The Watchings of Zach Galifianakis by Charlie Edwards  October 23, 2009      He was staring up through the trees at the tan building. With a heavily bearded, haggard face and long unkempt hair he breathed into the bordering piked fence, his glazed over eyes gazing unhindered into the house's front courtyard. He stood calmly with his dirty hands clasped behind his back, his posture aplomb with the rough gravel below him.      I saw him as I was walking down the street in my Americanized Indian swagger: I dodged left and right rather deftly (now that I had been in India for a while) in front of several cars, rickshaws, and bicycles. My attention was drawn at first because it seemed such a peculiar sight. Nick had previously joked that this particular man was an Indian version of Zach Galifianakis, one of the stars from the hit movie the Hangover ("Are you a ruh-tard?") and it was an uncanny but hilarious sight. I moved closer, making sure to watch out for cow pies in wake of my spanking new white sneakers.      His yellow sweater had long since been "kind to the eyes" as it was torn in many places and blackened around the neck, waist and wrists. Galifianakis wore ragged brown tweed pants which had an ancient look to them; a swarm of flies congregated around his two legs like two beams of light, beacons for their infatuation. Almost comically he wore different shoes on each foot: a white Reebok sneaker, and a red slipper to cushion the other.      He continued to lazily but disconcertingly stare at the building. Something or someone was up there, and he was willing to wait however long. Still nothing appeared. Now I had stopped my stroll through Assi Ghat, the district I lived in, to enjoy a chilled Thumbs Up and a chocolate bar. If he was going to stand there, I was too. At first I thought that there was little to no disparity between this man and a homeless person from back home but I soon learned otherwise. I headed over to the lone watcher after spending quite some time watching with my head tilted, nonplussed.      The street I crossed was busy with the movement of pedestrians and cows alike. The passing rickshaw drivers were the only ones who even noticed the man in rags apart from me but only with cursory glances; they had money to make and mouths to feed. A furtive fellow with his feet set to run offered me some kind of opiate but I brushed him aside, continuing onward. The yells of hawkers and street vendors filled my ears but obviously not Galifianakis' as I stopped next to him, coughing obnoxiously to announce my arrival.      "Namaste?" I asked him. Hello? I received no response but continued nonetheless. "Ap kaise hai? What are you looking at?" I asked innocently and kindly. How are you? He stared straight ahead but lifted his head a little as if something important had happened inside the courtyard. Indeed, a woman had passed from one door to another. This man has to be on some kind of perverse adventure, I thought. Or maybe...      I imagined this man in a nice set of clothing, cleanly shaven except maybe for a pointy mustache. He was hopping on a motorcycle after talking with a shopkeeper. He smiled as the owner offered him tea, but kindly refused saying he was late for a very important date. He was also late for life. Coming out of my reverie I saw the woman move once again inside the tall fence. She bent over to wash her hands, then flashed her eyes over our way, puzzled. She quickly disappeared inside a darkened doorway.      "Are you in love with her, man?" I asked a bit unctuously.      I saw a change in the man's face, his countenance changed now into a slender smile showing crooked teeth. He turned to me slowly, and nodded. His eyes were wet and his hands in front of him now were grasped in a prayer. "Love," He said. And then he walked slowly past me and around the corner. Goodbye Galifianakis, you're a good dude, I told myself. I chewed the last of my chocolate bar and licked my fingers. With one last glance into the empty courtyard, I left lost in thought.            Whenever I see him now, he looks a little happier with his reticent, mysterious, and love-sick life. I am sure Galifianakis will learn someday that it is impolite to stare, but it is also India and what do I know? I know a few things, but I have so much yet to learn about this strange place. Back to top