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The same night as my extended audience with the Indian military we met Sharad.  It had been a long day preceded by a number of other long days.  We had just entered into the area where we were having to deal with large amounts of Delhi traffic.

The Meerut area is basically one big military base.  Pete had managed to find a civilian-looking field 2 km down a small road otherwise lined with military bases.  Halfway to this potential camp-site, we stopped at a hand pump to wash, as is our custom.  We immediately attracted attention, and the men loitering in the street formed a crowd to watch us bathe, as is their custom.

Pete pumped for me.  Someone brought us a bucket (one advantage of bathing for a crowd, one of those people must have a bucket).  Halfway through the process, a man with a demeanor of calm intelligence rode up on his well-used bike.  Pete had actually met him before, briefly in town.  He observed us stripped to the waist, gathered around the pump, surround by a crowd of Indians and inquired what the heck we were doing and where on earth we planned to sleep that night.  We explained.  “Look,” he said, “this area is all military bases, you will find no area here. Come back to my house.  You can sleep in my house or put your tent in my yard or park, as you wish.”  He surveyed the crowd, and then added, “you can also bathe at my house.  This is no place to bathe.”

We looked at each other.  The words of the friendly officer who warned me against getting caught twice on military land rang in my head.  We unanimously agreed to accompany Sharad back to his home.

He lived in a nice neighborhood, in a new two story house with a huge gate, a garage and a real yard with real grass.  We met his brother, an engineering student, his father, a retired teacher who now oversees farming on the family land, and his mother, who makes great parantha.

Sharad and his mom served us the obligatory glass of tea.  We chatted.  His father told us about farming.

Sharad showed us a room.  His room.  “You can sleep in here, if you wish,” he told us.  The sky outside promised rain.  I was sick of setting up the tent.  The failed zipper on the screen often guaranteed plenty of mosquitoes accompanied us through the night.  We accepted his offer. Much to my guilt, he cleared everything out fo the room and set up three mats for us.

We went for a short walk through the rich part of town, an area famous as one of the richest neighborhoods in India.  Quiet, wide, car-lined streets reminded one of suburban U.S.  The huge houses looming behind their high-security fences, however, brought to mind America’s own wealthy neighborhoods.   Suddenly, all the lights blinked out.  Power outage!  We had become accustomed to these ever since we left Kolkata, but I was surprised to see the rich unexempt from this inconvenience.  Kind of.  Things quickly blinked back on as AC supplied kicked on and generators fired up.

The next morning, after a night of fitful sleep, we were treated to a meal of paranthas and bread and butter.  Sharad and his family saw us off, and Sharad even accompanied us to the main road.  The stay was just what we needed to recharge before heading into Delhi craziness.

This entry was posted on Thursday, May 29th, 2008 at 5:03 am and is filed under Jim's Posts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.