I catch a lift uptown with Babu and Tom G. (doing a placement at The Times of India) and make for Rose's opticals and some unfinished business.
The specs I collected on Wednesday cost me Rs. 7,200 (approx 90 pounds) which is roughly the same price as I pay in the UK. When I tell this to Babu casually, he flips out and
starts a rant that goes on for two days. He calls the owner and tears a strip off him telling him we are all penniless volunteers and what was he doing selling us frames that are so costly etc etc etc.
After much argy bargy (and Babu is good at this) it is agreed that I can return my specs and get the same lenses remounted in a cheaper pair of frames. So today that is the mission.
And cheaper frames I do find starting at Rs. 390 (roughly 3 pounds).... Amazing! I settle for something costing Rs. 620. (under 10 pounds) and am promised that within the day they would be ready (but more on that later).
Happen to pass by the DC Book shop - a place I have been wanting to get to for some time.
Go in for a guidebook to Sri Lanka and come out with 8 unrelated but still most desirable books - a Paulo Coelho, a Malcolm Gladwell, a Kiran Desai, a Malayalam language primer (3 copies actually), two books on Ayurveda and some short stories about Kerala. No guidebook!
Next mission is to find some churidar materials. I am running out of Indian style work outfits and those I bought in Ootapalam are great but legs have shrunk and look silly, seams are breaking up and the material is fading fast in the continuous use and wash.
After asking in a number of small shops, I am referred to MAHARAJAH, a few blocks away on the main MG road. This place is billed as a Wedding centre so it is doubly interesting for me to explore! Quite a few older men clutching a younger girl by the hand in an "un-fatherly" manner and leading her to a counter of garishly decorated materials, clusters of women - granny, Mum and daughter - handling bolts of cloth and discussing relative merits. I was quite the oddity and got plenty of stares - but smiled at everyone politely.
I have difficulty finding the sort of material I need and there is very little choice in that range. My trouble is I don't have brown skin, black eyes and black hair! The colour schemes most
shops carry don't suit me. To be safe, I always ask for variations on BLUE and PURE COTTON. This particular combination is not very common.
You need to understand about churidars. There are very baggy (and comfortable) drawstring trousers then a dress over the top with a slit at both sides for maximum movement and then a "dupatta" scarf to complete the look. You can have them made out of the same material top and bottom and you can dispense with the scarf. But ideally, the trousers have a design that matches the dupatta and the dress' design is a variation on the theme in the same or harmonised colourways. Some of the women you see sashaying about town look absolutely
stunning in very interesting contrasting designs that are most attractive.
After exhausting three salespeople, I do fetch up with three sets I can live with. Then a thought.... "I need some plain black churidar trousers to wear under some nice tops I have and I also need a plain white top to go over some nice trousers I have picked up". A little more phaphhing about and at last, I am equipped to visit a dressmaker! That's the next hurdle!
Cannot resist stopping by a few more shops and pick up some gifts to take home. Find a khadi shop and pick up 4 jubbas for myself and the men in my life. (Who are they? - you might well ask! Keep guessing!)
Stride on down to Big Bazaar and pick some toiletry and food items. This truly is that last stop!
By now it is 3 pm and I have had no break, no lunch, no drink of any sort for 3 hours - silly girl - and the day was hot! I certainly feel faint! Carrying my four bulging sacks, it's time to hop into an auto and make for home.
Back at Deepam, Babu cook's lime juice never tasted so good! The day is only half done. But both Toms are ready to start their weekend trip to Cochin - it's another world.
After a rest and some computer work, I wander ten minutes down the road for my second Ayurvedic "guinea pig" experience - this time, at Dr. Chandran's Ayurvedic hospital. I meet Dr. Veena - a woman in her mid 30s, daughter of a rather famous Keralan professor of Ayurveda, Dr Chandran. Her English is good. She and her trainee, Dr. Reva, give me a good session, taking my history and establishing what type I am - [Pitta dominant with Kapha secondary traits]. This careful diagnostic questioning is a far cry from the Gokulam experience of a week ago.
Dr. V is concerned about a number of things and asks me to get a blood analysis done before she can prescribe any remedies or massage treatments. Good grief! Now I need to find a lab and get the report so we can continue tomorrow.
In India, I have found it is very difficult to get closure on anything. One thing usually leads to three consequences and a seemingly straight-forward action takes 1-2 weeks to complete, and that is if you don't get bogged down in the details. The need to keep focussed is never greater than when you are here.
In a way, I find it makes it harder to relax when I know there are always a multitude of things I should be doing to advance such and such an idea or initiative. Not very restful!
So at 6.30pm, a time when I really feel like putting my feet up I change again into street clothes and catch an auto to the lab. I never like blood being taken but I grin and bear it and it is soon over. Then, since I am in full martyr mode, I reckon I better cross town and pick up the specs, to close that loop!
But it is full blown rush hour and it's dark. Friday night traffic is horrendous and pretty much at a stand still around East Fort, the area where I happen to be. I decide to walk North up the MG Road and am making faster progress than any vehicle. I keep well into the side of the road watching carefully where I put my feet lest I fall into a pothole or through a broken drainage slab. Before too long, I find myself walking alongside a stream of very dark skinned scantily clad gentlemen - Hindu pilgrims making their way to the temple for an evening's bathe. They are all wearing black lunghis round their waists and beads or flower garlands round their necks, some holding hands, all barefoot. They are heading up to one of the entrances to the Old Fort. I try not to invade their sacred space.
Thankfully an auto has just dropped someone off and is free. I haggle a ride to Statue Road (Rs.40) and hop in. Within a few seconds, I recognise in my driver a soul-mate. He drives like me, aggressively, competitively, nervily but efficiently and safely weaving in and out of every small opportunity that opens up, never hitting a thing (which is always a minor miracle). I grin broadly and really enjoy the ride. As we near our destination I ask him if he will wait for me and take me home, he accepts and we bargain another rate. It is more than it should be I know, but it's worth it.
Within a few minutes I have picked up the new specs and received a huge wad of cash as refund of the balance and we are on our way again.
I suggest we take the back roads to avoid the infernal gridlock. He is happy to oblige and knows them well. Thank goodness I am familiar with the city by now and know where we are, so I can relax and enjoy the ride. He takes a left turn too soon and "Guess what!" we are back in gridlock! He does his best, ducking and weaving, overtaking in the oncoming traffic lane. I am laughing and enjoying the ride and feel completely safe!
We hit the heart of the traffic knot at East Fort (again) and I suggest we take a short cut through the Fort to get off the standstill MG road. And of course you can guess what the problem is - outside the gate, queues of pilgrim coaches (like the one above) trying to get in - and - inside, another 50 pilgrim coaches trying to manoeuvre through the narrow lanes, parking anywhere, at odd angles, blocking little streets and oblivious to anyone else's need to use the same road!
In and amongst these coaches and the impatient hooting traffic are pedestrians, some of them recently disgorged pilgrims, wandering like lost sheep slowly this way and that, dangerously into the path of coming cars. The constant sounding of the horn is deafening.
Totally unphased, my driver is hugely resourceful, and finding a crack to squeeze into aims for a tiny lane that no large vehicle can get into. Motorcycles are streaming past us in both directions. Within minutes we have left the chaos behind and we are well on our way home.
I feel as though I have been on a thrill ride at the fair! What a high note on which to end to the day!
No comments:
Post a Comment