From the second that Daniela and I stepped outside our hotel cab we immediately regretted our decision to explore on our own. Actually, for me, I realized this as soon as I opened my passenger door–no more than an inch out– and nearly slammed it into a passing car. There was absolutely no room for me to get out on my side so I had to get out on Daniela’s side..that’s how hectic and cramped the traffic was at the markets. And not just hectic, but extremely dangerous! Especially since sidewalks are virtually nonexistent and you can forget about crosswalks. It’s truly a massive free-for-all where unlike America, pedestrians do not have the right of way. There was a point where it took us at least five minutes to muster up the courage to dash in-between cars, rickshaws, and motorcycles to cross the street. Finally, we followed a 9yr-old boy’s lead and ran right behind him as he effortlessly weaved between all the moving machines. Clearly not his first time.
To say the least the markets were incredible, but also incredibly overwhelming. Not only were we trying not to get hit by cars but we were trying not to get hit on by men as we entered or passed their shops. The constant yelling and badgering to “just try it on!” was instantly overwhelming to the point where we didn’t purchase one thing at the markets.
I wanted to buy authentic cute Indian sandals, but honestly couldn’t handle the overbearingness of the shopkeepers. I also knew I would be ripped off with anything I went to buy and didn’t have the courage or energy to haggle down the prices. We did end up buying one thing..food of course..at a small bakery we spotted from across the street. And actually we’re not entirely sure we didn’t get ripped off there too since the owner didn’t speak a lick of English. We handed him ten rupees and cut our losses. But since we can’t eat any of the street food it was fun and exciting to buy the closest thing we could to it. And it was pretty good, basically just a crispy, sweet, and toasted croissant..but we’re going to go ahead and say it was an Indian delicacy.
Eventually we decided we needed to take a T.O. from the madness within the hub of the markets and spotted some white tents that looked pretty calm. So we quickly ran over to this place that we thought would be our Mecca of calmness that we desperately needed..as I really thought we were going to have a panic attack. But of course, while the tents were indeed quiet, they were far from an anxiety relief. In fact, it almost made it worse as we were the only people, let alone girls, who were walking through these tents full of male shopkeepers who were not so friendly. One even yelled at me to stop taking a picture of him and his saris (photo below shows the look he gave me right as I snapped the pic and right before he yelled at me). And it’s not even just the yelling but it’s the intense staring that takes place not just within these tents but everywhere in India. The only difference here which made it a bit more uncomfortable was that we were alone among the trail of men with no buffers to distract them from us. It’s hard to really describe what the gazes feel like, but it’s as if their eyes lock onto you and consume you because you know they’re tracing your every movement until you’re no longer in visible sight. It’s an extremely uncomfortable reality of India because it makes you feel like you are a complete outsider–and not just as a foreigner but as a human. That’s not to say though that I always feel uncomfortable or uneasy when in public as there are people who are incredibly welcoming and friendly.
Thinking back, our entire expedition to the markets felt like we were in some sort of maze that you either make it out of alive from or make one wrong turn and be doomed. Luckily we exited the tents unscathed and into a more residential backstreet area of the markets. This was actually where we eventually were able to catch our breaths. As we walked down one of the streets laughing at the whirlwind of emotions we had just experienced for the last hour and a half we came across two brothers feeding their family goat outside their little house. We stopped to take pictures of them as they were amused by us as much as we were by them. They even smiled for the pictures when their dad came out of the house to see what was going on. It didn’t take more than a minute before the entire family had their heads poking out of the door trying to catch a glimpse of us. In this part of the markets English speakers were slim to none, so waving and smiling was how we communicated. In fact, this is how we ended up in an alley way 3 minutes down the road when this old man with a jubilant smile enthusiastically waved us over to join in on a dance party. At first we were reluctant, but then we realized it was a real party that we couldn’t pass up. Women and men were cooking food in huge pots that could feed a small army, speakers were blasting Indian music, and two men with a boy were having a dance off. And all happening right between two buildings that couldn’t have been more than 10 feet apart. These people, with as little as they had, were eluding happiness and joy (similar to the village people we met last week). It truly was intoxicating and we couldn’t help but want to join right in and dance along with them. This was a moment where I remembered why I had come to India, and why so many people preach that India is a magical place. However, as much as I am loving the country..I think right now after being here for almost three weeks, I would say India has absolutely magical moments.
Finally, after miraculously finding our hotel cab driver again (bless his soul for waiting for us the entire time) we had him take us to the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner. First, I couldn’t leave Bangalore without getting a Hard Rock, Bangalore T-shirt, and second we were craving some good old American food. As it turns out, we were also craving a good old American environment too. I wasn’t expecting to instantly feel so at home and relaxed, even though we were still in the heart of an Indian city. Across the room from us was a group of boys who looked to be our age and from America. Although we didn’t talk to them, I wish we had, because I would have loved to ask them about their experience in India compared to ours. There is no doubt in my mind that a male, let alone a group of males traveling to India, will have a completely different experience than two females. Simply because of the reality that they have more freedom to experience every part of India–and without the dangers that women unfortunately have to worry about. But anyway, we came hungry and left happy with two burgers, two drinks from the happy hour menu, and some nachos in our stomachs. It wasn’t as good as it is in America, but after being meet deprived for this long, it was fantastic.
Moral of the story: The markets were amazing, and definitely a focal point of Indian culture that I am so grateful to have experienced. All in all, it made for some great memories–even if I only came away with a few extra calories and a Hard Rock t-shirt 🙂
HYPEROPIA 