-- Slumdwellers, tent community "by the lake",
Pattandur Agrahara --
Tent Communities, Nellurahalli, Pattandur Agrahara --
03/31, 04/04/10
Robert Schumman: Fantasie Op. 17 --
-- Inside the tent community at the entrance of
Nellurahalli --
Wednesday 03/31/10 --
(Link to Wednesday's photographs on Flickr)
W. Trail - Nellurahalli tents - Detour through the village trails
and alleys - Pattandur - ITPL.
Time: 0:32:00
Mileage: 3.7 Miles
Wght: 155 (!)
The weather is heavy, cloudy hot and humid, with a slight rain.
I've come with the intention of giving the photos to the tentdwellers
at the entrance of Nellurahalli, but I'm disappointed at first to
find the community completely quiet, the tents closed. But a woman
walks to me, and as I pull out the pictures, people magically
appear, and things quickly build up.
For the first time, I'm invited inside the tent community.
I meet Akbar and his friends, his brother Suresh,
and many of the familiar faces that I've
slowly become acquainted with. Little by little, as I'm allowed to
take pictures of the slumdwellers, we walk deeper into
the community, through the tents. A woman dresses her little daughter
"Lolita" for the pictures, handing her over a bouquet of plastic
flowers, yelling at her when the little girl is reluctant to pose.
I let Akbar take a few photos, but most of them I take myself,
reveling at this new opportunity.
-- Lolita and her brother, Nellurahalli tent community --
Sunday 04/04/10 --
(Link to Sunday's photographs on Flickr)
PM - E. trail - Nellurahalli - to Dunmore House
3rd community - Back through Nellurahalli small alleys -
into Pattandur - by the lake - to the "Lake Community" -
Back via ECC road.
Time: 0:59:33
Mileage: 6.6 Miles
-- The tent community "by the lake", Pattandur Agrahara --
This is another day where I feel tired and heavy, which is compounded
by the morning heat (I end up wondering whether I've fully recovered
from Friday's run). But I want to say goodbye to Kiran's family, and
give them the Big Bazaar pictures before they leave. There, I meet
Praveen and Lakshmi, but no sign of Kiran or the parents (Praveen
is impeccably dressed in his new outfit). He accompanies me by the
temple to search for his brother, but we meet other slumdwellers
that tell me that they won't be leaving before next week after all.
Here, much to my surprise, the tents from Shiv's group
are back, and I recognize two beautiful women whose pictures I had
been carrying for so long before giving up all hope of ever offering
them. They have indeed returned, another indication of the frequent
migrations of these transient populations. Does this mean that
Giryamma's family will someday come back? As I indicate my desire
to visit the Raichur / Dulbarga area some day, Samuel also invites
me for July. I meet a few new people, who building a garden by the
temple, apparently living on site in open tents.
I run through the increasingly familiar back alleys of Nellurahalli,
where people start to recognize me. I am eventually stopped by a
boy who knows me from the school, and we play with the camera, as
more villagers come out, curious women and children, while nearby
a group of men is apparently sorting out some quarrel.
But my real goal is in Pattandur. After having been introduced
to the miserable tent community by the lake, I have printed all the
pictures, and plan to return today to give them to the slumdwellers.
I'm not quite what the outcome of this will be, but I am welcome
with open arms, right into the community. These people speak a
mixture of Kannada, Telugu, Tamil, and luckily some Hindi. To take
pictures, they lead me into an open space, sort of a garden, and
as often present their children to the camera. Little by little
I gain the confidence of the women as well, as I politely
ask to take pictures, but respectfully back out if they refuse.
Khana Khaya?, asks one of the slumdwellers as often, and
hands me over a banana, which I eat wholeheartedly, then refuse
a second one. I'm introduced to many children and adults alike.
One little girl shakes my hand, but her fingers are mere stubs.
Patiently overcoming the women's resistance, I feel drawn into
the community, stricken by people's mesmerizing beauty, in spite of
these abject living conditions. Taking picture after picture,
the emotion overwhelms me, a chill running through my
body, bringing tears to my eyes. A man leads me back into the garden
area with his daughter, where we pose by some flowers. He lives
in the nearby settlement whose steel corrugated walls we can see
on the other side of the barbed wire. I then follow some of the
girls to the other side of the house which shelters the tents,
meet other people there. Before leaving I thank the man for
the banana, for people's kindness of having admitted me into
their lives. He insists on thanking me also, without me, these
people would never have possessed their picture.
Running back, I feel like I'm flying, in my imagination at
least, which concludes on an awkward yet triumphant sprint in the
artificial walls of Palm Meadows. I now know where to hold
Milind's meal (he has been planning to cook a meal for one of
the communities), and can't wait to share this new idea.
-- Slumdwellers, Lake Tent Community, Pattandur Agrahara --
Training Run "Mandranagar" (12.8 Miles) -- 04/02/10
PM - through Varthur - Left - To MandraNagar: 0:28:47
To Muthsandra: 0:18:20
Right in Muthsandra - To Negire: 0:18:11
Kathirguppa: 0:06:57
Back through the road on the right - Unknown trails
(got lost several time) - Varthur, to the circle: 0:43:03
Time: 1:55:18
Mileage: 12.8 Miles
Wght: 153.5
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
Today's is a holiday. I start very late at 10, with the intention
of visiting again the Kathariguppa school, trying a new route along
the way. The heat is, well, hot, but still tempered by
a gentle breeze. My first stop is in Mandranagar (I finally
figured out the name of this place which till now
I had called "the outskirts of Varthur")
where I stop by the family I know here, to give photos. This time,
speaking only Kannada, the woman invites me inside
for food, which I happily accept. Another tiny house, colorful
walls decorated with images of the gods... and TV. Her name is
Shilpa, she is joined by a younger woman Lakshmi (which people
here pronounce Laksmi), then Radha and Manjula. I'm relieved
to be given water in this heat,
then a plate of rice with Sambar. We communicate
somehow, helped by Lakshmi who possesses a few words of Hindi.
We take pictures of the beautiful children (the youngest daughter
has the most amazing face), and I show Laskhmi how to operate
the camera. As often, the kids are yelled at when they don't
comply to the photo shoot, which makes me somewhat uncomfortable.
Soon we're joined by Dilip, a boy who speaks more
Hindi still, as well as Kannada, Telugu and Tamil! He too takes
pictures. Shilpa
herself is very beautiful, but refuses to be photographed. As if
this wasn't all enough, she offers me one of those ice cream
sticks that the kids are also having. I feel very happy to
have connected with this nice family whom I had been visiting
on and off for some time now.
-- Lakshmi and the little girl inside Shilpa's house,
MandraNagara --
After many goodbies, I run to Muthsandra, but there take a right instead of the usual left towards Kottur / Aurohalli. This leads me through an increasingly decrepit road, soon a dirt trail, through beautiful fields, to Negire, one of the small villages in the Gunjur area. The road is beautiful through the fields, and I'm vainly proud of my ability to handle the midday heat. I have found a running rhythm that works, carries me through the landscape without falling to the heat and constant light. On the way, I meet two little girls playing by a pond, who speak surprisingly good Hindi, "Thora thora", they say minimizing their skills, but I compliment them. They live in a tiny isolated house, where a man is not so supportive of my desire to take their pictures. I then soon reach Negire, where I engage with a group of young men. Seeing me taking pictures, the teacher has gathered all the little children in front of the tiny village school, which is an amusing pleasant surprise.
From there it's only a a few minutes to KathariGuppa. I'd like to buy something for the children for once (instead of them getting cookies for me) but the small village store doesn't have much. I do get biscuits and walk to the school, but today is holiday for them too, "babysitting", specifies the teacher, leading me to another even smaller single room house, in which a group of children are playing (there's a swing inside the room). we take many pictures, and here I'm offered water again, for which I'm very thankful. Before leaving the village, I fill my water bottles again at a village spigot.
The heat is starting to weigh on me, negating the earlier
enthusiasm. I feel myself drifting into a strange kind of
semi-hibernation, as if exhausted by the
excessive light, and needing to close my eyes, as if
I were falling in quasi-sleep on the run, which isn't
entirely unpleasant. I reach another village where,
on the side of the road, I meet a little boy (who's
photo I happen to be carrying) who is selling cucumbers.
I eventually decide to buy two, and eat one on the spot.
I decide to try a new way from here, but get completely
lost in the woods on trails that keep disappearing, having
to often retrace my steps. I eventually run into women
gathering wood in the middle of nowhere, who tell me
to follow the unkempt trail then turn to the left. I take
their picture to thank them, and give them my second
cucumber. Following the trail
is easier said then done, as there are a multitude of
unkempt trails crisscrossing the low brush, but eventually
I somehow land in Varthur.
I thought I had drunk only one of my bottles, but
to my dismay they're both empty. This isn't that serious
as I could easily stop here and buy something, but I decide
to proceed along the lake to the circle. I feel utterly
exhausted though, and soon after stopping the run buy
drinks, which feel like a gift from heaven.
Back home, after a quick shower, I soon fall into deep slumber.
-- The Children of the Lake, by the Hanuman Shrine --
The Children of the Lake -- 04/07/10
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
Wednesday 04/07/10 --
Dunmore house - Ecc route - Lake trail
Time: 0:43:36
Mileage: 5 miles.
In the Dunmore house settlements, I meet Malikarjun,
Ishwaraja etc. and confirm with Madeomma that we'll
come on Sunday with "Jayanti Auntie" for breakfast".
The two boys (first followed by Kirthi who we
have to send back) walk me to the third settlement and
call out Kiran. I explain to him and Anthony that I
have finally read their letter, and will be back on
Sunday to discuss. We also agree on a game of Cricket.
I then take the ECC route, and to my surprise, meet
the "turban man with his princess daughter" along the
way. I stop to shake his hand, and explain that I don't
have the photos yet. He is on his way to work at a
construction site, carrying his daughter in his arms,
who will probably hang out on the site all day. She is
wearing the same princess outfit as last Sunday, and
politely smiles then waves me goodbye.
As I'm about to reach the lake, I meet the lake children, playing on a pile of dirt. They light up instantly when they see me, as I am now starting to enjoy a relationship with them like Giryamma's. Today, the girls are also there (I hadn't seen them since our 2 first encounters), the tallest one speaks some Hindi, and we're able to converse. I learn that her name is Satthia, and the main boy's name is Manni. (We go through everyone's name but I forget the others). I ask them to pose in front of the Hanuman shrine, basically a slab in the ground with a colorful effigy of the god painted on it. Later, they bring in the little boy who dresses like a girl, looking half asleep, who also smiles as he recognizes me. Like Giryamma, they start proposing ideas for pictures, for example perching themselves on a low wall (I help the little ones up & down), and I let the older ones take some of the pictures. Seeing our interaction, a few friendly stop by, most notably a barechested man carrying his two children. Another man from the slum community offers me two bananas that he bought for me from the roadside vendor. I want to take only one, but he insists that I should have both. A few more children come, one of whom has a severe limp from having badly hurt his foot. I take his photo and show it to him to cheer him up. To the man, I explain my plan to come share a meal within the community, probably two sundays from now. I leave as usual deeply moved by my encounters with this new group of people.
-- On the wall. To the right, Sathya and Manny --
Training Run (9.4 Miles) -- 04/10/10
PM - trails, from Vartur lake, through Imadahalli,
Ajgondanahalli - Timandhalli: 0:32:43
To Aurohalli: 0:06:18
Back roughly the same way, experimenting with
new trails: 0:45:50
Time: 1:24:52
Mileage: 9.4 Miles
Wght: 153.5
It's hot again, particularly striking in the morning. In spite
of sleeping with the AC on, I've been sweating all night, perhaps
due to the mini meltdown I had yesterday, out of semi-exhaustion.
Anyway, I sort of finalize my route to Aurohalli,
by starting along Vartur lake then immediately veering left into
the trails. This is not only probably the shortest way (about 40
minutes to get there), but avoids paved roads almost entirely.
I'm only worried about stepping on a snake in the smaller trails
and watch my step carefully, although running through the brush
only offers limited visibility.
In Timandhalli, I finally stop by the big house to give
my photos from Ugadi, received by the older man and woman (Cecile
still has many more photos that haven't been printed). In spite
of the heat and my recent exhaustion, I arrive comfortably
in Aurohalli.
Today is Saturday and most kids are at school (which apparently
isn't quite over yet, even though the Vartur main school has been
closed for two weeks now). It's quiet and I knock on Neethra's
door, hoping to find someone. Arun is the one to come out, looking
sleepy, then Neethra and we're soon joined by two other women
carrying babies, one of whom is "the beautiful woman", whose
name inevitably turns out to be Lakshmi. We call her brother
the pastor Jona on the phone,
and after a few tries I finally get to talk
to the man, who lives in Yelanka north of Bangalore. He speaks
reasonable English and we plan to meet when he comes to Aurohalli.
We also call Roopa who's still in Dodbalapur with her father. I
tell them both how nicely the house construction is progressing.
Without english-speaking children, communication is a challenge
with the women, although we somehow manage to get by, helped
by Lakshmi who surprisingly knows some Hindi (which she
pronounces with great care). I have finally remembered to bring
the postcards I had bought in Paris, and show them to my friends,
Notre Dame church, the Louvre mahal... Neethra
is touched when I let her keep all these. She proceeds to explain -
with Lakshmi's help - that she has been asked for marriage with a man
in Domlur; she liked the family, but not the man at all, so
she has refused. It takes us some time to get through the details
of this story...
Before leaving, partly to show off,
but also constantly looking for new
ways to engage, I display my Kannada writing skills: I have by
now learned all the letters, so helped by the three women
and Arun, I write the
whole alphabet on a paper. They then write each of their
names. Even though I didn't want food, Neethra has still managed
to feed me some rice, sambar and water, so I leave feeling
better, for some reason the heat no longer affecting me.
On the way back, I experiment with small variations on the trails,
even avoiding the small stretch of the main road from Vartur
circle to Palm Meadows by meandering through the fields and
alleys or Ramgondanahalli.
-- Women getting ready, Nellurahalli slum tent community --
Tent Communities - Kiran Leaves -- 04/11/10
Sunday:
PM - W. trail - First stop in Nellurahalli tent community -
Through Nellurahalli to the Dunmore house area -
Drive to the Pattandur Lake Community - back running from
there via ECC route.
Time: 0:38:33
Mileage: 4.3 Miles
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
Madhavarao, Jayanthi and I have been invited for nashta
by Madeomma in the first Dunmore house community. But before that,
I make a lengthy stop in the tent community at the entrance of
Nellurahalli, where I've brought a large stack of pictures from
last week. The place is quiet at first, but soon many of the
dwellers come out, for a miraculous photo shoot. I am starting
to learn a few of the children's names, some of which I write down
after having asked for a pen, Uligamma, Ambika, and my friend
Churti whom I've known for some time now. Uligamma and Ambika
invite me in one of the tents where the light, tinted by the
plastic tarps, is superb. The two girls pose with flowers, both plastic
and real. Later, some of the women dress up in this same tent,
helping each other. In colorful sarees, their hair adorned with flowers,
they are strikingly beautiful. Following Uligamma, I walk barefoot
through most of the community, meet again with Lolita and her mother,
and many other slumdwellers. Akbar however is not here. Even though
I'm running late, it's hard to leave, as new opportunities
keep occurring. I am more than ever fascinated by these people.
-- Uligamma and Ambika --
I'm running up the dirt trail in Nellurahalli when I hear my
name. It's Kiran calling me from behind, following me on the trail.
As we walk towards Madeomma's house, we find Jayanti who has parked
her car there, with Madhavarao, and Anand who has joined us
on his bicycle. Madeomma receives us inside her shack. There is
no electricity (which she explains only comes on at 8:30pm) so
it's very dark inside compared to the blinding sunlight.
The fan isn't working either, exagerating the heat trapped under
the tin roof. Madeomma tries to fan us with a cloth but we reassure
her that we're ok. She makes us sit on the hard floor after having
laid a piece of cloth, then brings us each a plate of rice with
Sambar, and water. She has even bought small mango drinks for each
of us. Following his idea, Malikarjun finds a cricket ball and a
bat, so Madhav and Anand follow him outside to play, while Jayanti
and I stay inside to talk. Madeomma,
joined by another woman, tells us a
few things, particularly how she worries for her older son who
in the village in Dulbarga has gotten into trouble after drinking.
Unable to do much, we empathize with her. She explains that people
from Dulbarga do speak some Hindi, mostly because of the influence
of Muslim communities who speak Urdu. She shows us images from her
temple, finds colored powders with which she applies the Tikka
to our foreheads, and shares with us some holy water. But my
excessive sweat will make the Tikka drip forcing me to wipe if off.
Malikarjun, Ishwaraja and Kiran walk us to the third community
to meet with Kiran's family for the last time. They are scheduled
to leave this evening for Raichur. But before that, I make a side
trip to the tent dwellers nearby, who have returned after a long
absence. In Kiran's house, Anthony and Mariamma insist on serving
us more food, which we can't really refuse. As I've observed before,
there is a constant traffic of itinerant sellers crisscrossing
the area on Sundays, selling anything from pots and pans to food
to jewelry. Lakshmi comes back having bought a few bracelets for
herself. Jokingly, we sent Jayanti out to get some from herself,
which I understand the slumdwellers eventually offer her. When
things are a little calmer, I discreetly approach Anthony and
hand him over a plastic pouch, containing money for the trip,
which after much hesitation I've decided to give them. We spend
some time trying to understand the school situation over there,
and ask them to write as much information as possible (in Kannada).
We walk back towards the first community, and Jayanti's car.
There, she agrees to give a ride down the trail to many of
the children. But Kirti, having been left behind, is crying!
We manage to stuff her in too. Finally, where the dirt trail
meets the paved road, we say one more final goodbye to our
friends.
We drive into Pattandur, and decide to pay a quick visit to
the "Lake Community". Jayanti and Madhavarao haven't met these
people yet, and we plan to cook them a meal next week. We discuss
the details of this, as I'm distributing a heavy stack of photographs -
and taking more. As usual, they kindly offer us some bananas, and
offer to buy us cold drinks, which we refuse. But to my disappointment
Sathya and Manny aren't here... A woman shows me a pair of
old tennis shoes,
then asks a little girl to wash them to offer them to me, since
they have no use for them.
The man from last Wednesday also comes out (he
lives in the house which flanks the community). The beautiful
woman from the house who I had photographed last time is actually
his wife. As I'm leaving, he walks me on the trail. I ask him
again about Sathya's group, and he confirms my fears. Their
parents are bad, he says. They drink, smoke, take
blood, (I make him repeat this a few times, not quite
understanding). For money, they'll do anything, the kids
never going to school. I feel dearly for my friends, the
children of the lake, and cannot imagine how I could
possibly help them.
-- Sathya and Manni, the first time I met them (02/15/10) --
-- Gorindu and Sathyamma, Nellurahalli slums --
Breakfast in a tent -- 04/14/10
W. Trail - Dunmore house - Nellurahalli alleys - direct through
Pattandur.
Time: 0:28:47
Pace: 8'00' / mile
Mileage: 3.6 Miles
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
I first stop in the 1st community, where I've brought photos
of big bazaar. I meet all the children, particularly Gauramma
and Teyamma. I still have difficulty telling them apart, and
my reflex is always to glance at their feet, since Teyamma
has stains of pink discoloration on her legs. But this furtive
peek bothers me, as I wouldn't want the girl to feel embarassed
by my noticing her skin condition. Kirti is also here, and introduces
me to her little sister. Meanwhile, the Security Guard is making
loud dreadful vomitting noises while brushing his teeth with
his fingers, as is common in the slums. I meet Madeomma, who
as usual asks about Jayanti Auntie, and invites us over again
on Saturday.
I then run to the 3rd community where I'm in for a few surprises:
First, Simon is back (which was expected), but the children,
Shiwamma, Yashoda and Victory have returned with him after all
(I wave at Shiwamma from a distance). He explains that his wife's
sister will get married in May, and he would very much like me
to come over so I can take pictures of the wedding. But I have
to decline, explaining that before my family leaves for the
US, I won't be planning on any trip. He invites me for
breakfast but I decline.
But the biggest surprise is to see Kiran come out. He had called
me on Monday morning, and I had misunderstood that they had
all safely reached Raichur, but it turns out they never left (again).
I walk to his shack to say hi, and Anthony explains that something
was wrong with the Gari, that they'll try to leave this
Sunday again. They also invite me for breakfast, but I refuse,
frankly feeling a little deceived.
I am actually saving my stomach for the next community, the
tents by the temple. It's a grouping of about five tents here,
where I've connected with "Shiv's community", humble workers
who I've sometimes meant sweeping the streets or picking up
trash. As I walk through, each tent dweller invites me to eat
with a generous hand motion and a bow, a hospitality gesture
reminiscent of Lawrence of Arabia. But I want to specifically
visit those two women who had previously invited me, and whose
photos I've taken in the past. Having removed my shoes, I enter
the tent, which is partitionned into two sections, and sit
on a mat that they've placed for me on the ground. We eat
together the usual mixture of rice and sambar, served in
a tin plate, then wash our hands inside the plate from
a tin cup. These people our from Andhra, therefore speaking
Telugu (in addition to Kannada). As usual, I speak Hindi while
they response in their language, and even though our communication
is hit or miss, we still manage to have some sort of a conversation.
The man's name is Gorindu, the two women are Sathyamma (in the
red Saree) and Yiramma (green saree). After washing my right
hand by pouring water over my plate, I propose to take a few
pictures, which we do in the other room in front of the
Pooja area.
-- Sathyamma and Yiramma, inside their tent --
-- Gorindu, by the Pooja area in the tent --
-- Churti and Ambika, Nellurahalli tent slums --
Training Run (8.6 Miles) -- 04/17/10
W. Trail - by Whitefield public school - Nellurahalli tent
community: 0:15:34
Through Nellurahalli to Pattandur - Lake Community: 0:11:22
ECC route - Through Whitefield Hill - Down meandering
through the alleys - to the northern route - Ajgondanahalli -
Timandhalli - Aurohalli: 0:50:33
Time: 1:17:29
Mileage: 8.6 Miles
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
First of all, my running completely sucks today. I start
feeling lethargic and out of breath, probably tired from
a particularly hard week (those CP calls!), but today this
doesn't dissipate. After frequent walk breaks I'll eventually
renounce running, and scrapping my ambitious plans, ask
Xavier to pick me up in Aurohalli.
I start with the tent community in Nellurahalli where
I've brought a imposing stack of pictures from last week.
It looks deserted at this early hour, but I let myself
right in, walk through the tents and meet Ambika and
Uligamma sitting outside. Even though I don't want to
create too much commotion, they quickly call up people,
and we all sit together to share the photos. Ambika speaks
a fair bit of Hindi and serves as my interpreter. I also
show her how to use the camera, and let her take many of
the pictures, with Uligamma and Churti. Eventually, Akbar
also shows up (I thought he had gone to his village),
and it's a mini-reunion with this boy who has been my
first contact here. As usual, it's hard to stop taking
photographs, as new opportunities arise.
I run the familiar way to work into Pattandur, needing
to visit the "Lake Community" to confirm our plans for tomorrow.
There, before even reaching the tents, I meet a few of the
slumdwellers, particularly the handsome man (haven't
remembered his name), who are about to go to work. I ask him
again about Sathya and Manni, but to my great disappointment
they appeared to have moved out. The man tells the name
of the place (which I don't retain), adding it's only a 5 RS.
bus ride from here. I'll dig into this more tomorrow.
I try again to run through Whitefield up the hill
and down towards the fields. I get lost a few times,
erring in the small small alleys of Whitefield, rattling
quite a few dogs along the way (still no problem as long
as I show them authority). Along the way, a boy asks
me in Hindi: Why are you running like this? Hard to
answer actually, especially as
my exhaustion hasn't dissipated at all,
I feel dizzy, tired, a fog in my head that
won't dissipate. The heat of course doesn't help this,
and I start taking frequent walk breaks, drinking fully
my two water flasks.
On the dirt road to Ajgondanahalli (which is also
getting paved unfortunately), I've often seen two
boys in a house, waving to each other along the way.
Today they come out, and I stop to meet them. The older boy,
whose name is Roman,
speaks perfect Hindi, explains that he's from Assam,
actually claims to know an impressive array of northern
languages (Bengoli, Punjabi, Gujarati, Maharati, etc!..)
in addition to "full" Kannada. He asks me if I'm Muslim,
then reveals almost apologetically that he is, and looks
to withdraw a bit.
"Kya phark parta hai?", I respond reassuringly. what
difference does it make?
- "Christian?", Roman then asks me, "No, Main Yehoudi
houn", I am Jewish, I respond, wondering whether
this could be a problem. Having reached the Ajgondanahalli
school, we take a few pictures. I eagerly refill my bottles
at the village tap. The water faucet is broken and cannot
be shut. "Water waste", comments a small girl in
carefully articulated english.
-- In the mint field -- workers, near Aurohalli --
Approaching Aurohalli through the small trails, I hear
my name called out. It's one of the village boys, working
with his family in a field of mint. I stop by and let him
take a few pictures (even though I don't know his name,
he knows how to use my camera). Across the trail, workers
wave at me, beckoning me to come over and take their
pictures as well.
In the village, I go to Anjun's house, whom I think I've
neglected lately. I've brought him some Birbal and Tenali
Raman books, in a bilingual Kannada/English version. His
mother invites me for a meal, Ragibol and vegetables.
I am so thirsty that I continue drinking all the water
I can find. School is now over so the children are luckily
here even on a Saturday. Anjun's parents proudly show me
Anjun's excellent school report.
Monika insists that I visit her house next door. Her
baby brother has gotten his hair cut (he's completely bald
now) but they didn't perform an official funtion
as planned. We end up playing with Mehendi, and eventually,
Manjula, Monika's mother, draws flower patterns on both
my hands. The baby is still very intrigued by me, but
instead of looking petrified, he starts to laugh with
us, and whenever looking at me forms his mouth into a
hilarious O pattern.
Outside, Neethra's house has advanced (the brick
walls all seem up), but Manjula tells me that they've
run out of money and would need 1 Lakh to complete the
work. Little Roopa is also inviting me to her house
in the next alley. Still exhausted and foggy, I finally
realize that I won't be able to run home (especially
as I'm running late) and, scrapping my plans to visit
Kotur and Mandranagar, call Xavier to come pick me up.
Before leaving, I visit Neethra of course. She wants
the kids to get juice, but when I take money out of
my pocket, she admantly refuses. The grandmother starts
rolling small citruses on the floor probably to prepare
juice, but as soon as Xavier shows up (he has been
delayed to a road closure), I run away after having
hugged Neethra goodbye.
-- Manjula, baby Manish and Monika --
-- Sharing a meal with the slumdwellers,
"Lake Community", Pattandur Agrahara --
Lunch in the Lake Community, Pattandur -- 04/18/10
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
Milind has wanted to offer a meal to one of the communities.
Today, we're putting his idea into practice, bringing
a meal to share with the slumdwellers from what I call the
Lake Community, in Pattandur, where I've been introduced
by the group of children once met by the lake.
Jayanti and I go to Big Bazaar to buy drinks and paper
plates. We've become somewhat known over here, as the lady
at the security asks us, where are the kids today,
referring to our few trips here with the slumdwellers from
the Dunmore House settlements.
We meet with Milind at 12:15 at the ITPL side gate. Joining
us are Madhavarao, Somesh, Nikhil and Rakesh. They follow our
car into Pattandur, through the dirt road, and we both park
by the Hanuman shrine. I first enter the community, slightly
nervous that things might not go as expected, as usual setting
things in motion without quite knowing where they might lead.
In fact, I'm first greeted with surprising aloofness, in contrast
with the usual feast it is to come here. A man produces a mat
for me to sit, but for a short moment, we hesitate on how
to set things up. But things quickly warm up, as the kids come
out, and I recognize more and more of these enthralling faces,
children and adults alike. This is the start of a
particularly mesmerizing episode for me.
We eventually pick a spot within
the community (which is quite small) and set more mats on
the ground, on which the children rapidly sit in a line.
waiting for food to be served. I sit in front of them,
produce the camera, and we share moments of unabashed joy,
passing the camera from one to another, letting the kids
take many pictures, reveling at the sometimes hilarious
results. Emotion overwhelms me at the site of these superb
yet destitute people, at the still unbelievable
realization that we could be sharing
such beautiful simple moments together, I do my best to
contain my tears and let myself be carried by blissful
joy. Will I ever be able to properly describe this
passion that overcomes me in such moments, at the
contact of the slumdwellers? I contemplate them, the vision
of living yet another small miracle, at my own
scale.
But plates are all full, yet no one
will eat until I do it seems, so I demonstratively get up,
and dipping my hand into the rice signaling
everyone to start. Men and women have come out, sitting
on the ground like the children, partaking in the feast,
and the food is indeed delicious.
Enthralled by these marvelous faces, in a whirlwind
attempting to capture it all, I live in
most acute awareness
of every instant.
-- Left to right: Uma, Sindhu, Nannee and Rekha --
Shrinivas, the man who had best received me when I
first had come here, explains that he lives on making
Toddy from coconuts that he picks up from the
surrounding trees, as well as few other small commerces.
A group of young men invite me to share Toddy
(which I have done once before), and after a brief
toast I drink it out of a tin cup, intrigued like last
time by its strange taste (luckily, it isn't too fermented
at this hour). Srinivas hands Jayanti and I a block of
Sugar Cane, explains that he sells some of this too (but
insists on offering it to me). The "handsome man" who
lives in the house adjoining the tents, has come out too,
with his beautiful wife and daughter. He helps us organize
things. The "man with the Princess Daugther" has also
come to my delight (he lives in the rather large
corrugated metal settlement right by the lake). Jayanti
explains that people in that community come from
Orissa her native place, therefore speaking her language,
finally a chance to communicate with no misunderstandings.
She finds out that he works on a construction site
in Whitefield center (I had once met him on ECC road
walking to work with his little daughter in his arm.
She probably spends her day playing on the construction
site like so many kids here do). I ask him to make us
visit his own community some day.
Done with the food, continuing to have the best
time with the children, I try to learn their names.
I ask for pen and paper (which I had meant to bring
but forgot), but this doesn't seem possible at first.
Finally someone does produce a notebook and a pen,
and I try to transcribe a few names in English
letters, then ask kids to write in Kannada,
which I'm barely starting to decipher. Only
few can write, the rare few that are able to
attend school.
I ask Rekha which of the tents is her Ghar.
She points me to one of the low dark conglomerate
dwellings. I ask her respectfully to take her picture
there. Most children's faces can express pure joy
when we play together, but Rekha's always seems to
betray a sorrowful gravity, even though she is always
among the first to run to me whenever I come. The
picture at her house best expresses her drama,
and the unfathomable abyss in which I've plunged.
-- Rekha in her tent --
Before leaving, I ask once again about the "Children of the
Lake". How can I possibly find again Sathya, Manni and
their group? Ever since hearing of the accounts
of their dreadful surroundings, my mind has been
enamored with the image of their wonderful faces,
the gentle joy in which they would address me as an improbable friend.
I am more than ever resolved to find them,
after having lost them for the third time. Chanisandra,
I'm told, then Kardugodi, nearby the Sai Baba
Ashram, under the bridge that spans over the railroad tracks,
a community similar to ours, they say.
I know this place, I realize,
and know I will run there at the first opportunity.