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Why are you speaking English to each other? "70% of Indias population is less than 35 years old, 1/4 of them have English as a first language, education is king, the English left a British school system. We dream in English we think in English." - our hosts at "The Farm" near Japiur confirm much we have questioned about India's direction and future. This guest house is an eclectic trove of sublime upcycled palace parts, art, quirky pieces, reconfigured every year when the hip and charming proprietors return from their three month sojourn abroad. Tonight a week before they pack down we are their only guests joined by two inspiring young entrepreneurial designers, stunning sisters who share their latest cover on Conde Naste Traveller and explain that even in their strict Jain family traditions are changing -fast. They dabble in non veg and dress high fashion lamenting that their petite frames look as though someone has thrown fabric at them when they don traditional saris while still agreeing when (not if) they marry they will HAVE to wear one. The juxtaposition of modernity and tradition is rich with emotion and color. We put 335 kms away on our Rickshaw Run from Jodphur to Jaipur yesterday and the truckies, road bandits and places we chose not to stop obviously can still not read the memo. They have no English, no meat, are lambasted in fabric and dirt, they dodge rubble on freeways still under construction. Some help push our auto over road blockages some attempt to become one to force us off the road. We swerve around them or run straight at them determined not to find out what they would have done with that. India jumps technology, no need to lay copper wire go straight to mobile. Agriculture struggling with climate change convert a paddock to solar so you may educate your children. On the road we are seeing massive movements of new military equipment, tanks mainly and then wind turbines so many parts I've lost count and have stopped fumbling for camera as blades pass. E-motion = energy in motion. In India it sits on the surface, oil on Dahl tarkha. It can pool and puddle, heightening flavours, attacking senses. Leaving friends in Jodphur working hard on construction increasing their frugal home two fold, even poppa carrying buckets of sand to the roof top, chipping stone blocks by hand, famine and disability outweighed only by their hospitality and warmth. I cried thinking we may not Jai me Lang ge, see these folk again. The adrenalin truly running for a day, pushing the Tuk over road blocks, dodging bandits and truck drivers who are in a p fueled frenzy of Lane changing. To a sanctuary of bird song, gentle manners and chic industrial urban style. Where the pool is clean, the baby spinach organic and adopting a dog or a child is what you do because you should. India is on the move.
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