Of Curry & Customs: TO MARKET, TO MARKET…

**Do not read if you are squeamish… some of the photos are a little rugged. If you are brave, but not interested in the bloody details, do yourself a favor, and skip over the Meat Market section.**

Last night Sunil, Sobha, and their young Shaan took me to the local lake and markets (fish and vegetable). For reference, Sunil is the physical therapist that asked me to visit the rehab facility here in Chandigarh. It was his marriage to Sobha that brought me to India for my previous trip. I met Sunil my first trip to Vellore. He was one of the six souls that embraced me and brought me into their make-shift family when I first arrived in Vellore seven years ago. He is now head of therapy at Chandigarh Spinal Rehab.

When I arrived, I was asked what foods I wanted to eat, sights I wanted to see, and activities I wanted to do. My response was something like “All of it, but especially pani puri.” So last night, the Raj family took me to see some local sights and feed me pani puri (golgappe = local name for same dish). In hinds’ sight I probably should have let my digestive system acclimate a little before hitting it with street food, but so far so good--- feeling great.

Most of this blog will be photos, but I will add a little commentary to all three of our stops starting with the lake.

Sukhna Lake: Like many of the Indian bodies of water I have visited the water is murky and the atmospheric haze blurs the lines of the horizon. In the distance you can make out the faint landscape of the opposing shore. There is a small amusement park near the lake, complete with camel rides, bumper cars, and giant trampoline. As one would expect there is also trinkets and food items. We feasted on golgappe/pani puri (all six flavors… I’m a fan of the coriander/cilantro option and wouldn’t be upset if I never had the guava, pomegranate, lemon, and mint again), curried corn, and momos. Shaan had ice cream for dinner-- I like his style.

Sukhna Lake

Shaan Raj

Sunil, Shaan, and Sobah Raj

Pani puri in the making

Momos!

The meat market: Sunil warmed me that “it doesn’t smell the best, but it is good.” You know you’re getting yourself into something interesting when an Indian tells you it doesn’t smell good. He was right. It didn’t smell good. I was glad we ate before arriving at the fish/meat market. The path down the center of the market had succumb to the recent rains and was slick as snot. I wasn’t convinced that some of the moisture wasn’t blood from the meat market but choose not to think about this as my shoes squished their way down the path. One of the first stalls we passed had a live goat and sheep wandering around out front, both stained by the blood of their fellow kind who had sacrificed theirs to give life to others. Chickens with blood-red feathers wandered about the adjacent stalls; their kind neatly separated into piles of various organs and body parts.

And then we hit the fish stalls. Fish of all sizes and shapes, some live, some fresh, some parceled out already. The butchers sat cross-legged behind their offerings and in front of a large slab of blood-soaked wood, the edge of a rusty cleaver jammed into the corner of their butcher’s block. Fish scales were scattered around like confetti at a party. Everything a red hue of sacrificial giving. Gruesome was the word that came to mind. Gruesome and yet necessary. The lives taken there were saving the lives of the masses of hungry. There was also a comical, “yes, I’m in India” reminder in the whole scene, especially in the juxtaposition of the blue arc of a welder’s spark streaking through the otherwise red atmosphere.

Smell is one of the more unique senses as area of the brain in which smell is processed can create rudimentary memories and is also directly connected to the area of the brain that creates, stores, and catalogs memories. I suppose that is why smell elicits more memories than any other element of our world. Because of this, when I smell the mix of fresh blood, mud, fish and melting iron I will think of my tromp through the Chandigarh meat market.

The meat market at a glance. Did I mention that we did the markets at night so the lighting was horrible for this amateur photographer? Please excuse the graininess of all the photos from this post.

Meat market man

All shapes and sizes

Fire and fish

The intensity in those eyes though!

Chicken drumstick anyone?

The Vegetable Market: Colored chaos. That is how I would describe the vegetable market. We entered the market from an obtuse angle, the cacophony of seller’s cries growing louder and louder the closer we got. At first I would ask Sunil what they were shouting at us as it seemed each one was trying to start a riot as we walked by their goods. Inevitably he would translate something mundane like, “20 rupees per KG.” Somewhat disappointing, to be honest. Other times I knew what they were shouting at me as their gestures and my history at these types of markets has made me wiser… someone would bark at me while pointing and smiling at their neighbor, the neighbor would try to hide as the one barking would yell “a click, madame, a click” while charading the use of a camera. Sometimes I obliged.

The market was extremely crowded. The path between the rows of vegetables was big enough to squeeze two abreast, and yet we were snuggled in three and sometimes four abreast all going in opposing directions. I’m not sure how I managed to not lose the Raj family during the adventure, but eventually we made it back to the car with bags full of fresh vegetables to accompany the white tuna purchased at the prior market.

Alive. That is how market life makes you feel. Oh, so very alive! The noise. The smells. The sights. The crowding. Nearly all your senses are assaulted. You must enter rapid processing mode in order to not feel overwhelmed. When you emerge on the other side of market chaos there is a calm and peace that seems unnatural and you know that you are alive, and you survived!

*Of note: The following photos have only been altered by increasing exposure. Tinting or alteration of color has not occurred. The vendors would shine colored light on their produce to make their true colors shine in the dark of night. For example, a purple light was placed on onions and eggplants, green lights shone on peas and mixed greens, etc.