Apr. 2004, Xene #39
Snapshots of India
by Vanessa Fortyn

インド所感
取材・文　バネッサ・フォーティン



When I was a child, my grandmother showed me a sepia photograph of her father, a straight-backed man in a frock coat with a waxed moustache and a severe expression. The photograph was taken in his country of birth, India, a fact made evident by the studio photographers, who had provided a backdrop of palm trees and a couple of bare-chested, forlorn-looking "natives." It always fascinated me that this quintessentially Victorian gentleman who lived in British colonies all his life and never set foot on English soil, would not deign to call anywhere other than England his home. Later, when I traced pictures of the Taj Mahal or listened to my father read stories by Rudyard Kipling, I began to feel that although my great-grandfather's loyalties lay elsewhere, his birthplace gave me a special connection to India, and I knew that one day I would go there.

　子供のころ、祖母が彼女の父親のセピア色の写真を見せてくれた。 整えられた口ひげと厳しい表情。それは彼が生まれたインドで撮られたものだった。 彼は生涯を植民地で過ごし、一度もイギリスの地を踏んだことがないのに、 イギリス以外を故郷と認めなかった。その後、タージマハールの写真を見たり Rudyard Kiplingの物語を聞くとき、私にはインドと特別な関係を感じ、 いつかそこへ行くと確信していた。

This winter, an opportunity for me to visit India finally arose. Although I had read a lot about it, nothing really prepared me for the complete assault on the senses that occurred when I arrived. The number of people is overwhelming. With over 1 billion inhabitants, India has approximately 17% of the world's population. In urban areas, wherever you go, people crowd the streets. Along with people are all kinds of animals. Cows, goats, pigs, dogs and donkeys wander through parts of cities foraging for edible scraps among the garbage that litters the roadside. Traffic is chaotic. Antiquated buses with exposed engines, battered old cars, and trucks overloaded with goods compete for road space with cycle rickshaws, diesel-fume-spewing motor-rickshaws, scooters, motorbikes, rickety bicycles, donkey carts, pedestrians and those foraging domestic animals. There is a constant cacophony of honking horns. In fact, tooting at people seems to be more a common courtesy than an expression of annoyance. Crossing a street becomes a terrifying experience, and even walking along one involves being constantly aware of the ceaseless traffic, as well as having to take care you don't step in a ditch, a water channel, a hole or a cow turd. This is difficult when there are so many things to distract you: shops piled with spice-filled Hessian sacks, carts selling deep-fried snacks, stalls hung with garlands of sweet-smelling marigolds, hawkers and market vendors peddling their wares, filthy street kids rifling through trash, tragic beggars in rags asking for baksheesh, touts trying to entice you to their "uncle's shop," attar wallahs grabbing and dabbing your wrists with their pungent perfumes. In amongst all this are glimpses of modern middle- and upper-class luxuries: cell phones, men and women in jeans or expensive clothing, imported cars, Internet caf市, chic hotels, and newsstands selling Indian versions of Cosmopolitan magazine.

　　この冬、ついにその機会ができた。到着した際の衝撃は大きかった。 街中には人が押し寄せ、動物が散らかった生ごみをあさるために徘徊している。 交通は無秩序状態。時代遅れのバス、ロバ荷車、歩行者そして動物がスペースを競い、 通りを横断するのも恐ろしい。みぞや牛の糞に足を踏み入れないよう注意が必要だが、 気を散らすものがたくさんあるから難しい。揚げ菓子を売る荷車、花飾りの屋台、 行商人が売り歩き、物乞いがチップを求め、客引きがそそのかそうとする。 現代的なぜいたく品も垣間見る。携帯電話、輸入車、インターネットカフェ、 そしてインド版コスモポリタン。

Only having one month in India, I decided that focusing on one area would be best. I wanted to visit Rajasthan, home to numerous fortresses and palaces. It is near Delhi and borders the state of Uttar Pradesh, home to Agra, and the magnificent Taj Mahal. The land is dry and dusty, but the people are colorfully dressed and provide a stark contrast to their environment. Red, purple, hot pink and orange are the predominant colors of women's saris and men's turbans. In Jodhpur, in western Rajasthan, colors extend to people's houses, many of which are painted blue. Originally this was to distinguish the homes of the Brahmins (priestly caste), but nowadays non-Brahmins also paint their houses blue, which is cool in the summer heat and is said to keep mosquitoes at bay. Towering above the city of Jodhpur is the huge Meherangarh Fortress. Built atop a 125-meter-high hill, this imposing fortress is run by the Maharajah of Jodhpur, although it is now a museum and not his family residence. Maharajahs ruled hundreds of kingdoms all over India until just after World War II, when they renounced their thrones to merge with a newly independent India. For a while they received money from the Indian government to maintain their lifestyles, but the privy purses were abolished in 1971 and many former royal families fell on hard times. Throughout India, numerous palaces were sold and turned into hotels or fell into disrepair. Many of the maharajahs retain their titles, although they have no formal powers. Some still have great wealth and are highly respected. The original Meherangarh Fortress was built in the 1400s, but over the centuries additions were made to create the massive complex it is today. It was never penetrated by an enemy, although it does bear battle scars on one of its gates: large indentations from cannonball strikes. The view from the ramparts of the fortress is spectacular. They look out over the arid landscape and the blue buildings of Jodhpur, which as you probably guessed, is where those horse-riding pants originated.

　1ヶ月しか時間がないので、ラージャスターンに 焦点を合わせた。壮大なタージマハールがある。乾燥し埃っぽい中、人々はカラフルな 服装をし、コントラストをなしていた。西部のジョドプルでは、住居が、ほとんどが青で 塗られていた。ジョドプルには、巨大な要塞が125メートルの丘の頂上にそびえたっている。 ジョドプルの王によって管理されているが、住居ではなく、博物館である。王位を放棄した 第二次世界大戦の直後まで、王がインド中の王国を統治していた。しばらくはインド政府が 資金を出したが1971年に廃止され、多くの場所が売られ、消滅した。城壁からの眺めは見事だった。

I didn't get to ride any horses, but like most travelers to the region, I took a camel safari into the desert. Riding a camel is fun at first but after a few hours in forty-degree temperatures the camel's loping gait causes friction in tender places, and it loses its exotic allure. Some of the people on our safari gave up riding and decided to sit on camel-led carts. I was determined to see the safari out. My fortitude paid off when the cart riders, sitting directly behind the camel, bore the brunt of loud and noxious camel farts that echoed into the desert causing great mirth amongst everyone except the cart-riders. That night we set up camp in the desert. We ate dinner around a fire and sang and danced with the camel hands. They sang more than us, as the only song we could come up with that everyone knew was, "There were ten in the bed." The camel hands gladly joined in the chorus of "roll over, roll over," happy to be singing no matter how trite the song.

　多くの旅行者のように、ラクダ探検隊で砂漠へ行った。 始めは楽しかったが、40度の気温で数時間もたつと、 柔らかな部分に摩擦を起こし、異国の魅力も失われてしまった。 何人かがラクダ荷車に乗ることにしたが私は最後まで完走することにした。 不屈の精神は報われた。ラクダの真後ろの人たちが、おならの襲撃にあい大笑いした。 夜は砂漠に野営し、火を囲んで夕食を食べ、歌い、ラクダとダンスした。

It is memories like these about people that stay with me the most. In small towns, children ran up to me and shook my hand then darted off squealing with pleasure at their daring. In so many places, poverty-stricken men and women and destitute mothers clutching emaciated babies held out their palms making my chest constrict with pity and sadness. Everywhere I went, rickshaw drivers and taxi drivers offered their services, sometimes vying with each other to get my attention while touts tried to entice me into shops, guesthouses, or restaurants by striking up conversations. "What is your country?" or "What is your good name?" are common openers, and while sometimes all the attention was infuriating, other times it was a sheer pleasure to chat to the many curious and friendly Indians that I met on trains and buses or sitting in caf市. Curiosity is openly shown in India. Small crowds gather around travelers, looking and listening. At first it's a little disconcerting to be having a conversation with someone in a station and then suddenly realize that three other people are standing there, their heads and eyes moving to take in each conversation turn as if they were watching a game of tennis. I soon realized that there was no malice involved, and that these bystanders probably couldn't understand what was being said, they just were curious because visitors to India look and are so different. I began to think of curiosity as a wonderful thing that we are sadly ashamed of in the West. However, my newfound advocacy of pure curiosity was severely tested when traveling by jeep along the dusty Rajastani country roads. I was suddenly hit by a case of "Delhi belly" and had to make a dash for some bushes. Turning around to see if I had the necessary privacy, I suddenly realized that a couple of inquisitive women had followed me from the road. Horrified, I stumbled on to more bushes making all kinds of gestures to motion them away. No doubt this piqued their curiosity even more, and they kept approaching. I needn't go into details about what happened next, although afterwards I felt a certain intimacy was established between us. Meanwhile they seemed quite disappointed with the outcome of my actions and trundled back off into the scrub.

People who worked in shops made shopping sometimes a pleasure, sometimes a hassle. It was hard to visit a shop without staying for ages, as the charming shopkeeper offered me a seat and a cup of chai, made small talk, and then proceeded to show me everything he had to offer. Only after these formalities were over was price discussed. This is an enjoyable way to shop if you have the time, but if you want to shop around, it makes things very difficult. I have to admit I loved the attention, and certainly met some of the most eloquent, velvet-tongued salesmen ever. I left India with my bags an extra ten kilos heavier, having been convinced on different occasions that I could not live without those silver ankle bells, that Muhgal carpet and that maharajah puppet.

　小さな町では、子供が喜んで駆け寄り握手をする。極貧の人々、 やせ衰えた赤ん坊を抱いた母親をみて、胸が締め付けられた。 どこへいっても、人力車やタクシーが私の関心を引こうと競いあった。 「どこの国？」「名前は？」が一般的で、時々腹立たしいこともあるが、 好奇心が強くフレンドリーなインド人と会話をすることは、純粋に楽しかった。 旅行者の周りには小さな群集が集まる。何の悪意もなく、ただ興味があるようだった。 西洋では恥とされている好奇心だが、素晴らしいと私は考え始めた。 しかし、その主張が試された。突然、「デリー腹」の症状に見舞われ、 茂みに突進しなければならなかった。振り向きざまに、二人の女性がついてきているのに 気がついた。恐怖に襲われ、私は彼女たちを遠ざけようとあらゆる身ぶりで合図した。 それが好奇心をあおり、なお近づいてきた・・・結果としてある種の親密さが私たちの 間に生まれた感じがしたが、彼女たちは完全に失望して戻っていった。

Of course no trip to India is complete without a visit to the Taj Mahal. This struture was built in 1653 under the orders of the Mughal king Shah Jahan as a memorial to his beloved wife, Mumtaz Mahal, who died giving birth to their fourteenth child. The stunning white marble edifice took 20,000 artisans 22 years to complete. I decided I wanted to see it first thing in the morning before the hordes of people descended. At 6 a.m., with a feeling of excitement, I practically ran through the ticket gate. As I walked closer to the Taj, I felt myself choking up as I remembered tracing pictures of it and dreaming about visiting it when I was a little girl. The building is covered with Arabic inscriptions and floral patterns all inlaid with semi-precious stones. Inside the Taj the dome has incredible acoustics, so that even the slightest breeze makes a gentle humming sound that reverberates throughout the interior. It was bigger and whiter than I had imagined, and was certainly the most beautiful building I had ever seen.

　インド旅行はタージマハールを訪れずして完結しない。 1653年、ムガールの王の命令で、彼の妻の慰霊として建てられた。 白い大理石でできたその建造物は、完成まで2万人の職人が22年を費やした。 タージに近づいていくにつれ、少女のころ夢にみたことを思い出し、 胸がいっぱいになった。それは、アラビア文字と半宝石がはめ込まれた 花模様に覆われていた。ドームではほんのかすかな風でさえ、内面で反響し 優しいハーモニーとなる。想像よりずっと大きく白く、今まで見た中で一番美しい建物だった。

I left India the day after I visited the Taj. As I drank my last cup of chai outside Indira Gandhi International Airport, I knew that my connection with India had only become stronger, and it was just a matter of time before I would go back. There is something special about India and I don't think even my colonialist great-grandfather could have denied that.

　タージを訪れた翌日、私はインドを発った。インドガンジー国際空港で 最後のシェを飲みながら、私とインドとの絆はより強くなり、戻ってくる のも時間の問題だと思った。インドには何か特別なものがある。 植民地主義者の曽祖父でさえも否定できないだろう。