As the second most populous nation in the world, India is packed with people, everywhere. But even beyond the people, it is a country teaming with all kinds of life (most of which I try to keep out of my stomach).
I hope to see a tiger and ride an Indian elephant while here. In the meantime, everyday life in
A tribe of goats live on my street and forage through the trash heaps next door, filling a role as both trash compactor and garbage disposal. Several new kids were born in the last few months and they are very cute. However, I have a dreadful suspicion that they will end up in the open air butcher shop on the corner, unfortunately.
Helping the goats in going through the garbage are hundreds of feral dogs; any truculence toward humans seems to have been beat out of them long ago. They vary in color from white to tan to black, but otherwise they all look the same, likely due to generations of interbreeding; purebreds here are very rare and a real curiosity.
This morning I woke up to find a cow tied up outside my compound. I didn't give it a second thought as I walked passed. People seem to leave their cows tied up all over the place. It is not uncommon to see them standing lazily outside of posh retail shops or pulling old wooden carts down busy urban highways, as buses, trucks, cars, auto-rickshaws, motorcycles, and bicycles whiz around them.
As a wanna-be economist imbibed with a profound respect for property rights, I've often wondered how people keep track of ownership of the various chickens, cows, and goats that wonder through the streets of Chennai. Back in the U.S., I think my mother still has nightmares (thirty years later) of chasing cows and chickens that got out of their enclosures while my father was at work; trying to prevent them from doing any damage or trespassing on a neighbor's lawn. Here, all sorts of animals seem to wander around, unconstrained and unfettered by human boundaries.
The porous boundaries and constant interaction between the worlds of many different species can be frustrating, but it is also enlivening. Much of the developed world is covered in concrete and buildings, sterilized to the point of tedium. Many humans encase themselves in temperature and air quality controlled cubicles, the extent of their daily contact with nature consisting of a scenic postcard on the wall. Sure life is more precarious here; it is not manicured, regulated, confined, encapsulated, safe. But that makes if feel more real, less easy to take for granted. Somehow, the threat of imminent bad makes me better appreciate the good times. Perhaps it is strange that a life of high peaks and low valleys seems preferable to me than a dull, easy, safe existence?
Not that I would mind a faster Internet connection or better air conditioning, however.
Along with the parakeets, I also again have "pet" geckos which live in and around my apartment. Thankfully, I don't have to feed these ones live crickets.
Crows are everywhere here. Luckily, I haven't read any Poe lately.
Some of my neighbors.
Unfortunately, I fear that this is where they end up. If I did need a daily reminder of how great it is to be a vegetarian, this would be it.
This guy was tied up just outside of my building. Notice the blue paint and metal tips on the horns.
Dogs mostly come in three shades: light, darker, and dark.
There must be some socially understood system to determine ownership of animals within neighborhoods; these chickens don't seem to feel any constraints about wondering wherever they please.
One of the kittens who frequents our cafeteria at work and successfully begs for food each day.
More pictures here.
