"We'll buy something from him on our way back", Ma said as we got off the cable car to reach the far bank of the Narmada at Bheraghat. In my rush to see the magnificent river and take the mandatory 'selfie', I completely missed seeing the seller she was talking about.
The Narmada is awe-inspiring and yet, in a way that only water can be, inviting. Led by my sister we picked our way through the semi-rocky path to find a relatively quiet spot with convenient rocks to sit on. As we were getting ready to settle down and dip our feet in the water, a good Samaritan accompanying his family to see the same sights cautioned us against stepping into the fast-flowing river. I smiled at him and proceeded to do what we had come to do aka sit on a rock and dangle our feet in the water. Soon after, when I saw that he was the only one in his large family keeping safely out of the water, I figured he was used to people ignoring his well-meant advice ;)
This was the later part of November and Jabalpur (in the state of Madhya Pradesh), where Bheraghat is located, was experiencing a warm 28C.
Our chosen spot was across the river from the main 'ghat' and could only be accessed by a cable car, which was (strangely enough) run by a company from Kolkata. Thanks to the additional cable car fee, a lot of the local people typically visit only the main ghat. So, from the far shore one can get a birds-eye view of the great Indian male clad in underwear taking dips in the river without a care in the world (if you have travelled to any popular water body in India, you will know exactly what this looks like). The women, of course, take their dips fully clothed!
We finally had to drag ourselves away from the beautiful waters of the Narmada to make the five-hour drive ahead of us. As we walked back up the path to the cable car, Ma stopped at a ramshackle stall where a scrawny septuagenarian artisan was carving handicrafts from the famed marble of the region. We had bought a similar batch the last evening from a lady on the main ghat but Ma and I knew we had to get something from him. So, we bought another batch, paying him the prices he quoted, even as I struggled to understand how a lovely hand-carved marble flower or turtle could be worth only INR 20 (less than 30 cents in American money)*. Right next to him was a man selling cucumbers and guavas and I asked the artisan if he would like something to eat. He refused, smiling at me toothlessly with the brightest eyes I have seen in a while.
And as I did that day right after he smiled at me and do today, as I write this from the heated comfort of my home in a first world country, I can't stop the tears streaming down my face. Tears that stem from the unfairness of it all -- from the under 30 US cent-value placed on a hand-carved piece of work compared to the shiny plastic trinkets that sell in American stores for much more than a few dollars. It's just one of those times when the world and its ways don't make sense to me.
*Side note: If you read this and ever travel in India, and can veer from the beaten track, go buy your trinkets from the artisans instead of the metro-centric 'ethnic' stores that share very little of their takings with the artisans themselves. Also, I encourage you to ignore the guidebooks that tell you that bargaining is part of the fun of the Indian experience. Do not bargain with artisans. Most of them, especially outside the metro cities, are likely never even going to make it into the lower middle class.
The Narmada is awe-inspiring and yet, in a way that only water can be, inviting. Led by my sister we picked our way through the semi-rocky path to find a relatively quiet spot with convenient rocks to sit on. As we were getting ready to settle down and dip our feet in the water, a good Samaritan accompanying his family to see the same sights cautioned us against stepping into the fast-flowing river. I smiled at him and proceeded to do what we had come to do aka sit on a rock and dangle our feet in the water. Soon after, when I saw that he was the only one in his large family keeping safely out of the water, I figured he was used to people ignoring his well-meant advice ;)
This was the later part of November and Jabalpur (in the state of Madhya Pradesh), where Bheraghat is located, was experiencing a warm 28C.
 |
| The Bheraghat falls on the Narmada. Photo credit: My family |
We finally had to drag ourselves away from the beautiful waters of the Narmada to make the five-hour drive ahead of us. As we walked back up the path to the cable car, Ma stopped at a ramshackle stall where a scrawny septuagenarian artisan was carving handicrafts from the famed marble of the region. We had bought a similar batch the last evening from a lady on the main ghat but Ma and I knew we had to get something from him. So, we bought another batch, paying him the prices he quoted, even as I struggled to understand how a lovely hand-carved marble flower or turtle could be worth only INR 20 (less than 30 cents in American money)*. Right next to him was a man selling cucumbers and guavas and I asked the artisan if he would like something to eat. He refused, smiling at me toothlessly with the brightest eyes I have seen in a while.
And as I did that day right after he smiled at me and do today, as I write this from the heated comfort of my home in a first world country, I can't stop the tears streaming down my face. Tears that stem from the unfairness of it all -- from the under 30 US cent-value placed on a hand-carved piece of work compared to the shiny plastic trinkets that sell in American stores for much more than a few dollars. It's just one of those times when the world and its ways don't make sense to me.
*Side note: If you read this and ever travel in India, and can veer from the beaten track, go buy your trinkets from the artisans instead of the metro-centric 'ethnic' stores that share very little of their takings with the artisans themselves. Also, I encourage you to ignore the guidebooks that tell you that bargaining is part of the fun of the Indian experience. Do not bargain with artisans. Most of them, especially outside the metro cities, are likely never even going to make it into the lower middle class.
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