It took us four and a half hours to drive 88 miles today (or 142 kilometers if that is easier for you.) We went to Hisar, Haryana to visit three of Vik's paternal aunts, or buajis. The only Hisarian attraction we could identify was the National Research Centre on Equines. We spent the visit eating a massive lunch, talking about how it took four and a half hours to get there and having a nap. Then we drove home.
On the way we were stuck in the middle of a village mela. Mela is Sanskrit for "fair" or "gathering." Our driver translated it as "buffalo contest." I hope you don't have claustrophobia, because thousands of buffalo with glossy, black coats and colorful harnesses met our gaze in every possible direction, cramming the already narrow market lane. Historically, agricultural fairs were spectacles of masculine labor and production. In that spirit, the buffalo herds were led by thousands more buffalo herders, also clamoring for space on the tiny street.
On the way Vik photographed eicher red, ford blue, ox blue, and mahindra red tractors. Like tin toys, these slow moving tank-like three wheelers slowly circumnavigate Haryana villages day and night, slowing traffic and leaving a trail of tori flowers and betel leaf packets.
Later, like something out of Borges, there was a long line leading into an impossibly small building, entitled Clearinghouse for Accidental Jobs.
Always the warning sign juggernaut, Zazie was delighted to see the first real stoplight we have seen in all of India.She did not even seemed phased that the red light and two green arrows pointing in opposite directions were all blinking at the same time. At an Indian traffic light, everyone wins.
At our own Auntie Mela, no one could figure out why it took us so long. We were puzzled too, but because we couldn't figure out how we made such good time, considering.
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