India: Making Things
I heard it said several times that India exists simultaneously in all times. One of the things that most excited me was how close people still were to the means of production. As we pulled into the small town of Lehra I insisted that we stop as I spotted a man crouched over a tiny pile of bricks. His left hand turned a small hand-cranked blower that fed into a crude brick forge about the size of a paint bucket. He drew out a glowing red chunk of metal and proceeded to hammer out… a pair of scissors. From scratch. It was absolutely amazing and yet, exactly how all of our tools were once made.
In America we have forgotten to honor our craftsmen. We look down on people who do things like paint, hang drywall, garden, and repair cars. Having seen a pro hang drywall, there is nothing like it. They can eyeball a spot, slice a board and hang it in seconds. The tailor in India took a few of my measurements and, without a pattern, to my custom specifications, sewed up a pile of shirts with a hand cranked sewing machine and a giant pair of brass handled scissors. It took him all of a day. I believe this kind of skill deserves respect, and he was certainly proud of what he could do. I would love to see more of that here.
One village family decided to make me a blanket from scratch while I was there. I learned how to do everything from pulling cotton out of its shell, to spinning thread, to dying and, finally, weaving. I saw some beautiful work that they had done and asked them if they ever sold these things to raise money. They were confused, and couldn’t understand why anyone would pay for something that they could make themselves. Everyone knew how to make their own mungies, blankets, clothes and food.
For similar reasons no one ever went out to eat. In the whole region we found only two places that could be called restaurants. One was essentially a bar that served food to its all-male all-drunken clientele. It was only when we became regulars that they cleaned up, put out napkins, and really went all out with the food. The second was a little vegetarian place that actually managed to be somewhat of a family establishment. Surprisingly we saw women and children there. They also managed some seriously tasty food including south Indian dishes like huge, wonderfully spicy masala dosas. Rounded off with a bit of kulfi ice cream, this became one of my favorite meals outside the havella where we stayed.
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