Not Even My Own Anthem

Junagahd is another sprawling town, but more picturesque as it has a mountain as backdrop. I headed up to Uperkot, a fortified citadel perched on a thickly walled mound at the end of the city for some peace. At the gate, a long-haired hippie guru type fellow offered to smoke some chillums with him. He mumbled too much so I declined. Then another fellow was walking up toward me with a visitor's guide in his hand, and another guy stopped next to me on his motorbike (Hero Honda). He said climb on. I did.

Spent the entire day with him and his friends. Young guys (was taught Gujarati swearwords - the worst being for scoundrel, penis, and vagina), but fun. They showed me around Uperkot a bit. We looked at an old step well. Water covered with plastic litter and pigeon shit. There was a silence. I asked, Can you swim here? I like you, you're funny. Then drove through town to a Fast Food place, where they bought me lunch. Visited a temple.

Drove in the rain (had to stop once for shelter underneath the awning of a pavement barber) to Kel-pesh's house. Streets were mud. Double-storey house. Sparsely furnished. Tile patterned floor. Gym (bench presses). Big kitchen. TV. Idols. The one wall was completely covered with a large photo of a lake in autumn at the foot of the Himalayas. Kel-pesh showed me his tablas and played them (studied for six years everyday). His friend taught me a Gujarati dance. Had to dance for them. Asked me to sing a Western song - he'd accompany me on the tablas. Didn't know any. Not even my anthem. Not even my own anthem?

His mother was there too - a doctor in a blue sari. Shook her hand. Not correct. The correct way to greet an elder is to touch her feet with my fingers, straighten up and touch my chest, saying Namaste.

Mrs Bluesari insisted on making finger lunch. And put red dye onto my forehead, blessing my onward journey.

Nobody has heard of Bob Marley. How can that be? Indian culture is strong - but also very insular. Almost exclusively Bollywood and Indian music. Michael Jackson and Britney Spears are much revered, especially for their dancing (Western Dancing).

I explained the difference between Africans and Afrikaans. My parents' jobs and salaries were discussed.

I showed photos of Sarita (on my digital camera). By the response, I can sense why women might get harassed in India.

We took photos of all of us. Had to leave to go the bus station. Best wishes were given to my parents.

First we stopped over at a dance studio, where three of the guys are teachers (in Gujarati dances, and Western Dance). I had to perform my Gujarati dance in front of ten young ladies and the guys to much amusement. One of the girls asked whether I had been cheated yet by an Indian.

The three guys performed their Britney Jackson dance. We raced off to the bus station.

Took a clattery government bus to Diu past magnificent farmlands with palm trees in the background, and the Monsoon drizzle painting the scene in a beautiful haze.