Street covered with cloth, near the Ashram in Pondichery ---
Temple in Thiruvanamalai, Tamil Nadu --
Palm Meadows - ITPL road intersection: 0:24:33
Straight - past Sri Satya Sai University -
to the road to Hoskote: 0:43:48
Back to ITPL road intersection: 0:45:52
to ITPL (+ walking break): 0:08:48
Time: 2:03:00
Est. Pace: 9'00" / mile
Est. Mileage: 13.7 Miles
Surprisingly long run today,
just barely recovering from having been sick
since returning from Goa, which put me
out of running for a while. But I
feel good, easy and relaxed, and this road
which I've never done before is
actually quieter than I feared. It's a large road
that after passing populated
areas (and a railway) eventually
becomes pretty rural. Many new housing
complexes are being built, as Bangalore
is ever-expanding. I pass a very
large temple and marvel at the loud music,
as well as the beautiful women
in Sari near the entrance. In one of the
mall groups of slum houses I see a
man apparently completely naked bathing outside.
I am as ever worried by
dogs, but no incident. On the way,
I grab a bamboo stick on the side of the
road, with which I feel a lot more secure,
although it's a pretty flimsy stick.
I'm determined to find a good
walking stick/club like people have here,
and run with it from now on. This
seems preferable to those rocks
that I'm carrying. Weather is relatively
cool, and pleasantly windy. I'm a little
tired after two hours, and walk a bit
on the final stretch to work.
Training Run (9.2 Miles) - 01/19/09
A little past Gunjur
Time: 1:22:57 (0:41:45 - 0:41:12)
Est. Pace: 9'00" / mile
Est. Mileage: 9.2 Miles
Wght: 152
Superb weather, clear sky yet mild temperature.
Week day run (no work), left around 7:30.
At this hour, Varthur is bustling with activity,
making the crazy trafic busy (vehicles completely
ignore pedestrians as usual, it's my duty to get
out of the way), particularly around schools,
many children in uniforms, school buses,
overloaded motorbikes with up to 4 children,
beautifully painted trucks with proverbial decorated
"sound horn OK" signs at the back. It becomes quieter
esp past Gunjur. On the way back, I cross three little
girls in blue uniform who are running to school barefeet.
As they wave at me, I say Jaldi, Jaldi (hurry, hurry)
and hear their adorable children's laugh. pristine sound
of their laughter.
Training Run "India Republic Day" (15 Miles) - 01/26/09
Small village temple, Gunjur area ---
Through Varthur, to Gunjur through main road: 0:30:52
Left, small country road to shop @ intersection: 0:35:12
Left, then finding my way back to Varthur: 0:55:36
Back to Palm Meadows entrance: 0:13:14
Time: 2:14:51 (total time: 2:33:44)
Est. Pace: 9'00" / mile
Mileage: 15 Miles
What a wonderful run!
I seem to be caught in this pattern: Between runs,
I lose courage, and am increasingly worried about running,
partially because I fear what I may encounter on the run
(dogs in particular, and hearing their incessant fighting
at night sure doesn't help, although they're fortunately
much quieter during the day), also because life is often
exhausting here, and I fear not being in enough shape.
So it takes an effort to go out, but once there, it's
generally marvelous, and I regain confidence until
the next time.
Today is probably my best run so far. I more or less repeat
the course I had explored once with Jeremie and Antoine
on our bikes, which takes me deep into the countryside,
a magically different environment from the city. I also
try a different style of running, where I don't hesitate
to stop or walk often, either when traversing a village,
or to give dogs some space, or to talk to people.
I start in dense fog to Varthur, then on to Gunjur, where
a small school is having a parade for republic day, three
small girls in superb richly adorned dresses lead all the
kids in school uniform. Near the first temple, I turn left,
where the adventure begins.
This is a small road through the fields, with patches of dirt,
and very little activity. The fog has dissipated to a clear
beautiful bay area style sky. The road takes me through
a lush landscape, crops of various kinds, rice fields,
banana plantations, etc. I eventually go through a small
village, where a lot of the life is happening outside, and
I'm cheered by a whole group of onlookers. In the tiny
schoolyard, children are gathered too for republic day.
Past the village, the road is wild again. I slow down for
the occasional dog, but no problem whatsoever. I reach that
junction where we had turned left last time. Although
I remember my way, I ask a young guy the road to Varthur.
He's more than happy to talk, but only in english, as he
doesn't know hindi. Is this a good road, I ask him,
no mean dogs? - Yes, dogs, but they don't do anything to you.
He spots the rocks I'm holding, and laughs gently,
"dogs, no problem..." His name is Dillip and we shake hands.
The road is nice here too, occasional peasants strolling
alongside their cows, one of which starts running in my wake,
the peasant having to follow. At the approach of a bigger
village, I slow to a walk, and make my entrance alongside
a peasant and his cow, and followed by two dogs. The villages
is bustling with activty, particularly around the schools,
where a large group of children in blue uniforms start
talking to me, and follow me through town. I'm escorted
by this joyful group of 20-30 children, who ask me all
sorts of questions, laugh at my answers, all this in english,
as people here otherwise speak Kannada only. They eventually
send me on my way to Varthur and I resume my run. A little
later, two small children also in blue uniform start running
with me, even though they're barefeet. We exchange each
other's names, and chat for a few 100 meters, (nay, my only
Kannada word, they teach me cow, which I promptly forget) until they
too say bye, near a small temple, where the priest give me
a nice look. I carry on, am a little lost but not particularly
worried, as it has been very easy so far to ask my way around.
Only expection two women carrying on their head, responds in
Kannada to her friend and they laugh at me. Another guy is
nicer, instructs me to go straight, dirt road, approaching
Varthur, slums, then past a small temple with a loud celebration,
smoke, etc., then on to a road and finally on to bigger road
where I'm surprised to recognize the way to Palm Meadows.
To Varthur center, left turn there then
generally heading East, through the fields and small villages
Another good run, but very exploratory. I essentially started
doing what I did last time in reverse, but instead of looping
back towards Gunjur, kept going forward, through smaller and
smaller roads, to where I ended up on small dirt trails meandering
through the plantations, which eventually came to a dead end.
Even more than before, I really go deep into the villages, which
I find intimidating at times,
but as last week I am greeted very kindly.
A few people introduce themselves,
want to shake hands, find out where I'm from etc.
Kids are particularly curious, calling me "uncle" as they typically
do here to show respect (I think).
I'm somewhat lost as I figure my way through all these small roads,
but find it easy to ask my way back to Varthur. Some people just
respond with the ever endearing Indian head shake while pointing
in the right direction.
To inner circle, with detour: 0:22:44
Started tired, unmotivated. Felt like going to the circle
and do a few relaxed laps there, for no more than an hour.
But as usual warmed up into the run and started feeling better,
and compelled to explore for a 2nd time this alternate
route to Itpl, which goes through the more humble village
(and a few slum communities) then by Sai Baba hospital.
This ends up being really nice. There is quite a bit of activity
near Nellurahalli, many people walking, a lot of them humble
construction workers, and the usual half-naked children
or people bathing outside in front of their shacks,
all this passing by actually makes it easier with dogs,
as they're used to a lot of foot traffic. I haven't brought
water or food, so I come back pretty tired and dehydrated,
but satisfied to have explored a suitable alternate route
for my morning commutes.
I was home sick the other day,
my first indigestion since getting here (pretty good actually:
it took me four months!)
This gave me a little time to write. So here's a blurb about life
in India so far. I apologize if it's a little long,
and perhaps a bit pompous in places!...
Palm Meadows through Varthur to Gunjur: 0:32:26
In a now familiar pattern, started tentative, unsure whether
I should run at all, but came back rejuvenated.
The weather has become significantly hotter, there is
little left of the crisp morning chill of
the winter months, but I find it still bearable.
Still, 4 water bottles is a must, and I'm very attentive
to not let my temperature escalate too much. I've explored
this road before, but decide to push past the church,
which eventually leads me to Sarjapur road. Had I had a map,
I would have risked turning here and finding some other way home,
but I'll leave that for some future run. On the way back,
in the pretty dirt section, I've eyed a promising road
to the left which seems like it could take me back in
the right dirrection, but a peasant whom I ask for direction
(in Hindi) talks me out of it, so back to the main road.
As usual, going through the small villages, nice smiling
people, great beautiful kids, animals...
Yesterday, Jeremie and I, with a group of his school friends,
did some community service. In typical indian fashion,
we made an effort to get there on time, but nearly
two hours elapsed before we were all set. Who cares, things
get done at their own pace.
Ozone road - Turned right towards the fields -
Followed various roads, through agriculture and
dispersed villages - Asked my way back to Varthur -
Some familiar sites - Ended by mistake on a new
very nice road through forests that eventually
reached the side road to Varthur.
I finally took the Ozone way into the fields,
after hearing so much about it from the local
mountain bike riders.
It offers a good alternate to the Varthur road, with
far less traffic. Passed a few temples and through Whitefield
villages, a small right turn leads to the entrance
to a maze of roads and peasant trails that crisscross
the beautiful rural area East of Bangalore,
where it's all lush exotic agriculture and small villages.
To Gunjur: 0:32:07
A late run: I start around 10. As often, I have no particular
plan in mind, other than to get out in the fields as quickly
as possible, which is why I make a left in Varthur,
and head out from there. Quickly, the landscape becomes
completely rural, small half paved or dirt roads leading
to scattered small villages. And quickly, I feel completely lost,
but know that I'll be able to ask my way back.
After weekend in Bangkok, have been feeling very tired all week,
sore and short of breath on my morning runs. Steadily got better
though, and today's run ends up being very pleasant.
By Ozone - Right on Imadahalli road - to Chassandra main road -
Left to ITPL: 0:50:39
This has been a hard week. Jeremie and I returned from a weekend
in Jaipur both a little sick with diarrhea, and tired. Add to that
long hours at work, and the beginning of the hot season, all lead
me to near exhaustion. In fact, I ran only once to work during the
week, and couldn't quite complete the run, feeling completely out
of breath, with an alarmingly high heart rate, to the point where
I had to take frequent walk breaks, and was nearly late to work.
Scared by that bad experience, I skipped all other weekday runs.
From ITPL, I take the familiar route by Sai Baba hospital
and through Nellurahalli village.
Approaching the village, I keep my camera
in my hand, and start firing random photographs as I'm running,
without even looking into the visor. I'm hoping to capture
glimpses of this extraordinary
face of India, which is difficult for others to see, and
hoping I'll luck out on some of the pictures. Particularly, I'd like
to show the village life, and the small slums, where so much activity
is happening (in fact, I'm greeted by a friendly wave by some of the
slum dwellers). I wonder if I'm seeing a world which will gradually
become extinct, as progress pushes traditional India further and
further into the villages, offering more comfort, but perhaps
at the expense of its identity. I almost feel a responsibility to
document this vanishing world, poor difficult and chaotic, yet
where both the landscape and the people are so overwhelmingly
generous.
Palm Meadows - through Varthur - to Gunjur: 0:30:16
I decide to stay on the main road to Gunjur, where I turn left on one
of my favorite roads, which leads to beautiful rural country and nice
small villages. I actually feel quite tired, a sensation that doesn't
seem to dissipate, made worse by the humid heavy climate. It isn't quite
as hot as before, but definitely more humid, so I'm drenched in sweat.
(I am carrying my 4 water bottles, and even early in the run, take
brief walk breaks to drink).
Palm Meadows - Left in Varthur - Road to the left, through the woods -
Through Soharunase - To Timannali village - Explored trails in the area -
Back same way, but right towards Ajgondanahalli - Imadihalli - by Ozone.
I should stop calling these runs,
as today, I take frequent stops or walk
breaks. I set out around 9:00 which is late,
but luckily the heat has
abated in the last weeks.
In fact, days often conclude with violent
storms, whose rains keep the temperatures reasonable.
This morning
is gorgeous, clear weather with a slight wind.
On the way back, I think I recognize the way
to Imadihalli/Ozone
on the right,
so I give it a try. This works out great,
and pretty soon I'm
back in the bigger communities near Whitefield.
As I pass a house,
a young man calls me to take a picture
of his young sister. We have
to negotiate with her, as she cries at first,
and then I let her
dad photograph her also. "Meh Vapas Akar,
photo dikhaounga",
I promise to come back with a print.
Along the lake to Varthur - Past the market - Small road to the left
(Vayudevi School) - Kept going, more or less straight, through fields
and villages - to small roadside Hanuman temple past Janthagondahalli,
intersection of several roads - Turn right, and keep going for some time
then looping back to the left (through several villages) - Take one
small dirt trail right through Kamanahalli village
then through the woods back
to Hanuman temple - Different way back, which leads to Muthsandra -
Lower road, then connect back to Imadahalli - Ozone - Palm Meadows.
A slow start as usual. I'm hesitant on where to go, and take this
road out of Varthur, right after the market, as a last minute
inspiration. I try to keep going straight, through fields and
occasional small villages. On the road, I meet an old man carrying
some guitar. I've seen him once before, walking from door to door,
playing some music for a little money. This time I have my camera,
give him 10 rupees, for which he performs briefly. As I keep going
the landscape is quite varied, alternating some shady groves with
flat open spaces. On the sides herds of animals, often kept by
women in colorful Sarees. It's gotten quite hot again, so I don't
hesitate to take quick breaks to drink water out of my belt.
I come to this small roadside Hanuman temple which I had once
reached before, which serves as an intersection for several
rural roads. This time I explore over to the right, which turns
out to be a little more populated, going alongside a slum-tent
community, then a small village, where a few goats start running
with me, as well as a few barking dogs (no problem though, by now
standing them off has become a habit, and I'm much more comfortable
with them then a few months ago.) People are as usual so welcoming.
Palm Meadows - Ozone - Imadahalli - To the right, small trails -
Get lost several times, explore dead ends - Aurohalli (which
I had previously mistaken for Timanalli) -
Through the fields near a river, lost again -
Somehow reach Muthsandra -
Back from there through the lower road and Varthur.
An unbelievable day. Going deeper and deeper into the villages.
This road takes me to this small village which I'd reached
a few times, which I particularly like. Based on Google maps,
I had thought this was called Timanalli, but asking the
inhabitants, I realize my mistake, the place is
actually Aurohalli
(there are never any signs in these villages, unless perhaps
in Kannada), which is a bit further to the East
then I had imagined. Instead of pushing towards
the gorgeous secluded
trail which I know leads to a dead end, I take another small dirt
road through the village, and end up along a row of small
humble houses with trails on either side. There I meet a family,
first a young woman holding her naked child, then
sitting in front of his house, a man with whom I engage
conversation. They allow me to take their picture. The man
is very gentle and speaks good english, asks me if
I could bring the
snap back, and describes how a man from Switzerland
once came here on a bike, whom he then toured around in the
beautiful countryside. I hope to come back myself, with the
family, and take him on this generous offer.
A few houses later, a pack of dogs erupts at me, but the
usual commanding stare calms them down.
I am amazed at how well I do with
dogs now, remembering my early days of running
in constant fear. There
is actually something touching about the dogs here,
who after all are
just trying to make it like everyone else.
This eventually leads through more mud to a forest, where
I meet two men who walk me back to the village, trying
to understand where I come from and what I do for a living.
"Oh, Cartoons?", the guy finally gets it, before showing
me back to the village.
Later still,
in Muthsandra, I meet a larger group of kids, whom I
encourage
to run with me. We sort of play together, running along
the road, and after some time, they ask me
if I'd play cricket with them.
So we all run together to a field on a side of the road,
where we meet yet other children, older, a few of them with
Cricket bats. I am cheered wildly, but I explain I don't
know cricket, and should really be heading back home.
They go wild with enthusiasm as I take a parting
picture of
the group, running and cheering in my direction. This is
all very playful though, at no point does it feel like
any threat, such as we had experienced in Jaipur.
Shortly after Muthsandra, on the side of the road lies
the carcass of a large snake, confirming my earlier fears.
Later that same day, we ride our
bikes to a fair near Siddapura
where artisans our selling their products, and where we'll
see young girls perform Bharat Natyam. I guide the
family through the now familiar back roads, the hamlet
behind Palm Meadows, Nellurahalli... On our way back,
we witness a big Pooja in Nellurahalli, one of those
idols on a chariot being rolled in the village, to the
loud sound of drums, in a rabid carnaval atmosphere. We
stop to watch the procession, which lightens up even more
at our sight, the children particularly performing for us,
before being slapped by some adults who don't want us
bothered. After a brief stop, the chariot resumes its
slow progress through the village.
Near Timannalli ---
Training Run (13.4 Miles) - 02/01/09
Time: 2:00:22
Est. Pace: 9'00" / mile
Est. Mileage: 13.4 Miles
No particular problems with dogs. Peasants reassure me again
that this shouldn't be an issue.
Training Run "Sri Satya Sai" (13.1 Miles) - 02/08/09
Sai Baba Hospital ---
3 revolution laps: 8'42" 8'17" 8'21" 8'24" 8'16"
To ITPL through Nellurahalli village then Sai Baba Hospital: 0:25:15
Back to Varthur rd same way through Nellurahalli,
Palm Meadows side road: 0:28:13
Time: 1:58:14
Est. Pace: 9'00" / mile
Est. Mileage: 13.15 Miles
ITPL, near the side entrance ---
Fantastic weather as usual. The big heat hasn't kicked in yet.
Having not planned for this long a run though, was not carrying
water and felt dehydrated. Perhaps related to this (or not),
that night I experienced my first severe indigestion in India
(after 4 months). Late in the day, a strong stomach pain
suddenly bent me in two after eating a bowl of cereal, not
subsiding until I threw up in the middle of the night. Took
Monday off to recover. This could also be due to street food,
eaten at City Market that afternoon,
but I couldn't quite retrace it to anything in particular.
Slums near Nellurahalli --
At Home Sick - 02/09/09
Life here is rather intense, often exhausting,
sometimes overwhelming. The rhythm at work is challenging
as you might imagine, partly because we have to start early
enough so we can interact with the US, but it's difficult
to leave early when Indian artists are still working,
so the days are long. I've quickly started running regularly,
often to commute to work, which adds to the length of the day,
but helps me keep my head clear. Running here isn't exactly
easy though. It requires dedication, as it would be tempting
to stop because of the difficulties, and the fact that here
the practice is uncommon. But it has been a unique way to
explore the area. Going out demands an effort, but once out
there, I'm generally fascinated, and see things that
I wouldn't otherwise, or at least not in the same way,
whether it's the urban landscapes of Bangalore,
or the wonderful country outside of the city.
When I explore a new road, I never quite know where I'll end up,
as Google Maps is notoriously unreliable here, and gives little
indication of what the landscape might be like. My main worry
has been these numerous stray dogs that seem to haunt the streets.
I've been advised to threaten them with rocks should they
become menacing, so I do run carrying a rock in each hand.
So far, no major problem, although I've cautiously backed
off from certain areas a few times. Dogs are particularly
bad in the dark, they can be heard furiously barking all
night even from our house, which wears down my courage for
the next run. But in the morning, things are magically
more peaceful.
When I'm running, I frequently come across slums,
which exist in Bangalore in numerous small pockets
(nothing here at the scale of Bombay). There are many
tent communities, or corrugated metal shacks, and I'm never
quite sure how I'm perceived. People there commonly live in
the streets, half naked children playing around, adults
bathing outside in front of their shacks. While going
through some of the "villages" of tiny colorful houses, it
feels like penetrating people's intimacy, throwing oneself
in the middle of this context that is so radically different
from ours, a feeling that is both magical and intimidating.
Animals are a common part of the urban landscape, goats,
chicken, and of course the proverbial cows, often feeding
off garbage at the side of the road, oblivious of the
bustling traffic. As I'm running I can feel people's stares,
but rarely do I feel threatened, even in the poorest sections.
Bangalore has grown too quickly, and the small islands of
Hi-Tech modernity are shamelessly juxtaposed with traditional
India, still poor, chaotic, yet overabundant and lush.
On weekends I leave the urban area to quickly venture into the
countryside (we live at the edge of town). How different it is
here, lush cultures, clean air, a new rich universe that will
take me long to explore. In the small isolated villages,
peasants are so incredibly welcoming, putting out their best
efforts to converse with their few words of English (people
in the fields otherwise speak only Kannada, the local language,
not even a word of Hindi, which I've been learning). They often
insist on introducing themselves, shake hands, want to know more
about me, where I come from, etc. Children are particularly
endearing: Some will run along with me for a few hundred meters,
often in school uniform but bare feet, talking as best they can,
calling me "uncle", as older people are addressed in India.
It seems that here, the true challenges of life are
constantly present, posing endless questions, whether
conscious or unconscious. You can't ignore it,
it's in your face. A person you talk to, something you see
in the streets, elicit an assault of questions, how does that
person live, what can their vision of the world be, how do they
perceive me as a member of the wealthy (why wouldn't they revolt
against us?). Sometimes people's stares, reactions, manners of speech,
are hard to decipher, and I think we're particularly sensitive to
every sign because we feel so deeply guilty in a way.
I sometimes get stared at, especially while running, a
long insistent stare with no real expression, probably not hostile,
just scrutinizing me as if I were some Martian. It's
silly but I've found that it's up to me to smile first.
And after all, don't I look freaky in my running outfit,
with this strange belt of water bottles I wear around the waist,
nervously gripping my rocks in case I encounter bad dogs?
No wonder people would scrutinize me with such a puzzled stare,
in the same way that I might look at them with some defiance.
But I actually find people to be a so caring, so welcoming.
Sometimes someone on a motorcycle will slow down at my side,
making sure I'm ok, offering to hop on behind him if
I need to. Or peasants on overloaded tractors or colorful trucks
will cheer me on with beaming smiles...
Here, you can't escape from social questioning. When you
speak to your driver for example, you cannot help but wonder
how it is that this man who seems equally competent and
human as yourself is managing through these constant unbelievable
(to the western eye) hardships, and yet speaks to us and
our children as if we were somehow superior. Superior for what?
The man, like most people here, knows fluently at least four
or five different Indian languages (separate languages, not
just dialects) in addition to English. And for sure he knows
far better than us how to get by in this tough environment.
And the driver is far from the poorest! How is it that the maid,
always impeccably dressed in her sari in spite of her struggles
to make ends meet, can accept our house, humbly cleaning our
junk, when the smallest thing we give our children without a
thought would undoubtedly be so much for her and her own
children? And to think that this is only the tip of
the iceberg. When you go out, whether you want it or
not, you get glimpses into the lives of millions of people
whose circumstances you could barely imagine or begin to understand.
Sure, there are times when exhausted you would want to take
a break and retreat in your golden fortress for some hours,
but still, as much as it's trying to look like California here,
you still can't quite evade the questioning. If nothing else the
women in Sari crouched over hand plucking the lawn are there
to remind you where you are. We've actually met our house
employees' children. Xavier our driver, who is Christian,
insisted on cooking for us a delicious Christmas meal, and delivered
it to us with his two children. But the kids, dressed
up for the occasion, were seemingly so intimidated in our big
house that they could barely utter a word. We also met
the family of Jaya, our maid, in more dramatic circumstances: Upon
our return from Goa right around New Year's, Jaya looked preoccupied.
Being very reserved, she took some time before admitting that she
was very concerned for a young daughter, Mamatha, who had been
suffering severe stomach pains since before Christmas. The child
had been taken to four different doctors who had prescribed a
plethora of medications, yet the pain kept increasing.
Cecile decided to take her to our hospital. There, they quickly
diagnosed an appendicitis, which was approaching a fatal
state for lack of treatment. That same night, Cecile and Xavier
drove both mother and daughter to a hospital for the poor
that had been recommended to us, for the operation to happen
early the next morning. Mamatha survived, and is now recovering. Cecile,
without a doubt, saved her life that day. We visit her
every once in a while, one of those tiny houses painted
with saturated colors, a few families living around a small courtyard
where much of the life happens. Inside, it's dark but colorful,
and the few god icons are always covered with flowers.
In a strange way, I've become attached to the fact that
things rarely work here in the western sense. You gradually come
to realize it's actually ok, that it doesn't really matter whether
your stupid electronic appliance will get repaired today or not, that
electricity repeatedly fails screwing
up your internet connection, and even though
life is a little more unpredictable and risky (a moderate risk
probably, this doesn't feel like too dangerous an environment),
things come out fine in the end.
Little by little this all becomes normal. Those images,
some of which were revolting at first, others quaint
and exotic, just become part of everyday life. The streets
for example, the chaotic traffic, overfilled rickshaws buzzing around
like ants in a colony, families of four on
motorbikes carrying huge packages, the women in Sari riding
Amazon in the back, with long flowing garments risking
to get caught in the wheels, overloaded trucks carrying
workers on top of their voluminous charge, signature cows
in the streets feeding on garbage or being milked
on the side of the street, and these many
sporadic pockets of poverty (although nothing at the scale
of Bombay), tent or corrugated metal slums that sprout here and
there, with children half naked playing in the streets,
hyena-like stray dogs, people commonly bathing right outside their
humble shack... But although the guilt doesn't go away,
you realize, or perhaps want to realize, that this
is all actually ok, that this is life, not
the artificial often shallow thing that we entertain ourselves
with in rich countries, but real tangible life. This
for me is not an adventure, as I've often
heard it characterized. An adventure is what rich people
do when they're bored and trying to reconnect somewhat
with reality. This, to me, is life.
India is sensory overload. It's loud, smelly, colorful,
pungent, etc. A striking feature is that beauty is
found everywhere, if you can see it, even in
the most humble places. We went for example to
the City Market the other day, a bustling area of
town where everything can be found, from vegetables to
computer parts, all in a chaotic mess. We entered
the main building of the market, a three story
concrete structure, decrepit and filthy in places, with walls
of a dirty old gray. At some point strolling
on the first floor we reached an unexpected balcony
overlooking the floor below. Down there was the most
fantastic explosion of colors: the flower market!! From our
vantage point we could admire the endless commerce of
these long flower garlands that are omnipresent here, women
in gorgeous saris sitting by these huge baskets of
saturated flowers that are wound in large circles. Even
the walls here had been painted red and yellow,
with various effigies of the gods, draped in garlands.
I stood mesmerized, not wanting to pull away from
the sight of the superb activity. This to me
is emblematic of India. Bangalore is not a beautiful
city per se, certainly not a tourist destination. But
there is so much magnificence in the simplest things.
In midst of the loud crazy traffic, trucks are
hand-painted in vibrant colors, with at the back the
typical "sound horn ok" handcrafted signs to encourage other
vehicles to make their presence known, some buses or
trucks are so overloaded with decorative flowers and plants
after a pooja (blessing ceremony) that you wonder how
the driver can see anything out the window! Even
in the slums, people are often so beautiful. Sometimes
you catch a glimpse of a woman combing her
long black hair in front of her miserable shack,
draped in beautiful sari in spite of the poverty.
People are generally lean, small, with striking faces, luminous
smiles, and as clean as they can be. Children
are particularly luminous... And people's manners are so friendly
amongst themselves, for example in the tender way
men typically hold each other in the streets, the
way they speak with large hand gestures, most Kannada
phrases ending on a musical "aa-aa" motif, punctuated
by the characteristic Indian head-bob, the wonderful endearing
way in which people shake their head sideways when
talking.
Training Run "Carmel" (12 Miles) - 03/01/09
From Gunjur to the right, to Carmel church: 0:18:24
Further, to railway xing: 0:03:03
Further, to Sarjapura road: 0:03:22
Back, to Carmel church: 0:06:33
To small intersection, but kept going straight
(back same way): 0:12:14
Back to Gunjur: 0:06:33
Back to Varthur bridge intersection: 0:24:16
Time: 1:46:54 (total 1:54:18)
Mileage: 11.9 Miles
Wght: 152
Courtyard activity, Imadahalli ---
We were driven to the outskirts of Varthur, actually along one
of my running routes, where we needed to perform interviews
for a health insurance company called Ujjivan,
which grants loans to families
in need. This was not in the slums, but in one of those
humble pretty villages, comprised of small colorful single
floor houses, which seem to shelter scores of people.
Walking on a dirt street from one house to the next,
a young man whose paralyzed legs only allowed
him to drag himself on the ground threw a rock at us, immediately
scolded by a woman from inside a tiny courtyard.
We were introduced into a few houses, made to sit on the floor
or sometimes on beds as the hostesses would insist
on our comfort. Language was obviously a problem,
as very little english is spoken in the villages.
But between Jeremie's schoolmates and the Ujjivan guy,
we had a good assortment
of languages covered, Kannada, Tamil, Telugu and Hindi,
so we found ways to communicate. We were received
in each house by a surprisingly large number of women
(no trace of the men, all out at work), several generations
and siblings living in a single house. The women,
young or old, have such strikingly beautiful faces,
expressive and warm. We had to ask them a long detailed
questionnaire, which included sensitive intimate health
questions, but they played along, often breaking into
Kannada for jokes that we couldn't understand. We concluded
the interviews by weighing and measuring the women (we had brought
scales and measuring tape) which they also did with good humor.
Their wonderful faces stuck with me for days following.
Training Run (11 Miles) - 03/08/09
Imadahalli, near Ozone
Time: 1:38:22
Mileage: 10.95 Miles
I stay on the bigger trails or roads, hesitant to get
lost in the many single track trails. Even so I'm sort
of going haphazard, couldn't really retrace my steps,
orienting myself in the general direction of Varthur,
although it's hard to orient oneself in such a flat lush
landscape. Many rice fields, cultures of all kinds, palm
trees, irrigation canals... I come across many dogs,
slowing down to a walk
whenever threatened, gesturing them off with my rock,
often helped in that by friendly peasants, who after
scolding the dogs invite me with a nice Indian headshake
to keep going.
For the first time, right along the road in a small farm,
I witness the culture of silkworms, which are placed in large
vertical round flat baskets with circular grooves. Later
in the villages, I don't hesitate to stop, talking with
the locals, greeted by friendly peasants, and of course
kids who always cheer me giggling. One guy is apparently
suggesting to give me a haircut, which in retrospect
I should have accepted (next time I will). Then I notice an old man
wearing one of those short cloth skirt-pants walking barefeet
from door to door with a sitar-like instrument across his
shoulder, probably offering to play music for a little money.
A monk from the small village temple, wearing traditional orange garb,
salutes me
respectfully. Later, a group of children run with me,
and at some point we start racing together, playfully picking
up the speed, "jaldi, jaldi!" ("hurry, hurry" in Hindi, of which
they also teach me the Kannada translation, which I forget).
This short sprint afterwards tires me. It's gotten hotter lately,
the heat not abating much at night. Further still, children
in some other village greet me again, "Hi, English!",
but I correct them, "French"; so at the end of the village,
as we part they wave and cheer loudly, "Bye, French! Bye, French!"
(or is it "Bye Friend"?). As usual, Hindi is just about
useless here unfortunately, kids only speak Kannada and
a few words of English.
Landscape, Varthur area ---
Holi, the festival of colors - 03/10/09
Jeremie has been thinking about Holi for months.
It is the festival of colors, where people play in the streets,
splashing each other with colors until they're all completely
covered in vibrant saturation.
On the first night (Holi is celebrated in two days),
we thought we'd just go out in the streets in Whitefield,
but we gradually realize that Holi is really not very
celebrated here in the south (in fact, work and school are on).
Fortunately at work, two of the fx artists, Sachin and Jagdishwar,
have invited us to their house. Even though
it's nearby in Whitefield, we have a hard time finding the house
with Xavier, following the terse instructions (there are
virtually no
addresses in India). We try a couple alleys with no success,
then drive back to the main road where we run
into Madhav Rao who walks us to the house.
We're the first guests actually, as things here tend
to start late. Sachin after introducing us to the house
disappears for a second and comes back with a "present"
for Madeleine, an adorable golden retriever puppy named
"sonu" (golden, in Hindi). Jagdishwar, who also lives here,
is busy building a bonfire with large palm leaves in the
courtyard of the house. Other members of the fx dept trickle in,
including Joanne for whom this will be the last day in India,
Maitrayee, and Viren.
We light the bonfire and perform the Pooja.
Ghee is used to precipitate the flames, and following
Sachin’s mother we make offerings in front of the fire,
then spread a circle of water around it. I am encouraged
to also walk around the fire, but feel somewhat awkward
not sure what to do. This celebrates the goddess Holikar
who I think grew immune to fire, but I have not been able
to memorize the details of the story, which as often proves
quite complicated. The fire violent at first quickly burns out.
Sachin comes with a bag of red powder. Delicately,
he places some on my forehead, like a Bindi, and loudly proclaims
“happy Holi!”, which at first detones with the rather
reflective mood of the Pooja. But then, in a formidable
crescendo, we start playing with the colors, shy at first,
then splattering multicolored handfuls of it on each
other's faces. Quickly the whole group erupts in laughter,
the miracle of Holi taking hold. We are like kids,
so happy to let go, in another of those moments of communion
so powerful in India. Bharat, pretexting that
he’s allergic to the powder, tries to stay away from the frey,
but he too gets tagged. Men and women play alike, providing
rare physical contact between sexes. Maitrayee, always
so jovial, is having the best time with Cecile. I put so
much powder on Jeremie that he’s covered to his teeth
(in fact, I worry that I may have put some in his eyes).
Eventually, the activity dies down, and we walk
upstairs to a small porch, where we sit
on the ground and eat snacks,
prolonging an evening that shouldn’t end. As we eventually
have to leave (school and work tomorrow), Sachin’s mother
insists on giving us a final delicious Lassi.
The next morning, it is the usual early start
at work for dailies, and things appear normal.
But around 9:30, the color play starts on the other
side of the floor, from the animation department,
where someone has brought supplies of red. Pretty
quickly everyone is tagged, including the expats,
but we’re not quite satisfied with just the one color.
My fx group from last night arrives though with new supplies,
new colors, and the party finds a new life. People are
running around in excitement, trying to tag the rare
resistants (among which are Adi and Aayouch who will
both be frustrated by the whole thing). Some frenchies
try to protect themselves at first, before being
submerged by the colored wave. Viren is particularly
demonstrative, rubbing affectionately his full hands
on people’s faces, “Bura na Manno, Holi Hai” (Never mind,
it’s Holi!). Some girls humorously run to the restroom
to avoid the colors, before joining the party. Sean at
first has locked himself in his office with a chair
against the door, but he too eventually comes out and plays.
We decide to go down on the lawn to take a crew picture,
and see what the rest of ITPL is up to. But most companies at
ITPL haven’t done this, and we scare all these serious
sad people. One unlucky guy from Paprikaas happens to be
stuck with us in the elevator. He’s able to escape the color,
but unbeknownst to him Viren has managed to tag him with a
big red hand on his butt.
Training Run "Shiva Nanda Swamiji"
(10 Miles) - 03/15/09
Right, to first village: 0:17:42
Slightly back, then through small unknown roads back to Varthur,
and on to Palm Meadows: 0:39:03
Time: 1:28:52 (1:36:33)
Mileage: 9.9 Miles
Weather is heavier, muggier, this morning. In spite of being early,
it is warm and humid. (It has rained once this week for the first
time since October). Varthur is ready for some seemingly important
event, as the whole village is loud with music, and a very large
indian-style colorful tent has been built in the main school. As
it turns out, all this activity is for the visit of Shiva Nanda
Swami, but more on that later.
I stay on the main road
and turn left in Gunjur, taking this superb rural
road that I've run twice, but I don't have much time as I need to
get back in time for the Pooja at the neigbour's house. At the first
village I turn back, but decide to try finding my way back through
the smaller roads. At an intersection, I ask an old peasant on
a bike, his teeth red from chewing Paan, whether this dirt road
will take me to Varthur. "Haa-Haa...", he encourages with a
friendly wave of the hand and the Indian head nod, so here I go.
On the ground I find a beautiful rose, freshly cut,
which I take with me. Soon thereafter, the road, now a trail,
traverses a tiny village, organized around a small temple.
At the other end, I spot a few seemingly big dogs ahead,
which make me hesitate. Is this safe? Should I retrace my steps?
At that moment, I hear cries of "Uncle, Uncle", and a group of
about six kids comes running to me. The smallest boy
is the most talkative, although none of them speak neither
Hindi nor English. But we manage neverthless.
I ask about the dogs, "Naigullu", but as usual they kindly mock me,
and the kid takes one of my rocks and pretends to throw it.
We're actually walking along, and they're escorting me
down the trail, past the dogs which look friendly after all,
and smaller than I had thought from a distance. They're of
course very intrigued by my belt, "Pani", I explain,
"Pine ke Lie", and I make the gesture of drinking,
then offer it to the kid. He looks like he's going to drink it,
but stops short of it, as if the water could contaminate him.
I demonstrate how to drink without touching the bottle
in pure Indian-style, but he refuses neverthless.
"Uncle, Uncle... Cycle, Cycle...", calls the tallest girl,
gesturing at her big bicycle, as if kindly pointing out the
futility of my running. "Bara Bara", I comment as the bicycle
is clearly disproportionate for her, and she laughs.
The little boy is now interested in my rose. I offer it to him,
and he proudly wears it on his lapel, bombasticly inflating
his torso. They're all bare feet, and run with me a few meters.
But I ask him about the rose, explain that I would gladly
offer it to him, but that I had picked it as a present
for my wife, "meri Patni ke lie". He seems to understand.
He respectfully takes one of my front water bottles from
my belt and places it in the back receptacle, then delicately
places the rose in the now empty space. I thank him, hands to
my heart in Indian gesture, and after kissing them goodbye
from a distance, proceed towards Varthur, asking my way again
a few times before easely making it back, running with a rock
in one hand, the rose in the other, wondering whether I should
carry a flower while running from now on as sign of peace.
Our neighbors have invited us to their house, to greet with
them the great master Shiva Nanda Swami. I quickly realize
that his arrival is what the all the fuss in Varthur was about:
It is the celebration for his 101st birthday.
As we gather in their house, I catch some details
of the exceptional visit. Swamiji has a school in Tumkur
(about 70 km from here) which hosts over 4000 students,
providing entirely free education. Our neighbor, as well
as some of the other assistants, have actually been brought
up in the school, and describe him as one of the most
holy men of Karnataka, but unlike Sai Baba, not one to
unduly advertise for himself. The visit is important enough
that even the Chief Minister of Karnataka shows up, with his
entourage. We are introduced to him, and everyone
is very appreciative of my Hindi (which luckily today is comfortable).
The visit was planned for 9:30, but of course doesn't
happen on time. We are fed a delicious Indian breakfast.
Finally, around 11:30, the holy man arrives.
Draped in saturated orange, he slowly makes
his way through the house. His head is bent down at
a straight angle as he slowly makes his way through
the house. At the entrance, a first pooja is performed
by the hostess, who with a young priest recites stances
while bathing his feet. Swamiji is led to a small room,
where all the guests gather. A bigger pooja is held.
Offerings are placed at Swamiji's feet, which are then
washed, before people start throwing flowers. His feet
quickly disappear under hundreds flowers, some of which
thrown from the back of the room land as high as his chest,
while he stays motionless, his head still bent down as if in
slumber. But the holy man is actually well conscious,
as he occasionally darts his glance here and there.
Eventually, all the flowers are cleared, and assistants
pay him their respects, by kneeling or even laying
on their bellies, to touch his feet in respect.
I know the ritual and eventually do the same,
and am surprised by how cool the old men feet feel.
As with other guests, he gives in return "Prasad",
a small plastic pouch that contains a few sweet nuts
which have been blessed by him. Madeleine is too shy to
perform the ritual, but Cecile and Jeremie do. The hostess
and her son insist on formally introducing us to the Swamiji,
who is said to speak perfect English and Hindi. The hostess
notices that we haven't given our flowers, and makes sure
that happens. The old man holds the large flowers on his lap,
while Jeremie, who insisted on giving him an actual birthday
card (the one he found is from Kung Fu Panda), is delighted
to see that the helping priest packs that as well. Mr Rao
points to the old man's shoes, simple flat shoes with
a single toe strap, and observes that these are traditional
shoes which could not be made out of leather, as that would
indicate harm to an animal. Eventually, Swamiji slowly walks
out of the house, and is gone, with his whole entourage,
probably on his way to Varthur for the big function.
We don't know how to thank our hostess for the extraordinary honor.
I should have brought my rose from this morning,
and offered it to the swami.
Training Run (16 Miles) - 03/22/09
Back, some different way, making my way back to Varthur: 0:35:58
Time: 1:44:06
Total Time: 2:28:44
Mileage: 16.5 Miles
Wght: 151.5
By now, I've made a habit of slowing through the villages
and engaging conversations, particularly with the children,
who all want to shake my hand, then leave giggling. Some run
with me bare feet. I also ask my way frequently. In one village
in particular, an old man, his teeth red from chewing Paan,
is particularly helpful, in spite of his limited English
(and no Hindi). Later still the villages get smaller even
and more sparse. I come across a Pooja, one of these tall
tower-like "temple on wheels" has been rolled in front of a house
where many people are gathered, the offerings displayed on the
ground, to the sound of loud music. I pay my respects with a
discreet hand gesture to the forehead
as I pass by.
The dirt road now traverses a lush beautiful landscape
of trees and cultures, feeling pretty wild. But this is much
longer than I had planned. It's very hot and I'm only carrying
two bottles (silly mistake!). I reach a bigger intersection,
and stop there at a small roadside Hanuman temple,
which fortunately is in the shade of a tree. I take that
opportunity to rest for some time.
From there I head back on a different road, which seems
to head in the right general direction (I'm quite lost)
asking my way towards Varthur, but the heat is
getting to me (it's nearly noon with no shade,
and the heat has continued to increase lately),
and I start taking one of many walk breaks. In fact,
my energy has left me, and I finish
alternating running and walking, a little worried that
I might dehydrate. On the way, I see people bathing in
a small pond, women in particular, whom I can't tell
whether they're partially naked (obviously I make a point
of not staring at them). Later still, I come across the
familiar site of the Hanuman yellow statue, strangely
isolated in a field, which tells me I’m back closer to Varthur.
As I'm approaching the small town, I stop at a small shop
to buy two bottles of coke from a tiny shop, held by
a couple who fortunately both know some Hindi.
(this man's teeth are red too). A woman customer
is holding a baby, who stares at me superb with deep round
eyes. I drink the one Coke, the guy amused helps me fill one
of my bottles with the other one, and off I go, but I soon
find out that the Coke is fizzling out of my plastic vask,
so I stop again to drink it. I can't even muster the energy
to resume running but to my relief soon thereafters
is the Varthur main road,
from where I sluggishly trot along the lake.
I stop short of taking a Rickshaw for that short distance.
I feel particularly exhausted from the heat, which tells me
I should not set out so late in the future.
Training Run (10 Miles) - 04/05/09
Back same way, to Varthur rd intersection: 0:42:10
Time: 1:30:38 (total time: 1:36:07)
Mileage: 10 Miles
I leave shortly
after 8. It's hot, but luckily a mild breeze makes that tolerable.
Even though I don't intend to run very long, I make a point of
carrying all four water bottles, to not dehydrate. For the first
time also, I carry a camera, as I would like to keep some trace
of the amazing sights I've been witnessing, but I won't take a
single picture. I do need to get into that habit though, although
I'm not sure how people will react.
I take the usual road along Varthur lake, make a left in Varthur,
which by now is becoming familiar. Varthur is busy as usual on Sunday
morning. The small houses and shops peter out along the road,
which soon becomes dirt, as it goes through a series of smaller
villages. Then the road plunges in the wild, at one point along
a small hill, which today I climb to see what's on the other side.
The view reveals a large expanse of uninhabited land, unfortunately
littered with garbage. I try to run along the crest of this small
hill, but notice a large pack of dogs, feeding in the garbage,
eyeing me suspiciously, so I decide to get back to the road,
out of their sight. A little later, a carcass on the road has
gathered majestic birds of prey and crows, and another group of
dogs, who watch me attentively as I go by, seemingly ready to
defend their food, but they leave me alone as I'm careful to
present no threat (my rock is ready though!...)
I reach other small villages.
I am greeted so well here. Children from a distance
call to me, waving their hands, "English, English",
and I can hear their laughter whenever I respond. I also
meet occasional people along the way, cyclists
or motorcyclists, often a couple with
the woman in Sari riding amazon in
the back, or a whole family family,
with the small child proudly riding in the
front, well protected by dad, peasants with their cows,
a group of young women walking, all dressed
in bright colorful garments...
Today it's the adults who
engage conversation most. It's common for people to cheer me as I go.
And for some reason today, everyone wants to know why I would run
like this instead of riding a bicycle, perhaps because the weather
is getting hotter, which surely shows on my drenched face. An old woman,
near the entrance of a village,
stops me on the road. She really wants to talk, but speaks Kannada
only. "Cycle, Cycle?", she asks, concerned or puzzled,
but it's hard to explain that
I prefer running. I ask if I can take her picture, but not knowing
if she has understood, I don't pursue. "Cycle?", she insists again,
laughing gently at me, and lets me go. Later, a couple youths
insist on introducing themselves. They seem very proud to shake
my hand. Another man on a motorbike asks me very politely
again why I wouldn't ride a bike. I answer in Hindi, but
he brings me back to English, which he speaks quite well.
I eventually make it to the first significant little village,
called Massandra I think. Last time I had continued from here,
which had led to a fairly long run,
but today it would be wise to go back, keeping the run to about
1h30. Many men are gathered on the main place. I'm still curious
if these other small roads could lead to some other way back,
perhaps taking me to Gunjur. A man sitting in the village center
among the group answers my question, speaking in Hindi for once,
although his speech is a little fast for me to fully grasp. He
keeps pointing me to the direction I came from, as the only way
to return to Varthur, and advises me against the other roads, "
bahut dur, too
far..." A bus which has been waiting in the middle of the
village starts, and the man has to
run to catch it. I follow his advice which actually protects
me from myself, and the temptation to keep going, as on previous
runs it seems that after the enthusiasm of discovery, and about
1h15 into the run, I tend to collapse a bit
on the way back, and finish in pain.
So today, more cautious, I complete the run with relative ease,
making it back fresher than usual, in spite of the increasing
heat. Happy.
Yesterday, community service again with Jeremie and his
friends (3rd time). This time, Ujivan sends us in a small
community further North. As usual, one of the organizers is late,
but this time,
we decide not to wait, take a short bus trip to the ITPL intersection,
and from there squeeze in two Auto-Rickshaws (we're a little crammed in
there, I'm sitting next to the driver), which take us through
dirt roads to a small nearby village, loud with music from its temple.
We're introduced into a small school (a single room) where all the
women are gathered, all of them in traditional clothes.
It quickly ends up being packed in there, and
very hot, to the point where I'm drenched in sweat.
We're all sitting on
the floor, packed. We're starting to get the hang of this, and
are moving efficiently through the questionnaire. I'm
paired with a student who speaks Tamil, which is more understood here
than Hindi. At a few points I do get to do some of the questionning
myself, but it's easy to misunderstand the answers (for example,
I put down a woman as having a drinking problem, where she really
meant her husband). In every group (we're interviewing 3 women at
a time) emerges a leader, who helps the other two. One of them has
a striking voice in the way she tries to articulate her answers in
English. "Tir-Ty, Tir-Ty!", she says declaring her age,
hammering the two syllables as best she can, looking at me
with intensity as if to force my understanding. We have to register
every family member living with each woman, which becomes a problem
when some of the families get particularly large, sometimes including
parents, in-laws, etc. The last questions are about happiness. Most
women give themselves a 5 out of 10, declaring that they worry often
about family...
Carpet maker, Jaipur, Rajasthan --
Training Run (10 Miles) - 04/19/09
Back via Sai Baba Hospital - Through Nellurahalli - To Airport
Varthur road - Back to Palm Meadows: 0:33:21
Time: 1:24:00 (total time: 1:39:32)
Estimated Pace: 9'30" / mile (to account for the heat)
Mileage: 8.9 Miles
Wght: 150.5
Shiva Mandir, bards, Imadahalli.
I have been writing about the increasing heat, but that was
peanuts. Now the hot season has started in earnest, and I hear
it will get hotter still over the next couple months. The heat
no longer abates at night, and one generally wakes up already
in sweat. We now turn on the AC just before going to bed,
and keep a fan on all night. So the moment I get out of the house
and start the run, I find myself drenched in sweat, and adopt
an even slower pace, as well as frequent walk breaks, to not
overheat. I don't know if long runs will be possible in this climate.
But at least today is more comfortable, and I'm back to the fascination
of being outside. I take the road by Ozone, as yesterday, but keep going,
through the small communities, all the way to Chassandra main road.
The life of the villages is as ever enthralling. Today, I've brought
a camera, hoping to capture the many amazing scenes along the way.
But I'm shy with it, and for the first part of the run keep the camera
mostly in my pocket. At an intersection, I come across three priests
in god costumes, and stop to take their picture and offer them 10
Ruppees. "Bhagvan Ram", they explain, Lord Rama, as they walk
from house to house asking for charity. After the intersection
the road is unknown to me, but it's the same type of small colorful
houses, peaceful this morning although much life is happening
outside. A man chases a dog away throwing rocks. "Naigullu",
I exclaim as I pass him by, while the man, recovering from his
quick surprise, laughs beamingly at the site of this strange
running white man addressing him in Kannada.
Chassandra main road is too busy with trafic, as usual, and
leads me to ITPL (this route gets me there in about 50 minutes).
I pause on the way to photograph women carrying heavy loads of
branches and sticks on their heads, along the road. I address
them in Hindi which they don't understand, but they smile
beautifully.
Tent life near Nallurahalli --
Instead of continuing directly towards Palm Meadows,
I turn right in Nellurahalli, which leads me to Airport Varthur
main road at Siddhapura.
I meet a group of kids along the way, some of which jokingly
start running with me, and together we make fun of my demeanor,
running with exagerated silly gestures. I offer to take their
picture, and they crowd around my camera to see the result.
We then warmly shake hands, earnestly, with each one of them,
"Bye Uncle!... Bye Uncle!...", they shout as I leave them.
Their faces have restored my good
spirits.
"Uncle! Uncle!", children near Siddhapura --
Training Run (12 Miles) - 04/26/09
Road to the left - First very small village - Second small village: 0:25:28
To the left, on dirt trail - Through Massandra - Back to Varthur: 0:45:05
Back to Airport rd.: 0:07:48
Time: 1:48:38 (total: 2:08:33)
Mileage: 12 Miles
Wght: 151.5
This time, I go through the first small village (Kathirguppe) which
is barely a few houses organized around a banyan tree, and onto the
second one (Nerige), which is only a little bigger. There is a collection of
men outside, and I ask my way to someone very friendly, hoping to
explore a new way back. The guy directs me to the right, where the
road quickly turns into a small dirt trail, going through the plantations.
It's all nature here, and very few people, only a few peasants. Finally here,
about one hour into the run, I start feeling comfortable, and for a
moment have this sensation of complete ease. At one
point I run right through a herd of sheep. Later, as the road
gets prettier still snaking through trees, an old woman sitting on the
side of the road graciously quiets her young dog who barks at my approach.
I finally come to an intersection with a small house, which looks familiar.
A few dogs coming from the woods leave me alone. I ask my way again to a
woman walking in Sari, to the left leads directly back to Varthur,
straight she indicates Muthsandra (the small village I've reached a few
times). I decide for the latter, and quickly find that the road is prettier
still, meandering through lush tree groves. I reach Massandra near the
entrance of the village, avoiding the centre, and proceed towards
Varthur. This road should be useful for future runs. From Muthsandra
to Varthur feels familiar now, although I am abruptly surprised out
of my rhythm by a large pack of dogs in the woods which start barking
at me. But they don't chase me, and I go by with no incident.
Approaching Varthur, I take the small dirt trail which I had once
taken, which goes through town and through some of the small tent
slums. A man on the porch of his house then his boys on the roof
greet me loudly, their smiles beaming. Back to Varthur.
Along the lake, on the side of the road, I see this man dragging
himself on the ground, on his butt. I've seen him often in Whitefield,
one of his legs is atrophied and bent at a strange angle which prohibits
him from walking, so he goes around on his rear-end. I didn't know he
traveled this far. One of the most heart wrenching sites in India is
seeing handicapped people, some of whom literally crawl on the ground.
I remember a man crawling like this on his stomach in the streets of
Pondicherry, as well as a woman with deformed legs in Jaipur, also
crawling in the filth.
Yesterday, Ujjivan community service:
The man from Ujjivan is a little confused,
and has to ask his way a few times. We stop at the edge of the village,
near a railway track, where a small child is bathing naked in a small
plastic bucket under his mother's watch. Finally, in the middle
of a small street, we can begin with a first group.
Plastic chairs are brought outside so we can start the questionnaires.
Jeremie joins this group but I keep on going to some other location.
We retrace our steps, crossing the village again, and at some point
go to the right. Images of screaming small children, half naked, being slapped
by their mothers. I have never been so deep into such a community,
and the feeling is both daunting and exhilarating. Some people stare
with a hard look, or a persistent curiosity, but most open up to a smile.
I feel tension at first in so foreign an environment, but relax as we walk,
feeling no threat. We are led into a narrow alley, leading to a small
interior court, where Aashish and I are invited by the women to sit down
on a tarp covering a pile of sand, which we do after removing our shoes.
The woman sit in front of us, surrounded by their children.
Noone speaks even Hindi so we’d be stuck if it weren’t for a young
girl of about 14 who speaks good English, which she has learned at school.
The women are all dressed in traditional robes or saris,
while our young translator is in Jeans and T-Shirt. A few small Kids
also congregate with us, among whom a pretty little girst in a beautiful
white dress, and boys, looking more earnest. A two year old often cries
in the arms of his mother, and will get slapped repeatedly.
The little ones occasionally touch me, as if to play, or grab my shoes
which I've left in the sand. A woman carrying a small baby in her arm
encourages him to say hi to Uncle.
We ask the usual questions, carefully filling the forms,
three women at a time, speaking a
mixture of English and Hindi. Aashish is not brave enough to ask the
menstruation questions, which I do, and our young translator
giggles embarassed.
All families get their water from the community tap, none boil the water
or do anything special for drinking. Aashish gently scolds our
translator, Why?
You go to school, you know you should boil water, You should tell them.
- In the slums we don’t do this way, she smiles gently. She has such poise
and maturity in her voice.
Most have regular health issues
in their family, which costs 100 Rupees per month on average, which
they pay themselves.
The final question asks them to describe their happiness level, from 1 to 10,
and what they worry about the most. Most mention their children, providing for
them, giving them education.
The ladies, looking after our comfort, offer us to move to spot under
the shade, but we decide to stay put. They offer us cold drinks which
we also refuse.
Once six questionnaires filled , we move back to the alleyway
to measure and weigh the women. The alley is against a half-built
single floor concrete structure.
Jeremie goes up exterior decrepit stairs, onto the roof,
invited by the children. He takes them to dance, and I can hear their
laughter from above. It's a group of about six kids of various ages,
little girls with marvelous faces, one of whom is wearing a pretty
white dress which is surprisingly clean, the others western
aged clothes.
One small boy looks particularly serious, wanting to help in the
whole event. The kids are proud when we weigh and measure too. We
even get the baby...
The woman offers us water again, and Aashish accepts this time.
If only I could also drink this water,
to respond to their generous offer.
It actually must be water time, because all the kids are now
traveling back and forth from the community tap, bringing back
water into the house, an incessant traffic of children of various sizes
carrying all kinds of recipients, colorful jars, old plastic bottles…
I stare mesmerized at the women’s faces, the children.
Overwhelmed by their warmth,
I tear up, thinking I will never leave, thinking I should somehow
go deeper still into the community.
I wish dearly I carried a camera to capture these unforgettable faces,
the singing music of their voices speaking Kannada,
their laughter and good nature...
The small boy who looked so serious walks us
all the way out of the village, barefeet,
onto the main road, and shows us all the way to the bus stop.
There we shake hands goodbye.
Trail near Timannali ---
Training Run (9.5 Miles) - 05/10/09
Time: 1:25:12 (total: 1:59:53)
Mileage: 9.5 Miles
Wght: 153
School in Timannali village -
I am however feeling exhausted,
and hesitate a bit before running.
I made the mistake of running every day last week,
and am probably
paying the price. I feel generally discouraged,
somewhat dizzy, overall depressed,
and yesterday felt particularly despondent.
But I do go out neverthless.
From a running perspective, this is a
disaster, but I end up exploring deeper
into the fields and small
villages, and take many breaks
to talk to people and take pictures.
By sticking to the small leftmost
road after Varthur, I am treated
to gorgeous scenery, first in the woods,
then in the open fields,
until I reach a tiny village
which I had seen once before, called Timannali
according to Google. A group
of children show me the courtyard
of their school, right by the
temple. From there,
I explore the small dirt trails
that meander through the fields,
the vegetation here is lush and abundant,
and I cross occasional
peasants walking cows or goats.
Back in the village, I am greeted
again warmly, and at people's request
take a few pictures. One
man plays a joke to his friend,
insisting that I take their picture
together. Muzhkaraye, I call.
The man has understood my Hindi
and forces his friend to smile to the camera.
Girl in a small shop, Men in Timannali -
Brother and sister in Imadahalli
Man washing his cow, Varthur area ---
Training Run (14 Miles) - 05/17/09
Time: 2:05:13 (total time: 2:41:01)
Mileage: 14 Miles
Bard, landscape, near Varthur -
Road through a village, Varthur/Sarjapur area ---
The road eventually leads to an area that looks familiar (I think
I should be in the Gunjur area) where I take a right, up a small
hill to a village, but this turns out to be new. I suddenly opt
for a single track dirt trail which takes me right through
people's houses (the village according to Wikimap is called
Kamanahalli) and into some woods, where I meet three women
resting while their herd is grazing. They nicely confirm the
way back to the main road, where I eventually talk to more people,
all eager to give directions. Back to the Hanuman temple, I try
one road over to the right from when I came, which takes me back
to the familiar Muthsandra. From there, instead of the usual
way through Varthur, I take the smaller nicer roads towards
Imadarahalli. Along the way, I meet another old woman with
whom I start talking, and ask her to take her picture. She then
talks and talks in Kannada, walking alongside me, first seizes
my arm as I were her son, then touches me with surprising familiarity
in spite of my being drenched in sweat. I give her 10 rupees
and resume running after saying goodbye.
It has been very hot again (in fact, there have been more of these
violent end-of-day storms this week). I've drunk my 4 water bottles
and feel a bit dehydrated. In Imadahalli, I buy a bottle of Coke
which feels like heaven.
Peasants, passers-by, met in the middle of nowhere,
kindly give me directions ---
Training Run "Aurohalli" (12.4 Miles) - 05/31/09
Time: 1:51:25 (total 2:30:24)
Mileage: 12.4 Miles
Wght: 153.5
I set out via the road through Imadahalli. The temperature
has gotten cooler lately, with impressive storms bringing the heat
down, generally at the end of the day. This morning, it's a little
overcast, and even though a little muggy, a cool breeze makes it
more pleasant for running.
After the turn in Imadahalli, where the countryside
really begins, I see a man climbing up a coconut tree with bare
feet. Next to it is an old man, perhaps white, holding two
aggressive dogs, barking at the climber, then barking at me as
I approach. I give the owner an Indian headshake, for him to
hold his dogs tight, but he stares at me blankly.
After the turn at the brick factory, I get brave, and decide
to take one of the many small dirt trails that crisscross the area,
which leads me through low woods.
I'm soon completely lost, as there
is no distant visibility, and many small trails keep branching out.
Somehow or other I end up on a paved road.
A little further, at an intersection near a small house,
I meet a family on the road. They help me calm their barking
dog, but I really don't have any issue with dogs any more,
as an authoritative look is generally enough to back them
down. The woman in Sari throws rocks at him, but I hold her
back, "Thik Hai...". A girl and her father, come running
from the house to meet me, very friendly.
I take everyone's picture before
going on.
A little later I
meet two young boys with an oversized bike. We do the formal
introductions and I take their picture.
The trail leads me into the fields, literally. It tends
to disappear into the cultures, and is becoming increasingly
impractical. The two boys have actually followed me from a
distance and I retrace my steps back to them, to ask my way.
They encourage me to keep going through the open field,
following this embryo of a trail. I proceed in the direction
they've indicated, but soon find the trail really difficult,
and trip a few times, hurting my knee on one occasion.
It's difficult to control ones footing, and I increasingly
worry about stepping on a snake, which I know are abundant.
I finally relent to a walk, and from a distance, ask my
way again to the kids who are still following me. I must
look like such an idiot, unable to navigate this open field,
but they direct me nicely by waving their arms. I fall again
on a small ridge. The kids have caught up with me, and now
escort me through the terrain. They point to a small hill
where there seems to be a dirt road, but as we're about
to reach it we come across an unfordable river. "Bridge?"
I ask, but they both nod their heads. They invite me to
follow the bank through the vegetation. It's muddy in
places, and once again I lose my footing, my shoe dipping
deep into the mud. The children with their bare feet are
far more agile in this terrain than I am with my fancy
shoes. From the corner of my eye, I see some large Iguana
disappering in the dense vegetation.
Soon after, I meet the children's family: They were washing
their laundry here, on the river bank. We greet each other
with many headshakes. They allow me to take their picture
before I proceed, following the river bank further down.
From there I'm back on the paved road, which eventually
leads me to some other village, where I meet more people
(what is it that makes everyone so talkative today?).
A group of kids in the village would like to introduce
themselves, and we shake hands pompously. They're
intrigued as usual by my running gear (I don't blame them!),
particularly my "water belt" with its four plastic
bottles. "Pani", I explain, and I demonstrate by
drinking from it. I offer it to them, and for once, they
don't refuse, all taking turns to drink wholeheartedly,
Indian-style,
the mouth making no contact with the bottle.
On the way back, I try to explore more trails which
could lead to Whitefield, but with no success. It's getting
too late to get lost in the fields again, so I settle for
the paved road (the nice one, through the woods) to Varthur.
On the way, I meet an older couple, driving their cows
on the whole span on the road. The woman warmly jokes in
Kannada, and without understanding we laugh together.
Pooja in Nelurahalli ---
Jérémie dancing Bharat Natyam at Indus school ---