He walks around near Devaraja market pushing a motorcycle hung with sacks full of incense boxes and mysterious vials of clear liquid. His voice is froggish and he speaks with an auctioneerish cadence over an ancient, tinny-sounding PA system. Whenever he sees me and my camera, his eyes light up and he takes a break from speaking Kannada to croak an amplified, treble-heavy "Hello!" or two. Today he asked where I was from and, before I could respond, put his newspaper-wrapped microphone to my mouth so that "America" was broadcast to the entire block. He pointed to one of his bags and asked, "What you want?" I didn't want, but because of his bright-eyed, shirt-and-tie charisma I asked for some incense. He handed me a box and after I paid him he gave me one of the vials, saying "This is gift!" Last time I saw him, a few men had rushed up to buy vials, so I was curious what they were. When I asked today, he motioned that the liquid should be applied to the temples and said it is for headaches, but couldn't explain what it was made of. Then, as I was leaving he took out a spray bottle full of water and insisted on spraying my face with it, saying something like "Very good. Refresh!" He sprayed me and then himself. After a few seconds I started to wipe my face. He disapproved of this so I just stood there wet-faced and laughing.
Next time on Sup, India: I have the label of the vial translated by Anu, the local cooking teacher/restaurateur.
cannot wait! what could possibly be the contents of this tonic magic water
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