Dead Drunk not Dead

So I finally get around to adding more to this. I was sitting on the train the other day thinking about my time in Goa and my mind floated back, really missing it.

We took a tour to Panaji one day by bus. Taking the NH17 route. Children followed waving their hands in the air, smiling broadly and shouting excitedly. The road was not much more than a dirt path in places, with big holes gouged out of it. As we passed over these, the bus, which was kind of rickety, shuddered and rolled. The edge of the street was lined with people's homes, bounded by low walls. Some were little more than brieze block with wooden verandas, others were grander. You could see the Portuguese influence in the architecture. There were a hell of a lot of hostels on this road.

It was very hot to me. Although December is their Winter, it was still hot. The bus rounded a corner and we fell upon Betim Port. Fishermen were fixing their nets in the shade. A Chai seller stood on the corner with his tea urn on a barrow. Lots of people were checking out the new catch of fish which had arrived. The atmosphere seemed urgent. The smell was rancid, salty and stomach churning.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang, nothing serious, a crate being dumped down making a clatter, but out of the corner of my eye, what appeared to be a large pile of clothes in the middle of the street came alive with flies that jumped off at the shock. Then the pile became more recognisable. It was the body of a man, covered in dirt and dust, lying face down. Was he dead? My heart lurched. People carried on their business, not even giving him a second thought, walking around him and over him.

I asked our guide what had happened. Surely they wouldn't just leave a body out in the sun to rot? The only other place I'd seen something similar was in Rio, Brazil. But Brazil is an entirely different place to India. The culture is so different. Life seemed cheaper to me there. Am I wrong?

It transpired that he was probably drunk. I was told that Goan people did not like drunkards and as a sign of this would have nothing to do with it. They would just leave him there to sort himself out, let him suffer. If he had been sick or dead, they would have tended to him. Tough love!

There he remained. Festering in the heat with the flies crawling all over. It was a sight I had not expected and thought provoking.