The Black Blog
at the OVAL, Fawlty.
We were in the car on the way back from Uttar Pradesh to Delhi. There is one road – a dual carriageway – that is crammed with donkeys, rickshaws, dancing monkeys, buses, Daewoos and children-beggars and flanked at either side by Coca-Cola signs and lying-down cows that administer to themselves all day. The journey was 4 ½ hours each way so I got the chance to test out a range of Man-Fridays (Men Friday?). And someone gave me to eat what looked like a tennis ball soaked in sebum.
The best part of the trip was seeing a fully-naked man walking down the road surrounded by people wearing adequate clothing. I took a picture of him and thought of how I could justify publishing it. I can’t, obviously.
But looking closer at the image, I was reminded not just of the systematic chaos but also of the vibrant eclecticism of India’s colour palette. Hindu women splashed in the brightest colours, Muslim women in jet-black hijab, half the men in western clothing, jeans, shirts, t-shirts – the other half wrapped in home-spun white cotton. And all the toot-tooting.
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