flower market

On Sunday morning we finally got our butts out of bed early to see the infamous flower market.

This post would be a bajillion times better if I had remembered my camera this morning, but I forgot it. 

I've explained previously how Hindus regularly purchase flowers as offerings to various gods/altars/shrines. They will also hang flowers from mirrors of cars and busses. Flowers and religion go hand in hand for Hindus.

It raises questions on the relationship between economics and religion. I daresay the Indian lower class/caste would be in dire straits if, impossibly, Hinduism was abolished. Is this reason to maintain status quo? People eat daily because of the selling of offerings. There is plenty more to be initiated on this topic. Maybe another time.

We visited the flower market under the Howrah bridge. We were told about this during our second week here and were told to be on a bus by 4:30am to get there before the crowds. We did no research on our own and trusted this one person's advice. We got up at 4:15 and were outside by 4:30 waiting for a bus. None came.

It was a pleasant experience to enjoy quieter streets. Interestingly enough we did still hear some honking, but are still trying to figure out what the honking was at/for.

We accepted our bus-less fate and hired an elderly taxi driver. We paid the equivalent of $5, likely a rip-off, but considering the time of day we felt our options were limited.

This was my favourite drive of this trip because we were able to observe the city in its quieter state. As much as I did enjoy this, I also found it difficult. When the hustle and bustle is removed, other things can be deeply noticed.

There are many, many people who sleep in the streets of Kolkata. In alley ways, doors, or in the middle of the stone walkways. Often we saw body to stone and sometimes a mat separated the two.

I should clarify. There are many, many men who sleep in the streets of Kolkata. We saw very few women although there were some (and children), but the great majority were males. This helps make sense of my regular observations and ponderings during daylight hours: there are so many men in the streets and on busses. Why? Where are the women? It's regularly an 80/20 split or so. At least day and night population breakdowns are consistent. Without reading into this too much, I do believe gender societal norms can be deduced.

While many slept on the ground, others combined work and home as they slept in their carts and trucks and on their food and clothing stands. Their daytime income-generators doubled as their nighttime sleeping quarters. 

As we drove I noticed a teenage boy emerge from what appeared like a closet or outhouse. He was groggy-eyed, disheveled and disoriented. It was clear that he had just woken up and he emerged from his closet/outhouse-like home and his first step leading him to the street.

We arrived at the flower market before 5. Many vendors were there, few were set up. We observed the market waking and setting up. Volume with respect to both noise and population grew. By 5:30 it was a hive of activity.

Similarly to men sleeping on the street, the folks whose lives are the flower market sleep on their respective family stalls. As Teresa was waiting for more and better sunlight (needed the sun to rise), I stood on a bridge and observed the waking up of the world below.

I spent most of my time inconspicuously watching two different families wake up. One family was a mom and baby sleeping on their flower stand with a grandma and two older boys (5 and 3 maybe) sleeping in a cart attached to a bike in front of the stand. Mom and baby slept through the noise of preparing for the day whereas the grandma and older boys were ready earlier. It was odd to watch people wake up publicly: grandma fixed her hair before exiting the cart.

In the second family mom was sleeping on the stand with three little people. Dad returned with his stock of flowers as they slept. After he arrived mom woke up and helped him set up the canopy etc... As soon as the little daughter (5?) woke up (within seconds) she was on the ground walking away, seemingly on a mission. She returned from Narnia 10 minutes later with a hefty stack of cardboard pieces. That is her morning chore, I suppose.

As we perused the market we walked by this family's booth, their house. It was maybe, just maybe, as large as a king-size bed. They were all sitting on their stand, their house, with the stock of yellow flowers laying on a piece of plastic on the wet ground in front of them. They were cooking on a small propane burner. This is their life.

After eating the children found fun in the muddy road with their neighbours, the boys who slept in the cart with grandma. In its simplicity it was quite similar to Canadian children playing with their neighbours. The complexity is in the difference between when and how these Indian children and Canadian children return home.