{"id":5347,"date":"2017-12-08T21:11:35","date_gmt":"2017-12-08T20:11:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/?p=5347"},"modified":"2018-04-13T09:15:17","modified_gmt":"2018-04-13T08:15:17","slug":"an-indian-piece","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/an-indian-piece\/","title":{"rendered":"An Indian Piece"},"content":{"rendered":"<h2><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-5348\" src=\"https:\/\/d2wipdjmobk1g8.cloudfront.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/4\/2017\/11\/01150116\/cow-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" srcset=\"https:\/\/d2wipdjmobk1g8.cloudfront.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/4\/2017\/11\/01150116\/cow-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/d2wipdjmobk1g8.cloudfront.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/4\/2017\/11\/01150116\/cow-768x576.jpg 768w, https:\/\/d2wipdjmobk1g8.cloudfront.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/4\/2017\/11\/01150116\/cow-650x488.jpg 650w, https:\/\/d2wipdjmobk1g8.cloudfront.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/4\/2017\/11\/01150116\/cow-624x468.jpg 624w, https:\/\/d2wipdjmobk1g8.cloudfront.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/4\/2017\/11\/01150116\/cow.jpg 1600w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\" \/><\/h2>\n<h2><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">Six in the morning and the heat was already rising in waves from the earth. Runnels of sweat ran down the faces of the two passengers swaying to and fro in the rickshaw.\u00a0 Crows cawed ominously and flew down from the trees, scavenging the streets for carrion. A cow ruminated at the side of the road and looked at them dolefully with its indifferent, watery eyes.\u00a0 Although together in the one place &#8211; man\u00a0 beast and bird &#8211; they retained their separateness, each aware of the other without concern.\u00a0 <\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">Time passed.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">Being early for the temple, Tom, a tall American, bronzed with the sun, suggested to Kumar, \u201cLet\u2019s have a look at the market.\u201d \u00a0This was Kumar\u2019s chance to show Tom around the district as both felt they had \u00a0languished too long in the village and welcomed the chance to visit the nearby Keshav Dev temple in Mathura, the legendary birthplace of Krishna.\u00a0 <\/span><\/h2>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">For the past six months Tom,\u00a0<\/span>a Peace Corp Volunteer,\u00a0<span style=\"color: #333300\">had been spending his time introducing planting techniques in the village\u00a0 but had discovered very soon after his arrival that the old farmers knew more about the land and the requirements for a high rice yield than he did.\u00a0 With lassitude, Tom felt relieved to abandon his post at Bhoodari village and travel with Kumar to the city.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">In the market place, rows of stalls were covered in light tarpaulins, plastic sheets, and old sun-faded newspapers.\u00a0 Some stall owners sat around laconically smoking small\u00a0<em>bidis<\/em>\u00a0and drinking milky sweet\u00a0<em>chai<\/em>\u00a0from glass tumblers.\u00a0 Only one stall at the edge of the lane appeared to be open, its owner fussing over the array of bric-a-brac with a large, black, feather duster.\u00a0<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">Incongruously, he wore an over-sized suit, a shirt and tie that looked as if it had been bartered \u00a0in exchange for goods from his stall at one time.\u00a0 His face was sharp and weasel-like, small eyes glinting from under heavy, black eyebrows.\u00a0 An oily layer of hair swept over his brow; and sunken cheeks spoke of poverty he had endured during his twenty-odd years of life.<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">As they approached, the stallholder brightened and became more animated in his dusting.\u00a0<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">Kumar enquired, \u201cWhat time does the temple open?\u201d<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">\u201cOh, be opening soon, my friend,\u201d the man responded, looking at Tom and ignoring Kumar.\u00a0 \u201cWould you see some fine jewelry, soapstone sculpture?\u201d<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">Tom, feeling a little uncomfortable, declared, \u201cWe\u2019re just having a look till the temple\u2019s open.\u201d\u00a0 Turning to Kumar and dismissing the stallholder, Tom asked, \u201cWhat do you think?\u00a0 Was Krishna really born here, or is it just myth?\u201d<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">The stall holder interrupted. \u201cNo! No!\u00a0 here he was born, certainly.\u00a0 He very good god.\u00a0 He loving by all milkmaids in Mathura then steal their cloths when bathing.\u00a0 Now look!\u201d he insisted, \u201cSilver frame.\u00a0 \u00a0Good quality?\u00a0 Very good quality. No?\u00a0 Very nice.\u00a0 Have look and see!\u00a0 Just looking!\u00a0 Go on!\u201d\u00a0 His eyes pleaded, \u201cYou my first customer.\u00a0 Please to be buying.\u00a0 I have little children.\u00a0 I lucky you buy.\u00a0 Very cheap price&#8230;for you&#8230;today my first customer.\u201d<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">Tom, by this time, was beginning to back off while Kumar stood nonchalant and amused with his hands in his pockets.\u00a0 \u201cReally, we don\u2019t want anything.\u00a0 Just having a look,\u201d Tom explained.\u00a0 But a tone of guilt was beginning to sound in his voice and the stallholder, skilful in detecting any subtle evidence of reticence in a prospective customer\u2019s voice, lunged for the prey.\u00a0<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">\u201cYou must buy.\u00a0 Special price.\u00a0 Just for you.\u00a0 Look!\u00a0 Look!\u00a0 Photo of Krishna.\u00a0 Here his peacock feather&#8230;very beautiful&#8230;you buy for present&#8230;take home.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">The sales pitch was becoming more and more frenetic as he noticed Tom beginning to sidle away.\u00a0 Bangles, bells, photos. garlands and incense were thrust before Tom and in desperation he turned to Kumar.\u00a0 \u201cGuess this is a place of peace.\u00a0 How do I tell him to go in peace?\u201d<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">\u201cWhat?\u201d\u00a0 Kumar\u2019s bemusement increased.<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">\u201cYou know, go in peace.\u00a0 I just want to get to the temple and get out of here.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0 Tom had the uncomfortable feeling of being trapped and it was becoming more and more tangible, evident in the frantic look on the stallholder&#8217;s face.<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">Turning to Tom, Kumar replied, \u00a0\u201cPisab gorkyo\u201d<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">Tom practised this a few times under his breath, turned to the stallholder and said a little shakily, \u201cPisab gorkyo.\u201d<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">\u201cUh!\u201d\u00a0 the stallholder exclaimed, jaw dropping.<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">\u201cEh, pisab gorkyo,\u201d Tom intoned more loudly.<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">A flurry of invective poured from the stallholder and, although Tom didn\u2019t know the language, he could guess that there was something in the torrent of words about is personal life.\u00a0 \u201cWhat did he say?\u201d asked Tom.<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">Kumar replied, \u201cSome local language.\u00a0 I guess something about your sister and your mother.<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">\u201cWhy\u2019s he getting so angry?\u00a0 C\u2019mon, let\u2019s go.\u201d\u00a0 As the flood of words continued, Tom was pulling on Kumar\u2019s arm to get away.<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">Kumar, laughing, let himself be led away and said to Tom, \u201cWhy did you tell him to go and piss?\u201d<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">\u201cPiss!\u201d\u00a0\u00a0 Tom\u2019s eyebrows shot up in surprise.\u00a0 \u201cI told him to go and piss, not in peace?\u201d<\/span><\/h2>\n<h2><span style=\"color: #333300\">As they made their way across the road towards the temple, their laughter was joined by the sound of several crows, cawing in unison from the wires above the stall.\u00a0 The stallholder looked angrily at them, picked up a stone and threw it, but the crows fluttered their wings, rose a few feet in the air and landed once again on the wire, cawing and screeching more loudly that ever.\u00a0 The cows slowly raised and turned their heads to watch the pair cross the road and disappear through the gate and into the temple across the way.<\/span><\/h2>\n<p><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter\" src=\"http:\/\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-AGUpHHC1y_Y\/VFC4llfyYnI\/AAAAAAAACiQ\/6Vcj4UZAI2g\/s1600\/krishna.jpg\" \/><\/p>\n<h2><\/h2>\n<h2><\/h2>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Six in the morning and the heat was already rising in waves from the earth. Runnels of sweat ran down the faces of the two passengers swaying to and fro in the rickshaw.\u00a0 Crows cawed ominously and flew down from the trees, scavenging the streets for carrion. A cow ruminated at the side of the [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":153,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"inline_featured_image":false,"_uag_custom_page_level_css":"","_FSMCFIC_featured_image_caption":"","_FSMCFIC_featured_image_nocaption":"","_FSMCFIC_featured_image_hide":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[162,8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5347","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-articles","category-fictional-stories"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v27.5 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>An Indian Piece - Many Roads<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/an-indian-piece\/\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Albert\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"5 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\\\/\\\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/an-indian-piece\\\/#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/an-indian-piece\\\/\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"Albert\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/#\\\/schema\\\/person\\\/d65113da84d62fbc945e6ee35f823e2a\"},\"headline\":\"An Indian Piece\",\"datePublished\":\"2017-12-08T20:11:35+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2018-04-13T08:15:17+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/an-indian-piece\\\/\"},\"wordCount\":960,\"commentCount\":0,\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/#organization\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/an-indian-piece\\\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/files\\\/2017\\\/11\\\/cow-300x225.jpg\",\"articleSection\":[\"Articles\",\"Fictional Stories\"],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"CommentAction\",\"name\":\"Comment\",\"target\":[\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/an-indian-piece\\\/#respond\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/an-indian-piece\\\/\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/an-indian-piece\\\/\",\"name\":\"An Indian Piece - 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Runnels of sweat ran down the faces of the two passengers swaying to and fro in the rickshaw.\u00a0 Crows cawed ominously and flew down from the trees, scavenging the streets for carrion. A cow ruminated at the side of the&hellip;","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5347","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/153"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5347"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5347\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5347"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5347"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5347"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}