-- Lakshmi, Giryamma and Anjapa --
Nellurahalli Runs -- 01/23/10
(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)
Tuesday 01/19/10 -- Dunmore house slums
Time: 0:29:03
Pace: 8'00" / mile
Mileage: 3.6 Miles
I hope to accompany the kids to school today.
In the first community, only Ishwaraja is going to school,
Manikarjun no. He walks with me towards the 2nd community.
Even though I'm determined not to take pictures, I of course
get talked into it, especially once Durgapa has taken control
of the camera again. Then arrives the Red Truck and we take
a few photos there, and the women, including Durgamma (whose
in particular good spirits with me now, offering me food
again) and Durgapa's wife, are making themselves pretty
for the shoot. What a nice playful atmosphere. Ishwaraja,
who has gone back to his home comes back again, this time
with Dauramma, and I intend to follow them to school once
again (disappointed however that Anumanta has apparently
no intention of going to school). But they will eventually
disappear without my notice, while we're busy with more
pictures. Of course, Gyriamma, Lakshmi and Anjapa have
been the first to greet me, and don't let go of me.
I several times argue that I'm getting late, try to
stop the pictures, but get talked into it again. Durgapa
strikes as being more and more qualified, directing the
shoots, and having good ideas about framing.
We then move on to the tree with Giryamma, Lakshmi and
Anjapa. Giryamma has definitely caught and now fully
understands how to operate the camera (including
how to check the pictures). She too art directs
me, making me pose with Lakshmi and Anjapa.
I love the sound of her excitement when she
finds a photo she likes, or conversely her
disappointment at the ones that don't
turn out. I would
really like a picture with her so we try to teach
Lakshmi as well, but this proves harder. I also
try to capture us by holding the camera myself.
A guy from the third community stops by, amused,
soon joined by another young man on a bike, who
asks me about his printout. He appears frustrated
that I don't have them, and leaves abruptly with
the Indian "tsk" mouth song. "Vo naraz houa?", I
ask the other guy. As soon as I approach the tree,
I feel stings on my legs, and notice nasty looking
mosquitoes. I hope mosquitoes in this area aren't
carrying some disease.
A little later, joined by Kiran, and we sprint to
the third community. THen, a couple invites me
into the temple to take their picture (after
having taken off my shoes).
Thursday 01/22/10 --
Most direct route to ITPL:
W. Trail - Siddhapura - Nellurahalli - Pattandur Agrahara.
Time: 0:25:35
Pace: 8'00" / mile
Mileage: 3.2 Miles
I'm in a bit of a rush this morning, so opt for this shortest
route. For some reason, perhaps by premonition,
I've decided to carry the camera, in the event
that some new thing would present itself.
Entering Nellurahalli,
the slum tent community is bathed in fog, part smoke from
the morning fires, part mist, the light gently
warmed up by the rising sun.
The community is mostly asleep, little early activity
here and there, huddled perhaps in the tents
from the morning chill,
and a woman on the side of the road is washing dishes at
the water point, crouched down. The vision is splendid -
but I have no time. Yet, struck by this vision, I can't
help but
turn back after a few meters, retrace my steps and
timidly approach the woman, ask her if I could take her
picture. She accepts with an amused smile,
and is soon joined by another
few slumdwellers, still waking up. Perhaps because here,
as in other places, people have seen me running by so
often, I am accepted, and make the most of this first
contact. In half superstition I feel that word has
gone out in the dog community as well, that everywhere
I am protected. A man produces his card, explains that
he sells coins and stamps, next time... I leave
excitedly hopeful that I may have captured some small
miracle in the camera.
But the photos will fall short of truly conveying the splendor
of the morning light.
-- Tent dwellers, early morning, Nellurahalli--
Saturday 01/23/10 --
Dunmore house, with nearly 200 photographs - back via
Palm Meadows Hamlet.
Time: 0:36:20
Pace: 8'00"
Mileage: 4.5 Miles
I have come with a large stack of about 150 photographs,
from all our previous sessions, including the shoes
photos, which we all find hilarious. Many of these have been
taken by Durgapa, and today again, I happily offer him control
of the camera. In Kannada, he asks me about light direction
for the photographs, position of the sun, etc., and how the
photos could be best taken. Anumanta and her sister (still
can't retain her name) play together, she bites his
shoulder for the camera.
I then spend some time with Manikarjun
and Reddi, at the end of the community, where an opening in
the brick wall reveals the trail that the kids take to
school in Nellurahalli. Reddi invites me briefly into his house,
his parents are away. The metal walls are decorated with
many newspaper images of Kannada movie stars. The camera
is having some problem so I'm unable to take pictures.
-- Anumanta (Giryamma's brother) playing with
his older sister --
-- Reddi --
Training Run (12.6 Miles) -- 01/24/10
Palm Meadows - Imadahalli - Somehow join the Varthur
to Muthsandra road - First stop in Muthsandra: 0:57:30
Second stop in Kuttur: 0:06:50
Aurohalli: 0:05:39
Back via Timanahalli - Trails - through
Ajgondanahalli - Imadahalli - Back to Palm Meadows: 0:43:33
Time: 1:53:32
Mileage: 12.6 Miles
Wght: 153
A magical start to the morning. A thin fog layer dampens
the landscape, strengthened by the small fires that
are lit at sunrise, the temperature is perfect, and running
at this early morning hour I feel that I participate in
people's rising. Little activity, peasants getting the
cows out, groups of women workers heading to the construction
sites, a few families already out in front of their houses,
calling to me as I pass. My smiles are invariably
answered to. It would be tempting to stop and meet
every single group, but some of these encounters will have
to be postponed, as my area of influence is already
unwieldy. Today I'll focus on people in Mutsandra,
Kuttur, and of course Aurohalli. "Uncle, English, Pileep,
Silips" and other variations, these are the names
by which I'm called, but my favorite is "Bhaya",
my slum name, "Brother".
As a variant, I've gone through Imadahalli today,
but then take the road that climbs up to the Varthur
area, through several tiny hamlets. I feel particularly
elated in this fog, the weather this time of year
is glorious in Bangalore, clear and crisp, and during
my shorter week runs I've picked up the pace, which makes
this relaxed long run rhythm feel particularly comfortable,
like flying with no effort, a sensation only runners
experience.
I'm not entirely
sure how I'll reach Muthsandra this way, but am confident
that this general direction will take me there. I explore
a trail which eventually dead-ends into a field, so I have
to retrace my steps. Soon the familiar bifurcation (with
Kannada signs only) confirms that I have found my way,
and after an hour of running I reach Muthsandra. Immediately
cheered by kids as I arrive, I plunge straight into the
alleys of the village to distribute the images I've brought.
A group of women by the fountain happily scans through
the pictures, laughing as they recognize loved ones, and
I'm soon assisted by a man who speaks some Hindi in
distributing among the various houses. I've decided to
not take pictures today, and I am helped in that by the
fact that my camera being out of battery
aaj kharab ho gaya. I'm happy in particular to
hand over her pictures to the "christian woman" who
had invited me into her house.
Leaving the village, I make an exception and stop
for this one family who sitting in the field has waved
me welcome. We manage to take a single picture before
the camera officially goes dead. Maybe it's better that
way, as I can't continue to print hundreds of pictures
every week for the people. Just down the road in the
smaller village of Kuttur, the picture distribution is
repeated, to even greater enthusiasm. The warmth of the
villagers is as ever overwhelming, and we end up spending
some time together, where I get invited to half a dozen
marriages. We laugh wholeheartedly together in spite of so
little means of actual speech. The villagers study all
the remaining pictures, even those from Aurohalli, and
are particularly interested by those showing Cecile
meri bivi, or us crossing the river. I worry
that all my pictures will be dispersed, but in spite
of the apparent anarchy everyone is very diligent
at returning them to me. The group
is so cheerful, so eager to make every possible effort
to talk, that I find it difficult to leave. At the
exit of the village, a young man approaches calling
my name, adding "you remember me?". Seeing that I don't
quite, he soon reminds me, pointing at himself:
Dilip, our names our almost
the same, remember? We shake hands.
Approaching Aurohalli, I stop by a field where
this nice young man had once introduced me to his
father. The villagers had never given them their
pictures (in spite of living right by the entrance
of the village, they apparently have very little contact),
so I've reprinted them. Sure enough, he's here by the
road, this time with his grandfather. Someone else
comes by whom I recognize as this boy who had fed me
some tomatoes that same day. The grandfather wants to
talk money, but I avoid the topic, not wanting to tarnish
our relationship.
In Aurohalli, I first run into Rakesh's and Ambuja's
father, a perfect opportunity since I want to make
sure I didn't vex him by being so hesitant to follow him
to the temple on Sankranthi. So I present him the photos
first, a wise political move, and thank him warmly
for the fantastic time we had on the festival. He gently
returns the pictures, so I can present them to the
children myself.
In my friends' alley, Roopa, wearing a fancy
old dress adorned with sequins, is waiting with her
family in front of her house. We all share the photos
in the street, and I visit a few other families first
promising Roopa that I'll come back. I present the
great pictures of Monika to her mother, so she
invites me in for tea. I meet Monika's father for the
first time, a friendly man who fortunately speaks
some Hindi, working as a driver near HAL. Joined by
Anjun's father, we drink a delicious tea together,
and I'm able to share with them some of my plans
for the village. I humbly accept the father's praise,
who finds my bond with the children of Aurohalli truly
extraordinary. Hearing it from his mouth I realize
once again how deeply fundamental this relationship
is for me, illuminating me with unprecedented
happiness. I bring here no charity, rather, the sheer
joy of being together, between people of such
different context. We all make fun of Monika's
little brother, who won't be given a name before
he reaches eleven months, who as usual stares
at me fixedly as if I were some martian.
The kids insist that I come
taste coconut juice with them. I gesture
at Roopa that I will come back, ask her
to join us which she refuses. But first I must
salute Ambuja and confirm our dinner plans for
next week. As usual, we name a "belt carrier" among
the kids, after a little fighting Chittu and Ruchita
each firmly grab one of my hands, and off we go,
through the narrow passages between the houses,
towards the fields. But we're soon stopped in the
next street, an older boy insists that I visit
his house as well, which I respectfully enter
after removing my shoes. An old man is eating
rice on the floor, and three young women make
me sit on a plastic chair, helped by little Ruchita
who's still forcefully driving me (I joke that
"she's the boss!"). I'm offered a small tin
plate of vegetables which actually tastes very
sour. Even though they've nicely given me a spoon,
I insist on eating properly with my hand. THen,
in spite of my protest, the women give me a larger
plate of rice with a delicious gravy. I thank
them wholeheartedly.
Chittu and Ruchita have taken my hands
again as we run down the trail, following the
bigger kids. I am amused to hear her
repeat a few of my english words.
We stop by a row of palm trees,
from which a couple young men make coconuts
fall by prodding them with a very tall stick
armed with a machette. Freshly cut like this,
the juice is indeed delicious, we all share
voluptuously. Anjun tries his luck with the
stick, but he's still a little too small to
make it work. His father joins us eventually
to cut a few more coconuts, explaining that
this is his field.
I'm escorted back to Roopa's house. Neethra
has of course prepared some food as well, which
I eat, my second or third meal in the village
(will I be able to run back?). Sitting on the
floor, she also peels a large
papaya which we all share.
Really full now, I neverthless taste a little of
the honey that they've managed
to gather from the
gigantic bee hives that are hanging in the
tallest trees around here. Ruchita puts her
cat on my lap for me to play. I teach the
word "cat", which in true Indian fashion
she pronounces by rolling
her tongue and clicking it at the back of
the mouth, cat. I correct her with
a soft t, but jokingly, she emphasizes
the letter even more, caT,
caT...
I explain
my village plans
to Roopa too, although she is mostly focused
on convincing me to go back to Dodabalapuram
for her brother Arun's birthday, and
cannot be distracted (her father has indeed
called me last week, to invite me in
uncertain Hindi). Then Roopa hands
me the Durga notebook that I had brought
from Hampi for her birthday.
It's now full of drawings
and writings, mostly poetry, written in
either English or the curly Kannada script.
Amongst this are tales about her friends,
me and my family, "Uncle" Xavier and
his daughter Joyce,
and the people she has met at the DDU, which
she would love to see again. Sadly, her
writing is clouded by the anguish
that we might "go back to Paris"
(her own words), bringing all this to an end.
Can you promise me that you'll never
leave India?
In spite of all this food, running back
home I find myself still riding this
invincible wind that has
carried me through the morning.
Past Ajgondanahalli, feeling fresh, I try
a small trail on the left which ends up providing
a perfect shortcut into Imadahalli, reaching
behind the Shiva temple. On the way, a group of four
women in the field waves at me. They're
sitting in a line, taking a break from the field work,
and the image is so beautiful that for the first
time today I dearly regret that the camera isn't
working. Later, approaching Imadahalli, I pass
through a Pooja which has gathered a sizable
crowd for the inauguration of a house. I am
offered food here once again but politely decline.
-- Nagamma, Giryamma, Anumanta, Anjapa
& Laskhmi, posing with the blue Saree (Nellurahalli slums) --
India Republic Day (8.8 Miles) -- 01/26/10
With Manoj Pahariya --
Palm Meadows - W. Trail - To Siddhapura/Nellurahalli rd. - Down
to Siddhapura Shell Station: 0:16:40
Up & Down Siddhapura/Nellurahalli: 0:13:01
Siddhapura through Nellurahalli - ECC route -
in Pattandur Agrahara - Back through Nellurahalli again -
Borewell road - Palm Meadows Hamlet: 0:49:23
Time: 1:19:05
Mileage: 12.6 Miles
(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)
Today is India Republic Day. Manoj and I have agreed
to visit the slums together, so we meet at the Shell Station
in Siddhapura and from there walk to the Dunmore house area.
For some reason, in spite of having passed here so many
times, today I notice Hebrew writing on one of the
houses.
I'm a little nervous
that things may not quite work out as I never know
what to expect here, but we're immediately welcome
by the dwellers of the first community. Here, some
Hindi is spoken, so we're able to communicate. Manoj
learns that these dwellings are put up by construction
firms to shelter their workers. Supplies of water
are regularly delivered to the local wells for
the slumdwellers. I ask about Manikarjun and Ishwaraja,
who've both already gone to school for the Republic
Day celebrations. A few women would like their pictures
taken (for which they put on beautiful sarees), as well
as a young child with a colorful balloon. The nice
"security guard" whom I've met a few times escorts us
down the trail to the second community, where my
dearest friends live.
As usual, Giryamma, Lakshmi,
and Anjapa welcome us from a distance,
although they act a little shy
today, perhaps because I'm not alone. I ask Durgapa
to take pictures. He's by now figured out everything about
the camera, how to check pictures, operate the zoom, etc.
At some point, a man wants to take a picture with
Durgamma, but she jokingly fights him back, "Wannapa",
I hear in her Kannada, as she doesn't want to be
photographed without her husband.
I ask Giryamma to take pictures too, but Durgapa, as true
art director, criticizes the result, debating how
it could better be done. Manoj and I would like to visit
the school today (some kids are probably there for a
Republic Day celebration) but we have a hard time leaving,
as new things keep coming up. Although it's harder to
talk with these people, we keep going at it, helped
a little by Krishna who speaks rudiments of Hindi.
I ask about Reddi, but Durgapa
indicates that he has left. I make him repeat a
few times, me in Hindi, him in Kannada, but no mistaking,
sadly Reddi has left for good, another surprise departure in
these transient populations (to think that I saw him
only a few days ago). I fear the day that I might lose
Giryamma's family also, perhaps with as little warning.
As we finally set off on the trail (at least
the 5th time we've tried to leave),
Durgamma and her children call me once again.
They've uncoiled the full length of
a magnificent blue saree, the whole family is displaying
it in front of the shacks. What splendor! so I quickly
run back to them. Durgamma and her five children
participate in this feast, gleeful from the
beauty of the moment, while I wonder if I'll be able
to capture their wonderful display. They run to me
eventually, laughing their hearts out,
and we all revel at the pictures. I have
often marvelled how here in India, utmost beauty
reveals itself in the humblest places - this
moment illustrates it best. And beyond that is yet
a striking example these marvelous opportunities
that Durgamma's family
constantly invents to develop our
friendship, finding ways with relentless creativity
by which we can engage each
other beyond words. Generally, they create
these moments, I don't. I follow in awe.
-- The whole family, without the father: Durgamma, Anumanta,
Nagamma, Giryamma, Anjapa & Lakshmi --
-- Posing with the Saree, Nellurahalli slums --
-- Lakshmi --
-- Anumanta --
Durgapa has decided to accompany us to the school. We follow
him through the opening between the walls, on a dirt trail
that leads to town (he of course, walks bare feet).
His two young boys are following us
from a distance. We're kind of talking along the way,
stumbling when our words become insufficient, but it
doesn't matter much. In Nellurahalli, Durgapa takes us
to a roadside tea shop, buys us tea and drinks, and
even offers cookies, which we refuse. In spite of
our protest, Durgapa insists on paying himself, a
few 10Rs bills that were rolled in his pocket. He even
gives us pieces of gum to clear our mouths, and buys
chewing tobacco for himself, cookies for his children.
We thank him profusely.
Luckily, as we approach the Nellurahalli Government
School, the kids are gathered outside for the Republic
Day celebration. I soon spot little Ishwaraja in the small
uniformed crowd. We wave at each other, but I'm a little
shy, not wanting to somehow embarass him in front of
his friends, or disturb the ceremony. I eventually
spot Manikarjun too, salute him, then his
friends. Helped by Manoj, we talk to the teachers,
and are eventually led to the apparent principal. We
express our interest in visiting the school and
are most welcome. In fact, they'd like us to stay
for the function today, but we decline. Visiting
the school with the kids is more than ever
my next goal.
-- Republic Day by the school, Nellurahalli center --
-- (Manikarjun is on the right) --
Manoj and I walk back to the Shell station, where I leave him. As if this hadn't been enough, I decide to run before returning home (Cecile and the kids are in town anyway), hoping to enjoy this marvelous day further. It's a splendid Bangalore winter weather morning, sunny, crisp and pleasantly cool, and I decide to go to Pattandur Agrahara (near ITPL) to distribute the handful of pictures that I had taken on Sankranthi (which I've a carried in my pocket since morning). I am hoping this will finally introduce me in this area, particularly along the lake trail, and in the narrow streets of the community. Luckily, as I'm appraoching the lake, I run into a woman herding sheep, which happens to be the woman on my photos. I present her the prints, and we both stop at a tiny vending booth, where a few other people participate in the small event. Particularly, one man with a little Hindi offers me a banana from the stand, for which he refuses any money. We sit together and chat. Later in the village, I distribute my other pictures, asking around how to find the people. As I'm about to exit this area into the ITPL side road, I go through some construction work, and am struck by the children and women helping on the site. For some reason, their appearance moves me particularly, such that I am left dumbfounded, unable to engage with them. Later down the road, a group of three workers return my smile, and nicely agree to a photo. My connections in Pattandur Agrahara are patiently growing.
-- Distributing photographs, Nellurahalli tent community --
Nellurahalli slums -- 01/30/10
With Adi Shayan --
Palm Meadows - E. Trail - PM Hamlet -
Borewell rd through Nellurahalli to Siddhapura rd. - Down
to Siddhapura Shell Station: 0:25:30
Back through Nellurahalli -
Borewell road - Palm Meadows Hamlet: 0:18:54
Time: 0:44:25
Mileage: 5.0 Miles
Wght: 153
(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)
As often, I've woken up several times during the night,
daunted in darkness by anguish, and wake up again as
if exhausted from the night's combat. But the morning
light invariably brings optimism. Today I am to meet
Adi in Siddhapura, to go meet the slumdwellers.
I have a little time so run the round-about way.
But today the morning air hasn't washed away the weariness,
and waiting by the Shell station, I feel dizzy. Adi is
slightly late. Walking up and down the Nellurahalli road,
passing the tent community at the corner of the main
road, my eyes cross with that of a woman washing dishes.
I ask her if she would want to take a picture, showing
her from the stack I'm carrying that I then would make
a print for her. "Abhi nahi, baad me", she
answers in beautiful Hindi (not now, later...)
We park Adi's car by the Dunmore house, on the
dirt trail. From there we walk to the slum communities,
and are greeted in the first by Malikarjun's mother.
Adi, speaking Kannada, is finally able to communicate
fully with these people.
I give the mother the photos, she laughingly tells Adi that
she feels ashamed that she's wearing today the same
Sari than she was on the picture. The little girl
from last time is also there, and the mother explains
that she will marry her to Malikarjun when they're older.
Adi has brought biscuits for the children. He explains
that the adults see no value in the school, the teachers
not being committed, and when the kids come home
the adults don't understand how to help them. Attendance
is therefore spotty, although at school the kids are
fed a free meal.
We move on to the second community, passed as
we're walking by the Lal Gari, full with
people recognizing me wave at us.
We're greeted by the Giryamma family, and Durgapa.
Here, with no Hindi, Adi's Kannada proves even more
useful. I'm so happy to see him discuss with Durgapa,
who says that even though we appear best friends,
our communication has been hit or miss. We of course
take pictures with the children, and I insist that
Giryamma operate the camera, although it's hard for
Durgapa to let go (I've asked Adi to tell him that
I call him the "Art Director"). Giryamma does well
(this isn't the first time), and she too has figured out
by herself some of the camera's fancier functions.
Adi encourages the kids to pose a bit more, acting
with them in Kannada movie style.
Durgamma is happy to see us, loves the pictures,
but also appears very busy. Adi explains that she needs
to get to work (I didn't know she worked). Apparently,
the woman normally work six days a week on the
nearby construction sites, while the man typically
work only five. According to Durgapa, they make
on average 150Rs. per day (which is relative high,
about 3USD), but 50 of that unfortunately
disappears in alcohol. I suppose the children stay
alone all day. Durgamma is bustling around,
applying her make-up outside, joined by her children
who apply the Tikka to their forehead. She then
lays cloth on the ground to dry. She herself is
wearing a beautiful white Saree today, and soon
she's joined by two women from the first community,
ready for work. They're carrying tin lunch boxes,
which they insist on showing prominently for the
picture. The two women proceed leave while
Durgamma has forgotten something in her shack, she
then runs after them down the trail, in direction
of the temple.
-- Ready for Work --
-- Durgamma, late for work, running after the other
two women --
We stop by the third community as well. I ask Giryamma to lead us there, but for some reason she's reluctant to leave her own community. We're greeted by Kiran. Adi asks him why he's not going to school, but what's the point, Kiran answers, we're moving away in two weeks. Here too, Adi gets the kids to strike nice poses, plays with them. We spend some time here, but are joined by Durgapa. Beyond the brick wall, in the tents, is another man who wants to give me kittens. I ask him about Umresh who used to live here. This is his brother, and he explains that Umresh has moved to Hampi. The man shows me the kittens, inside his tent, his beautiful young girl is combing her hair, and the man gets a printout of his Swami, a large picture with which he poses at the entrance.
-- Slumdwellers, "third community" (Shuwamma in the pink
blouse) --
Like last week, Durgapa walks us into Nellurahalli through the small trail shortcut, and to the Tea stall. Seeing Durgapa taking shriveled money out of his pocket again, I insist on paying tea and cookies for the children, which he accepts. After we're done, he again buys chewing tobacco for himself, and asks me whether I'd like gum.
Training Run "The Kannada Books" (9.4 Miles) -- 01/31/10
Palm Meadows - Imadahalli - lost in Trails - Ajgondanahalli -
Timanahalli - Aurohalli: 0:49:51
Back roughly the same way, different trails: 0:34:43
Time: 1:24:34
Mileage: 9.4 Miles
(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)
I've been buying a collection of children's books which are both
in Hindi and English, which have helped me tremendously. But
recently I absentmindedly bought a set in Kannada/English. After
having first thought of returning them, it occurred to me that
it would be the perfect gift for the children of Aurohalli,
and with these bilingual stories, perhaps they could teach
me some Kannada, while I teach them English. So today, I'm running
carrying the books in one hand, my dog rock in the other.
In Imadahalli, past the Shiva temple, I try out a new way,
but quickly get lost in the maze of trails which crisscross this
beautiful lush forest. I'm trying to find my way to Adjgondanahalli,
ask my way whenever I cross some peasant, but end up exploring a
few trails which all dead-end at the river. A few barking dogs
are easily put to rest, usually with the peasant's help, and
finally after quite a bit of meandering reach the familiar
back road to Ajgondanahalli. This provides a superb shortcut
into the beautiful countryside.
-- Lost on the trails,
between Imadahalli & Ajgondanahalli --
Through the small villages, my stack of books garners
attention. In Timanahalli, a group of kids asks me who
they're for. These miraculously speak Hindi. One of them
reads the cover "Neeru", which by luck happens to
be one of the very few Kannada words I know, "water". I
explain that these are for the children of Aurohalli.
Once there, passing the school I'm quickly intercepted
by Rakesh, who kidnaps me so that I come to his house first,
and smartly leads me there the back way, stepping right
through the small houses, so as to avoid passing in front
of Roopa's. I thank again Ambuja and her mother for last
night's wonderful dinner, and hand over the books to
Rakesh, which quickly disappear inside his house after
he has promised to distribute them to everyone.
I apologize to Ambuja for last night's misunderstanding,
since in the confusion we left without
saluting some uncle that had
also been expecting us at his house. It's at the entrance
of the village, she assures, Rakesh can lead me there.
Our group grows quickly with the usual suspects,
Lavannia, Monika, Anjun, Shrikanth, Punith...
I have only little time today, so we walk to the
village center. I wonder if I could get a haircut.
It's a tiny shop, just enough room for a single barber's
seat, and as it happens, Roopa and Ruchita are there,
waiting their turn for the little one. It would be
too long a wait for me so we leave. At the entrance
of the village, I am welcomed into the "Uncle's"
house, a beautiful bigger house, while my children
escort waits at the door. It turns out I've met
this man and his daughter before, a few months
ago, in one of my early trips to Aurohalli, when
I didn't know anyone, and had taken his picture that
day. I promise to find it and bring it to him. The man
speaks Hindi, his daughter English, and they offer me
Fanta, and make me promise to come back for the
Shivratri festival in two weeks.
The kids run with me along the road, including
Monika and Lavannia, and a small boy I don't know.
We race a few times for fun, and I find Punith is
fastest among the group. I have kept my camera
in my pocket, but approaching a flower field I ask
Lavannia and Monika to pose for the camera. The kids
shower me with flowers, and put some in my pockets,
for Cecile and Madeleine. Rakesh also gathers a few
rocks for me, for the dogs. The group leaves
me at the Timanahalli intersection.
In the village, I run across those same boys
from earlier. "Where are the books?", they
ask me, and I explain again that I've given them
to the children of Aurohalli,
while promising to myself that I'll
bring back more.
-- Monika and Rakesh in the flower field --
-- Kiran (Nellurahalli slums) --
-- Santoshamma (Nellurahalli slums) --
A big day (12.7 Miles) -- 02/06/10
Palm Meadows - Siddhapura - Nellurahalli - Dunmore
House 3rd Slum Community: 0:29:35
Nellurahalli School to Temple - Then Clarion Hotel
construction site,
back to Third Community: 0:15:00 (?, mishandled my stopwatch
through all this mayhem)
Back to Palm Meadows: 0:12:53
To Varthur outskirts: 0:30:56
To Aurohalli, through unknown villages then Kottur: 0:25:57
Time: 1:54:21
Mileage: 12.7 Miles
- Part I -
Nellurahalli
(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)
Big plans today!
This morning, visit to the Nellurahalli school to hatch
possible future plans,
this afternoon,
meet a group of DDU friends in Aurohalli to introduce
them to the children of the village.
I set off for the Dunmore House area in the early
morning, carrying as usual a stack of photographs.
Going through Nellurahalli, I'm recognized by one of
the slumdwellers who insists on buying me tea at a roadside
shop. Then, on the road, I run into Malikarjun and
Ishwaraja, walking to school. Ishwaraja is in uniform, but
Malikarjun is oddly dressed, wearing a woman's scarf on his
head, which he'll take off for the picture. I'm happy to
see him go to school though, and tell him I'll him later
over there. A little later still,
near the crossing towards the white
temple, I meet a group of workers on the side of the road,
and recognize Shiv and a group of tent dwellers. Shiv salutes
me in his usual fashion, putting his hands to the forehead.
We take a few pictures, as they're being picked up by a
tractor to go to work.
-- Shiv's group of workers --
I'm arriving from this side today, as I want to visit the third community first for once. I have been offered food here last Thursday, and promised I would come back with pictures. But the man who had invited me isn't at home, probably off to work, but I'm greeted by his children, and Kiran, whom I give my camera to. He quickly learns its usage and takes photos. We walk together to the second community, where we're greeted by Durgapa, Giryamma, Laskshmi, etc. Anjapa, not quite speaking English, asks for pictures by repeating Phot! Phot!. We laugh with him at his pictures from last week. Durgamma is busy with laundry.
-- Durgapa --
To my surprise, Malikarjun has appeared (wasn't he
at school?). Last Thursday, I had agreed with the
school that I would visit today at 9, so off we go.
Malikarjun and Kiran both walk me through the little
trail back into Nellurahalli. But in the village
Kiran leaves us, and I wonder if he's ashamed that
he has never attended school. Malikarjun leads me
through particularly narrow alleys to the main
place, shows me in the building. Class is in
session, but Malikarjun calls out a teacher who
directs me to the principal's office, then slaps
him on the head to send him back to class.
THe man speaks some English, and I'm able
to explain my projects. I show him a few pictures
from my camera, try to describe my bond with the
children of the area. When I tell him about those
who don't come to school, the man seems sincerely
sorry. School is ending soon, so even if we brought
them they couldn't be enrolled for this year, but
perhaps they could still attend class a few times
with the goal of joining next year. We agree that
I could come back with friends to conduct an art
workshop at the school, perhaps two saturdays
from now. I explain to him that this is anything
but charity on my part, in fact, what kind of
charity would this be where those in need give
so much. When the slumdwellers invite me
for food inside their
shacks, my plate is normally bigger than their
own.
-- Durgamma on her way to work --
Road workers, EPIP area --
I return running towards the third community.
As I'm approaching the white temple, I run across
Durgamma, on her way to work, carrying a tin
lunch box and one of those pieces of cloth that
the woman use to carry heavy loads on their heads.
Using mostly sign language, I ask her if I could
walk with her to work. She accepts and after crossing
the fields, as we reach the road, and she too insists
on buying me a cup of tea from a roadside cart.
We then walk the streets that lead into the tech
park areas, walking a surprisingly long way. A Rickshaw
driver proposes a ride but we turn him down. We
try to chat somehow, but mostly end up smiling
at each other, laughing at our challenges.
She does understand the word "Dur"
(far, in Hindi), which might be the same in Kannada
(common words are very rare). Using my fingers,
I ask her for the ages of her five children, which
leads to a lesson where she teaches me how to count
in Kannada. My difficulties with the prononciation
make her laugh. Finally, we reach the construction
site of the Clarion Hotel. I have been confirming
with her if it was ok to accompany her like
this, and here, she clearly waves me goodbye.
I resume running on the way back, but my
appearance has of course elicited some curiosity.
I stop by some of the road workers and take
their photographs. The Rickshaw driver appears again,
curious. He at least speaks Hindi, and I do my best
to explain my relationship with the slumdwellers
of the area, and show him the few remaining pictures
that I still haven't distributed today. The man
offers me a ride but I turn him down again. Kindly,
he insists, specifying that he
would not charge me any money.
A bit moved, I thank him wholeheartedly,
explaining though that running
is my way of enjoying this wonderful day.
I return once again to the Third Slum Community.
-- Third community slumdwellers, Nellurahalli --
I am greeted once again by Kiran. We notice a group in the field which includes Giryamma, Anumanta and Lakshmi. They are busy picking things off the ground, wood, debris, then proceed carrying them back. The children are left mostly alone all day while the parents are working.
-- Lakshmi and Giryamma --
We return to the shacks where the man who had first offered me tea today has an idea for a picture. We take out a bench and sit regally in front of the tiny slum vegetable garden, posing like heads of states, while Kiran takes the picture.
-- mise en scène --
Then, a beautiful woman named Lakshmi also plays the game, and laughs gently when looking at her photos in the camera. But she asks me to bring back the photos quickly, apparently, she will soon leave to return to her village.
-- Lakshmi (Nellurahalli slums) --
Kiran is starting to show impatience, "Khana Khaya?"
he asks me while gesturing towards his house, inviting
me for breakfast. We enter his tiny tin shack. The adults
have gone, leaving rice and sambar in tin jars, out of
which he serves me in a tin plate. A loud raucous shakes
the metal ceiling: "Hilli", he explains, as I catch
a glimpse of the large rat that has disappeared between
the metal sheets. The rodents will continue to screech
loudly during our whole stay, disturbingly threatening.
I have left the camera with Kiran, let him take
a few pictures on his own, or ask him to photograph
certain things. I have not seen him looking this happy.
I ask him if he plans to move away (Adi had indicated so)
but he denies, which leaves me hopeful for the future.
-- Inside Kiran's house --
When we exit, the older woman from the photographs greets me, and also invites me over, this time for Chapati. This shack is equally small, but no rat noises. Kiran understands some Hindi and translates for me. The woman is particularly gentle. She suffers from severe leg pains, says Kiran. You do not see doctor? I ask knowing the answer: "Paise nahi hai"... In both houses, they show me christian effigies, explain that this particular community is entirely christian. I get up, not knowing how to thank the woman. As I'm about to leave, she kisses my feet with her hands, an Indian gesture of respect. Fighting away tears, I try to reciprocate with the same gesture to show her my utmost gratitude, but she pushes me back, bows to the ground again. Her name is Santoshamma. I ask her for a pen, to never forget.
-- Santoshamma (Nellurahalli slums) --
Kiran accompanies me running. Past the second community, we're called by Giryamma, Lakshmi and Anjapa, "Phot... Phot... Phot...", but this has already been the biggest day yet, and I am still expected in Aurohalli.
- Part II -
Aurohalli
(Click here to view all photographs on Flickr)
(Click here for the photographs taken by the children on
my spare cameras)
It's already 11:30 when I reach home, with no time to stop.
I grab a new set of pictures, from Varthur and Aurohalli,
and run out again, this time carrying my water belt. I fear
the heat, but an unusually strong wind provides some
relief. I decide to go through Varthur, which is particularly
busy at this hour, kids coming out of school. I wonder if
I'll notice Roopa among the many immaculate white uniforms
(as it turns out, she actually saw me in Varthur, called me,
but without my noticing). I'm cheered by a few groups of
children walking along the road, some run with me in spite
of their heavy backpacks and barefeet. A little girl in
particular leads me for a few hundred meters, running
fast, distancing the rest of the group, but when we slow
to a walk she limps noticeably, while talking in good spirits.
I show her the pictures I've brought. She recognizes along
the road one of the girls so we're able to present her
her photograph. Then boys on a bike escort me to the house
where the rest of the family lives. The mother, a beautiful
young woman, is happy with the photos. She leads me across
the road to a small flower garden inside someone's house,
to take pictures of her children.
-- Running with school children, near Varthur --
I take an unknown dirt road which seems to go in the right
direction. I'm again escorted by kids on a bike, and through
a village, am greeted by an old woman, who insists that I
speak to her husband on the phone, as he speaks Hindi and
she doesn't. The man teaches Yoga, but we're both not quite
sure why we're talking like this, so I simply describe who
I am. The woman then leads me to the local tiny school,
borrows pen and paper from the children so I can write my
name and number. As I show them the prints from Aurohalli,
one boy recognizes Punith, with whom he goes to school.
They then show me a trail leading to Aurohalli,
and soon, I'm back in familiar territory, taking the direct
route towards Kottur.
I am stopped here once again, knowing more and more
people in this village as well. I don't have much battery
left in the camera
and try to save some for the afternoon ahead. I spend
some time talking to a young man who's about to get married
(he invites me to the reception tonight). I leave for the
final leg towards Aurohalli.
-- little girl in a pot, Kottur --
At the entrance of Aurohalli, I pay a visit to
Shrinivas and his family, who kindly invite me
in for a glass of Fanta (most welcome: In spite
of my water bottles, I've dehydrated under the
sun.)
The village is unusually quiet, although a few unfamiliar
kids still call out my name, but the usual crowd
seems absent. I have not come to the village
at this later hour,
and it feels stifled by the midday heat.
A man cooking outside
by his house invites me boisterously for lunch, looking
drunk perhaps.
Reaching Roopa's street, I first visit Monika's
mother to offer her the beautiful pictures of her daughter
in the flower field. I then visit Ambuja, but find out
with dismay that all the kids have left to pick nuts
(of which stacks are drying on the ground).
Roopa confirms
this, they have all just left in spite of her
insistence, and there's no way to know where
they went. They will receive money for the nuts they can
gather. I wish we could join them but noone knows exactly
where they went. I have arranged for a group from the DDU
to come to the village, and I can see that plan failing.
Already
fulfilled and exhausted by the morning's events,
I resign myself. Don't be disappointed, says
a concerned Roopa,
I'll send Punith to find them. I'm thirsty,
tired, and happily accept the water that Neethra offers
me. Roopa explains to me that Neethra is particularly
sad that her house would present poorly in front of
the guests, particularly since roofwork is about to
start this monday, and a large pile of dirt has
been accumulated in front. I reassure her that
they are splendid people, whose generosity
will always shine.
As Roopa and I walk to the small village shop to
buy bananas, we cross Jayanthi's car, with a group
that includes Madhavarao, Swetha, Adheena and Ranjan.
We visit together
the various houses, but as usual when I bring someone
new into the village, everyone acts shy. I'm used
to this by now, and calmly let the silence be,
knowing that things will pick up later.
Anjun is the first to return on his bike, followed
by the other children, who all disappear to wash.
Rakesh, the ever sensitive one, acts particularly shy
around the newcomers, running to any hiding place he
can find.
Eventually we all gather in Neethra's house, and Jayanthi
and her group serve everyone a good snack. Ruchita,
who after falling has been sitting alone weeping, is
cheered up by the food, and impresses everyone as usual
by how much she's able to ingest. Vandana is looking
after her, not touching much of the food herself but
alway keeping Ruchita happy.
A little later we're joined
by Cecile and another group from the DDU (Kapil, Milind,
Shajo and Nikhil...).
We set off
for the Shiva temple, some of us walking, others by car.
The kids, quickly finding their comfort back,
lead us running through the village. I'd like to invite
Shrikanth so we make a detour through the lower part
of the village where we unexpectedly run into Vikaas
and Abhishek who had gotten lost. Shrikanth is away,
but we meet other people whom I didn't know.
By the temple, with Punith's mother's help, Cecile
sets up the clay to start sculpture. Punith himself
has brought some clay as promised. While this is
getting started, we take the visitors down to the river.
Anjun is eager to repeat our river crossing trip,
so most of the boys get in the water, followed by
me then Ranjan, while the others stay on the bank,
perhaps a bit puzzled by this development. After the
day's heat, I find the cool green water
inviting and eventually take a quick dive, but feel
silly with my clothes drenched. It's difficult
to get the playing boys out of the water. On the
way back, we pass the big bee hives in the tall tree
while an eagle takes its flight.
Back at the temple, the sculpture is going full
swing. I'm happy sitting witht he little ones, Ruchita,
Chittu and Monika, whom I help make a flat version of
a school bus, in which we place representations of
the children. Ruchita while making a sun steals
some of our characters, which triggers a gentle
argument which Xavier, whom I've never seen laugh
this much, arbitrates. In the meantime, everyone is
helping the kids with their sculptures, although
they don't seem to need much help, letting their
imagination fly. Jayanthi has started a
big Rangolli which many participate in, and some
sculptures are also colored with powder. Sunil,
a beautiful boy with fair eyes,
brings two beautiful cobras
made of woven blades of grass, which fascinate
us all.
-- Chittu and Ruchita making clay sculptures --
-- Vandana and "little Roopa" making Rangolli --
I feel guilty of not having done much effort in
organizing the activities, but things hopefully work
themselves out. Jayanthi has brought paper masks
which prove immensily popular.
The kids are
frantically taking photographs,
as everyone has been nice enough to
lend them cameras. They attempt to document the
event as best they can. Eventually, Jayanthi
calls for drinks, putting a pause to the
anarchy. She orders everyone into a line leading
to the trunk of her car, and serves everyone
Fanta. Milind disciplines the kids to not
throw their paper cups, and I'm touched to see Monika
(and others) dutifully scan barefeet
through the brush looking for
discarded trash.
Kapil, about to leave with his group, has turned
on the music in his car. Sure enough, this creates
a hilarious mayhem,
the kids breaking into the oddest looking dances (some
really good!). His car is soon assaulted by storm.
We then return to the village by the main dirt
road, most of us walking. We're passed by Swetha
precariously riding
a bike with one of the boys. Shrinivas's daughter, finished
with her afternoon tuition, has joined
us, sent by her father. She invites us to her home on
the way but needing to head back we politely refuse.
As we enter Aurohalli, Madhavarao tells me about his
own native village, smaller still than this, in Andhra.
We return to Neethra's house where Shrikanth finally
shows up. The boy was apparently at work, washing dishes
in a restaurant. I remember Roopa's words, that he
lives in one of the poorer houses, and remember his
bare feet the day he came to ITPL.
Neethra, in spite of our recommendation,
has prepared food for us all. But everyone's late, we
all need to go. It's ok, concedes Roopa
swallowing her disappointment, we can
share with them
(she nods to the rest of the street).
Cecile and I after calling Jeremie and Madeleine
manage to stay just
a bit after all. As we finally leave, Rakesh and Lavannia,
exposing the usual small village strife, make us
promise that next time we will
come to their house first. Hearing this,
Shrikanth also intensely makes a point that we should
visit his house.
-- Roopa making Rangolli, Shiva Temple, Aurohalli --