When we planned our Indian itinerary, it was necessary for us to spend some time in Delhi. I surprised her by setting up a tour of Bollywood, the Indian version of what they do in California.
Similar to Hollywood, the Indian film industry is centered in Delhi, but unlike Hollywood, the industry is scattered all over the vast city. The studios are in one quadrant, the costume departments in another quadrant, post production in yet a different quadrant. So we got to see a good deal of Delhi, driving from one area to the other.Not even on the worst day in Rome, legendary for its traffic jams and impatient drivers, have we experienced traffic like it is in India. It’s almost as though millions and millions of Indians have cars- and all of them were on the same road we were on, going exactly where we were going- and at the same time as we. Congestion to the MAX. Weaving in and out, making their own lanes, horns honking incessantly. I told Nan if I heard one more horn honk, I was going to go out of my mind.
There is a “flip side” to this story, because there are millions and millions of Indians who do not own cars. In fact, they own little to nothing at all. They live on the street- literally on the street- some with no cover to shelter them at all. Those slightly better off live in cardboard boxes, and the “top of the line” in this society live in shacks thrown together with whatever materials they can scrounge up.
Think of it: Millions of people living with no electricity, no water, no toilets, little food, no employment, no privacy, no security
Similar to Hollywood, the Indian film industry is centered in Delhi, but unlike Hollywood, the industry is scattered all over the vast city. The studios are in one quadrant, the costume departments in another quadrant, post production in yet a different quadrant. So we got to see a good deal of Delhi, driving from one area to the other.Not even on the worst day in Rome, legendary for its traffic jams and impatient drivers, have we experienced traffic like it is in India. It’s almost as though millions and millions of Indians have cars- and all of them were on the same road we were on, going exactly where we were going- and at the same time as we. Congestion to the MAX. Weaving in and out, making their own lanes, horns honking incessantly. I told Nan if I heard one more horn honk, I was going to go out of my mind.
There is a “flip side” to this story, because there are millions and millions of Indians who do not own cars. In fact, they own little to nothing at all. They live on the street- literally on the street- some with no cover to shelter them at all. Those slightly better off live in cardboard boxes, and the “top of the line” in this society live in shacks thrown together with whatever materials they can scrounge up.
Think of it: Millions of people living with no electricity, no water, no toilets, little food, no employment, no privacy, no security
No comments:
Post a Comment