Before the rains come (Kadugodi) -- 05/15/10
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
Thursday 05/13/10 --
Ecc route - Right - through Prashanth layout -
road to Kadugodi: 0:46:20
Back along the rail tracks - road up to ITPL: 0:28:18
Time: 1:14:38
Mileage: 8.3 Miles
In the village "at the bend of the road" towards Kadugodi, a man
on a motorbike stops me, commenting that I come here every day
(not true). He must have seen me last Saturday, and this time
recommends that I follow the main road, as the trail is too
"ganda". I explain a little the photo business, meeting people
in Kadugodi, "unko medad karna", he asks.
I enter the community from the side, as usual now. Soon
meet Vali, but am first intercepted by a woman (and many
children) in the first tent along the wall. SHe too asks me
to help with her tarp before the rains come in. A beautiful
young woman comes, (it turns out this is Sampa and Vali's sister),
on the way, she accidentally trips over and hurts a little child,
to which another woman pursues hitting her violently
with a metal rod. I proceed
to Sampa's tent, salute Rosie, who asks about her "bhagvan" photos
(which I haven't printed). I'm particularly happy
to give Vali her beautiful pictures,
and meet their mother again.
Sampa points to my back, my shorts, what is
this, Paani? Indeed I am embarassingly drenched in unusually large
circles of sweat, Garam Se, I explain. But they're still
concerned, pointing at my back, legs, "Mitti, Mitti",
as apparently
my white shirt is quite dirty, and as usual my being dirty
is unacceptable to them. The younger sister reappears, and
I'm introduced to her husband, a young man looking clueless. Asked
her name, she gives me some phony response it seems, which Sampa
and Valli later correct, but I don't retain. I propose to take
her picture but she refuses pointing to her unkempt hair.
She does grant a picture with her husband (is it really her husband?)
Some small arguments erupt between the sisters in
Kannada, perhaps about me. It seems to me that Sampa is protecting
me through this, but I could be wrong. They ask me for food again,
and I repeat that I am not carrying money today (not quite true),
but will come back to shop with them. I even grab the mother's
hand, earnestly, to make this promise. I repeat the gesture with
the younger sister, but she then has us shake left hands (I can't
imagine this being a good gesture here!),
which seems to fuel yet another argument. Sampa seems happy with her
pictures, particularly those of her children, which are indeed
truly wonderful. As I'm leaving, I stop by the last tent, where
another woman asks me if I could buy her a tarp, before
the rains start. Sitting in her tent, she is ordering
miscellaneous items
of trash that she must have collected, probably to sell.
I decide to try to return along the tracks for the 1st time. I at
first can't find an optimal trail and end up meandering a bit,
but eventually am able to cross the railway and from there it's
all smooth sailing (in spite of crossing a few barbed wire fences).
-- Slumdwellers, tent community "by the railroad",
Kadugodi --
Saturday 05/15/10 --
PM - W. trail - Dunmore house - through Nellurahalli village -
through Whitefield - Cross the main road - through the trails
to Kadugodi, slum tent community by the railroad: 0:47:47
Back same way, then ECC route: 0:35:00
Time: 1:22:47
Mileage: 9.2 Miles
Earlier this week, Kiran had asked me if he could take
my camera to a wedding that he's going to back in his village.
I've decided to grant him his wish, and have charged my old
HP camera. The camera has been given to me after all, so why
not risk it? We sit for some time on a small wall, while I
carefully explain its handling, insisting that he not leave
it unnecessarily turned on, to not deplete the battery. I am
a little worried that he might get into trouble with it if others
try to take it from him, and I reassure him that we'll still be
friends even if something were to happen to it. We'll see what
comes out of this. From the Dunmore House slums I run into
Nellurahalli (stopping there for some photos), and even though
I hadn't quite decided to do this (feeling slightly sick), I
can't help but proceed to Kadugodi.
The slum is quieter today, and I find Valli alone. She
greets me in the tent, offers me tea. Sampa she explains,
has gone "to work", picking trash, even though she has
felt sick. Apparently, another English-Vala who has
known them for a very long time just visited them yesterday,
and is giving them help. He only speaks English though so
they're not quite able to communicate, but apparently he
has known Sampa since childhood, and lives in Kadugodi.
Valli regrets that
she can't quite speak Hindi (although she manages some), and
we're soon joined by a young woman who can speak it better.
She explains that she is Musulman, and therefore knows Hindi
from speaking Urdu. We're joined by a third woman, also Muslim,
who has six children, but complains that her husband drinks
heavily. Putting my new ideas into action, I'm carrying some
money with me for once. I ask them how we could buy tarps
for the tents, they reassure me that we could walk there.
We decide to go shopping together. The women delighted
clap gleefully.
The three woman and I, one carrying a small child, proceed
to walk into town. Along with the crowd, we have to walk around
a train that has stopped at the passageway, and retrace our
steps on the tracks. I look at vali's barefeet on the railroad
rocks, Chapals Nahi, she smiles. Valli calls the other
woman Buma, but this doesn't seem to be her actual
name. Musulman..., Valli says as if offering
an explanation.
We walk some way on the other side, Valli points the
temple where she got married only a few weeks ago, a temple
that I'd noticed before which features a multi-headed serpent
at its entrance. A little further, she points to a small
photo shop, where her wedding photos were made.
I wonder where we'll get the tarps, and
how to carry them back. I had been thinking about them
a few days back during one of those heavy evening storms.
They describe to me how the water
comes into the tents when it rains, and the monsoon hasn't
even begun. We finally reach a small shop where Valli wants
to buy a mini-stove. THe owners, being from Rajasthan, speak
good Hindi. They offer me a stool while waiting for the stove
to be setup, and upon my request some water (i've dehydrated
during the run and it's quite hot). We also buy a tricycle
for the kids. We actually leave the
stuff here while going further to buy food. They choose
between the different types of rices, and I agree to buy
40kg, 10 kg per family (Valli says this will last her a month,
while Buma, with her six children will last only ten days.)
Here too, I notice that she's asked if she's Musulman, although
without hostility. It takes us some time to get everything
(we also buy oil, cleaning products, daal), making sure
that Sampaa's family is also covered. Eventually most
of this is packed in a bag which Valli carefully ties. I have
no idea how we'll manage to carry this heavy load back, but
Valli asks me to hoist it up on her head, and I notice her
efforts to keep the load balanced as we're still standing
here talking to the merchant. The package is incredibly
heavy and yet she manages to walk back, only asking once
along the road for someone to rebalance the load on her
head.
-- Shopping with Valli, "Buma" and Vahida, Kadugodi --
-- Walking to the shop and back --
We've been chatting along the way. I've told the story of
Manni and Sathya, the Children of the Lake, and how this
is how I was introduced to the Kadugodi Community. Vahida
suddenly grabs my arm, pointing excitedly: By another
incredible coincidence, Manni, whom I thought I had lost yet
again, just happens to pass by in a bus. He's seen us too,
so a little later,
he comes running towards us, accompanied by another boy. I
propose to take their pictures while Valli and Buma still carrying
their heavy load proceed on to go home. Vahida, translating from
Hindi to Kannada, helps me talk to the boy. It appears that he
is still staying in Chansandra, but Sathya has left for some
distant village. It seems like our paths will continue to
cross. By the railway, we take a few pictures, and I show them
the tricycle, pushing the plastic button on the steering wheel,
to which huddled together we barely make out a faint music.
As I leave them following Vahida back to the tents, onlookers
point to the ground, where my camera has fallen again on the
railroad rocks.
We return to the tent community. Valli has warned me
that other slumdwellers might get jealous, but she reassures
me this won't be a problem, repeating that this
is a good peaceful community. Once back, we enter Sampa's tent
again (Sampa is still absent), and are joined by Rosie and
another younger woman who speaks perfect Hindi - and a bunch
of children. I am doing well with my Hindi today, particularly
with this woman whom I fully understand, even though we're
often interrupted by the loud wailing horns of the trains,
just across the wall. They all insist
on offering me tea (in fact, I'm given two cups, as if the
families were competing to receive me properly), and ask if we
could go buy "rations" together as well next time. We actually
didn't get the tarps today, much to my surprise,
but this is still in my plans. Vahida insits that I should bring
photos on my own family, repeats this idea a few times.
Outside, we take a few more photos. One little girl, having
climbed on a wall, jokingly opens her eyes wide, a hilarious expression
which unfortunately I don't capture. We all laugh.
Before leaving, we hold hands in a gesture of mutual
gratitude. Valli sings again, happy.
That evening, and again the next day, violent storms explode,
fueled by heavy clouds gathered all day. I think of them,
in Kadugodi. Why have we bought that silly tricycle, instead of
the tarps?
-- Valli at the shop --
Training Run, Madhuranagar, Harohalli, Ajgondanahalli - (9.7 Miles) -- 05/16/10
PM - through Varthur - Left - To Shilpa's house in MadhuraNagar: 0:27:56
Right, then to Harohalli by the lower road: 0:21:07
Back through the trails - Timandahalli - Ajgondanahalli -
Imadahalli: 0:37:21
Time: 1:26:25
Mileage: 9.7 Miles
The storm yesterday evening has left overcast skies, muddy trails,
and cooler weather (finally). What difference a drop of temperature
makes: In spite of being theoritically tired from yesterday's fairly
long run, I feel easy and comfortable. Today, I have vowed to take
no photos at all, (although I'm still carrying the camera in case),
and will stick to my word. Distribution only, no further photos.
As my knowledge of the Kannada alphabet improves,
I'm able to further refine the names of places and people. So for
example, Mandranagar or Maduranagar is actually
Madhuranagar; Aurohalli is actually Harohalli...
On the way near Vartur, I hear my name. It's Anjun's two older
brothers, tending a chicken shop (I have passed here often and
didn't know this). They invite me to sit with them, but I have
no time. A little later, I pass their father on a motorbike who
also stops me. Anjun isn't home in Harohalli it seems.
I stop at Shilpa's house, deliver the last stack of photos.
Even on a Sunday, her husband isn't home (wish I could meet him).
She invites me for food as usual but I point down the road in
direction of Harohalli. Dilip would like to take more pictures,
but Shilpa herself helps me refuse.
Not wanting to be delayed in Kottur, I join the lower road
(the one we usually take by car), realizing that I haven't run
there for a long time, now accustomed to take the trails. On the
road, I meet one of the small boys from Harohalli, riding a
disproportionate bike by himself, all the way to Imadahalli
(I can't believe he does this alone). In Harohalli, I'm first
greeted by Chittu in the village center, he grabs my hand and
leads me through the familiar alleys, to the amusement of
the villagers. I spend all my time at Neethra's house today,
joined by Anjun's mother.
Neethra offers me a delicious rice plate. I find out
that her birthday is on the 20th, although she wants no celebration,
and that Roopa is finally coming back for school start. I ask the
women to teach me more words. I produce my little notebook (which
I always carry now) and try to write a few basic words, both in
Kannada and Telugu (alphabets are the same, but words are quite
different). Neethra tries to correct my spelling,
but often asks little Vandana for some help. At some point, Monika
comes in the room, still wet from her bath, hands me an object:
It's my glasses! I thought I had lost them, but actually had forgotten
them here at Monika's little brother's birthday. Neethra proposes
green tea, which she makes with a small stove, similar to the one
I bought yesterday in Kadugodi. She gives a little money to one
of the kids to buy something from the store, to which I protest
but as usual Neethra emphatically refuses that I give her anything.
Having spent quite a while with her, I run back, still
feeling unexpectedly great. I take the trails this time, which
are very muddy in places. Near Ajgondanahalli, I stop by this woman
who's building her house, and give her pictures of her and her
workers (the workers are absent on a Sunday, but she promises
to give them).
-- Manni and I, by Whitefield Station, Kadugodi --
-- His father Murgesh is seen in the distance on the left
painfully hobbling home --
On the rail tracks (Kadugodi, 10.4 Miles) -- 05/22/10
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
PM - W. Trail - Akbar's tent community in Nellurahalli: 0:16:44
Straight into Pattandur - Lake tent community: 0:08:52
To Kadugodi: 0:21:34
Chansandra - Northern trail - back through Imadahalli: 0:46:12
Time: 1:33:23
Mileage: 10.4 Miles
Prelude: Thursday 05/20/10 -- Kadugodi
The weather has decidedly changed.
Yesterday was no storm, but a more
constant lighter rainfall, leaving ovecast windy conditions this morning,
and significantly cooler, great weather for running.
Not great weather for living in the decrepit tents
of Kardugodi however, as everyone appears sick.
The community is quiet in the early morning.
A young girl shows me in,
gestures to Sampa's tent. Here she comes, wearing today a dress, a
sweater, her hair unkempt. Sick, she explains right away. She invites
me inside, unfurling a mat for me to sit. I have brought the usual
stack of photos, which we look at together. But in hushed tones, she
explains to me with gravity that our shopping from last time has
created many problems, fights. She points on the pictures at "Buma"
(although she uses different names for both her and her sister), saying
her husband was creating problems, particularly over the damn tricycle.
It's unclear to me what actually happened to the rice, or what to do
next, and I'm left despondent, watching her silently looking at the
pictures. We're soon joined by Valli, who sick also, has lost her voice,
left with a hoarse whisper.
Seeing my depressed mood, they both urge me to be happy. I feel silly
once again, how could I be allowed melancholy here. I'd like
to understand how to deal with the situation. Valli wants me to visit
her house as well, but Sampa advises against it, preferring to keep
my presence discreet. (Although Manni barges in at one point, looking
for his pictures from a couple times back). THe sisters are both
sick, without money for proper medication. (They show
me Valli's doctor prescription, written in English, when only a few
tablets left. Apparently Valli has swallowed most of it in a single
gulp).
Sampa insists on offering me tea, gives money
to the young girl. I insist on paying myself, but she protests,
"tumne mujhe medad kia". I make them repeat all the incidents carefully,
making all best effort to understand, trying to strategize how to
handle things in the future. I tell them about the clothes I'd
like to give them, and we agree that on Saturday, I should come quietly,
leave the car away, so as to have us inconspicuously pick the clothes
together, and buy pills for Valli. Sampa keeps
reassuring me that I shouldn't
worry for her, that she'll handle the fighting.
I had this plan to write with them, teach them
the Kannada alphabet. But it turns out that Sampa
actually having some knowledge, first writes her name in Tamil, then
attempts it in English. She firsts forgets the "P", then misplaces it
last which I correct. I then write her name in Kannada,
followed by mine and Valli's,
who doesn't know to write any language. We all joke
that her beautiful songs are gone with her voice, make fun of her
hoarse whispering. We firm up our plans for Saturday, will you be there
in the morning, Sampa? Of course, she replies, being sick, she will
stay at home. We shake hands in promise.
Saturday 05/22/10 -- Kadugodi
It has rained quite a bit lately, but today is bright and sunny
(I had kind of hoped for rainy weather actually).
I'm somewhat apprehensive of going back to Kardugodi, thinking back
to the inner strife that my presence may have created, yet want to
stay true to my promise. It somehow
feels like I'm drawn deeper and deeper into darkness, both within
myself and inside this miserable environment - such a departure
from the pristine "heaven" of the village. To build my confidence back up
before reaching Kadugodi, I decide to make a couple stops, first
by Akbar's community in Nellurahalli, then Sonu Khan's in Pattandur.
It's all quiet in Nellurahalli, but I soon recognize familiar
silhouettes walking into town, Akbar, Bashwara and some other boy.
I haven't seen them in some time, so it's a happy reunion. I show
them the sketchy progress of my Kannada, enough to make
them laugh. I promise to come back soon, bring them Kannada books.
According
to Akbar, both Uligamma and Ambika have left for their village.
Later in Pattandur, I'm able to explain my plans to Sonu Khan,
that we will come here on an evening this week and distribute
clothes that my co-workers have donated. He offers a few suggestions,
including making a list of the people here so we know what we're
dealing with. I still have a few pictures of some of the children
from here, but Sonu explains that a fight (Jhagra) happened and
these people were forced to leave, apparently to Kadugodi/Chandsandra
(is this where rejected people go?). The old Maalik arrives,
and wants
his pictures taken as well, which we do in front of a tree. He explains
that he is a Sai Baba devotee, and proposes to take me to his
temple outside of Bangalore.
I arrive in Kadugodi feeling trepidation in my stomach. I enter
by the side corner (as usual) and am stopped at the first tent.
This woman whom I had once photographed here with her trash
renews her demands for a new tarp, and food rations. She points
to the many holes in the roof cover, which indeed is
much more miserable then Sampa's (it doesn't even have side
walls), and explains that with the recent heavy rains, water
comes in and prevents them from sleeping at all. She's joined
by two older women, one with a tumor on her cheek, the other
with a marked face, crimson teeth gnawed by the usage of paan,
who join in their supplication. From the corner of my eye, I see
Sampa by her tent, perhaps impatient. I tell them that I will
meet Sampa first, come back later. One of the old women finally
waves me off with irritation, Jao, Jao.
Sampa invites me in, soon joined by Valli. Music is playing in
their tent, a radio that has been given to them, playing
Tamil songs. The tape deck even has a tape, Valli and I try
to make it work, but without success. Valli has found her
voice back (but still a frequent cough), both sisters
having recovered their health from last Thursday. I again question
what to do, but as the conversation in Hindi is getting too
difficult for her, Sampa calls in Rosie, and we hold a mini-council
in the tent. Sampa asks if I have brought the clothes but I
explain the change of plan, that I could not distribute those
clothes myself just to her, as they were donated by my colleagues
to benefit the communities. Is there no way to come back and
distribute to everyone here, I ask, but the women maintain that
this would create strife, and would rather could come over
and choose for themselves. To ITPL, really?, I ask, and sure, they
would travel, they often go to City Market or such places,
presumably by bus. Manni, who just walked in and overheard
part of the conversation, eagerly points to his old shirt.
We eventually turn off the music,
as we're making great efforts to understand each
other, mostly in Hindi (which they speak scarcily), in hushed
tones so as not to be overheard, and again interrupted
by the loud wail of the trains. For today, we can go shopping
again, but Rosie prudently advises us to wait another hour
(until 10), and proposes to offer me a meal
in the meantime. We move to her place (a small room with hard
walls). I propose to take a few pictures here but Sampa emphatically
refuses, saying we already have more than enough. Rosie makes me
sit on the plank (everyone else sits on the floor) and offers
me the usual RIce / Sambar combination, after having washed
my hand. Sampa's daughter is playing behind the door, while
I let Prashant (her son) draw on my tiny notebook. He scribbles
a series of small hesitant signs which resemble letters.
We further strategize. I have 1000 rs, I admit not knowing
whether this would be seen as too much or not enough. They
anxiously confirm if I'll be ok spending all of it, asking
how much I need for myself. Upon my reassurance,
Sampa quickly divides it into 250 allowances for 4 members
(we've been joined by another woman named Lakshmi, also
carrying a child). We wait
a little while longer, then set off, inconspicuously.
-- On the school grounds, left to right:
Rosie, Laksmi, Sampa, Prashanth and I; Valli --
We exit the slum the back way, which leads to a trail in the fields while hardly passing by any dwellings. We pass over the railtrack, climbing up and down small dirt trails, As we're crossing the tracks, Valli laments her lack of Hindi, yet chatting the whole way, using limited vocabulary and making small mistakes, like her constant use of "hamara" for mine. On the way, she watches my step, Galij, she points out dragging me away from the filth, the same word in all languages she explains, Kannada: Galij, Tamil: Galij, Hindi: Galij... On the other side, we find ourselves on this trail that I've run a few times to or from ITPL. But Valli warns me, this is a bad place, and even with Kannada mixed in, I understand that I should never wander here alone. Apparently, a whole family was murdered recently, their throats slit. Valli advises me to follow the paved road a little further from now on. We climb a little wall and through a hole in a fence traverse school grounds, a fairly big school. As we're passing colorful benches, Sampa suddenly changing her mind wants to take pictures. Both her and Valli take turns at the camera.
-- On the trail: Sampa, Laksmi, Rosie and Valli --
We continue our stroll on the other side, where we've joined
the road, and walk back towards Kadugodi (we've made quite
a detour this way). PAssing by a temple, Valli explains that this is
her husband's god, while she herself is Christian (which I don't
really believe). She asks me for my god, I attempt to
explain that I am Yehudi, but not quite sure whether she
understood.
As we reach the shop, Valli complains of foot pain, that something
has "gotten inside".
Each member takes turn at choosing items, working within
the 250rs limit. We spend a long time in there, which I occupy
by looking after Prashant (who's roaming butt-naked in the store,
trying to grab items). We spend a while looking at plastic idols,
colorful Ganesha's... Because Prashant has drunk from my water bottles
with no precaution, I decide to not use them, in spite of my
extreme thirst.
The boy at the shop offers me water, then on top of all their groceries
I buy a bottle of water (I have about 40rs extra).
I notice how
efficient Sampa is at counting, as she helps us finalize the transactions.
We sit outside for a minute while packing the goods, all share some
of the water while Sampa has taken Prashant perhaps peeing. The women
load their charges on their heads, we walk into town this time, but
quickly change direction, to go back the way we came.
An unknown woman follows us harassing
me, she too wants money for a ration, I explain her over and over,
I have no money left, or ignore her for some time, but she still
pesters us all the way to the school turn-off. We come back through
the wall,
then later the iron barrier.
There, Sampa calls me, "Uncle: Prashanth", for me to help the little
boy across. Further down the trail, as we pass a group of men,
Valli ostensibly falls back into the group, as if hiding behind
Sampa and Rosie. "Bad people", they later comment. Valli
gravely orders me again to not come back here alone, a dangerous place,
I promise to follow her advice.
I have told them that I would proceed to Chansandra (or whatever
that place's name is that I never retain), so they've walked me
to the railroad crossing. I wonder how they'll manage to enter back
into the community from the front without creating further trouble,
but they assure that this will be fine. Rosie has stopped to pick
coconut shells on the ground, and it's here that we'll part,
as I will continue alone forward. I wish I had some gesture to
properly say goodbye. "Very thanks,"
they say simply.
-- Sangita --
Crossing the railway at the next crossing, I notice a few kids playing on the rail tracks. Could it be the children of the lake? I actually have no hope whatsoever, yet decide to have a look. Miracle, it is Manni and friends! Not only that but the whole group is there, Ganesha, Sangita and Sathya, who I thought had left (according to what Manni had told Vandiya last week). They are playing in a small island of grass in the middle of the tracks, wearing different but oversized ragged clothes, their hands feet and faces painted with red color, probably from some berries. We share such joy, discovering the photos, taking new ones, the kids running themselves with the camera, exhuberant. They take many fun poses, inventing new ideas, posing on the railroad tracks, playing with the environment, while a few rail workers look at us quizzically. I notice a man waving at us from a distance, from the street I just came from. Sathya confirms, it's their father! At some point, baby Ganesha (although they apparently call him Bosu), butt naked, laboriously climbs across the many tracks in the man's direction. I carry him back, but he renews his attempt (luckily no trains are coming) until Sathya goes and fetches him back.
-- "Bosu" and Sathya --
We agree to go meet the father, but during the time we spend playing together, the man has come to us, and we shake hands with great warmth, finally. His name is Murghesh, he explains that he works constructing a house (waving in the general direction of Chansandra) although today is cleaning the streets (he's wearing one of those orange vests). I try to reconcile Sonu's dreadful stories about this man with his face, and the apparent respectability with which he introduces himself, although approaching him comes the distinct smell of old alcohol. At their insistence, he distributes coins to each kid, as I protest that we could go buy cookies together at the nearest shop (although I have hardly any money left). But Sathya, carrying little Bosu, leaves walking up the tracks in direction of Whitefield station, followed by the man, who proceeds slowly with a severe painful limp. I stay behind with Manny, Sangita and the others, who are particularly inspired to make pictures, coming up with the greatest setups.
Manni eventually offers to follow to his room, so we set off
in that same direction (the father is still painfully drudging
forward further up on the tracks). We pass a group of cows, and through
a small opening in the wall by the tracks pass onto the dirt
area in the village, still wet with mud from the recent rains
(Sangita and Manni splash right into the puddles, insisting
on taking pictures there too). They take me by the house in construction,
on the roof of which I first see their mother, Manni insists on
taking her picture, but I'm not sure is she'll want that. (By the
time Manni gets ready with the camera, she has disappeared anyway.)
As we're approaching, I am "intercepted" by another group of
children, one of which insists on inviting me in his house.
I mistakenly think they are all related (perhaps Murgesh is
working on this family's construction) to accept the invitation,
but in practice, the boy, after having introduced me to his
mother, quickly takes me to the roof, where they are raising
a group of Emus. They proudly show me the oversized birds,
which they say hatch
2k eggs. Back down, I fumble as usual to explain what I do,
but the father is actually quite knowledgeable about CG animation,
knows Dreamworks etc. He takes down my number.
In the meantime, Manni and friends have been pushed away. I quickly
find them back, and am finally introduced to their "room", the
bottom floor of the house under construction, where
now his parents and "Bosu" are resting. I offer to take their picture
here, notice again the man's debilitating limp as he gets up to pose,
snap one picture of them. I then ask them to step aside so I can take
another photo of Bosu rummaging in the mess, they first want to pose
him appropriately but I quickly urge them to let him go about his
business, but just then my camera shuts down.
"Battery Kharab Ho Gaya", I comment disappointed.
-- Murgesh and his wife (Manni and Sathya's parents) --
"Lord Shiva coming down the river" (the Marriage proposal) -- Harohalli, 11.8 Miles -- 05/23/10
To Nellurahalli tent community: 0:15:02
To Pattandur "Lake" tent community: 0:09:42
To Shilpa's house in Madhuranagar: 0:28:00
To Harohalli, through Kottur: 0:19:30 (so far, 1:11:35)
Back home (later in the evening),
Timandahalli - Ajgondanahalli - Imadahalli route: 0:34:19
Total: 1:45:54
Mileage: 11.8 Miles
-- Neethra and Shirisha --
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
This is particularly poorly written. Hope to revisit if I find
time, but it's all happening too fast ...
It was Neethra's birthday last Thursday, and Roopa is coming back
from Dodbalapur today, so we've arranged to meet in Harohalli with
Jennifer, Jayanti, Madhavarao and Cecile, and for once offer them
a meal instead of the reverse. Cecile and I have also bought a blue
saree for Neethra.
I reach there running though, planning to meet the others later. I
have additional plans as well, for what will end up being a long day.
First I stop by Akbar's tent community in Nallurahalli. I have brought
the Kannada/English books. To my surprise, Ambika and Churti are
actually here (I had misunderstood, only Uligamma has left). It's
a bright sunny day. A man is perched on the roof of his tent, fixing
the tarps. I ask whether they're having any problems here with water
leakage, but they confidently reply that no, water doesn't come inside
the tents. Such a contrast from Kadugodi, here the tents are well
kept, clean and dry inside (with hard floors), and you can feel a
general satisfaction on this early sunday morning, people going
about their chores, welcoming yet never asking for anything -
except pictures. I let Akbar disappear with the camera, which
he takes into his tent, where I meet his parents for the first
time. I limit the number of photos and leave.
I am carrying today two enveloppes, a heavy burden which
I worry might impede my running, especially since the
heat is back. One contains small metal statues
of the Gods which I intend to offer to Shilpa and family, my
next destination. But Shilpa's door is closed. I enter the courtyard
and call Dilip from a distance. We sit down in the shade and open
the 5 packages. The boy marvels at the statues, and even more excited
when discovering Hanuman, "My favorite God". "I know", I reply,
having intended this one specially for him. Shilpa and Lakshmi
have actually left for a marriage (Laskhmi's sister), but another
woman promises that she will give them the statues, Krishna for
Shilpa, and well, Lakshmi for Lakshmi, while she herself can keep
Shiva and a Ganesha for her children.
I reach Aurohalli around 11, 1 hour early. But Roopa is already
here, as well as Neethra's two sisters, and little Ruchita who I haven't
seen in so long.
Not only are they waiting for us, but the man who's been
courting Neethra for marriage is also coming today to finalize
the deal. Roopa asks me with insistence that I meet the man
as well, give my opinion, that "as part of family" my word will
carry weight: "If you don't like him, Neethra will not marry".
I protest this is too much responsibility, but she insists that
as I'm considered a family member this is how it should be done,
that Neetra's brothers have also come, and if we all decide
this is suitable, then she will marry. Neethra had told me
that she didn't like the man...
While we're waiting, I go off on a walk with Monika. She shows
me her "old house", an old barn where they keep cows and some
storage. We're invited by the neighbours for tea, until Roopa
comes to tell us that everyone has arrived.
Back in Neethra's house, we all sit on the floor, offer her
the Saree. We play games while we wait for the other guests.
Eventually, the man shows up with his entourage. We all get
up but Roopa orders us back down, and the men are stuck sitting
in the small entrance (Roopa positively reassures us that this
is fine). Neethra and this man never talk, hardly even exchange
glances. Roopa says that even though Neethra doesn't like him,
he's insisting that he won't marry anyone else. At some point,
ROopa asks me to talk to him, almost like an interview. Luckily,
he speaks some Hindi, so we're able to converse, but needless
to say this feels a little awkward. THe man currently lives in
Domlur, owns a shop there.
(Roopa explains that if they were to marry, Neethra would move there,
then return to Harohalli after a year, thinking that's how long
it would take her to convince her husband to move. I'm not sure
what would happen to Roopa, would she stay with someone else
in Harohalli?)
I ask him various questions about his family, not quite sure
how to perform a bridal interview, also describing myself, my
love for the people in the village. The man looks older for
some reason, and I can't quite imagine him with Neethra.
They then leave to visit Neethra's house that is still under
construction down the street.
As soon as they've left, Roopa asks me for my opinion. I'm hesitant
to answer, but upon her insistence, say that I don't find him
that appealing (again, Neethra herself has told me that she didn't
like him much). Good, replies Roopa, that is also what the brothers
have been saying.
With that out of the way, we can start the meal. Cecile has
brought Crepe dough (I had promised "french Dosas") which she
cooks on Neetra's small gas portable stove. At some point though,
I am dragged to the other house, as there is a "function"
happening there. A few men are sitting on mats in the unfinished
space, and ask me to join them. Not quite sure how to act, I
am addressed by another family member (it seems) who deals with
real estate and car services. We talk a bit, while eating small
snacks. Eventually, we decide to bring all the food here, and
our whole group sort of takes the room by storm, all our lively
crowd of village kids, chasing some of the marriage group out
of the way. We serve crepes, Idlis, Parotas etc. that we've
brought. We're covered in sweat while eating, as with no aeration
it has gotten extremely hot in the room. The Marriage Group, pushed
to the side, eventually accepts some food, but I can't help wonder
if we've upset their plans. Eventually, they decide to leave,
I shake hands with the groom to be.
-- Vandana, Neethra, Monika --
We gather a group of children and walk
to the Shiva Temple by the river,
which neither Jennifer nor Vinny have seen. As usual the kids
make loud noises ringing the bells, and we carry the little ones
up for them to participate in the clamor. We then proceed to the
river, and eventually decide to go for a swim. We walk to the
crossing point, but the trail is much more difficult today,
encumbered by mud and banana plants, so we have to carry the
little ones. The landscape has changed significantly, perhaps
due to the recent rains, the vegetation more lush, the river
higher (although Anjan and ROopa deny this). I first go in
with Anjan, and we immediately notice that the current is
exerting a stronger pull than usual. Because of this, I start
a series of trips back and forth, helping one kid at a time
across to the other side. Some (Hyemanth for example) are
a little scared and grasp at my jersey, and I can't get them
to unclench their grip. I even run into small trouble with
Arjun who's too agitated and makes me trip against an
underwater rock, while pulling me down. I refuse to take him
again in spite of his insistence. I eventually take Lavannia
as well, who much more courageous than some of the
boys, laughs continuously during the cross, and insists on
walking on her own strength.
As I'm returning once again to our starting point with Anjan,
we suddenly spot a big snake floating on the water, coming
fast in our direction with the current. Everybody screams as
Anjan and I hurriedly climb up the muddy embankment to safety,
watch the animal go by, diving into the murky water back into
invisibility. We stay petrified for a beat. Monika is crying
and I reassure her that everything is ok, nothing happened
to anyone. But there are still five children on the other side
which I need to help back. Anjan deeply apologizes that he's
too scared now, won't go back in. After a pause, and having
confirmed that there are no options, I reenter the water,
while everyone yells for me to be careful, to continuously
splash the water around me. In three uneventful trips, we're
able to bring everybody back. I later will find out that such
water snakes being non-venomous actually pose no threat.
The little ones are exhausted from all this agitation. I carry
Monika and Ruchita again through the difficult parts of the
trail, but Roopa insists that I not carry them further, that
they would walk by themselves.
When I get back, both Cecile and Jayanti have left. I will
have to run back home, which I've never done in the evening.
But before that, Neetra offers me the delicious sweets that
she has prepared. She makes sure that I'm well and ready to
go, that there will be enough time before darkness, fills
my bottles. THen Monika and her mother Manjula walk
me towards the trail home. On the way, we stop again by
their barn. Little Roopa has also joined us and the two
kids climb up the shaky ladder to the attic. As we're about
to leave, Monika excitedly tells her mother the snake
incident. Manjula smiles amused:
"Lord Shiva coming
down the river..."
-- Manni and Ganesha, that fateful night --
Approaching the bottom (the first donations) -- 05/26/10
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
Our first donations ---
- Pattandur Agrahara "Lake Community" -
We have arranged to start distributing the clothes donated
at the DDU. First, on Monday evening, Komal, Maitrayee and I,
accompanied by Xavier, go to the Pattandur "Lake Community".
That morning, I have arranged things with Sonu Khan, so things
go very smooth. We bring three big boxes containing about 10
outfits each, men, women and children, which Sonu helps distribute
in an orderly fashion. A few men are gathered outside drinking
Tody at the "slum bar" (just a patch or ground where people
sit together sharing drinks), even though Shrinivas is not
here to run it. His wife asks to call him on my cell phone,
but talking to him proves too difficult so we soon hang up.
He left for a temple in nearby TamilNadu to cure his poor
health.
Very quickly, the women dress up the children in the
new clothes, and we share with them this happy moment.
Komal learns that the slumdwellers here pay 100Rs. rent per
week, which actually feels very high, given the aspect of
the dwellings. This is still better than Kadugodi though.
- Kadugodi "Community under the bridge" -
Here too, I have come that same morning to arrange things.
It's much trickier here, and Sampa, Valli and I have spent some
time plotting. We cannot just bring the clothes into the
community as it would create chaotic conflict. I also carefully
clarify the tarp situation, learn that a 1kg of the material
costs 58 Rs., that each tent requires about 10kg, and that
there are 35 to 50 tents in the community. Both Sampa and
her husband seem concerned about how best to arrange
the clothes distribution for that evening. But as Sampa
walks me out to the edge of the community, we finally
hold hands in promise, engaging my word.
So Adi, Komal Maitrayee and I arrive around 7pm,
park the car near the bridge, and I sneak into
the community alone by the usual side entrance along the wall
that leads to Sampa's tent (she has instructed me to engage with
no one, to say that I'm here only to see her). I find her very
easily actually in the waning light, and we immediately
walk to the car, soon joined by Valli, Sampa's husband
and miscellaneous children. At first, they just want to
take the entire boxes, but eventually we open them and ask
them to select five outfits of each type. Adi has also
bought food for everyone which we also distribute.
Speaking Kannada, he learns more
about them, most interestingly that the community stays here
illegally, paying no rent, and will get kicked
out once construction on the bridge over the railway
finishes (it's been in construction for months and months,
but is nearing completion now). Also, he finds out that
Valli has been working as cleaning lady, but since her marriage
has kept only one position. Other slumdwellers somehow alerted
are starting to gather around us, so it's time to leave.
Valli thanks us invidivually
with her beautiful very thanks, while the little ones
stand waving too dangerously close to the car.
- Patalamaleve, Sathya and Manni -
A dreadful night, into the darkness
I had thought we might try to find Sathya and Manni next,
following my discovery of their "house" last Saturday. Even though
there's no guarantee that I will find the place again at night,
Adi, Komal and Maitrayee agree to this.
But the railroad barrier in Kadugodi is now closed,
and Sampa's husband
advises us that it will remain so all night. We make a U-Turn
back towards IPTL, taking the detour to Chansandra, which horrendous
trafic makes excruciatingly long. As we're about to reach the
railroad crossing in Chansandra, we find it blocked too. After
some additional waiting, we decide to try some small side street
that I've just spotted, which plunges into the alleys of
Patalamaleve, hopefully in the general direction of Sathya's
area. At the first intersection, we take a narrow right turn
hoping it will lead us near the train tracks.
Night has fully set by now.
We soon pass a house in construction, its front grey cinder
block wall missing, leaving it open to the outside. By chance,
could this perhaps be the place? I am not left wondering for
long. Somehow having recognized me inside the car, joyful
figures come running at us, "Bhaya, Bhaya!", as we appeared
to have stumbled right onto the right area. It is indeed
Sathya and Manni, although I only recognize their bald heads after a beat
since both
having just been entirely shaved, in Hindu tradition
(the other children still have their hair).
This is another warm reunion, what a sight to see their
gleeful joy!
We stop the car as they run after us, soon followed by
their mother (this is only the second time I see her).
The children are delighted, laughing excitedly, and the
mother treats us with excessive pump and gratitude.
I ask about Murgesh their father. He is apparently sleeping
with a small group of people who are settled nearby outside
under a tree. The kids run to wake him up, and bring him
back severely intoxicated as I had feared, although not
in the least confrontational, rather smiling vacantly,
pungent with the heavy smell of alcohol. The mother,
also smelling, points excitedly to her belly as she's expecting
another child (her sixth?). She means to kiss our feet
but we dimiss the gesture.
This small commotion
has caused the lady and the boy from "the house with the Emus"
to come out, whom I had visited last Saturday. I try to clarify
things a bit. Do Murgesh and his wife work for them? The
boy gives me a sarcastic look, could these people ever do anything,
drinking, he affirms, full bottle,
he insists, drink and fight, drink and
fight. They do let them stay in this house (which is being
built for her brother's brother) out of sheer generosity.
Meanwhile, we try to give clothes to the mother, but this
is not going well, as some of the others are gathering as well,
and she finally asks us to pack it back up, starts asking for
money from Maitrayee. Not seeing all this, I give my camera
to Sathya who starts taking a few pictures, although we can
hardly see anything in the darkness, and are blindly taking
flash pictures. She first photographs Komal and Maitrayee,
before disappearing towards the house. I follow slowly with
Manni and the others, taking pictures along the way by the
rare street lights. They pose in an auto-rickshaw, while a
few onlookers have gathered on the upper balconies,
scrutinizing this bizzare session. Eventually,
the boy from the Emu House advises me to stop, as they
will get scolded. We turn back to Manni's open floor, where
Sathya's has quickly changed into a beautiful blue outfit for
the pictures. Both her and Manni are particularly excited
by this activity. I ask her how she, alone among family
members, has managed to pick up some Hindi, but she just
shrugs. She eats wholeheartedly the food brought by Adi.
We return towards the car, where they're still in
conversation with the mother. I feel guitly of having left
them to deal with the drunkards while playing with the kids.
The mother offers us tea or coffee, but Adi emphatically
refuses. He has noticed Sathya staring at her
mother, as if saying, "how could you offer anything? We
have nothing."
Adi, Komal and Maitrayee have
gathered elements of the family's story, particularly from
the Emu House Lady. Apparently, Murgesh and his family have
lived around here for several years, their lives impaired
by alcohol. They've tried to move out on a few occasions
(which is how I had met the children in Pattandur near the lake
on that foggy morning), but everytime would get kicked out and
drifted back here. Murgesh is incapable or working. Currently,
he sweeps the streets, but only works sporadically,
inexplicably quitting
for days at a time.
Following a recent incident where Murgesh, during one of
many drunken quarrels, toppled over a series of two-wheelers, the
woman has asked the parents to move out of the house (while still
tolerating the children) which is why they now sleep outside,
among a group of other derelicts.
The children are sent on the trains to beg, sometimes riding
far into Andhra Pradesh, bringing money back. The woman tried
to extract Sathya out from these dreadful circumstances,
placing her in a hostel
for education, but the girl escaped and ran back. The woman says that
that she used to try to discipline and educate Sathya, but has
now given up. Soon Sathya will be a young adult, and then what?
Can she continue roaming the streets alone? The young girl seems to carry
alone the weight of the family.
We walk away powerless, disheartened. I weep for Sathya's face,
having recognized in her such light,
her beauty, her sharp intellect, hope that our friendship
will count for something, yet feel completely helpless -
left to the dire conclusion that nothing can be done.
-- Sathya --
-- Valli inside her tent
(with one of Roxanna's seven children) --
In Valli's tent (Kadugodi) -- 05/29/10
Standard route to Kadugodi (ECC, whitefield, etc.): 0:39:29
Back by auto-rickshaw!
Mileage: 4.4 Miles
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
The heat has picked up again, although tempered by a mild wind.
I have gotten to a later start, reach Kadugodi around 9. Today,
Valli invites me to her tent, which recently finished
(a few weeks ago, I had visited it under construction) is covered
with a bright green clean tarp, in sharp contrast with the tattered
covers of most of the other dwellings, and bathes everything inside in
a beautiful green light. Sampa and Rosie both apologize, that needing
to leave for "work" they won't have time for bat karna today,
but would love for me to come back tomorrow. (In spite of this
declaration, Sampa won't actually leave, and come back a few times
during this). Inside Valli's tent are Prashant and Kalpana,
sleeping on the floor, a hard-paved surfaced unlike the dirt found
in some of the more decrepit tents.
-- Sampa's children Prashanth and Kalpana --
Prashanth with Valli --
Soon joining us is "Buma", the muslim woman with whom Valli and I had first gone shopping (whose husband created so much fighting according to Sampa). I had not seen her since that day. Like many muslims, she speaks better Hindi (the language being closer to Urdu), and is nice enough to carefully articulate for me, and translate when Valli and I run out. Valli amusingly has the hiccups, although she's seems shily offended that I make fun of her. I explain to her, with Buma's help, that in my country, we startle people to stop the hiccups. Then we try holding our breath.
Roxanna ("Buma") -- Valli --
I have brought as promised small pictures of my family, which
I display theatrically, one by one. People are, as often, delighted,
greeting the pictures with the typical auwu exclamation.
Sampa (who has briefly come back) even takes the pictures outside,
and I shout after her to bring them back (recently, I have found
a photo of Jeremie proudly displayed in a slumdweller's notebook
in Nellurahalli!). But here, everyone is very careful to
return the pictures, putting them away into the plastic pouch for
me, "Yeh, very nice, yeh, very nice" says Valli
in half English while putting
each one away.
We take photos of our own. A few other curious slumdwellers
come in and out of the tent, children mostly, but also a few men.
The youngest of Buma's seven children has adopted me, gesturing
towards me smiling, so I carry
him on my legs as I sit around the tent. Valli displays items
in her tent, her "ration" (which she says is almost gone since
last week), the images of hamare Bhagvan, Laksmi, Ganesha
and Sarasvati (although she's also ostentiously wearing a
christian cross today). I ask her what she'll do today, to which
she responds cleaning, then cooking for her husband's return
from work.
-- Slum Children from the Kadugodi Community, inside
Valli's tent --
-- Valli's kitchen --
I clarify Buma's name: It's actually "Roxanna". She says Valli
calls her Buma since she's muslim, although once again I don't
understand the reason behind this explanation. While we're at it,
I ask her to clarify the name of the next town, where Sathya
and Manni live (I've been calling it Chansandra, although I know
it's not actually part of the bigger town). "Patalamaleve,
Pa-Ta-La-Ma-Le-Ve, she articulates distinctly for me to write on
my notebook. I then give the pen to Prashant, knowing how much
the little boy likes to draw, but Valli grabs it and writes two
letters on her hand: V A, her and her husband's initials.
In fulfillment to one of my dreams, we start writing together
(she's illiterate, in any language). I write her name in both
Roman alphabet and Kannada in my notebook, she dutifully tries
to reproduce the English writing on her hand (she has no interest
in Kannada). Then she asks me for signing, attempts it
herself still on her hand, but produces some meaningless scribble.
I take this to mean that she wants to write her name in script.
I demonstrate on my notebook, but because she struggles to
reproduce her whole name, we patiently take it one letter at a time,
spending the longest time on the letter "a" which is most difficult
to her, and sometimes inverting the letters, either side to side
or top to bottom. But little by little, her name takes shape, and she
writes it a few times by herself, with only minor corrections.
I tear the papers for her to keep, tell her jokingly to practice
until next time. She's so happy that Buma and I joke that
soon the whole tent cloth will be entirely covered in writing, "Valli,
Valli, Valli..."
Roxanna is eager to try it herself, and insists on fetching
a paper of her own from her tent. This proves to be a torn page
from a magazine, unsuitable for writing, so I convince her to also borrow
a page from my tiny notebook. I'm worried about her
longer name, but she succeeds with more ease, stumbling also on
the "a" for some reason. (I write her name "Roxanna" even though
she actually pronounces it "Ruxanna". It might be that I'm
getting it completely wrong). Another younger girl
tries it too (unfortunately, I don't write her name down for
myself and don't retain it).
Finally, we write Valli's husband's
name Apu, but she also asks me to write his real
Tamil name, which unfortunately proves too difficult to my ears.
I propose Kannada again, but Valli affirms that English is
better, negating my affinity for the Indian scripts. Probably
to please me,
they then affirm that Kannada will be ok, but English is still
better.
We look together at the pictures in my camera, some of them
from the fateful night with Sathya and Manni earlier this
week. I explain to them the situation, the terrible parents,
the begging children... One of the girls affirms that Sathya
is her friend (they have stayed here briefly after having
been kicked out of Pattandur). They tell me that Sathya's mother's
name is also Sampa. Also, proudly showing my
orange bracelet, I show pictures of Madevamma from Nellurahalli,
tell about her offering of the prasad.
Valli laughs that in one of her pictures she's making
particularly wide eyes. As she's demonstrating the expression,
I take another close-up of her, ask him to do it again for the
camera. We play a game, if I make a face for the camera, then
she must too. Buma however, refuses to be part of it, unable
to hold the pose long enough for Valli to take the picture
(I tease her on her sharmadi). One of the younger girls
(who lives in the particularly decrepit tent at the entrance
of the slum) comes up with a great expression, which I try
to imitate. But Valli and my big eyes most win over everyone's
enthusiasm.
Sampa comes back once again, having not left after all.
As Aka she carries a natural authority, and for some
reason brings the whole mood down, as if there were some problem.
I ask her how she feels, "fever, uncle", she replies with
a tense worried face. Valli has started yawning, and I wonder
if I've extended my stay here, and whether Sampa disapproves
of our games. We try to relax her by showing her our pictures,
then she watches on intensely as Valli manages to write her
name (she hasn't forgotten!). My phone buzzes. Everyone watches
me fascinated as I speak, French, I later explain.
Before leaving, I ask Valli to write her name one last time,
on my own hand, V-a-l-l-i.
I give her my pen to keep, although unsure
if she'll find paper.
-- Valli and I make faces... but Roxanna doesn't --
We somehow decide to go out together for juice. But before
that we briefly visit Roxanna's tent, also take pictures of
a woman who lives in her hard house inside the slum. They
all ask me that I cease to bring big prints of the pictures,
but rather bring them "album-size" (this has also been asked
of me in Harohalli last week). As we're walking towards the
railway crossing, I'm saddened by Sampa's visible trouble.
I finally concede, Sampa, we could go shopping again if you
want. She hesitates, then asks me how much money I have this
time. The same as last I reply, and the fatter hindi speaking
woman immediately completes, Eik Hazaar (1000). After
more hesitation I ask them to follow me into town, so a group
of us cross the railway, (including Sampa, Valli, Buma, the
Hindi speaking woman, and the girl from the decrepit tent.)
I give her my water belt, tying it around her waist, to which
she jokingly makes the gesture of running.
As we're walking
along the tracks, they exclaim "your friend, your friend!".
I quickly recognize the girl's shaved head:
Sathya!
She is sitting there among a group of people, holding
little Bos on her lap. Seeing me with this group though,
she's strangely quiet, or is it that she's hesitant to
associate with me in the middle of this crowd? A beggar
passes by, asking for money. The horrible stories from
the other night flash by in my mind. Will she hop on a
train to beg on the way? I ask her about Manni, but she
just offers me a discreet shake of hand and head, barely
a smile, such a contrast with her gleeful joy from our
previous reunions.
We walk into town, stop at a bakery for cookies
and drinks, but I only have 50Rs for this, so we have
a hard time figuring it out (soda proves too expensive for
all). I only require some cookies to give Sathya on the way
back, and cold water for myself. We then proceed
to the same merchant as last time. After having drunk a little
myself, I offer water to the others. They all drink in proper
indian style, not letting the bottle touch their lips, but
Prashant and Kalpana eventually manage to gulp it with their
full mouths, so I let them keep what's left of the bottle.
I receive a phone call from Cecile. While she's away
in central Bangalore, an emergency has occurred
at home, our water tank is propulsing steam with great
noise as if it were about to blast, and Madeleine is
alone at home. I need to return quick! I explain this new
development to everyone. Sampa urges me to leave, tells
me that I can give her the money and she'll handle the
shopping, promise. I do trust her, but tell them
to enter the shop while I think things over. I realize
that I'll need some money for an Auto-Rickshaw home
(otherwise I'm about 45 minutes away). I explain again
to Sampa, inside the shop, and we decide to give the
money to the doukanvali now, asking her to return
100 Rs to me, keep the rest. But Sampa insists that
I should take more, and in spite of my protest makes
the lady hand me over another 100 Rs. They all come
out with me, hailing the first Rickshaw, negotiate
for me. I explain to him
that I need to get to Ramgondanahalli quick, but have
only 100 Rs. Hop in, he gestures (he's accompanied by
another man on the driver's seat). The women point out
that I could go by bus for only 10Rs, but I explain that
this will be quicker. I hand them over the pack of cookies
which they promise to give to Sathya on their way back.
The Rickshaw takes off, to my surprise continuing
away from Kadugodi. The driver soon stops, crosses the street
to talk to some other man. I explain to his companion that
I'm in a great hurry, that there's an emergency at home,
with water pouring all over the place. Fueled perhaps
by this magical morning, my Hindi is flowing particularly
well today, and the man, who luckily speaks the language
compliments me. He calls back the driver, who from this
point on, drives me as fast as he can to Ramagondanahalli,
taking some of the dirt trails that I've run several
times to cross under the railway, then meandering
deftly and swiftly through the chaotic traffic. Complimenting
him on his expert driving, I hand him the 100Rs note.
-- Tent Community "under the bridge", Kadugodi
(Photo by Sampa) --
Kiran's Photographs (Raichur) -- 05/30/10
(Link to Kiran's photographs on Flickr)
Madhuranagar - Harohalli ( the haircut )
In the morning, Cecile and I ride our bikes through Vartur,
then in the rural roads on the left. Our first stop is in
Madhuranagar, where I introduce her to Shilpa's amazing family.
We're greeted with such warmth, invited inside Lakshmi's house,
and served delicious chapatis and Chutney, as well as sweets
that they brought back from last week's marriage. Cecile too
is charmed by the wonderful beauty of this group of people,
from the granmother to little SriLakshmi. They insist that
we should come back next Sunday, this time, with our own
children, and before leaving, insist that we drink from
coconuts that they chop from their tree. I compliment Shilpa
on her house, but she makes a face with the usual hand nod,
"paint". Pesa Nahi, she comments laughing, yet never
asking me for anything.
We proceed to Harohalli. Neethra has decided to marry after
all, or rather, the family has made the decision. Roopa's
father, who's here from Dodbalapuram, explains to me the
situation of the future groom's family, how all have concluded
that this would be favorable. Neethra will move in three months
perhaps, leaving Roopa here with the grandmother. We invite
all of them to our house for that night.
Before leaving, I finally execute my plan of getting a haircut
in the village. Needless to say, this creates much excitement
among my little friends, who all walk me over to the village
center where the barber is. My usual assistants are there,
Monika, Lavannia, Little Roopa, and help me communicate
with the barber, and take a few pictures (while the boys
outside are taking rounds with the bikes). After the haircut
(very well done actually), I get a shave from a little boy
who works in the shop, the barber only putting the last final
touches. After paying (40Rs), I offer a tip to the boy, which
he refuses.
Patalamaleve - Chansandra - Kadugodi
( gathering storm ) ---
Later, in the early afternoon, I feel restless. I had initially
planned to go back into Patalamaleve to visit the "Children of
the Lake", hopefully talk to the Emu woman to get more back
story about them. So around 3, I set off on the bike again,
right through Imadahalli and the Northern trail to Chansandra.
Obviously, this is both easier and quicker than running, and
I reach there in about 1/2 hr, finding the house easily.
Only three of the smaller children are there, whose names
I don't know, and the mother, whose name I now know to be
Sampa. I ask for Manni and Sathia, and am told that they're
are in Hoskote, although the information seems vague. THe boy
from the Emu house shows up, as well as a few other youths,
and I let them take rounds on my bike, which creates some
distraction. During this, one of the little children has
gone under the tree where the parents normally sleep, where
currently a man with a long beard sits motionless. The mother
seems angered by this, and means to hit the little girl. I ask
why, and the Emu House boy responds that she's robbing food.
The three little children take off, before I've had time
to give them the cookies I had brought for them, and I don't
want to give them to the mother. I ask her where Murgesh is,
and she gestures that he's working. As a topic of conversation,
I ask her about the tatoo on her forearm (which I've seen in
many such women), which she describes as her father's name
as I expected.
Just then, to my surprise, Ubagarimary (Sampa and Valli's mother)
appears on the trail, carrying a load on her head.
She invites me to follow her to her "room"
(I hadn't realized she didn't leave in the Kadugodi tent community
with Sampa), and the two women walk with me through the small alleys,
although Sathya's mother parts with us before reaching the
main road. Ubagarimary tells us that she knows her quite well
(no wonder now that on that first day, she was offering to lead
me to Chansandra to find them...) Walking through the village,
I am bothered by this same begging woman that had followed me
in Kadugodi last week when we had gone shopping. In Hindi, she
keeps repeating, "next time, you said, next time you said..."
but I reply that I am not carrying money. Eventually Ubagarimary
sends her away in Kannada, and the woman stops as we're other
groups of derelicts along the main road. Indeed, Ubagarimary warns
me about this new congregation, don't talk to these people,
bad people. I am starting to wonder how far we'll walk,
when she points to a tiny abode across the street, her "room".
This no more than a tiny squarish adobe, hardly big enough for
two people to stand inside. The roof, made of metal sheet, has mostly
collapsed, not only leaving the inside open to the sky, but
littering the floor with a pile of debris, metal pieces and
cinder blocks. How can someone possibly live in this?
I had thought you lived in Kadugodi, I tell her, but she
replies that is her daughter's tent, she only is allowed there
if it rains heavily. She tells me more of her family history:
SHe left her husband who was beating her (or was it him who
left?). She also had to abandon her son, who mentally retarded
was dangerous. She still has her four daughters, Sampa, Valli,
Utti (the younger one in Kadugodi), and the fourth daughter
whom I had met once, who lives nearby in Chansandra. Before
leaving, she presents me a picture, showing me her own
sisters, dusting off one by one their faces. She then asks
me to write my name and number on her notebook, which I do
in Kannada. I feel like hugging her for comfort, but another
man has come, completely unrelated to this, meddling into
the conversation, probably intrigued by this unusual sight.
Ubagarimary briefly switches to begging mode, could I somehow
help her build a roof, but all in all, she seems satisfied that
we've at least spent some time together. I sheepishly ask her
when the rains will come, and she simply points at the sky
where indeed, threatening clouds have suddenly gathered.
Feeling terribly
helpless again, I get back on the bike
and take off, crossing the railtracks in Chansandra, turning
right towards Kadugodi. I've asked her whether it would
be ok to visit the community with my bicycle.
Pretty soon, I notice the three kids from the "CHildren of the
Lake" walking in the street. I hail them, stop,
eventually they recognize me again.
They'd like to take more photos, but instead, I search deep into
my backpack for a box of cookies I have been carrying. But now realize that
it's almost empty, which makes me feel bad, but seems good enough
for them. The driver of a passing car yells at them to leave me
alone, but I protest, probably unheard, "Mere Dost Hai, they
didn't even ask me for anything...", a small incident that puts
their condition under a renewed cruel light, suddenly seeing them
with objective eyes, that they are beggars,
rejected as an annoyance, not to be encouraged.
I stand at the side entrance of the slum, by the wall, holding my bike,
not sure if I could enter. Luckily I see Utti (Sampa's youngest sister)
who runs to me. Sampa has left she says and even though she hardly speaks
Hindi, I think I understand that Sampa has gone to work,
but I don't quite get the name of the place, so Utti proposes
to show me the way. We walk up the main road, along the bridge,
and she points me in the general direction. We stumble in our
communication, so she stops a passer-by to translate from Kannada
to Hindi. This man explains that Sampa has gone to fetch
water, and through him, I promise to come back Tuesday
around 7:30.
I get back on the bike, through the back roads leading to ITPL,
hoping to see Sampa along the way. Thunder starts rumbling as
the clouds have quickly gathered in strength behind my back.
In fact, the sky is almost perfectly divided between clear blue
skies ahead and the dark storm that's about to erupt, with me
in the center, fleeing on my bike. Scarce heavy raindrops start
falling, but quickly stop, an unexpected reprieve as if the
heart of the storm had chose to wait.
Nallurahalli (Kiran's photographs - the storm hits)
I quickly pedal through my familiar running routes through
Whitefield. Since the storm seems to be holding off a little
longer, I decide to make one last detour through the Dunmore
House area, curious to see if Kiran has returned from Gulbarga
with my camera. The wind is now picking up, blowing dust and
debris sideways, the sky is dark and heavy. In Madevamma's
settlement, the children (Malikarjun and all) have climbed
on the metal roof, frantically reinforcing their fastening.
I ask them whether rain poses a problem, but no, water does
not come inside the dwellings. Approaching Giryamma's old
settlement, I am greeted enthusiastically by Praveen, then
his parents Anthony and Mariamma. Kiran has returned, and
has brought back the camera. THey first tell me that he
just went to Nallurahalli, but I must of misunderstood, as
here he is, coming out of the shack, handing me over the
camera. The objective is out, at first I think he wants
to take a picture, but the battery needs recharge he
explains. I preciously put it in my bag. Anthony explains
that he will now go to school, so I offer to give a notebook
that I've been carrying with me today, but they refuse it
for now. They insist that I come inside for food, "Utta,
Utta!..." but I refuse pointing at the gathering storm.
Elated that Kiran has managed to come back with the camera,
I give him a hug, "dost, dost", before fleeing the storm
once again.
Soon after, the torrential rain breaks with strength, providing
rare exhileration as I'm rushing through the deluge. Kiran's
story provides me much needed hope as the assault of the
rain unleashes my passion, while screaming over the clamor
of the storm for the roofless dwellers of Kadugodi.
-- Before the wedding in Raichur, Photo By Kiran Kumar --
Nallurahalli (Bombs in the night)
Monday evening, Madhav, Anand, Xavier and I drive into the Dunmore
house area with my laptop, to show the Raichur pictures to Kiran.
Along the way, we bring a bunch of children from the 1st community
into the car, drive them a few yards to Kiran's. In front of their
shack, Anthony and the children unfurl a mat on which we sit, make
us stand back up again to place a second mat. I sit on the ground,
children and adults huddled around me, and turn on the computer,
as darkness is falling. We all anxiously wait as the thing turns on,
singing its Microsoft music probably never heard here, then slideshow
the pictures, slowly going one by one. It turns out that this
ceremony included over 20 marriages, apparently a common practice
among poor people who can't afford the cost of an individual marriage
(sometimes 100 marriages can be performed this way, all sharing the
same Poojaree). We also look at many of the older photos from the
area, nostalgically looking the Giryamma Lakshmi family, the children
recognizing other children from other parts of Nallurahalli. We then
try a few computer games, and finally settle on Minesweeper,
(or rather "bombs" or "bambs-u"),
which they play in reverse: Having quickly learned the handling of
the touchpad and buttons, they all take turn at detonating the bombs,
to which we all applaud loudly. Occasional bugs traverse the
screen, but are carefully wiped away by the children.
At some point, a "security" man
approaches to see what we're up to. I can't recognize him in the dark
but he probably knows me. Mariamma offers us coffee before we leave.
We find out that Kiran will be leaving for Raichur (and school)
in two weeks.
We return to Madevamma's shack, and the same is repeated. Both
Malikarjun and Gauramma fight for me to come into their "room",
and I end up yielding to Gauramma, accepting coffee from her
in spite of being worried about insomnia. We look at pictures again
(in particular, the father wants to see the recent images of
his Pooja corner), then play another game of "bombs-u". The final
of these games has each kid taking one click, Malikarjun, Yeramma,
Ishwaraja, Tayamma and Gauramma, and goes on for quite a while,
until finally Malikarjun detonates the minefield to our loud
cheering. Gauramma's mother insists on offering me a meal
but I decline. Outside, I do a final showing for Madevamma (I am
made to sit on a plastic chair), while feeling that my naked
feet are devoured by mosquitoes. She loves the photos, and cannot
stop laughing at the pictures of DUrgapa and Wannapa trying on
my running shoes.
This has been another magical evening.
-- Raichur "mass" wedding, Photos By Kiran Kumar --
Kadugodi, that morning (Faces)
In spite of slight illness, I've held my promise to visit Sampa
in Kadugodi. Actually, after a couple Tylenols, running feels better
than expected. I'm not carrying photos today, rather, I've kept two
pouches of biscuits and my camera, which I unfortunately drop on
the ground (once again!) upon reaching the community, causing
a protective ring to come off the objective.
I meet Sampa and her children at the chai booth at the entrance
of the slum (the Doukanvali speaks Hindi). Sampa offers me her own
tea, in spite of my protest (she has also bought some for her
children). I give her the two pouches of cookies that I've brought
for the children, but she hands them back over to me. It later
strikes me that perhaps I've insulted her by giving her "charity"
in front of the merchant lady.
We're joined by Valli, whose Saree is tattered in places.
I follow them to Valli's tent, for once going right through the
slum. Valli has remembered how to write her name, which makes
me incredibly happy, although I still correct her "a" which
she has drawn backwards. Sampa writes her own, with an air of
superiority as "aka", in careful capital letters. I propose to teach
her Kannada, but instead, she writes her name again in Tamil.
Valli asks me for my own name, which I write in Kannada, and
they reproduce. Although harder to write than English, they both
reproduce the letters quite well.
Prashanth is half naked as usual, and suffering from "loose
motion". I have given him some cookies, but he'll largely
disperse them on the tent floor, and also perhaps drink
from my water bottle, rendering it unusable (I don't want
to take this risk). I repair my camera in front of them, managing
to slide the broken ring back in place.
Remembering last Saturday's games,
Valli offers to make a few more faces for the camera,
and this time, we get Sampa to join, perfectly willing. In fact,
she outdoes us with a few grimaces, laughing wholeheartedly at
the result. I let Kampala draw on my notebook, timid signs
resembling letters, than show her a square and a circle, which
she does her best to reproduce. I am now well adopted by Sampa's
children, to the point where Prashanth gets a bit fussy, especially
insisting on holding the camera himself.
We speak of the tarps again. I explain that I've met their mother
Ubagarimary (I've pronounced the name right!), and try to describe
her house in Chansandra. I refer to last SUnday's storm, which
Sampa says brought water inside her tent. I won't wait any longer.
She confirms that the store isn't far from here. Not sure how
we'll manage, I promise to return on Saturday.
Valli will go to "work", riding to Whitefield by bus to gather
and sell plastic, which sells 1kg for 2Rs. I would love to follow
her some day, but need to go to work myself.
Before leaving, they dress up Prashant, first cleaning and combing
his hair, cleaning his skin with talc powder, applying the Tikka
with black powder, and dressing him up in a girl's dress (I've
seen and heard that this practice is extremely common for young children
in all stratas of society.) Once ready,
he continues to a bit fussy, and keeps
reaching out to me (or is the camera he's after?). I take a few
pictures but just then the camera shuts down, out of battery.
"No film left", affirms Sampa, not understanding the mechanics
of a digital camera.
-- Prashanth --
-- Sampa and Kalpana making faces --
-- Sampa and Valli --