announced that it was 34°.
That sounds about right, and not terribly hot, I thought.
Then he said, "That would be just above 0° in Celsius."

What?

Someone needs to check his information.
Shouldn't that be 34° C and 93°F? That makes a whole lot more sense for Delhi in July.
I guess I should be thankful he went into aviation and not chemical engineering, or something.

Sky

If ever I mention missing the sky, this is what I'm talking about.
Better than any fireworks or light display.

The short life of a s'more

What's summer without the taste of s'mores?
Chocolate.
Roasted marshmallows.
Unbeatable combination.

Yum.