That's just India

carving the marble slab

Yesterday when I woke my first feelings were of exasperation with my adopted country, at both a personal and national level.

Personally because the previous day I had been reprimanded by my accountant because my Company had still failed to show a profit. I reminded him that I hadn't really come to India to start a business - I had just itended to retire and live quietly, spending my British income in India. Only rules about foreigners buying property had led me down the business route (property has to be bought through an Indian Company, not an individual). I had tried very hard to comply with all the rules - and make my business profitable -  I just hadn't succeeded yet.

Nationally because the opening report as I tuned into BBC World was the deepening crisis concerning the Commonwealth Games in Delhi. The Indian Government appeared to have confirmed every sterio-typical image the rest of the world holds about India - unable to meet deadlines, unable to cope with the monsoon rain (which happens every year), unable to install plumbing systems and electrical wiring properly, and unable to clean its toilets.There were also suggestions of down the line corruption, which had led to the use of sub-standard building materials, resulting in the collapse of a bridge.

Threading marigolds for garlands

Devotion to Ganesh

Still feeling depressed I plodded round the the market in Calangute, trying to keep my feet out of the muddy puddles while doing a little grocery shopping, then I went to make enquiries about the re-instatement of my mobile phone number which had been de-registered while I was away in England. I had been told it would happen  after three days, and now a week had passed .... not much news there I'm afraid. Hmmm.....what to do next...... I glanced across the road and saw a group of boys outside the Hindu Temple meticulously decorating an open backed truck with a criss-cross pattern of yellow marigold garlands - nothing slip shod about their work. I walked over for a closer look and realised that this was the final day of the 10 day Ganpati Festival held every year in honour of Ganesh, the elephant headed God. The decorated truck would be used to transport the Temple's Ganesh idol to the beach, where it would be' immersed' beneath the waves.

Inside the temple a woman immaculately dressed in a beautiful sequin encrusted sari was silently making her final puja, or prayers, to the flower bedecked Ganesh. The scent of incense masked the fish and rotting vegetable smell of the market and a tinkling of bells softened the traffic roar. I felt my spirits begin to rise as I stepped outside and watched a flower seller at work,carefully threading more marigold garlands. Puzzled by a rhythmical tap tap tap, like a table tennis game in progress I turned to the side of the temple and saw that the sound was coming from a group of young men working with tiny chisels on slabs of white marble to carve intricate, fretwork designs. Seeing me watching, and taking a photograph, the leader of the little gang proudly called me over, and showed me how he was drawing the design onto the marble as he worked. He told me that the panel he was working on had taken 25 days so far, and it was not yet complete. The work they were doing was for the temple of course.  It was amazing to so such detailed artwork being produced with such simple tools.

 Across the courtyerd the boys were still creating a colourful chariot out of a dusty pick up truck....the lady with the beautiful sari left the Temple and headed into the busy street, and the marigold threader continued silently with her work.... I walked away from the temple feeling totally happy, and convinced that India was the place for me, despite all her faults and failings..