| From Julien -
Nov 3rd 2006 |
Sikhs on the beach
So,
I know I said I wasn't going to continue this group email
malarkey (sic), but in the interests of posterity and the
seismic shortcomings of my memory, I feel it worthwhile to
give it another go. Apologies in advance to those who have
already been updated on my exploits, but I can assure you
that this will certainly not be the last time you hear them
- albeit in more elaborate and spectacular manifestations.
After some rather decadent goings on in Goa, Ed and I caught
the train to Hampi in the state of Karnataka. Goa happened
all too quickly and despite our best efforts we found
ourselves entangled in the salubrious delights of the
tourist scene. Riding bikes through truly awe-inspiring
scenery proved a most agreeable distraction, but I'd be a
liar and a scoundrel if I didn't admit to indulging in the
hedonistic delights over-indulgence, gratuitous eating and
talking to strangers. Between intolerable cliché and
disreputable behaviour, however, we did manage to do some
thorough exploring and meet some remarkable people before
catching the train to Hampi in the state of Karnataka. That
I'm afraid is all you're getting on Goa.
And what a place is Hampi. Set amid the backdrop of the most
striking rock formations I've ever seen lies the ruined 13th
century capital city of Vijayalikar. Founded by two Hindu
brothers this city held out against Muslim invaders from the
north for over 200 years. And it doesn't take a Michael
Moore to see why: piles of enormous boulders hang loosely
together as if dropped from the sky, punctuated by rivers
and numerous stretches of scattered streams, which overlook
countless temples, statues and monuments in varying states
of disrepair. With the obvious exception of Milton Keynes I
have seen no finer tribute to the grandeur of human
endeavour than this most resplendent city. For miles this
biblical landscape stretches across the arid, rocky terrain.
I had no idea that such a place existed, and even trying to
convey the haunting majesty of the place seems a little
trite. I'm an arrogant man - and Ed, well he's just ignorant
- but after scrambling over the granite hills for the best
part of a day each of us were too humbled to come up with
any facetious remarks. The hundreds of pictures I've taken
just don't do justice to this place and so you'll all have
to make do with my incessant rantings on this place upon my
return. God willing.
So it seems our arrival in Hampi coincides with the jubilee
celebrations of the unification of Karnataka as a state,
which in turn coincides with a major Hindu festival
celebrating something I have yet to get to the bottom of.
With all the pomp and pageantry such an occasion merits, the
town is limbering up to play host to over 5000 pilgrims,
sight-seers and ne'er do wells. A huge stage is under
construction for several elaborate performances set to take
place this evening. On the eve of this 3-day extravaganza
The Big Easy and myself find ourselves at luncheon reviewing
a procession of around 300 policemen in lines three deep
that extends across the horizon of our generously sized
veranda - a sight arguably more sobering than the majestic
views we had enjoyed earlier.
And then the rain came.
Scrambling like school kids at the sound of the lunchtime
bell the police fled to the confines of the nearest shelter
which, needless to say, included the very restaurant in
which, moments earlier, Ed and I had been ruminating on the
ontological ramifications of Shelley's 'Ozymandias' as a
work of unreconstructed dialectical discursivity. As the
brouhaha abated we found ourselves surrounded by around 20
moustachioed officers sporting cudgels, light riot equipment
and the occasional Stetson. With the rain showing no sign of
relenting their attention turned to the two quaking,
pasty-faced gentlemen in panamas and cravats huddled
tremulously in the corner. Raining questions down on us as
if interrogating us for indecent exposure (Ok, Ed's case is
still pending, but mine collapsed back in '98 due to lack of
corroborating evidence) we fielded them as competently as we
were able. "What is the purpose of your visit?", "Where do
you intend on going afterwards?", "Have you a wife or
dependants?". And then, amid peels of laughter, the
bombshell: "In the UK do you manage to get much fucking
done?" After a dexterously crafted response (a reddening of
the cheeks and a stuttered "no") I received a tremendous
slap on the back and the burly arm of a tasselled Lothario
around my shoulder. (I think it worth mentioning that said
arm remained in place until the rain subsided and the
paraders reconvened.) I've said it before, but that's the
last time I wear my hair down in public.
So that's really about the crux of it. In between these
happenings and other happenings there is little else that my
tired fingers can offer. I feel it worth mentioning to those
unacquainted with this already tired story, that I met a
Tamil Tiger called Jo with whom I played both volleyball and
chess. A trifle lacklustre at the game of kings, he had me
in check embarrassingly quickly. I still retain, however,
that the three bullet holes in his chest and scar running
all the way across his throat dictated the run of play. Errr...
And other things that I find myself already forgetting.
We plan to stay here for another weeks - there's so much to
see here that anything less would be a slight of this fair
city - before catching the train to Bangalore and the
pursuit of further misadventure.
To those I have yet to respond to, my graces will be
bestowed upon you shortly. Until such times I bid you
farewell and Godspeed.
May you live in interesting times.
That was a group email to Julien's many
friends
"Sikhs on the beach"
kin 'l
Niall is most put out he hasn't had a Bubbub/Niall-centric
email.
Please keep an eye out for Elvis, I came across an "Indian
Elvis Impersonator Competition" a while ago, though I can't
really remember if I saw it on a sign outside a pub, on the
web or maybe even if you told me about it. Nonetheless, I
suggest you and Ed initiate what could come to be a popular
niche in sub-continental culture. I suspect the Vegas years
would be the best era to address, white sparkly capes will
appeal I suspect.
The "Big Easy" could become Satchmo and flood once a year in
an ironic manner as his namesake - a welcome warm-up act to
the main event.
Surprisingly little news about the protestors outside the
Indian embassy, suspect the authorities are trying to
suppress what will
become an overwhelmingly popular uprising.
Go for it my son.
"Boldness is all" - the family motto.
Pater
| From Julien -
Nov 4th 2006 (to Niall) |
Yes bruv,
It has been some time since we were last in communion.
Pretty sure you're on my group email list, but that doesn't
quite compensate for the lack of brotherly support and
guidance that you must be craving.
Today, most remarkable of days, found me watching an Indian
wrestling tournament. It's a truly crazy affair, with all
the wrestlers scrapping each other at the same time. I kept
getting shoved around in the middle of the crowd, so I
decided the time was ripe to exercise the family blagging
skills that I know we both share. Forcing my way to the
front I told the policemen at the front that I was a
journalist for The Insight travel guide. How the hell they
believed me with my crappy camera around my neck, flies wide
open and curry on my tee-shirt I'll never know, but somehow
it worked. They led me to the front of the ring where I had
privileged access to the whole, bloody affair. I took so
many photos it's almost ridiculous. Already I've used up my
400 photo limit, so I'm afraid I'm going to bore the hell
out of you when I get back.
Ed, I regret to inform you has got "The Shits". He's been
lying in bed all day groaning and whimpering. We both ate
some weird shit from a street vendor, so it could be that.
Despite having started the day with two fairly substantial
stools in reasonably quick succession, my own bowels seem to
be made of hardier stuff. Ed didn't appreciate me pointing
that out to him, but I think it's only fair that the fact is
acknowledged. Looks like I'll be dining alone this evening.
Anyway, how's things in Blighty? I imagine that you're
working diligently at school, being kind and courteous to
the frail and elderly and spending your free time in
solitary contemplation. I know I've said it before, but too
much hard work really isn't good for a young man your age
and while I find your commitment to schoolwork inspirational
you're going to need time to enjoy your youth. Any more
letters home about being a "special little man?". What's
going on bruv?
So. I'm going to try to attach some of my photos so that you
can be bored by them and I can stop worrying that I'm going
to lose them. There's absolutely tons, and I can't be arsed
to go through all of them, so I've just sent a couple that
you might like. The hell begins when I return. I'd be much
obliged to you if you could acknowledge receipt at your
earliest convenience. I have emailed this to Pater also (who
I'm aware is still overdue an update on my movements - in
the meantime just tell him about the two craps) because I
don't know how often you check your emails.
Look forward to hearing from you soon,
Bubbub
Only one picture made it
unfortunately - this is it.
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