Il dio monsone
|Waiting for Godot - foto di Clara Nubile|
Si sa poco della Birmania, si sa veramente poco di questi scampoli di Sud-est asiatico che si offrono al turismo, e anche al viaggio ma in misura minore, con generosità estrema.
Chissà cosa pensano queste ragazze birmane che fanno le stagioni in Thailandia, vivono ammucchiate, ma sorridono cantano danzano. Che preparano insalate con le foglie di tè, trattengono il fiato al tramonto.
|Waiting for you - Foto di Clara Nubile|
E le notti tropicali, ancora una volta, sono lente. Scandite dai temporali, dalle lampade fioche, dai versi della giungla e dalle pagine di Paul Theroux, che si rivela magistrale e acuto, nonostante l'antipatia. Mi riporta un'immagine vivida dell'amata India, quando scrive:
Welcome to India, and the proof that, as Borges once wrote "India is larger than the world." On the surface nothing has changed in Amritsar. From what I could gather, the country was no different from what I had seen three decades before. This prospect delighted me. It was a relief, the mildy orchestrated free-for-all of India - something of a madhouse with a touch of anarchy, yes, but an asylum in which strangers are welcome, even inquisitorial one like me; where anything is possible, the weather is often pleasant, and the spicy food clears your sinuses. Most of India embodies Blake's dictum that "Energy is eternal delight". All you need is a strong stomach, a little money and a tolerance for crowds. And a way of lifting your gaze upward and moving on, so that you don't see the foreground - in India the foreground is generally horrific. The reality was that Amritsar, like all Indian city, looked as though it had been made by human hands, skinny ones, and so the result had a look of improvisation, faulty and fragile and somehow incomplete.
The horror is possibly true, or perhaps all illusion, as some Indians believe, smiling and saying, "True and not true, sar. Anekantavada, sar. The many-sidedness of reality, sar."
(Paul Theroux, Ghost Train to the Eastern Star)