Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Backstreets boys and Pris Pull A Punjabi Wedding Crash

Finishing up a bunch of writing at the local internet cafe(yes I still do not have an Internet connection after hours of hassle-India).  It is around 9pm and I am waiting for my friend Jary to come pick me up.  He gets tied up with work and it ends up that he can not make it.  I do not like inconvencing people, especially my CS hosts so I decide to just hang out around the area of a bit.
At the juice bar, I meet a nice group of local students.  Being close to Punjabi University, there are many students hanging around the area.  I order a carrot juice and say very loudly, "No sugar, no ice-just carrots." I waive my hand in the air obnoxiously so he clearly gets the message.  The local group of boys are laughing, which leads to them initiating conversation with me. It turns out they are not so young-25 and 26 years old working on Masters in Peace and Gandhi studies(This is a degree you can only get in India-it instantly cetches my attention). He begins to speak about how he is almost finished and he will be going to work in South Africa.  It is refreshing seeing young Indian making a difference. 
All five of the boys are from the same village in  Shimla(mountain station 110 kilometers away).  None of them look Indian and I actually go around telling each person where I think they come from 1.) Saudi Arabia 2.) Israel 3.)Poland 4.) American 5.) One actually looked Indian.  They laugh at my identity game and tell me I look like I am from Spain.  

With all our talking, they offer to give me a ride back to my host's house, which I am more than comfortable with.  In the car, they are listening to a variety of Backstreet boys and old love songs from the 90s-oh India. 

On the way, there is a local wedding.  Getting all excited, I say, "Look, Look." We all stop the car in THE MIDDLE OF THE HIGHWAY- India! And we get out to take pictures and dance.  The one guy is so sweet.  It is refreshing to meet such sweet, innocent Indian boys.  He says, "Don't worry Pris, just go dance-this is India." We both dance the traditional Punjabi dance near a bunch of drunk men in front of trumpets and loud instruments.  The Punjabi's are very welcoming to the tourist dancing like a fool.  The traditional Punjabi dance involves extending out your left arm right leg, right arm left leg.  In the middle of the highway stands a random Indian guy dancing his heart away to the band.  The groom sits on his white horse covered in money laughing at his friends making fools of themselves.  Everyone is dancing and ALIVE. The faces of the Punjabi are jolly, lively, and full of real expression. 

I tell them that their new name is the Backstreet boys since they are playing their music.  My favorite friend tells me to stay an extra day and he can take me around to the mountains.  He says he has another friend visiting from Ireland and he would love for us to go trekking.  I decline because it is time for me to keep moving, but perhaps I should have stayed one more day.  We agreed to keep in touch and be emailing pen pals-such a nice person. 

And this is India.....

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