Outskirts

After nearly six months I was driving out of the city proper, past the ISB and Microsoft campuses and out into villages called Gopanapally and Vathinagulapally, via engineering colleges and SOS children's villages; past orchards that had disappeared and in whose places were giant yellow machines grinding granite down into dust for laying roads; through narrow roads that used to wind between fields but now ran through small factories making hollow bricks.

Everywhere, the air was hazy with grey dust and the exhaust of huge vehicles in a big hurry.

At the end of an hour's drive, though, the roads straightened their backs and stretched out. At the end of an hour's drive, there was this:

Mangoes (for KM):



The day was full of all kinds of irony. But that would have to be a photo essay, a long rambling one.

Until then, there's a bit of inexplicable quirkiness in this photo. What do you think happened? Did someone tar and feather the guy at night and people were offended when they found out? Was it a terribly cast bust, so ugly that no self-respecting village with its makeshift (and illegal) factories could countenance such an abomination? Was it making faces at them? Did it bring them bad luck? What?

For everyone else: