INDIA 2009
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-- Bhagvan SHIVA --
- the Tandav dance -
(Hoysaleswara temple, Halebidu)









-- Ruchita mixing grain --

Training Run (16 Miles) - 10/02/09

Palm Meadows - Varthur - Gunjur - Left turn on rural road - to the "junction": 1:08:22
To crossroads Hanuman temple - Muthsandra - Aurohalli: 0:37:57
Back via Ajgondanahalli - Imadahalli: 0:38:53
Time: 2:24:50
Pace: 9'00" / mile
Mileage: 16 Miles
Wght: 154.5

(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)


Gandhi day. We are off work.
It has rained last night, as every other night, and the morning is unusually wet, overcast and windy as usual (actually nice for running). My running has been very good this week, comfortable and easy, perhaps owing to this cooler weather. After hesitation, seeing the weather hold up, I set out, carrying along the many pictures from last week. But I'm in a mood for something longer, and to avoid too much mud, stay on the road to Gunjur, from where I turn into the beautiful rural road on the left, the first road I had discovered here. Away from the main road is immediately quiet, beautiful fields, small villages. School is actually in process, students gathered in uniform for Ghandhi day, and I fear that the village kids won't be there today (hopefully I can distribute the pictures to the adults). Seeing the weather, I've made the silly mistake of not carrying any water at all (I'm also tired of this stupid belt). There are brief patches of sun, and as usual I'm losing gallons of water. I stop in a small roadside shop to buy to cans of coke, one which I'll carry all the way to Aurohalli. It is draining to carry all these things on the run, photographs, camera, rocks, drink etc., and I yearn for something simpler.
Approaching Muthsandra, two kids on a bike start talking to me, half English half Hindi. They offer to escort me all the way to Aurohalli, so here we go. The numbers grow as we traverse the village, and again in the smaller village of Kutti(?), to the point where I'm escorted by a group of about ten kids running with me (with bare feet), under the amused and benevolent eyes of the adults. Shortly before Aurohalli, as they want to turn back, I give my remaining coke can to the leading kid, hoping that we'll meet again. Rarely have children shown such longevity in running with me. I've been running for nearly two uninterrupted hours today, but feel great.




-- My escort from Muthsandra to Aurohalli --

I buy more Coke at the little Aurohalli shop. It's quieter than usual, most kids being in school this morning, but soon after many of them come out of a bus, and I'm surprised at how many know my name. One of them is Rakesh, and I have to resist him grabbing the enveloppe away from me. We walk to Roopa's house, where I give the photos to Neetra (Roopa is still at school). This as usual creates a bit of a gathering. I try to stay in control of the distribution, particularly to the young woman who wanted her wedding photos enlarged, which I've as best I could, but the result isn't that great. The family from Dadabalapura is still here, Arun, Shirisha and Veena (Neetra's sister). I want to resist Neetra's usual invitation to offer me food, but I yield eventually, sitting at the plastic table, letting her wash my hand, and eating a delicious sweet paratha. Ruchita is on the floor flipping thing grains with a basket. Undaunted by my lack of comprehension, Neetra keeps addressing me in Kannada, and somehow we manage to have a conversation. She confirms if we were all happy with last week's trip to Dodabalapura. She fetches a plastic bag with old family photos, shows me her parents, her husband in Bharat Natyam costume. I reluctantly make her understand that I should get going, I'll be late at home. She seems to understand and laughs. As I'm getting up, Roopa arrives, in pristine school uniform. I ask Neetra to fill my empty coke bottle with water and leave.
But outside, Anjun's family also invites me in such a way that is impossible to refuse. Monika gives me two little flowers, which I preciously keep, in spite of other children wanting to grab them away. As I'm still hesitant in the street, the "wedding" lady shouts "come on" in such perfect English and with such a commanding tone that she laughs at herself. Inside the house, the women have quickly put on their best Sari, so we do another photo shoot. The photos that I've given Anjun here too are displayed on a shelf. I have become the village photographer. Finally I really do have to go.


-- Monika gives me flowers - (on the left, "Little Roopa") --


But this time it's Rakesh who won't let me go. Philippe, my mother is calling, you have to come to my house (and indeed I do see her at the end of the street, inviting me with a gesture). But I still decline, indicating "next time" with my hands. I struggle with Rakesh a little bit who won't let go of my arm. Finally, we set out running from the village, with a group of about six kids which includes Rakesh and Arun. Today, they're surprisingly endurant, running along with me in bare feet, seemingly not tired, occasionally quarelling till I have to humorously scold the troublemakers. I'm starting to worry that they'll come too far with me, and either intend to run all the way to my house (which is about five miles away), or could have some problem on the way back. But at the Timanalli trail junction, I finally convince them to head back. And as a parting gift, we take a few final pictures in front of a tiny roadside temple.
But it's obvious that I've hurt Rakesh's feelings earlier. He uncharacteristically doesn't even want to participate in the group picture. I take a "single photo" of him instead, trying to lift his spirits. I've always seen him so full of life, humour and energy, so his sullen state saddens me, revealing the boy's sensitivity, especially since he has been one of my most faithful friends from the start. I do realize that I'm creating jealousies within the children of Aurohalli, having privileged a few, probably because they spoke the best English and were the most insistent. "Rakesh, you're really my friend", I pat him on the back before leaving.
The dirt road is particularly muddy, almost impractical, but somehow I manage to run through, feeling particularly comfortable today. Through Imadahalli the rain finally starts. It's exhilerating.


-- Rakesh --








Training Run (8.7 Miles) - 10/07/09

PM - W.Trail - Dunmore house - Nellurahalli - portion of lake trail - Direct to ITPL - back - via small shortcut trail - ECC route - Whitefield inner circle - Nellurahalli - back again via Dunmore house - W. Trail
Time: 1:18:15
Mileage: 8.7 Miles
Wght: 155
(-- Yesterday 10/06/09: To Chassandra rd and back - Time: 1:24:18 - Mileage: 9.35 Miles)

(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)


It's another gorgeous sunny day, fortunately with a nice breeze. I already ran yesterday, but this morning decide to go the Dunmore house route, with my camera (I'm on vacation this week). The mud has almost entirely dried up on the trails. Leading to Dunmore house, on the beautiful little area with the banana field and pond, I meet Sunil, who's following a group of worker women. "Photo, photo," I immediately agree, and he poses in front of the banana groves with another older boy.
Later in the slums, I come across the usual group, Giryama, Lakshmi and Anjapa, followed by other kids and two beautiful women in Saris. Here too, we take a series of pictures. The children know my name, although they mispronounce it slightly to Silip. One boy has quickly put on a bright red shirt, and strikes a Kung Fu pose for the camera. It's actually hard to leave these people, as I'm constantly sollicited to take more pictures, and feel a lot of sympathy towards them. Anjapa was half naked, but Giryama has run to the shack and back with pants, that she proceeds to put on the boy.

I finally manage to leave after taking a final picture of them waving at me. A little later, I meet this man from the first community, walking with a small girl, whose name is Ramesh. "Mein vapas akar aapko photos dounga", "thik hai" he ackowledges, understanding Hindi. In the third community, I wave to one of the girls from a distance, but things are otherwise quiet at this later hour.
I make it to ITPL as if going to work, and turn back. For the second time only, I take this adventurous shortcut which joins the ECC route, it goes deep into the village, narrow alleys, then along a lake, by some slums, until it connects with the normal route. This is only the second time here, but it already starts feeling comfortable, some friendly headshakes exhchanged along the way. I have high hopes that this should become the next exploration area. Even though I've run relatively long yesterday, and although I again have no water, I feel so good that I decide to lengthen the run, and go back again via Dunmore house. So through Nellurahalli again, and back through the slums. Giryama and her friends again greet me loudly but I don't stop. In the first community however, the little children come out in mass, and we spend some time together. The now familiar couple happily invites me in. The two "original schoolboys" are there (no school today?). I ask everyone their names, but it's quite overwhelming. In Hindi, I ask the boy if I could get a paper. He fortunately understands and comes back from the shack with a school notebook. Opening it reveals several pages written in the beautiful curly Kannada script. But I don't have a pen, and wouldn't want to tear a page of his notebook, but he then brings back a single sheet of paper and a pen. I dutifully write the names as best I can: the two boys are Malikarjun and Ishwaraja. Girls names include Kirti (I have fun playfully repeating her name), Gaorama, Dayama, Yellama (like my tiny little friend at Marie-Annick's house), Nuaditta and a little boy whom I had mistaken for a girl because of his haircut, Manoj Kumar. I am again struck by Malikarjun's demeanor, an appearance of calm mature intelligence that I've noticed in some of the boys here. I carefully write my own name in his notebook, in capital letters.



-- Slum dwellers, Dunmore house "First Community" --








Training Run "Colored Chicks" (8.9 Miles) - 10/16/09

PM - E trail - Borewell rd to Whitefield Circle: 0:18:01
Whitefield Inner Circle 2*3 (2 miles): 0:17:49
ECC route - Lake trail through Pattandur Agrahara - to ITPL: 0:15:57
Back via Sai Baba route - Dunmore house - W. trail: 0:27:59
Time: 1:19:47
Mileage: 8.9 Miles

(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)

Beautiful sunny weather again. I have not taken water once again, and dehydrate a bit along the way. Like yesterday, I do a few laps at the Inner Circle, then take the road to ITPL, taking my new trail along the lake, right through the Pattandur Agrahara community. Reaching there, while crossing a small bridge over a gutter, I step in a hole between stones and fall, creating a small commotion in the village (mostly dogs barking). I'm slighly scraped but ok and resume running after reassuring the concerned villagers.
Later, as I pass through the Dunmore house slums, I hear my name "Philippe, Philippe!", and the children run towards me, followed by a woman with a baby. She points at the scrapes on my leg with some concern, "Mai daurte houe gir para" (I fell while running) I explain, while she also points at my arm and hands. At first, I hide the fact that I'm carrying the camera, but eventually take it out for some pictures. Giryama, who is always the one coming with ideas or poses for the pictures, goes to get a few of these painted little chicks that I had noted once before, and the kids pose with them. I explain to the lady that I am very thirsty under this heat, but, perhaps because she hasn't understood, she does not propose water.
A little later, the children of the first community also greet me. I speak with the woman who's sitting just at her doorstep. Her Hindi is actually quite good, and after explaining to her that I haven't had time to print the latest pictures yet, we exchange a little small talk about how hot the weather has been, now that the rains are mostly over. Divali is coming up, so I greet her with a final "Divali moubarak ho" before leaving.


-- Anjapa, Laskmi and Giryama --


-- Giryama --









-- Along the trail to Bagalur --

Diwali Part I - Aurohalli (19 Miles) - 10/18/09

Palm Meadows - Varthur - road to the left after the market - Roadside Hanuman temple: 0:56:22 Road slightly to the left, going down towards small villages - small trail, dike - Bagalur: 0:39:32 (total to Bagalur: 1:35:53) Back same way, to the second village: 0:30:00 Right turn after second village - unkempt trail through the forest, near the river, through the fields - connect back to some road - find my way to Muthsandra then Aurohalli: 0:45:32
Time: 2:51:26
Mileage: 19 Miles
Wght: 153

(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)

I had planned on a long run today, of Marathon training length, but woke up slightly feverish in the morning, a milder version of the fever that hit me last week in Hampi. But after the usual stretching routine and a little Tylenol, I feel better and decide to go out as planned. I'm carrying all four water bottles as it has been hot lately. At least I should make it to Aurohalli today. The plan is for Cecile to join me there later with Xavier. (Roopa has been texting me).
It is Diwali, and even in the morning the persistent chatter of firecrackers can be heard, as if left over from last night constant rows of explosions. Varthur is bustling as usual, people carrying Pooja items bought from the street vendors, coconuts, banana leaves... Even later as the road gets more rural, the explosions can be heard in the distance, and through the villages, the kids are playing with firecrackers. I have to stop a couple times for the boisterous explosions, right in the middle of the road or trail. As usual, the peasants are most welcoming, waving by, shaking hands along the way.
Paradoxically, in spite of this morning's illness, I feel fantastic, light and easy. Cautious to run slow and not overheat, running feels completely effortless. The road is completely exposed to the sun, but a gentle breeze brings some relief. At least I've brought plenty of water and won't dehydrate again like I have been all this week. The road gets wilder and more remote as it approaches the small roadside Hanuman temple, where since I'm feeling so comfortable, I decide to proceed to Bagalur after all as initially planned. The landscape feels more remote here still, then alternates agricultural lands and small villages. I have no trouble finding the beautiful trail that I had once used to reach Bagalur, through lush cultures, which eventually leads to a dike overseeing the fields, before reaching the little town. My left hip is starting to hurt, so I'm happy to pause in Bagalur.
There, I stop for drinks at the same shop than last time. I drink a full Sprite, eat three bananas, and buy a 1-liter bottle of water, which arguably is too much especially since I still have quite a bit of water left, but I guess I'll hand-carry the bottle back. As I'm talking to the merchant, a woman in Saree comes with four or five children to buy them candies and ice-cream. She must be one of those construction workers, wearing on her head a hat looking like an inverted pot, which is used to carry heavy loads. I would love to make contact with her and perhaps buy some sweets for the kids for Diwali, but the group completely ignores me.
Going back, carrying the water bottle is cumbersome, but after about a half hour, I've emptied it (but even though "this is India", I can't bring myself to toss it down, as the nature here is beautiful and clean). I've scouted the area a little bit on Google maps (although this is usually quite unreliable) and want to try a slightly different way towards Muthsandra / Aurohalli. So I turn right after the second village on a dirt road that looks promising, but it gradually becomes smaller and smaller. I eventually reach a bifurcation by a house. From its balcony, a boy instructs me to keep going straight towards Muthsandra. But the trail soon reaches a forest and becomes more and more unkempt, to the point where it's difficult to follow, and certainly impossible to run. As the woods get deeper, I wonder whether I should retrace my steps, but continue on as it looks like there might be a clearing ahead. After passing a barbed wire fence, I reach the river bank, which must have been the clearing I thought I had seen. But I've come this far, and this embryonic trail must lead somewhere, so I keep going. Shortly after, in the middle of nowhere, I come across an old man sitting alone in the woods. "Muthsandra?", I ask him. He waves me silently forward, with the usual circular motion of the hand and a headshake. "Straight-aaah?", I ask again, poorly imitating Kannada. Another hand gesture and a headshake. The trail finally widens and emerges into the open, a broad field with deep muddy spots. This continues for some time until I reach a more formal trail that leads on to a road, and finally a village. Even though I know I've been traveling in the right general direction, I'm a bit lost and ask my way several times before recognizing the way to Muthsandra.
Approaching the village, I am as often escorted by a kid on an oversized bike, but I'm too tired to talk much. Knowing that I'll reach Aurohalli in another twenty minutes or so, I take my phone out to ask Cecile and Xavier to leave to meet me there, but there is no reception. I find however several missed calls, among which a text message from Roopa asking me where I am, "there is a special treat for you from Roopa". In the village between Muthsandra and Aurohalli, I'm greeted by a group which grows to about ten kids, who all start running loudly with me, while the adults look on amused. Some kids are a little turbulent though, asking for water from my bottles which I share with them, but a small kid steals a bottle and runs away with it. I humorously scold him to retrieve it (while some adults shout at him). My escort quickly sends me on my way though, near the end of the village.
Near Aurohalli, at the Shiva temple intersection, I decide to give the cell phone another try. But I'm immediately interrupted by some of the kids who have come running to meet me. "Why are you so late? Your wife is already there."
Indeed, I see Xavier in the village. They have decided not to wait for my phone call and have been waiting in Aurohalli for some time. From the heat, the long run and the slight illness, the exhaustion has finally caught up with me, and though I've been drinking abundantly, I feel parched and slightly dizzy. At the tiny village shop I buy a 2-liter Coke bottle which I intend to share, but I'll end up drinking most of it myself. My usual helpers are soon around, carry my water belt, escort me into the village. One of the boys is Rakesh, whose house I promise to visit today. Remembering his sadness, I'm happy to see him now in good spirits, understanding the boy's sensitivity.
Roopa and Neetra welcome me inside the house, where the women have been taking care of Cecile, applying Tikka and Sindhu to her forehead, fitting rows of bengals on her arms. They insist that next time she should come dressed in a Saree. They have also burnt a few firecrackers inside the house. The women tie string bracelets around our wrists, which as I understand we are supposed to keep until next Divali. Today Roopa has invited us in the second room, where a ceiling fan is blowing a welcome breeze (although I feel a slight shiver, starting to feel feverish again and drenched with sweat). Neetra hands me a small towel, and Cecile and I sit on the usual plastic chairs. After the customary hand wash, food is served, a delicious dosa with Chutney, and an assortment of fried items. Those I particularly dislike, but bravely eat a few, slowly, especially as Roopa is her usual bossy self: "You're wife has eaten, why do you not eat?", she keeps repeating. I laugh back, I'm eating slowly. This greasy food is the last thing I feel like after such a long run, but I bravely ingest it. I explain to Roopa that I firmly intend to visit Rakesh's house today. For fun, I'm quizzed on the kids' names, most of which I know by now, except for this one girl whose name I keep forgetting. "Lavania, Lavania", I repeat a few times apologetically, before entering it in my cell phone to never forget again. She also pleads me to come to her house, but I remind her that I've promised Rakesh today, perhaps next time? They laugh at me: Lavania is actually Rakesh's sister...
The villagers are as usual so eager to engage with us. The adults (especially the women) address us constantly in Kannada or Telugu, somehow with a little of the children's help manage to communicate. It strikes me that their attitude mirrors ours. They're as curious about us as we are about them. Rarely have I met such a good natured group.
We have brought some sweets for Divali, one box we give to Neetra, the other we'll save for Rakesh. As it was Roopa's birthday recently, I ceremoniously present her a plastic DHL enveloppe (which they all associate with pictures), while Cecile and I sing happy birthday. It's a pen and a notebook, with a rendition of Devi on the cover. Roopa insists (or should I say orders us) to eat bananas to conclude the meal.
As we walk down the street to Rakesh's house, I can finally have a conversation with Roopa which I had longed planned for. Is there anything that the village might need? After having come here so many times, having been treated so well, is there anything I could do for the community, someone I can talk to? Her first thought goes to the school, perhaps I could meet the headmaster. I also ask Roopa about this man I had once met, who had invited me to a marriage at the Shiva temple. "I met him perhaps two months ago, he mentionned owning one of the main houses in Aurohalli, do you know who he is? Should I talk to him?". "It's probably the village chief", her and her friend reply frowning. But this thread leads nowhere.
In Rakesh's house, we're treated to more food, which again I eat bits of, wanting to honour our hosts. I hand the camera over to Cecile to take many family pictures inside the house. Halfway through this, Rakesh's father, a nice man with a witty smile whose face has stayed with me since the Pooja, returns home and participates in the photos as well. He only speaks Kannada and Telugu.


-- Rakesh's family --


Roopa is excited to have us blow a few more firecrackers together. We use a few of these gentle sparklers (not these crazy bombs or rockets that create so much commotion). Walking back, Roopa has another idea, following our earlier conversation. She says a man has created a trust to help the villagers, perhaps I could talk to him. So in the house, one of the man hands me a cell phone, but the reception goes blank. We try again outside. I present myself as best I can, the voice of an older man responds, apparently knowing a bit already of my relationship with the villagers. His organisation identifies people in the villages living below the poverty line, and tries to help them. We agree that we'll meet to discuss further.


-- Left to Right: Shrikanth, Lavania, Arun, Ruchita, Neetra and Vandana --



Later at home, the fever finally comes, a good 4 on the Richter scale, which isn't actually unpleasant. In this state, my Hindi improves by about 10%, the words flowing comfortably together, and I let the formidable images of the Hindu God sculptures from Halebidu again capture my imagination.


















-- In front of Diuraj's house --


Diwali Part II - Dunmore House - 10/19/09

(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)

Diwali --
I've had this loose idea for today, but I'm not sure if I'll carry it through: to bring Diwali sweets to the Dunmore house community. But the morning goes by and I stay home, feeling still a bit fuzzy. It's a day of indecision. After lunch though, I decide to go out on the bike, at least check out if the sweet shops are open on Divali, and see how things will feel like once outside. I still have a hard time making up my mind, and circle around the area a couple times without taking action. Doubt sets in: Is it really right for me to enter the community this way? How will my gesture be perceived? Will it feel to these people that I'm doing some sort of patronizing charity towards them, whereas for all I know they may need nothing at all? These anguishing moments of doubt happen often. But at some point I force myself to brush it all aside, decide to proceed as originally planned, knowing that too much questioning would only lead to paralysis. I hope that my actions can be perceived in the simplest of ways, a genuine desire to engage with people whose lives could hardly be more different from mine.
I've bought three boxes of sweets which I'm carrying in a backpack. Riding the bike is pleasant, the wind mitigating the October heat. But things are very quiet on this holiday afternoon, and I begin to wonder whether I'll find anyone on the way. Indeed, the 1st community is just about deserted, so I don't stop there. Near the 2nd one though, I meet my usual cast of friends playing on the side of the trail, Giryama, Lakshmi, Anjapa and a few other kids. "Silip, Silip, Bhaya, Bhaya" (brother, brother), they yell upon seeing me, and are joined by more voices coming from the shacks. As I take one of the boxes out of my bag, I am surrounded by a little troop. I present it to Giryama, but she quickly runs back to her dwelling with it. It feels like the whole community has come out to meet me, adults as well, most of them having stayed home for the holiday. I recognize a few faces, Sunil and his father, then this man whose sketchy Hindi had allowed us some exchange. Seeing that the Mitthai have disappeared, I give the other two boxes here as well, one to Sunil's family, the other to the young talkative man. Follows a extensive photo operation (I hear the usual sigh of excitment from the kids as I reach into my pocket for the camera), for which the women have also come out, and family after family, we take many group pictures. They insist on seeing the pictures on the camera itself, which is very difficult on the tiny screen under such bright sunlight, so we all huddle together trying to make the photos out. It's quite a fun melee in there. I promise that once printed, the images will look nice. One of the women is apparently offering to pay for the prints, but I refuse. In spite having so little common language, we have the best of time, laughing together, coming up with new ideas for pictures. Some of the boys pose on my bike, and I let them ride it around on the trail.


-- Slumdwellers, Dunmore House "2nd community" --


-- Sunil's family --


I take a few pictures of this Hindi speaking man. His name is Diurach (or Diuraj?). In an important moment, I finally make my move, asking him in Hindi if I could come inside his house someday. He invites me in right away, for "lunch". Introduced inside one of the tin sheet dwellings for the first time, I respectfully take off my shoes and enter. Diurach places a mat on the ground for me to sit, offers me a delicious chapati on a tin plate filled with sweet stuffing. The space is small, perhaps 10 by 10, but is kept tidy and clean. Out of respect, I don't propose to take pictures, not wanting anyone to think that I've come here as in a Zoo, also wondering if these people are shy about their humble living condition. Some laundry is drying in once corner, tin plates, bowls and vases are kept in another. Colored coconuts carefully placed on the ground are left over from a recent pooja. It's very hot under the tin roof. The blinding light comes through the open metal sheet that serves as a door. Another man joins us inside, and insists on serving me some of the sweets I brought, some of which I eat to honour the hosts. The women have stayed outside, some crowding near the entrance with a few children. In spite of my insistance, Diurach and his friend themselves refuse to eat. Diurach has apparently migrated from Mumbai after his parents' death, now works in construction, applying plaster. I cannot finish my whole plate, explain that I couldn't possibly eat so much, and they reassure me that this is ok. Diurach places the unfinished plate on a large plastic jar. During this time, people have been watching out for my belongings. Someone has brought my bag inside, and people are keeping an eye on my bicycle. The people repeat my name again. A small boy has said it particularly proudly Silip, Silip!, then looks sad once I correct his pronunciation. I reassure him that it's all good.


-- Diuraj --


I warmly thank my host. Sunil's father would also love to receive me for lunch, but I have to decline, promising to visit him some other time. Besides, Cecile calls me. I have completely let time fly by and we're expected in Muthsandra for a Divali dinner. I warmly and repeatedly thank my host. A young man brings me back my bike, and after many heartfelt goodbyes I leave.












Training Run (14.5 Miles) - 11/15/09


Palm Meadows - Varthur - Left at main school - Straight to Muthsandra: 0:50:55
Through Kuttur to Aurohalli: 0:15:51
Back same way: 1:03:31
Time: 2:10:18
Mileage: 14.5 Miles
Wght: 151

It has been a long time.
The weather has been bad all week, overcast and wet. Today it still drizzles through most of the run. But I feel surprisingly comfortable after such a break, this weather is great for running.
Today I take the direct road from Varthur to Muthsandra, which I used to run in the early days but haven't in months. It's mostly paved which limits the amount of mud, although I'll still come back quite dirty. From Muthsandra I go through this small village where I usually meet some kids who accompany me part of the way. Today, a group of four boys on two bikes come along. They finally teach me the name of this village, Kuttur or Kotur, which I repeat a few times. They keep correcting my prononciation, but I obviously don't quite hear the difference. This time they actually escort me all the way to Aurohalli, and leave me there, as Anjun runs to meet me.
In Aurohalli, my friends have missed me a lot, during this prolonged absence. I have brought them a stack of pictures taken some time ago. In Roopa's house, I'm served what resembles a French breakfast, bread and jelly. Her and Anjun describe how sad they were, seeing my messages week after week that I would again be unable to visit them. I explain a few times, sick, busy with work, problems... I haven't brought the camera on purpose, partly because of the rain, but also because I'm growing tired of all this picture taking. I of course regret not having it, as Ruchita is today playing with a little kitten named Lily, apparently her pet, with whom she sleeps at night. Most of the old faithfuls are here, Anjun, Lavania, Rakesh. Monika has cut her hair to the point where she could be mistaken for a boy, and I don't recognize her at first in spite of her beautiful wide eyes. Sitting in Roopa's house, I teach them "Frère Jacques" in French, making them repeat verse after verse, after which they sing to me some English version of the tune. Neetra then offers me Paan which after first refusing, not quite sure what that will do for the run back home, I finally accept upon their insistence. Like at Roopa's father house, I'm unable to simply chew the thing so pretty soon it all disappears down my throat. The taste is strong but not unpleasant.
The family members from Dodbalapur (Arun and Shirisha) have now gone back, everyone cried a lot, describes Roopa. She invites me to a festival tomorrow (school is off for them), but I will be working. Roopa and Neetra want my family picture, so that after we go back to America they can remember us. After such an absence, I don't want to leave too soon, and stay chatting and playing, particularly with the cat who has fallen asleep on my lap. I place Ruchita's little doll right next to it and we have fun describing them as husband and wife, in Kannada and Telugu. Later, a woman shows up at the door, proudly showing a beautiful goat. Everyone soon yells at the animal though as it tries to enter the house. After some time, I also visit Rakesh's house, where I learn that his older sister's name is Ambuja.
As I leave the village, a guy on a motorcycle catches up with me to invite to the Pooja at the Shiva temple tomorrow, for the festival that Roopa was describing earlier. Flowers, he describes, you can take pictures, but I have to decline, Mujhe kam karna parega. Later in Kuttur, Muthsandra and other villages, I am welcome by so many people, families, children, women, and regret that I don't have time to stop by, giving all my time to the people in Aurohalli.









-- Tomato field near Aurohalli --

Training Run (10.7 Miles) - 11/22/09


Palm Meadows - Varthur - Muthsandra - Kottur - Aurohalli: 1:02:55
Timanahalli - Adjgondanahalli - Imadahalli - Whitefield - Borewell road - W. trail to Palm Meadows: 0:33:09s
Time: 1:36:04
Mileage: 10.7 Miles
Wght: 150.5

(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)


Today's route is an exact repeat of last week's as I had been so charmed by the villages and people, and am planning to stop and meet new people along the way. The weather is quite nice, warmer than I would have expected, fortunately with some clouds as I don't feel ready for the heat.
Soon after Varthur, I salute a young boy on a bicycle riding along next to me. A little later, he drops a plastic container which I pick up for him, then take his picture. Later on the road, I'm surprised to hear a few teens on a motorbike calling my name, Philips, Philips!!. These are actually boys from Aurohalli (although I don't recognize them).
In Muthsandra and Kottur, I stop for some time to meet people, talking as best we can and taking many pictures. Here too, Philips, Philips, a group of teens calls my name.


-- In Muthsandra --



-- In Kottur --


-- Aurohalli --


In Aurohalli, I am as usual invited in Roopa's house. We play with the kittens from last time. Neetra would love to take pictures of her in Saree, but Roopa says that if I don't have enough time, it's more important for me to eat, we can always do the pictures later. Today I insist on sitting on the floor like they would, refusing the usual plastic chair. While we wait, Anjun drags me to his sister Monika's house, her mother serves me a delicious (but spicy) rice dish. Her other son, a young baby who hasn't been named yet, just wakes up, and eventually is dropped on my lap. He stares at me with immense eyes.
In the street, we make a few drawings with chalk. The kids teach me how to draw a lotus flower. Then back in Roopa's house, I'm served an omelette with more rice, and drink a lot of water. Neetra has put on a pink Saree and make-up, so we do a photo shoot, looking for the places with the best light. Like the woman in the slums, and most people here, she presents a very serious face to the camera, and here too, I begin a silly laugh to make her smile, then ask Roopa to feed me a few Kannada lines, knowing how my butchering of the language always cracks her up.


-- Roopa, Neetra --


Roopa informs me that the man who has created a trust for the poor, whom I haven't had a chance to meet, will be coming to a nearby village. Worried about coming home too late, I hesitate but finally accept to meet him. Roopa's uncle takes me on a motorbike to Timanalli, which is no more than five minutes away. After a short wait, we meet the old man there, his native village, in his grandmother's house. He explains his project and hands me documents. The trust is in its infancy and will only be inaugurated next month, not quite what I was looking for.
From Timanalli, it's a relatively short run home, but the food and tea weigh on me a bit. I drop the idea of making a detour by the Dunmore House slums.


-- Ruchita and Vandana with the kittens --












-- Going to school - Dunmore house slums --

Commute Run "to school" - 11/20/09

Dunmore house route - through Nellurahalli - ECC route - Lake trail.
Time: 0:43:15
Mileage: 4.8 Miles

(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)

There are no early meetings today, so I set off later, around 7:30. This is an ideal time to catch the kids as they are going to school.
Through the Dunmore house slums, I am greeted by Malikarjun and Ishwaraja, the two "original schoolboys", and Gaorama. All are dressed up for school, the boys in blue uniform, Gaorama in a pink dress, all wearing backpacks. They invite me inside the community for a photo session, then I walk with them along the dirt trail on the way to school. Approaching the 2nd community, they call on to the other kids, Giryama and the gang. One of the beautiful young woman calls to me, waves me to approach. She'd like to take a few more pictures, and she's soon joined by some of her friends, grooming themselves for the occasion. One actually leaves to go wash at the nearby source, another is using a small plastic mirror. The young woman looks so serious for the pictures, such a stern look. We have no language in common but I try to make her laugh, making a fool of myself. She finally laughs too, her face lighting up.


-- finally, a smile for the camera --

Manikarjun and co. have left us to our photo shoot to go to school. I catch up with them again in the center of Nellurahalli. "Government School", explains Manikarjun, before they turn into a small alley. Later, approaching ITPL through Pattandur Agrahara, I take the "lake shortcut" which leads me deep into the community. Many men are shitting in the fields at this hour. I smile a lot at everyone, but mostly get queer looks back.





-- Dunmore house, "3rd community" -- s

Commute Run - 11/26/09

Dunmore house route - through Nellurahalli, direct to ITPL
Time: 0:32:26
Mileage: 3.6 Miles

(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)

Foggy morning, visibility of only a few meters.
On the barren field by Dunmore house, the slums first appear as shadows, emerging from the white haze. Lakshmi is the first one to see me coming today, then she calls Giryama and Anjapa, and the older boy. THey pluck of blade of grass and pick it apart for me, but I don't quite understand what they're trying to show me. I wave at one of the women from a distance. But today, it's in the third community that most of the action happens. The older man (his name is Anthony?) asks me to take pictures of his children. THe group grows around me, enthusiastic, most people eating their breakfast rice, and we take many pictures, while blabbering in Hindi (as much as we can). Right past the wall, three women are cooking outside by their tent. I ask them politely if I could take a picture but they refuse. As I'm running off they call me again though, and I try to explain in a little more detail, I'll make prints, them give the pictures to you. They understand Kannada only, but acquiesce in good spirits. An older woman from the 3rd community walks with me a few yards, making brave attempts to repeat my english, "thank you, thank you", she laughs.




-- Slum dwellers from the "3rd community", Nellurahalli --

Dunmore House - 11/29/09

Main road to Siddhapura rd. - Dunmore house - Through Nellurahalli - Back through W. trail / Hamlet behind Palm Meadows.
Time: 0:44:37
Mileage: 5 Miles

(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)

A Sunny day.
I have been concerned about a developing back/IT band pain, which extends all the way to my foot, so I've chosen to run much shorter than usual. Plus, I have some pictures to distribute the slum dwellers.
I have come with pictures to distribute, and of course take a lot of new ones. I meet this woman "Sunita", who speaks some English and a little Hindi. She lives in Nellurahalli, and for some reason is walking around the area this morning (I'll see her a few times). She kindly invites me to her house for some other time, inquires about when I typically run by during the week.
In the second community, a few young men pose bollywood style for the camera. I show one how to take pictures, then Sunita takes a few too, which allows me to be photographed with them. I photograph two of the women sitting on a corrugated metal sheet watching their own pictures, but they wave at me to stop (which I do apologetically), probably not wanting to be caught unprepared.


-- Women looking at their photographs, "2nd slum community", Nellurahalli --





-- Tent dwellers from the "3rd slum community", Dunmore house area, Nellurahalli --

Dunmore House - 12/02/09

Dunmore house - ECC - Lake trail to ITPLs.
Time: 0:44:18
Mileage: 4.9 Miles
Wght: 150

(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)

I have brought many pictures from recent runs, particularly from the 3rd community. This creates quite a gathering, and we take a few more pictures of course. The man who I had photographed with his children last time has an angry face today, something I've noticed in him before. Sometimes he'll be the most welcoming, other times seem despondent, and I wonder if alcohol could be to blame. The slum dwellers are distributing the photos amongst themselves, creating the usual chaos, and some small fights, where children often are slapped. I suddenly remember the tent-dwellers pictures, and fear that they may have been lost in the confusion, but looking in that direction, I see the tent dwellers holding them up, someone must have gave them. I walk there, on my way. The tent-dwellers introduce themselves to me. They barely know any Hindi, but two men introduce themselves as "chota bhai" and "bara bhai" (little and big brother). A third man, older, salutes me in an odd particularly respectful manner, bringing his joint hands to his head and bowing in a particularly respectful way. Touched but not knowing exactly how to respond, I imitate his gesture, perhaps awkwardly. The whole group gathers in front of the tent for a picture.
Later in the run, I take the Lake Trail and pass through the narrow passages of Pattandur Agrahara, on my way to ITPL. This route continues to be mysterious, I feel very foreign there, but slowly see encouraging signs of welcome appear on certain people's faces. Patience...



-- Posing in front of his tent with a cell phone and a bike, Nellurahalli slums --


-- The two brothers ("chota aur bara bhai") - the small temple is in the background --


-- The "respectful man" --








Cécile's birthday, Aurohalli -


-- In Roopa's house --

(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)

Later that morning, we drive to Aurohalli for Cecile's birthday, with Jeremie and Madeleine. The families are unfortunately competing for our attention, particularly between Roopa's, Anjun's and Rakesh's. Because Cecile called her, Ambuja (Rakesh's older sister) has sent several text messages imploring us to please come to her house first, not Roopa's. We end up spending most of the time at her house, are served a meal of chicken and rice which we eat sitting on the floor (the family will eat later). This ends up creating a lot of tension as Neetra, dressed up for the occasion, has also prepared food for us, and is waiting in her home.


-- Inside Ambuja and Rakesh's house --


-- Unknown girl, Lavania, Vandana -- Rakesh and I -- Ambuja's family --


I ask Roopa if Neetra would join us here, but apparently some quarrel prevents her from doing that. We end up sharing the cakes that we've brought there, and eat a little more (in spite of being already full).
Cecile has dressed up in Saree for the occasion, and the villagers offer her and Madeleine bengals, necklaces. The women in Ambuja's house help her wrap it properly, then offer her and Madeleine Bengals, necklaces. A few of the young girls have also put on their best Sarees, we take many pictures. Madeleine is given Lily the little cat to play with.
In Roopa's house, I sit on the floor and eat more chicken, right next to the old aunt, somehow trying to exchange some words. Ruchita is playing with an old school notebook, and writes a few letters in Kannada. I'm surprised to see some Hindi in there. As a game, I write the kid's names in Hindi while they respond writing in Kannada. Ruchita is coughing again, I'm told she has some fever (Xavier helps translate).








-- Inside Roopa's house (left to right: Neetra, Roopa, me, the Aunt, Ruchita and Monika --







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