Welcome to Hajipur

Dante’s fifth circle of hell. The only reason that my brain automatically classified it at that level is because there are some imaginable levels left—not many, but some. Apparently the noise has died down since the end of some month long festival, but it remains quite constant and consistently loud modulating briefly down between the hours of two and five in the morning. The soundtrack consists of Bollywood’s greatest theme song hits with an overlay of the Koran sung and shared through powerful loudspeakers and a tinkling metallic sound of an ever present carnival that punctuates the rare moments of silence when both of the principals happen to be taking a breath simultaneously. That sums up the major detraction of the place. Given Hajipur’s proximity to the Ganges, odor could conceivably enter into the mix in a significant way. Mercifully, it does not, hence the rating of five not seven. I’ve learned that noise is legislated in most other Indian states.

That said, I have had my first glimpse of the mythical and immortal Ganges River! It’s huge! At least I think it is from what I could make out through the pollution haze. Have I mentioned that it is a tad polluted in this part of the world? I saw the Ganges far below as we wormed our way across the heavily trafficked yellow-fenced bridge between the capital of Bihar State, Patna, and the Hajipur side of the river. Bihar is the poorest state in India—and that’s saying something. However, the first thing I noticed, after the swarms of pedestrians, rickshaws, small, packed public transport buses, cars and trucks that endlessly deadlock the streets, is the defiance of the people against poverty through the insistent use of color and design.
Every rickshaw, no matter how battered, is painted with flowers or gods or lovers and has embroidered tapestry shelters under which the patrons may repose against the mid-day sun. The apparently mandatory words on the back of each and every truck ‘BLOW HORN’ (and they liberally follow this advice) are painted in many colors in everything identifiable style from art deco to Islamic design, each letter perfectly spaced between the iron supports that hold together the back doors of the identically designed Tata trucks that monopolize the roads. The people that line the sides of the roads and fill all vehicles are dressed in a riot of colors that makes Delhi look tame and that stand out brightly against the backdrop of lush green banana trees, palms and densely impenetrable green plants that fill in empty spaces along the road.