Four generations

Here, the four generations (counted, of course, through the sons) in Jitu's family. All but the great-grandfather live in the same home.

Pimp my Ride, Indian Edition

One of the most noticeable aspects of India is its deafening noise level, which recedes only slightly at night as devotees, drunkards, and dogs take control of the streets. One of the greatest daytime offenders is the tricked-out autorickshaw (tuk-tuk) replete with a custom paint job and massive sound system blaring the latest Hindustani hits to cover up the ominous skips in the two-stroke engine. My masculine sensibilities offended by the presence of wheels badder than mine, I set out to pimp my ride, Indian style.

The six-day workweek affords little time for all-day automotive capers, so yesterday I set out with the limited goal of getting a stereo system installed. This way, my extensive funk collection could grace the streets of Bikaner alongside Punjabi dance tunes and Bollywood anthems. Through Jitu's recommendation, I consulted with Kailash, a mechanic who specialized in the modification of electrical systems.

His plan was simple. We would bypass the battery to feed a small amplifier equipped with a cutoff (so I could plug it into the wall for tailgating) and a switch. The amp would be housed in a box with a mounting for one speaker, with the other fixed in the protective bars in front of my left foot. I would build a small hook up and casing for my iPod.

Our first stop was the Jain Market, where we haggled over the price of the equipment sans warranty. After a brief stop at home to test the system, we headed towards the Modern Market, where mechanics were able to jury-rig the box to my Platina and install the speakers, routing the wiring through the body of the bike.

Returning home, we began the process of final assembly. While I worked on the iPod holder, Kailash and his friend Dharma mounted the electronics and tested the circuits. I noted with apprehension that the method for checking for current involves the tongue.

The system (no specs, for it was built in true hodge-podge Indian style) puts out enough volume to be heard over the engine even at high speeds, but I haven't yet developed the confidence to deploy it in the city. For that, I'm going to wait until I can reliably drive in traffic without stalling out. Til then, and the next project, the Funkmobile will have to wait.

Kailash (l), Dharma (c), and Sonu (r) discuss the electronics in the Vinayak courtyard:

The front speaker. The amp/box assembly. Switch, iPod case, and rear speaker.

Consecrating the Bajaj

Upon my first homecoming with the new bike I was greeted by my adoptive family and excitedly told to come to the courtyard. There, we blessed the bike in a puja (ritual) befitting such a major purchase, washing it, adorning it with garlands, and painting auspicious symbols on it. Needless to say, it is only in India that one proudly festoons new motorbikes with swastikas.

Before proceeding to work, I stopped at a sweets shop to prepare for the other necessary ritual called for by major life changes. Arriving at the NRCC with two kilos of cashew cake made for a fun morning.

Here, Jitu (l) and Raz (r) perform the rites:

Move-in

I've finally moved out of the beautiful, if isolated, NRCC guest house. My new pad is a wonderful apartment in the Purani Ginnani neighborhood, an older area just beyond the fort and the main market. I'm renting a private room (with kitchenette and bathroom) on the top floor of a small homestay guesthouse. The family runs an NGO that sells village artwork and clothing to tourists as a way of supplementing rural incomes.


I was very conscious of the fact that, by moving to a city without an expat community, I was forcing myself to enter completely into an all-Indian social circle. Indeed, that was part of the appeal of Bikaner. Over the past few weeks, however, I have begun to realize that total isolation from Westerners would be a bit much. So living at the guesthouse is a good call- I'll have my privacy when I need it, an Indian family to get to know well, and, occasionally, a fellow native English speaker to talk to.


Here, my room. Shots of the rooftop view on the way.