INDIA
Feelings of India
Written by Jake Davison
Photographing for imhere travels
Visions Creations
Delhi was a sea of concrete and grey. Flashing lights from speeding cars and motorcycles swam by like a river of metal, their horns blaring a chorus of annoying noise. The people walked unfazed along the streets, their bodies seeming relaxed and calm even with such chaos around them. The dogs dodged and skipped around the traffic whilst scavenging for scraps in the litter filled gutters...
There was an insistent pressure here that was hard to understand. The immediate difference in our cultures was clear. We passed by in our bus staring out of the window in amazement at the land that lay beyond the glass; or was it shock that we felt?
It was hard to say at this early stage...
I suddenly felt detached from the world I was watching, and even scared of what could lie deep inside those pastel concrete walls. I felt safe inside the bus, suddenly reassured to not be outside amongst the chaos. But something held me there staring through the glass. Something held me to watch and take photos. I felt slightly guilty to do so, feeling like I was intruding into a life where I was not welcome. My camera probably costs more than this person's yearly salary… 10 year salary? The poverty was extreme.
But something was very clear. And that was that the people in this world continued without a question. They drove their tuk tuk, sold their fruits, prayed to their ancient mythical gods, they wore their interestingly different clothes, and just continued down the road like everything is normal. Which for them, it is.
Its always different to be an outsider looking in, and India will give one of the biggest culture shocks anyone can experience.
"But a smile goes a long way. A universal language that can fill our soul in just a lift of the lips..."
This happened to me within a few hours. And it's true that in a sad way, as the hours pass by, you just seem to become used to everything you see. To acknowledge is important, but what can we do? This is far bigger than anything I've tried to help. This is millions of people living a life that is different to mine. I’m privileged beyond recognition in this foreign land. The colour of my skin, hair and eyes gives me the right to eat and enter a room first, even become a celebrity on the streets without any real success…
Delhi is an intense place of course, as it is the capital city of India. It has a population of over 20 million people. That’s the same as my whole country's population, condensed into concrete. It's a world like no other, a madness of millions of individual spirits intertwining through chaos.
I took a second to breathe and think. I had to see the good in what might seem so bad. And as my camera was my tool of translation, I began to capture this world in the only way I could. Outside seemed so far away, and a part of my heart tore when I took a photo, feeling more detached from my subject than ever before. It was like photographing the moon.
I stopped. I realised I had to make this feeling inside me right. I vowed to myself to ask permission if something felt uncomfortable. To ask my most different subjects that I felt detached from if I could take their photo. When I did this a weight lifted off me, knowing that I had some mutual connection with this human that was so different to me. Of course there were no real words in our conversation, just smiles and nods as neither of us could speak a language we both knew. But a smile goes a long way. A universal language that can fill our soul in just a lift of the lips. I felt better. I was ready for India, and ready to see what this magically different land had for my camera and I.
"He scratched me with his nails as he begged. I felt like i would cry."
Jodhpur was outside, and a bustling train station was overcrowded with people, all of whom seemed to be wanting something from us. We stepped through the crowd as the people grabbed at our arms, and said things that we couldn't hear. We were swept into a bus on the road outside as women held babies in their arms, miming that they were hungry, a movement of hand to mouth, puppy dog eyes and a tilted head.
“Please.”
The bus drove on, and the desert city of Jodhpur swallowed us. The sky was a hazy orange, the sun a burning ball rising over the deserted land. There was less traffic here, less chaos it seemed. The towns we passed through held a more relaxed feeling, and the things we saw had changed too. Now we saw the outfits fitted to the desert conditions of Rajasthan. Long colourful robes, dangling sparkling earrings, elaborate headwear and moustaches, painted long nails, glittering dresses, and peaking eyes from behind hidden faces.
A chai wallah offered his expertise in making us a drink, and we sipped the spiced milky sweet tea on the road side as we watched the streets come to life.
There were more cows here. Big bulls with dangerous horns standing wherever they wanted. Cars dodged around them without anyone even blinking an eye. Public buses were run independently and had someone hanging out of the open door. A pedestrian waved to the man hanging from the door, who signaled for the driver to lock up the brakes and stopped the already over full bus. Sometimes the bus didn't even stop, and the streets people scrambled out of the way as the driver picked up his new passenger on the trot. Dogs and cows, birds and cats, goats, pigs, people; they all moved along the streets together in desert harmony.
The markets were busy, packed even. The streets are full with people walking with purpose, all of them casually stepping out of the way of a speeding motorbike beeping its horn, missing people by inches as it came by. Every shop had something interesting inside, and although there were so many animals around, the smells were actually of spices and new perfumes, aromatic foods and steaming drinks. This part of the city had walls of blue, the desert colours contrasting intensely against it. The night set in and the markets slowly dispersed. A little boy held my arm pleading for money, a chapati, some food, some water. His eyes burned my ignorance and my pride. His soul screamed to me and I felt fooled and confused, unable to know if I owed him something or not. I walked away and stepped into the safety of the bus whilst his hands tapped on the glass.
How could i know his story? Was he involved in a gang run by a mafia, abusing children into begging for money? This was common amongst busy touristic cities. Or was he just a hungry boy? He knows I have more money than he will ever have, he doesn't understand why i can't just give him a small piece of it. I don't understand why I didn't, why I held myself in such a straight way. Not even lowering my eyes below shoulder line to avoid his pleading face. He scratched me with his nails as he begged. I felt like i would cry.
"Udaipur was something new."
Perhaps more touristy than where we had been before. It's mountainous valleys surround a huge man-made lake. A palace stood strong and white and expensive along the water line. Inside was Rajasthan's most prestigious hotel, locked away behind huge iron gates, guarded by the palace keepers in smart red caps and big moustaches.
People took tours on boats through the lake, visiting other palaces and hotels that stood pre prepared inside the water. They had been constructed before it was filled, pretty white buildings that seemed to float on the still dark water. I heard from someone this was a rich city, a place with beautiful villas and mansions concealed along the hilltops. It reminded me of a lake city in Switzerland, yet still with the Indian wealth gap amongst the streets.
We walked the roads and looked up at the high rise buildings around us. Some over 10 stories high looked dangerously bendy, like they could lie down to rest at any time. Even so with this rickerty architecture, we climbed one right to the top, and reached a haveli overlooking the city at night. Music played and people drank and ate, touristic to say the least, yet also filled with Indians who were contributing to that dividing gap between poverty and wealth. We drank and ate too, eventually growing drunk and embracing the beautiful sky line and music. Friends laughed together and I forgot some of the differences inside me. It takes time to relax into a new place, and even more time to get to know that place well, to understand it and feel comfortable. But the India effect was slowly wearing off, and the differences in this world and mine were starting to become less intense.
I stepped through the street with more confidence and understanding as each moment passed, and as each confrontation arose. I added them all to my memory bank of India, a special place in my mind that is kept for things I cannot understand. The things I put in this place I can work through slowly. But it is extremely important to be an observer when you are a photographer. Moments can be deep and meaningful, and an essence of that moment can stand out through the image I capture. India is one big evolving moment, constantly surprising you. Its beautiful and sad, but it is a photographer's dream, if you can live with yourself for being so different to the subjects you blatantly expose.
"My pockets were empty as i don't walk the streets with money, but was forced to empty my pockets to prove i carried no money..."
Pushkar is a Holy City; a place where people come in search of peace and clarity...
At the center of the city lies a pool of green black water filled with floating petals and flowers, accumulated be the offerings from the holy babas of the town. A mist filled the town when we arrived, and we were confronted with the coldest weather we had experienced. Now that we were up in the ancient Rajasthani mountains the temperature had slowly dropped. Perhaps the mist made it seem more spooky than it was, but the city held a kind of embracing energy within it. Unfortunately it has to be taken with a pinch of salt, as the tourism seemed slightly forced. Foreigners were trapped into unrequested ceremonies, hunted by the holy men who seemed more money orientated than spiritually enlightening. I was caught out and taken to the lake unaware of what was to come, but happy to embrace the process.
You must repeat the mans words, and accept his offerings in your hand. You sit by the lake as pigeons fly in flocks of hundreds, and historical Indian music rings out around you. The baba speaks fast and strong in your ear, saying prayers to your loved ones, work, relationships, health and future. All the time you must repeat what he says, accepting all the more things he places in your hand. At the end you through your flowers and other offerings in a firework of colour into the air. It rains around you falling into the lake, the petals creating little boats to travel your words and hopes to where they have to go. The experience is intense, but potentially fake in many ways… The experience could feel so beautiful and connecting, but when the baba puts his hand out and says now you pay me 30 euro, some of that spirituality fades away. Perhaps knowing beforehand that this experience comes at a price would have helped me understand. However the biggest issue for me was not that i had to pay, but the insistency of it. My pockets were empty as i don't walk the streets with money. I was forced to empty my pockets by this random bearded man to prove i carried no money. After my search was complete and it was clear i was poor, i was instructed to leave immediately to where i had come from, take my money from there, and then return to the lake to pay this man.
I felt cheated and used, and that my prayers were lost in a dark greed filled hole. When I was told that if I didn't pay there would be bad karma upon me, I knew who was in the wrong. I walked away with guilty feelings inside me, but a certainty that being forced to pay for something you never asked for is not okay.
“You guys like cricket?”
Jairpur is the capital of Rajasthan, and is busy like Delhi. The streets blared horns, and the mixture of people slowly merged into one as they passed by along the roads. The city was vast, and the streets wider than what we had previously seen. The buildings around us were faded pink, most of them didn't seem to be too ancient. Some of the streets were cobbled, and Indians bounced around trolleys filled with fruits and clothes. The main streets were still filled with tourists taking photos of the city palace, but it was easy to get lost and forget the tourism once taking a walk down a dark alley.
We found ourselves hiding from the rain in a barber shop. Five boys invited us in and fetched masala chai for their new guests. It was a photo shoot inside, and the presence of a foreign girl in their tiny shop was probably the best thing they had had for years. They put on music, and we danced a little in the enclosed space. Eventually we needed to leave, mostly because we had run out of things to say, and that the photo shoot with the girl was getting a bit too touchy… It was still raining, but we ran into the streets to find our way home.
I took a tuk tuk through the city, snapping photos from the dark back seat and watching the life on the streets go by. I was hidden here, and the potential photos that came by were endless. A man on a board with wheels had no legs and used his arms to push him along. The rattle of his makeshift wheelchair bounced across the cobbled streets. He moved with urgency, and was worryingly close to the speeding traffic filled road. Woman sat on the floor in between parked cars with a platter of fruits and vegetables for sale in front of them. The food was only protected from the floor by a thin mat, and the dust of the street and passing cars, bikes and tuk tuks fell over her and her produce.
We stopped in traffic, thick in a way that if there was a fire, I'd be trapped. My single open exit was blocked by another tuk tuk, filled to the brim with Indians staring right at me. However when in doubt, and there's five strange people staring unconsciously straight at you, you need to find a ice breaker…
“You guys like cricket?”
Smiles spread, and eyes widen...
"Oh yes Mr cricket! cricket cricket!"
Where are you from? What is your name? Do you like cricket?
These are three phrases you will hear on repeat in this country.
Having a casual chat at every traffic stop is common. I tried to smile, but my driver seemed to argue when he had a chance. Hands wave from side to side, dismissive remarks and raised voices. I'm not really sure what was said. Is it traffic related? We are in such a dense spot. It seemed that they were talking about the route we were taking, and there was a potential disagreement between the drivers on who knew the best way. Nonetheless, I just drifted back into the dark, and raised my camera to snap at the passing world, uncaring of my potential arrival at the destination.
The city was pink and old, but seemed more well kept than other places we had been. The chaos was slightly controlled, and even though it was busy, the streets were wider than the other cities, trying its best to cope with the swelling breath of the traffic.
The traffic pulsed of energy pushing us forward, even though we had no more space. Yet there always seems to be space for a bumper or a tire to move forward, and if there wasn't the driver just seems to create it out of nothing.
As night fell upon us, a mist and fog hazed the city. The people of the day continued on not letting the difference in light change anything, and there was still the urgency and rush to get to the places they are going.
We were invited to a friend's apartment with little expectations for a birthday party. We travelled somewhere to the outskirts of the city where a high rise apartment block towered up in front of us. Its glowing warm yellow lobby inviting us in from the damp street that was sucking the light away. We travelled up to the 18th floor in a precarious elevator and stepped into the corridor. The door was unlocked to the apartment and we could already hear music inside; that energetic pump of a Punjabi dance hit bouncing off the walls. we walked in to see that the apartment was huge, with a star case winding up the middle of the building and glass windows letting us look out into the city.
Indian men walked in through the unlocked door constantly. The men were always a friend, a cousin, a brother or a partner in business. The smell of hashish and tobacco drifted around the apartment's rooms, and the clinking of rum glasses chorused through the night. There were no women here and we were told they are doing other things, they are not interested in such parties like this.
I stepped outside for a cigarette, and someone joined me. Someone strange with a ticking movement in his jaw. It looked as if he was chewing gum, but there was nothing there. I attempted friendship but it seemed he was quite different to me. He seemed angry. I tried to talk about anything, but my words slipped with what were just my honest questions and answers. I felt intimidated from his presence, especially so whilst we stood on this small balcony 18 floors in the air.
He asked me about Jaipur and if I like it. I said I hadn't spent enough time here yet, and I need to spend more before I know if I really like the place. He took this personally and there was immediate hostility in his manners. He confronted me asking what my problem is with the Jaipur people. I was shocked and obviously tried to explain that I have no problem. I tried to change the subject but somehow seemed to mess that up too. I asked about the city and where things are located. Where are the built up areas, the rich, the poor, the markets, the temples? But he stopped me on the mention of the poor, insistent on trying to label me as a bad person, growing more aggressive by the second. I leant back against the wall smoking a cigarette, the distance to the ground me suddenly seeming much more relevant than before. But at that moment a friend came out, the owner of the apartment. He recognised my distress and leaned in with a smile. He dispersed the heated air by positioning himself in between us, and then leant in to me and whispered...
“ Don't get stuck here.”
It was clear to me now that the person I was talking to might have done this with someone before. My friend saved me by saying that in Australia 'slum’ means river. And when I asked where the poor, or the 'slums’ in Jaipur were, I was actually asking about the river below us that flowed alongside the apartment. I had to fake an Australian word, putting an accent on it and talking about Australian rivers.
The man seemed unconvinced, but we worked together to calm him down. Eventually I slipped back inside and drifted as far from him as possible.
It was surprising to me that there was such an issue with what I had said. I was merely interested, and wanted to recognise all the people in the city. My friend who saved me had laughed at the mention of the slum, he had said…
“ Of course man!” pointing to the houses far below us. “They are the fucking slums! They are the slum people. Slum down below.”
I watched him walk through his high rise apartment now unsure if we really were to be friends in the future.
It is what is in between the destinations we travel to that I find most confronting. You see the change immediately once you leave a city and drive the long dusty roads through the deserts. There are horse drawn carts and mud, women walking in small colourful groups, dogs in packs roaming along the edges of the road. I feel further away from these people than any other, their lives so far away from what I know. They live in houses made from straw, or mud, or crumbled brick. They sleep on mats. Things like warmth, shelter, food and water, are actual necessities that need constant upkeep and work.
That's the culture gap between us. I worry about my camera battery, they worry about if it rains for too long..
Will their houses flood?
We drive past in a bus that is warm and filled with water and food, its safe and fun, there's music and games.
They walk in the dirt and stare at us. Do they hate us? I don't hate them…
Do they despise the wealthy?
However, what is wealth?
I ask myself this while we travel, and the more I think of it the more interested in it I become.
How am I know to know who is living a better life?
Maybe wealth is the secret to happiness, but it is not found in earning more money, but is found in being where we feel okay. What we know is all we can create from our lives around us. They know so little about me and I know so little about them. So wo am I to judge myself against them, do i feel superior?
Maybe this is just one big mistake in the western world, we think we do things right, but what do we know?
I would never be able to compare myself to someone in such a different situation to myself, but I think about how people in a foreign world feel, and wonder how they feel about me. In the end i can only say i am the lucky one, and I hope that through my travels and work i can somehow find a way to connect and share my luckiness with the people of the world around me, one day.
The ability to travel and experience these different cultures is the best and most personally connecting thing that we can do to help us understand the world. The more we learn, the more we understand, and from that more empathy and compassion can be felt for the people around us.
I will never be the same as these people, but I hold a piece of my heart for them, to try and understand what they feel and who they are.
I acknowledge them and how different I am to them, and how everything here is different to anything I could possibly know.
I have no say here, I'm a mere observer who walks a foreign land, someone who just tries to tread lightly.
Ranthambore national park is a forest savannah where tigers, leopards, hyenas, jackals, and game animals wander freely amongst the trees.
We all come to see them, the famous Bengal Tiger. Arriving in the National park the image of the beautiful creature is on every surface other than the forest itself. It leaves you wanting it. You see it everywhere portrayed and pictured in the town, and once you arrive inside the forest, the tiger is suddenly as elusive and mysterious as a ghost. The advertising is immense for such a secretive cat.
We searched in our safari jeep. Everyone was here to see it. But of course in the natural world nothing is promised. Sambar deer, langur monkeys, spotted deer, wild boars, crocodiles, a sloth bear, an owl; even a mongoose is spotted through the trees and rivers, but the tiger seemed to grow more impossible by the minute. We lost faith and hope as we looked into the dense undergrowth of green and brown. The immensity of the national park dawned on us as we weighed up the odds. It wouldn't happen today, but that's okay. We turned to leave accepting defeat.
A yell calls out from the car behind us. Could it be? Really? Yes!
A tiger had been spotted walking through the trees. How the guide saw it seemed impossible to me, but there she walked, slow and strong.
Seeing this animal brings up a mixture of emotions. Its elegance a pure beauty like no other, its size massive, its patterns mesmerising, and with all the hype it seemed suddenly wrong to see it in the flesh. The bus bounced backwards and we bounced too, and the intensity of the drivers suddenely spread through the group. People pushed to see it, people shouted when it should have been silent, I joined the mess to get a photo feeling i needed this, like an addiction to something i should be avoiding.
As this tigress walked in front of the car I missed my photo even though it was right in front of me. I didn't watch her or capture her. The beautiful moment slipped through my finger tips...
Was it karma from the baba in Pushkar?
I wondered if the tiger is okay with these people, jeeps, and noise in her jungle.
I found out later that the national park was a huge area, and that the part accessible to people was only 30% of the total area. This reassured me that the tigers had their space, and that not all had been lost in this national park and tourist attraction.
When we arrived back to our accommodation our night was filled with dancing, wine, and laughter and it was clear that the escape from the city had done us all good. Nature had healed a part of us, and a breath of fresh air had revived our energy levels. India is constantly intense, and it saps energy from you with every minute of exposure. The constant noise, and busy energy is draining, and it's definitely not everyone's cup of tea. But moments of peace can be found between the cracks of a dusty city, or in the thick natural forests of its vast territories. In the end India really does have a bit of everything.
AGRA
We arrived to Agra to see the polished marble of the Taj Mahal, white and cold standing symmetrical overlooking the Yamuna River. The place is immense and huge, and full of people from all over the world. Agra is where we were to spend New Years day, the so called ‘city of love.’
A rooftop bar was where we would enter the new year. Filled with Indians dancing, drinking and eating. Drummers walked through crowd, and every Bollywood dance move leaped out electrifying the floor. We danced all night arm in arm with the new people around us. I guess that's what New Years is like anywhere in the world, everyone connecting on that common thing.
We walked home on the dusty streets outside knowing tomorrow was our last day of the trip. It had suddenly come so fast, even though the whole time it felt like it would never end. Once strangers in a group, they now had connections with each other and had built representations of one another in no real time at all. The intensity of India had intensified the relationships that were made, and it was hard to seperate or understand the real feelings that one was feeling inside. Even a moment away was not a moment of silence, as you could still hear the busy traffic even when on the 10th floor of a hotel room.
We drove into Delhi on new years day and experienced the most pressuring traffic we had seen. Packed from sidewalk to sidewalk seemed to be a thousand cars wedged into the squashed road. We sat and waited, inching forward at a crawl. The only thing we could do was look out of the window. There lay homeless people sleeping on mats on the side of the highway, covered in blankets staring defeated into nothingness.
Not the easiest sight to see.
I asked myself how did this happen? How did India happen? How is there such extreme poverty in this country? How can people continue walking forward past the sick and dying? Why is this not fixed? Is it overpopulation?
It seemed impossible to answer this with so much going on around us. Thousands of years of history, the land was frequently conquered and ruled by different religions and people. The Indian people were oppressed in many cases, but then lifted up when the leaders changed. There was unbalance here, that somehow still made the clock turn and the world spin. Maybe not in a smooth way, but things did somehow pass by and work. It was just so obvious the difference in lives. Nothing is hidden here, nothing faked or lied about. It is right there in front of you, leaving you no choice but to ask these impossibly difficult questions.
If you want to truly understand this place, I think the only way to do so is to spend time here. Meet more people and live in one place for an extended period. To walk the streets everyday and meet the people who you would normally walk past. Listen to them and learn from them. Learn to trust and live like them. Then maybe, just maybe, we could have more understanding and insight into how and why India is what it is.
The last day was quiet, everyone was exhausted from such full days and nights. Some of us were already moving on to the next place, some needing time to think, others happy to leave, and maybe some were happy to stay.
This country has so much to explore and understand. We had only covered a tiny part of it, and what lay over the mountains, fields, forests, and concrete, could only stay in wait. Undeniably ready to shock us entirely again if we were to return and explore further.
A huge part of India resonates with me. It brings up feelings of sadness and anger daily. It's hard to travel and hold empathy for everything you see, and India in some cases, has made me feel like a bad person. It's made me feel uncaring and selfish, and I fly away from India seeking peace and quiet, and a place to digest and contemplate all I have felt and seen.
But all in all, I do love this country, no matter all these hard things I have to face by visiting. It's wrong to live our lives on planet earth and not to try to understand other people's lives. It's important to visit here so we can learn more about what it means to be who we are, humans, connected together. India brings out feelings in you that you didn't know you had, takes you to places you didn't know you could go, and this is important for us to experience, it is important to know. From happy to sad, good to bad, wrong and right, dead and alive, this place fills your cup and empties it in an instant. Be prepared when you visit, because India will change your life.
