Jugar is a teenage guy plugging a leak in our water drum by scraping off pieces from a waxy bar of soap and applying it to the hole in the plastic like putty.

Jugar is fitting 14 adults into a three-wheeled taxi during rush hour—even though two passengers are without a seat and one of them is mostly outside the vehicle hanging into traffic—because there’s no other way for everyone to get home. 

Jugar is a man somehow making a living by painting monkeys as leopards and peddling them through residential neighborhoods as entertainment.

Jugar is someone transporting a live goat across town by slinging it across their lap on a motorcycle.

Jugar is a family opening a restaurant even though they don’t have a building, a sink, or a stove, and yet somehow managing to keep up with business by cooking over a wood fire inside of a handmade mud oven, seating customers under the same tarp that will shelter the whole family overnight.

Jugar is converting a cycle rickshaw into a school bus to carry 10 or more children to and from class each day.

Jugar is making chai with salt instead of sugar because you can’t afford sugar but you still need to serve your guests tea.

Jugar is our friend finally succeeding in receiving the college diploma she has rightfully earned– without paying a bribe– by overturning a corrupt official’s desk in frustration after months of unsuccessful visits.

Jugar is the mobile store man repairing our phone by scrubbing the hardware with paint thinner and a toothbrush after we accidentally dunked the whole thing into a cup of hot tea.

Basically, jugar is finding a way to accomplish what is necessary in spite of any logistical, natural, or bureaucratic barrier that may present itself, and India survives on the determined, implausible, ingenious improvisation of jugar every day.