₦airaland Forum

inside of the airport. the hieroglyphics on the ceiling is a feature of this port

outside of the airport

taking a non-AC taxi to airport. almost there

this yellow taxi reminds me of the colonial era image of india. looks they dont change at all.

leaving kolkata,

day 30 , on my way to the airport.

shop fellows still sleeping in the open air. i would sleep like him if i had no valuable stuff with me. it was much cooler out.

early morning , the last day ( day 30 )of my staying in india. packed my bag. home was my next stop. at least an escape from the stifling heat from india.

the tricky thing. i have nearly been tripped by it. the pole fell down before people all came over, and thus the people amassed there, some stamped others' feet, some lost a wallet. all chaotic . and fracas.

bus, looked like it was made in wood and it would fall apart next second. very seedy.

tram. looked dangerous to pedestrians.

out of the park, some street view. bad road.

encountered some friendly people

in the afternoon roaming the city again.


found a park and entered

chocalate ball and a mini pizza. the guy who sold it collected my money and put the things in a bag, but the ball rolled out onto the desk ! he stooped and put it back to my bag , with his bare hands

pancake. it was ok. wrapped by a newspaper.

fried wings, a tart taste. maybe put in the refrigerator overnight.

my lunch, some jumble things.

the sign in the metro . its windows were OPEN. no AC ! doors closed.

a sudden disturbing stomach summoned me back to the hotel.

luckily metro was at hand.but very conjested.

markets selling things for temple goers

a nearby hindu temple, emulating with blessed teresa's dying house for apostles.

a sort of non-descript animosity vibe between hindu and catholic

the flesh

5 naira for one piece. but no flavor at all .

outside the dying house, a vibrant market. some fruit i never saw

blessed teresa's dying house. less than 10 of indian old and disable guys inside, with dozens of "sympathetic" and "philanthropic" WHITEs , "volunteers".

i think i would rather call these whites : hypocritic, shallow, vain. they came here to show their charity on their CV rather than really help anyone. the indians here were not really dying, FAR FROM THAT.

i was narrowly watched and suspected by the indian managers. i am not a white. they did not believe i would donate or help as a volunteer. they even ordered the gateman to shut the door before i left.

they thought i was a THIEF.

this was blessed teresa's legacy ?!

so fvcked up ! racism at highest form i ever felt in india.

single line, without any broadcasting.

snapped this photo before a boy stopt me. he said it was forbidden to take photos.

no commercial on the walls in the metro

taking metro to blessed teresa's dying house.

so shabby, the metro station , with letters falling awry, like a image in hollywood movie typifying a failure country in latin america.

the bridge , really big

what a mastering view

climbed up the bridge

antics of warm-up, big paunch

later a mother and a daughter from UK came, the indian wrestlers wriggled their heads like a bunch of flattering dogs, volleying out all sweet words to invite them to enjoy a performance of wrestling, with a pittance paying of 500rupee equivalent to 2500naira.

but this pair of whites were not idiotic walking ATM machines. they declined.

actually, i would pay, if they behaved politely to me earlier.