|Some Bastard Stole my Helmet!
||[Feb. 9th, 2008|05:23 pm]
I went to a little party last night, hung out with some folks and spun some fire inside the cozy little forest bubble of Auroville. As usual I parked my bike outside and hung the helmet on the handlebars. And someone stole it.
Who steals a helmet, anyway? No one WEARS helmets here, why would anyone steal one?
It may be a bubble full of white people in a beautiful landscape, it may be a very restricted community of "spiritual" people, but it's still India.
Damnit, I liked that helmet. It had a blue visor and these awesome sparkly stickers of Ganesh on it that I bought from a street vendor in Mumbai. It cost over $100, not including the Autocomm headset inside it which is also history. Plus it fit my head. Here's the best part: I can't get a helmet without riding to a big city where there are good shops, but I can't ride my bike anywhere without the helmet.
One of those moments that shatters your illusions. And why am I convinced it's an Indian, and probably a poor villager rather than an Aurovilian, and what does this say about me, and about the effects of social inequalities. Facing all these things is what I'm here for, I guess, but, god damnit -- my fucking helmet!
Screw this, I'm going to Sri Lanka next week. (Yes, really. Visa run. No, I'm not worried about terrorism -- still way more concerned about traffic accidents, as I should be.)