-- Kuttima (Anita) with my notebook,
Pushpalata and Gaiatree with my shoe, inside Sampa's tent --
Kadugodi (12.3 Miles) -- 02/05/11
PM - Hagadur - Imadahalli - Whitefield Hill - Back
Streets - Dinur - Kadugodi: 1:02:22
Kadugodi - Beltur - Under the railtracks - ITPL -
Pattandur - Nellurahalli - E. Trail: 0:48:50
Time: 1:51:13
Mileage: 12.3 Miles
Wght: 154
(Link to Sampa's complete
photos and videos of Ramaka's son's birthday)
I take the longer way today through the Whitefield Hill
area, hoping to run into Manni, which I had met here last
week after his family had been forced to leave Chansandra.
After the beautiful way through Imadahalli and
the fields, I start the gradual ascent up the hill,
passing the battered down sections of Whitefield.
The wide dirt road, sadly, is being paved, like so many
others in the past two years. I look for the boys along
the cemetery walls where I had seen them last time, to no
avail. I muster some courage and penetrate the perimeter
by myself, walking to the cinder block "room" where we
had met Sampa, Manni's mother. But she has been replaced
by another occupant, another one of those miserable drifters
that I've met in Chansandra, Venkatesh I think. He now
stays here with his wife, Sampa apparently having moved
back to Patalamalevet.
I explore a new route up the hill, further East. Running
the narrow alleys, skipping around rangolis, I am for once
surprised by a barking dog, causing me in a reflex to jump
"elegantly" out of the way. The dog makes no effort to bite me.
Past the main road, the town radically changes appearance, posher
houses, leading to the tech parks.
I arrive in Kadugodi.
I first meet Arpudam, whose daughter Gaiatree's
foot is bandaged with a cloth. She has stepped on glass,
explains Arpudam. I turn to Sampa, who is washing her face
outside. Suresh, examining my face, laughs that I
haven't shaved properly, leaving patches under my
jaw.
Last Tuesday,
I had lended Sampa my old HP camera to
take pictures of Ramaka's child's birthday.
Sampa tells me she doesn't like this camera
though, that it hasn't worked.
Examining it just in time before the battery runs out,
I realize she has taken many videos instead of photos!
(Later, once recharged, I'll see that indeed she
has taken both videos and pictures, some in beautiful evening
light. This will be a rare capture of their enthralling voices
and sounds). Later, Sampa says that the birthday party wasn't
great. Kupamma had prepared a Biryani that made every one
sick, vomit, loose motion..., she complains laughing,
using
the English words.
-- One of Sampa's videos (probably taken by Suresh) --
As we're still trying to figure out the photos,
she invites me into her tent. A big surprise awaits
me: Valli has returned!!
She is seven months pregnant, her face
still so strikingly beautiful (unlike other women, she has somehow
managed to keep her teeth perfect, unaffected by Paan or Tobacco).
A new fight happened with her husband, or rather her husband's
mother, who's asked her to leave until she can provide money
for the baby pooja (not sure if I got the details right).
Whatever the woman says, they have to abide by, even her husband
seems powerless in front of his mother. Valli plans to go back
tomorrow, although I don't understand how that will solve the
dispute. Valli complains that her own mother (Ubagarimary)
does nothing. Drinks karti, adds Sampa shrugging
her shoulders...
We look at Valli's medical dossier. She has sonograms of her
baby. She is scheduled to give birth at Bowring Govt Hospital in
Shivajinagar, which apparently only costs 30 Rs for them. The
papers set her expected delivery date to April 25 (they didn't
realize this). She has been traveling with only a small bag,
in which she has kept some of the many photos we had taken
together.
Sampa tries my phone a few times, but her numbers are either
not working or disconnected.
We've agreed that we'll come visit Valli some day (she
lives in the center of Bangalore near Cantonment), as well
as one of Ubagarimary's sisters Margaret who happens to
live in that area. Margaret speaks English says Sampa, her
husband works as a driver. Valli lives in a metal sheet
shack, specifies Sampa, not a tent like here.
We sit for several hours inside the tent, where it is
very hot as the bright sunlight hits the tarpals, with no
cooling from the winter wind. Sampa offers me water, which
I now know they get from the neighbouring veterinary
facility, for 30Rs. a month. We're joined at various points
by other community members, mostly Suresh and another man.
Sampa dreams that she could go to America. We take a long
time to explain the passport and visa process. She thinks
she could marry someone to go (I assume of course she's joking).
She recalls that in her late childhood, an American man by
the name of Peter had proposed to her, which she had refused
to stay in India. People apparently have been talking, that
since she's not working here, she should go to America.
Needless to say she would have to work over there too, which
would be that much harder. I tell her that I am convinced that she
would be very unhappy in America. The men think that in America,
people would persecute Indian people, but I explain that those
are only rare occurences. Sampa dreams about other
countries, France, Scissorline (Switzerland)... I explain
that being poor in the US would most likely be far worse than
here. Repeating conversations that we've had before, I explain
the airplane ride, Sampa protesting that she would be too
scared. She wants to go by car, but we tell her at least she
would have to take a ship, which would take weeks.
We explore other countries, for example Africa, which
amuses Suresh quite a bit. Follow their usual jokes about
skin color, black being taunted as bad.
Sampa and others try to improve my Tamil, while in return
I teach them English and French (why she's interested in French
I don't know. Perhaps it's because of the Barbichette
song?). She patiently walks me through the difficulties of Tamil
prononciation. As Sampa is taking tobacco, I ask for some, now
knowing how to roll it into a ball and tuck it under my lip.
Valli is horrified: You are well, you should stay well,
they say. Some Chakkar will occur, they warn me again.
Sampa smiles: "Now, we are well",
but soon asks me to spit it out, in a tin cup
which is used to that effect inside. That is definitely one skill
I haven't mastered: Spitting! In spite of some recent practice,
I simply
can't get it right! I ask Sampa to demonstrate. With a sweeping
movement of the tongue, she gathers the remains of the Gutkha,
then simply "phu" spits it out in a neat ball. Mine scatter
into many miserable chunks, taking a few iterations to
clear my mouth. People don't
normally do this in my country I explain sheepishly.
I ask a silly question which has been intriguing me
for some time: Where do the women wash? - Inside the tent,
answers Sampa simply, pointing to the corner where
a heel-high dirt wall defines the wash area perimeter.
Sampa has gotten something stuck in her hand. She tries
to remove it painfully, impatiently asking the children to
not stand in the way of the light. She eventually asks Valli
to help her with a pin.
I check my phone. Another missed call from Priya. Sampa
asks me curious, then stares at me with an understood look.
"Indian woman?" she asks teasingly...
Rukhsanna has been sick. This morning, Arpudam fought
with her, punching her so hard that Rukshana fell down. Sampa,
who tried to intervene between the two women, shows me the
resulting cut on her hand. Rukhsana, whom I've often seen
quite combative, describes herself as weak, no match for
Arpudam's strength. Sampa laughs out loud recalling the event,
and even more
at the sight of my bewildered face, as if I were terrified
by Arpudam. Rukshana tells us that
her younger sister Vahida, with whom
she has resumed relations
after a fairly long discord, is having a love affair (she hasn't
married yet) with a young man who lives in Koramangala.
As usual, I've refused food, but as it's getting later,
Sampa sends someone to buy Chapati and Chutney for me, which
I partially share with Prashanth. It's increasingly clear
that we'll go shopping for Sampa and Rukhsana, as we had
agreed to last week. Valli asks to keep my pen as a goodbye
gift. Rukhsana, Sampa and I set out. Sampa has asked
to tell Kupamma that only next week I'll go with her. Sure enough,
the older lady asks to go with us, so I promise her that next
week will be her turn.
Sampa stops on the way to talk to Suresh. Rukhsana, who's
carrying sleeping baby Sophia in her arms, walks with me,
having to make a detour on the tracks because of two stopped
trains. Once on the other side, we wait for Sampa for some time.
Rukshana's husband hasn't returned since last time. He doesn't
give her anything she complains. She turns to the sky, as
if accepting her difficult fate. Yet when he was sick, she
took such care of him, I remember from Bowring Hospital,
abandoning the community (and her job) to be at his side.
We climb on the small embankment by the tracks
to look for Sampa. We finally spot her walking along the
tracks with Kalpana, helping an old lady with a wood cane walk
the treacherous rocks (Sampa herself is barefeet).
As we're waiting, Rukhsana, still carrying sleeping
Sophia at her side, asks me if she could once come to
my home, akela. She'll call me (she reminds me that I
had once given my number to her daughter Nazia) from Hope
Farm (apparently, she needs to go that far to call). "We'll talk,
we'll play...", she explains, "will you mind?".
I point out the sad expression that this proposition has
left on her face.
She smiles back that she's fine.
Sampa has finally joined us. I have asked them to
choose a different shop from the big one in Kadugodi
last week, where Deivani had made such a scene, so they
pick a smaller roadside shop, where unlike Deivani the two women manage
perfectly to the 250 I've allotted for them. Ruxanna overspends by
7 rupees which she's willing to pay herself, fetching the money
from inside her corset, while Sampa having reached 246Rs. buys
two pouches of "jamum" (Jam), one of which she offers
me. They only ask me
to not spend more for Kupamma next week.
-- Sunrise on my run to work, Pattandur Lake,
Akbar's tent community in Nellurahalli --
Patalamalevet, Kadugodi, Baswanna Nagar (13.8 Miles) -- 02/12/11
PM - Hagadur - Imadahalli - Straight trail to Chansandra -
Patalamalevet: 0:40:58
Back up the Main road - Towards Hope Farm - Dirt road to
Whitefield Train Station: 0:19:02
Kadugodi - West along the tracks - Hoodi Circle: 0:28:52
Through Baswanna Nagar - Sai Baba Hospital - Nellurahalli -
Gopalan settlements - back home via W. Trail: 0:35:30
Time: 2:04:22
Mileage: 13.8 Miles
Wght: 154
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
On the way to Patalamalevet, on Chansandra main road,
a young boy waves at me from across the street. It's Saleem,
this Muslim boy who's supposedly Sathia's husband, who allegedly had
disappeared to Delhi. I ask him to confirm that he was indeed
married to Sathia.
Yes, he says sadly, for the past few months, but he doesn't
know where the young girl went, after the disintegration of
her family. He drops his garbage bag to the
ground for me to take his photo. In another choking moment,
the poor boy produces one of my photos from his filthy
clothes' pockets: Sathia's! He holds it proudly next to his
face.
-- Saleem, displaying Sathia's photo, his lost wife --
A little further, Sathia's mother Sampa, still holding the horrible
misformed baby that won't die, its head still grotesquely
dispropotionate to its body. Sampa, touching the baby's cranium
as if to inviting me to touch as well, wonders if she could
take him to the government hospital, yet I refuse to help her.
Manni and younger brother Chet are with her, apparently now
living in front of the Patalamma temple. Sampa tells me
that Sathia now lives near the Majestic Train Station in
central Bangalore, where she's found some work.
We're joined by Deivani, Ubagarimary, and little baby
Vijay. I give them the great pictures from a couple weeks
ago. As often, Deivani doesn't like herself in the pictures,
mostly because her hair appears unkempt and she complains
about her pimples (she uses the English word). Both
her and Ubagarimary start beggins for various things, which
I categorically refuse. Ubagarimary keeps her mouth veiled
by her Saree, as her mouth seems to have swelled again.
-- Manni and brother Chetu,
eating in front of the Patalamma Temple --
For no particular reason, instead of taking the straight
road to Kadugodi, I run back up the main road, then right
in Chansandra towards Hope Farm. On the way, I try a large
dirt road that has been intriguing me for some time. It takes
me through some of those narrow farmlands pressed between
the rampant developments but dead-ends at the railroad,
just by Whitefield Station. I finish walking on the tracks
to Kadugodi.
The community is particularly quiet today. I walk
straight to Ruxanna's tent, am invited to sit inside, refuse
any food. Her health is still tentative, but she feels better
than last time. I ask her why she hasn't called, like
she had proposed last time.
Unsure if she still has my phone number, I offer to write it
for her. She accepts, urging me to hurry before someone
comes in. The little paper quickly disappears in her corset.
Later that evening, she will indeed call me, just before
her own bedtime, from the Kadugodi Bus Stand. Her Hindi
being the best in the community (from being Muslim),
we're able to converse.
Ruxanna calls Sampa, as if worried to be seen alone
with me. I try telling Ruxanna the few words of Tamil
that I've learned. We're finally joined by Sampa who takes
over the lesson. The two women laugh their hearts out
as I bravely repeat their teachings. Sampa wants me to
only speak Tamil with her from now on. Seeing the
Kannada/Telugu/Tamil mess in my notebook, she encourages
to only learn one additional language for now, Tamil.
"Chee, popopopo..." exclaims Ruxanna, as little
Sophia has released a lethal fart! The two women, covering
their faces in Saree or Dupata, rush out of the tent,
come back to rescue as if I had been abandonned behind.
The smell was really not all that bad, I try to convince them.
We resume the Tamil lesson outside. As Sampa teaches
me to say "where is my husband?", Suresh fortuitously appears,
stays with us for a brief time, wearing his usual
sardonic mask.
-- Nazia with water jars, inside Sampa's tent --
Sampa invites me to sit in her tent, where the
heat, captured under the sun-baked
tarpals and shielded from the
breeze, is particularly intense. We stay alone
for some time, chatting at length as we've done week after
week, barely lifting the many misteries around the young
woman's life. I'm today particularly curious to find out
where does she get any money from. Her answer,
unsatisfying, is that she just borrows from the other
slumdwellers as needed, later reimbursing them. That
doesn't answer anything!
I tell her that I will be traveling to Andhra next
week for my friend's wedding. She's curious as to what
I've bought as a gift as well as of course how much it
costs. When I tell her about the gold pendant bought for
4000 Rs., she insists that I've been duped. Displaying
a surprising knowledge of the prize of gold (Sampa always
seems to know the prize of everything), she explains at
length how a piece such as I describe would never go
for so low. She encourages me to have it checked at a
shop she knows in Kadugodi, owned by a Tamilvalla.
The topic keeps her focused for a while, using the price
of her own earrings as a benchmark.
I tell Sampa how I've met Saleem, his story with Sathia,
the picture with her. But Sampa reacts unexpectedly, angrily
saying that the young man has stolen from Ramaka. Sampa
yells her name for me to show her the picture. Indeed,
seeing the photo Ramaka painfully recalls the boy's
thefts, looks like she'll get even with him (she gestures
as if she was about to beat the crap out of him).
She then remains a while to play
at the entrance of the
tent with Kalpana. I tell her how beautiful the videos
of her son's birthday have turned out, wondering
if I should bring my laptop into the community to show them.
Ramaka, as often happens, gently slaps Kalpana for some
reason, which infuriates Sampa. She seizes Ramaka by the
arms, pushing her out, not quite sure whether she's joking
or not, knowing how frequent these violent episodes are.
But all is well...
-- Ramaka playing with Kalpana --
In spite of my refusal, Sampa has sent someone to get me
some food (again, where does she get the money from!?).
As I haven't completely finished my plate,
Sampa this time shows me how to properly wipe it clean
leaving no food, by pressing the flat of the fingers
instead of fingertips. Satisfied, she pours water on
my hand as I scrub energetically as she has taught me.
I have promised to Kupamma to buy her ration this week,
but Sampa, explaining that both Kupamma and Arpudam have gone,
tells me that I should go with Anita (also called Kutimma),
Arpudam's pregnant daughter. But first, I want to talk to Rosie,
whom I've seen passing outside a few times.
Rosie is applying cow dung to her doorstep. I cleans the
soil, she explains, and once dry constitutes a perfect
support for the Rangolis. She interrupts her chores to
invite me to sit outside. For some reason, her and Sampa
are again in cold terms. We're joined by Utti (Velangani
by her real name, which she far prefers), Sampa's youngest
sister. She borrows my phone to talk to her boyfriend.
Rosie and I make fun of her, but she asks that we don't
reveal anything to Sampa who would surely beat her up!
We exit the community to go to that same small shop that we
went last week. But I'm surprised by the strength of our
group: I have enough money for Rosie and Kuttima, but not
for Sampa and Ramaka who've also joined us, Ramaka dragging
along a few of her six children! As it turns out, Sampa,
always extremely keen with numbers,
is only here to help young Kuttima to buy a proper ration,
and Ramaka will have to wait for next time. Before leaving,
I ask the shop woman to fill my flask with water. As the
warm season settles in, I make a mental note carrying two
water flasks from now on.
It's very hot, yet after leaving them I surprisingly decide to prolong the run on the way home, going the long way along the tracks to Hoodi Circle, then through this poor urban areas that I've run a few times in the past, today learning its name: Bhaswana Nagar. This takes me near the Sai Baba hospital from where I reach the Nellurahalli settlements, extremely dehydrated. After having refilled water by the temple, I am stopped in Simon's community by a woman who generously offers me a copious drink of fermented milk. I sit with her and Gnanmitra for some time. She's touring the settlement with this heavy pot of milk on her head, selling it in the slums (yet she asks me for no money). The place has changed a bit, one of the tin shacks, empty, has collapsed, while a small cinder block house has been built, where lives a new family whose photos I take before the final leg home.
-- Nellurhalli, Gopalan Settlements (Dunmore House area) --
Demons in Timandhalli (15.9 Miles) -- 02/13/11
Vartur - Gunjur (main road) - On the country road
to Katiregupa: 0:41:30
Left turn on a dirt road - to Tippasandra - More dirt
trails - to Madhuranagar: 0:25:06
Towards Kotur - More dirt trails (lost) - Harohalli
through the back side: 0:32:22
Back via the usual Timandhalli/Ajgondanahalli route: 0:43:44
Time: 2:22:43
Mileage: 15.9 Miles
Ok, this title is far more exciting than this entry warrants,
cheap trick!!
Strangely, in spite of all of yesterday's run, I feel light
and easy this morning, one of those rare days where running
feels like flying.
Vartur is still bustling from the fair that ended yesterday,
the street market even more chaotic than usual. I have to break
down to a walk several times for the heterogeneous traffic.
In the mood to take a break away from the hard urban
areas, I set through Gunjur to the peaceful pristine country
side, on the road to Katerigupa. But before reaching the village
I turn into a large dirt trail to the left, curious where it
will take me. I end up almost back in Vartur, opening a new
access far preferable to the main road. At some point, I have
a loud encounter with a pack of dogs, a bit more threatening
than usual. I haven't been carrying my dog rocks for
a long time now, but this time I wield one of my water bottles
as a menace, while peasants are ready to intervene. The dogs
back down. THe little incident allows me to measure my
progress: Two years ago, I would have been terrified, that
fear that grips your gut, beyond any control. Now in this
altercation, I haven't felt the slightest worry.
Decidedly In a mood for
exploration, I take another trail which leads me straight
into Madhuranagar, eventually reaching Shilpa's house.
I have been neglecting this group. It's as if something
has been broken, as we're not quite able to rekindle
our friendship. I leave sad, disappointed.
Yet again, I try another dirt trail, this one much
smaller, partially to circumvent Kotur as I'd rather
not be stopped again before reaching Harohalli. But I get
completely lost in the maze of trails, distant visibility
rendered impossible by the flat terrain and low woods.
I retrace my steps several times, at one point running
into a large animal carcass, probably a cow. I am rigorously
alone through this section, although occasional tire tracks
attest to this trail being used on occasion. On one of
these returns, I even lose the notion of which trail
I came from, and in true detective style, am condemned
to spy for my own shoe-prints. I eventually
emerge on the low road from Vartur to Harohalli,
from there able to reach the village through the familiar
trails, happily perfecting my spitting technique
along the way. It has taken me almost 1h40 to reach the village
through this unorthodox route.
Muniraj, Neetra's future husband, who was supposed to come
visit today, is apparently running very late, if he'll come
at all. (In tradition, the groom visits the bride, but never
the other way around). Neetra offers me rice which starving
I'm delighted frankly to eat. As the house is about to be
sweeped clean, Roopa and I sit outside, joined by Monika
for a game of Uno. (Grandmother Teyamma has prepared Bida
(Paan) for me). We then play Bataille Corse, this
time with Roopa's uncle, a particularly sweet man who loves
to occasionally play with us. Roopa tells me that his wife
ran away from him after some dispute, that he has never since
remarried. Him and I have no common language (except for my
scarce words of Kannaga / Telugu), yet we play an endless
game, which he finally wins!
I try a few words of Tamil on Manjula. In spite of
knowing it very little, she corrects my prononciation
which actually helps a lot. Her baby boy Manish (Monika's
brother) continues to be my best friend. Since he's been
calling me Anna (big brother), I've started calling
him Tamma (little brother) in return.
Kathy's visit last week has been very popular. All
ask me if she has left, when she might come back. I tell
Roopa that I would never bring someone here that isn't
a true friend. Very perceptive, Neetra was however put
out by Mahesh's haughty demeanor. "He didn't talk to us",
complains Roopa.
As Lavania, who is younger than Roopa, walks down
the alley carrying a large faggot of wood on her head,
Roopa says that she's made fun of because she can't
do this, as it gives her headaches. I couldn't do it either,
I reply!
Roopa insists that I stay a little more as Neetra is
cooking chicken. We return inside to taste the meat, accompanied
by Ragibol, feeding the remains to the house cat. Seven people
live in this house, will later eat the chicken, which is prepared
Sunday on most weeks. After the meal, Neetra steals the Paan
pouch from Teyamma who's sleeping, rolls again the nuts inside
the leaf. Having forgotten the limestone powder, she hands
me over the little tin container, into which I dip my finger.
Roopa warns me that I may have taken too much.
Indeed, a strong chakkar invades my brain, as if
about to faint my eyes were no longer able to converge, a
rather unpleasant impression, quite different from that of
Gutkha.
Neetra is also eating the Paan today, as she normally
does after eating meat. Roopa tells me that this is necessary
to keep the demons away, as they get attracted by the smell
of chicken. She's particularly scared that I might meet the
demons of Timandhalli on my way back, that live by the temple.
My phone rings. It's Ruksanna, calling from near her
sister's house in Chansandra. Roopa raises an amused eyebrow
hearing me talking in Hindi, "Kadugodi?", she asks,
immediately putting it together. As yesterday, the communication
quickly runs out, Ruxanna probably not having put enough
money into the public phone, just as I've barely managed
to explain that I'll be home in about an hour.
I run home in the heat, still barely tempered by a pleasant
wind, slowly increasing into the harsh Indian summer. An odd
site awaits me in Palm Meadows: A camel has been brought into
the residence. My phone rings again, this time I am smart
enough to immediately call her back. We chat for a while,
as I'm sitting in the strange Palm Meadows environment,
nearly dead at this hour in spite of the presence of the camel.
Madhavrao's wedding, Anakapalli -- 02/20/11
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
COMING SOON ----
-- Shazia, photographed by her sister Nazia
(Ruxanna's older daughters) --
Turning point -- 02/26/11
W. Trail - Dunmore House - Nellurhalli - Pattandur -
to Kadugodi through Dinur: 0:50:47
Back, direct route (ELIM/ECC): 0:40:17
Time: 1:31:04
-- Kadugodi boy, photo by Nazia --
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
Je me mets en route vers huit heures, faisant le
léger détour par Nellurahalli...
-- Ruxanna's father, photographed by Shazia --
-- "Nellurahalli Football Club" (Akbar and friends) --
A game of football, Nellurahalli -- 02/27/11
Nellurahalli, via E. Trail: 0:19:44
Back from Dunmore House, same way: 0:24:34
Time: 0:44:19
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
Je m'éveille de la nuit changé encore de la veille...
-- Dwellers in Akbar's community, Nellurahalli --
-- Ruxanna, carrying daughter Sophia --
Kadugodi (12 Miles) -- 03/05/11
PM - W. trail - Nellurahalli "grand tour of the communities"
- Pattandur Agrahara - Dinur - Kadugodi: 1:02:22
Kadugodi - Beltur - Under the railtracks - ITPL -
Pattandur - Nellurahalli - W. Trail: 0:48:50
Time: 1:48:16
Mileage: 12 Miles
Wght: 152
(Link complete photos on Flickr)
Marking a pause towards summer, the weather has reverted to the
splendid purity of the Bangalore winter. Mornings are crisp,
clear and pristine, a delicious wind keeping the temperatures
cool in spite of the harsh sunshine.
I am carrying a significant stack of photos from all over,
plan to distribute them along the way, before leaving for the
US next week.
I first stop in Akbar's community, where I had been asked
to come back as some of the dwellers leaving for their
gao (this will be a theme today) would like to take
pictures with them. Akbar himself isn't here, but I meet his
older brother and several others, some of the children getting
ready for school, uncharacteristically not in uniform.
I leave a first stack of pictures here.
Later in Nellurahalli, children call my name. It's Malikarjun,
Ishwaraja and Yeramma walking to school from the Gopalan settlements.
I follow them through the narrowest alleys to the governement school
plaza, where we finally meet Akbar. Indeed none of the kids are in
uniform today, some girls, in spite of being brought up in poverty,
are wearing beautiful dresses. Everyone is curious of the pictures
I've given Malikarjun.
I continue my way towards the Dunmore House area, the Gopalan
settlements, where I meet Kiran's family. They too announce that
they will be leaving next month, back to Raichur. "Baralla",
says his father, indicating that they won't be coming back. I ask
Kiran whether he prefers Bangalore or Raichur: He prefers if over
there, where he can go to school and see the rest of his family.
He walks me over to Simon's settlement where I distribute yet
another stack of photos. A little further, I spend time with the
Telugu tent people. A man takes me by the hand to visit Sathiamma
and Govindu, my "old friends", who are getting ready to go to work.
Another man there fortunately speaks Hindi (I had met him before
as he was working in the neighbouring park). He is able to translate,
although as usual my very few words of Telugu amuse everyone. He
says that next month will be Ugadi, that they will be going back
to Andhra, would love for me to come as well. Amazingly, he has
heard most of everything we've done in the area, including
the story of Madhevamma's eye. Govindu is staying in the tent
for now, as he is resting from having fetched water earlier.
-- Kupamma and family, in front of her tent --
I am greeted by Arpudam in Kadugodi. We sit on the sill of
that little house, the kids gently crowding us. Kutimma
her pregnant daughter doesn't seem well, stomach pain, explains
Arpudam. I hand them over pictures, including one of Kutimma
that I particularly like, although its sad expression may
not be to her taste. Speaking of pictures, Arpudam goes
fetch her bag from her tent, from which she extracts the
results of Kutimma's sonogram. I can't interpret the picture
of course, but confirm with them that the delivery date
is supposed to be in a month. Arpudam anxiously asks Larki
ya larka? but there is an express mention that the doctor
has not recognized the sex of the child, which I think
is mandatory here.
I have not seen Ruxanna yet, although catch glimpses
of her children. She finally appears, today wearing a striking
rose Saree. As for Sampa, I'm told that she is at work.
Well, that's a first!! Suresh is alone with the children,
apparently not too happy...
Kupamma arrives, also wearing a clean Saree (is something
going on today?). She offers me tea, producing a set of plastic
cups from her tent, which she explains she will sell in Kadugodi
(she bought them at the market for 4rs, want to sell them
for 10). She sits next to me, shows me a Tamil
newspaper. On one of the images, she points to her family,
caught amongst the large crowd. This is Pushpalata, she
says proudly.
They went
to temple last Thursday for Shivarathri where this photo was taken.
She shows me other images of the festival, particularly of
goddess Kali and her necklace of heads. She slowly reads the
words in Tamil, occasionally translating in Hindi. I lose interest,
eyeing Ruxanna sitting in front of her tent on a mat, taking
care of her children. Rosie sits by me. So you didn't go to
church after all, I ask her? Kupamma sits on the ground with
a large plate of rice, eating wholeheartedly. Her other daughter
Mary has gone on her daily chore of picking paper, for some
little money. We are getting ready to go, but I do want to
go see Ruxanna.
Nazia leads me to her mother. But we're distracted
along the way, as people are burning the weed on the next
lot, where the Veterinary building is. Some of the children
are helping, Nazia and I take their pictures.
Ruxanna is sitting on the ground on a mat, combing
Shazia's hair. I ask Nazia to take their picture, as they
are such a beautiful group. The old father though, sitting
outside with them, waves his hand in reluctance. He soon
leaves, lugging his usual odd rat sign, apparently
selling his services to kill rats.
Shazia looks sullen. She has fever explains her mother,
but what's really bothering her is her hand, which displays
several pus filled spots, and a little blood. Infection
ho jata, says Ruxanna, it started in the night. I can't
imagine what could have caused this. I comfortingly touch
the girl's hand but she recoils shrieking in pain. Ruxanna
will take her to the doctor, next to the shop nearby in Kadugodi.
Nazia and I play with a marble and a rock. Eventually, little
Sophia, half naked, joins the game, fetching the rock that
we throw, like a little puppy, laughing. This finally brings
a smile to poor Shazia's face.
Sophia has also picked up a pack of Shanti Gutkha
dropped by Ruxanna. "Tumhare lie nahi hai", I say
taking it away from her. Ruxanna lets me keep it with
an enigmatic smile.
I point at Valli's former house. its entrance
barred by old branches. It has remained empty,
and Shazia warns me that it is now inhabited by a Bhut
(ghost). With some apprehension, with both take a look
inside...
Nazia and I then turn towards Kupamma's group. She'd
like to take another photo, although I expect Kupamma's
usual reluctance. For once, the old lady accepts, happy
with the way she's dressed today. This is a small miracle!
I warmly shake the old woman's hand!
Kupamma, Rosie, Arpudam and I strategize over the
ration. This creates a bit of an argument, as another woman
Lakshmi takes part in the conversation. After much heated
deliberation, we set out, Rosie, Arpudam, Lakshmi and I,
resolving to bring back for Sampa and Mary as well, five
in all. Across the track, Arpudam insists on buying me
some a fruit plate from a cart merchant. As we're walking
near the Ashram, the women urge me to turn back to avoid
the shoe mender woman, who always bothers them also begging
for alms. Amused, we take one of the narrow alleys instead
to the shop we used to go to in the early days. I try to
engage with Lakshmi but she only speaks Tamil, so Rosie
provides translation into Hindi.
Another beggar woman having follows us into the shop,
sets camp at the entrance, sending her child to ask rice
from me. Then the transvestite whom I had met here once
before enters the shop, also asking me for 100 Rs., which
I of course refuse. After a few jokes that I don't quite
understand, he gives up, in good humour. I have exactly
1100 rs., which the doukanvalla helps us divide equally
in five rations. He refills my flask of water, then I leave
the women to return to the community. The beggar woman has
been waiting for me, but with a friendly final wave, I start
running on the road along the tracks.
Eh, Bhagvan!, insulte et profession de foi...
-- Ruxanna with Shazia, Sophia and father (photo by Nazia) --
Temporary farewell (11.5 Miles) -- 03/06/11
PM - Hagadur - Imdahalli - Past Ajgondanahalli - The little
road up towards Madhuranagar - Muthsandra - Kotur - Harohalli: 1:07:07
Back via Timandhalli - Ajgondanahalli - Imadhalli: 0:35:55
Time: 1:43:02
Mileage: 11.5 Miles
Another beautiful day, clear skies, mild temperatures. I fear
at first that distracted I've lost interest in my surroundings,
as if no longer able to observe the beauty of landscape and people.
Luckily,
I feel surprisingly good running in the morning air, headed towards
Harohalli to say goodbye for the next three weeks. It's early enough,
and running feels so emancipating that I prolong the road, making detours
through Muthsandra and Kotur, from sheer pleasure of being outside.
I resist stopping in Kotur, arrive directly in Harohalli with no
stops, where I spend some time at Roopa's house. Neethra serves
me a delicious rice with a green vegetable puree, followed by
by the usual Paan ("bida", in Kannada) from the Grandmother.
Even though it's a short absence, parting from these people brings
melancholy. Anjan shows me marriage pictures and videos (I didn't
even know he had a video player, and fortunately the current is
working). After about an hour, I leave, knowing I need to hurry back
by 11. I barely stop in Ajgondanahalli to give Savana a stack of
pictures that I've been carrying.
Sur la route de Muthsandra à Kotur...
Namaaz (Mardi 8 Mars) ...
-- Ramaka's children, Kadugodi --
School and Nail Polish -- 03/10/11
W. Trail - Nellurahalli - ECC / ELIM rd. -
Kadugodi via Dinur - then back to ITPL.
Time: 1:04:27
Mileage: 7.2 Miles
(Link to complete photos on Flickr)
Meet Sampa in front of the tea stall, beautiful, a simple tunic,
beautiful bindi on her forehead.
She's going to work: Picking trash. We spend time in her tent,
which is sparkling clean.
Ration discussion. She recounts the fight from last time,
between her and Ramaka, and some man that lives near the entrance
(I knew all this already). I am Adamant, will not do this again.
She proposes one week this person, one week this person, but no,
from now on, it will be everyone - or noone. The guy from
the front, speaks only Tamil but she will translate for me. Ramaka
didn't get, Ruksanna didn't get...
I explain again my trip tonight, purposefully insisting
on the date of my return. She revives an old idea of hers:
Could I write her a letter from the US? For once I'm not
carrying my notebook, so she manages to
produce pen and penci. Suresh helps her:
Sampa, Veterinary Hospital, Chausandra Pura Nagar, Kadugodi,
Bangalore 67".
Prashanth is playing with a few cards that are hanging around on
the tent ground. I show him the magic finger trick. I ask Suresh
if he knows how to play. No, he answers, nahi ata. He finds a complete
deck, shuffles it properly. He knows the game Rummy
by name but doesn't know
any rules. So we start quickly a game of Bataille Corse. He picks
up on the game really fast, and luckily wins pretty quickly (I have
only half an hour, and still need to visit Ruksanna).
I ask where she is. Probably sleeping. I walk up to her open door,
startling her out of her sleep (it's almost 8:30). The tent is
a mess of blankets.
She's wearing the same tunic as last time, her sister's.
Kids are not ready for school at all, and the tent is a mess
from the night.
As I'm standing at her door,
the fat Muslim woman complains speaking very fast that she too
is poor, deserves a ration like anyone else, that I had given her
a blanket but nothing else. I repeat that I will now do for all
people or nothing. Sampa facing away from her makes faces, half
laughing, covering her head with her Dupatta.
Ruksanna's children need to quickly get ready for school.
Still recovering
her spirits she gets them ready, fighting off Nazia's sulky
complaints and pretend tears. I offer
to walk with them to school, which puts everyone in better spirits.
Not much
time left though, so I urge them to hurry.
As they finish getting ready,
I walk back to Sampa who wants to use my phone
to call Valli. A bottle of nail polish has just been broken by one
of the kids. Sampa takes my hand and starts applying it to the fingers.
Vibration karna, she says,
and it takes me a while to understand the English
word. Because Prashanth has made her move and mess up, she utters
some Tamil insult, looks at me and laughs! Kirikoudi, she adds
laughing even more
at her bad swearing, knowing that I've remembered the word.
Don't wash, she urges me smiling, contemplating her work,
which she actually quite sloppy. She then proceeds to apply the
remains to her feet. The kids are very amused, inadvertently smudging
some of it. Sampa patiently reapplies it where necessary.
I show my hand to Ruskanna. "Sampa", I explain shrugging
my shoulders. Nazia shows me the fading nail polish on her own
fingers.
Ready to leave,
I walk with Ruksanna and her older children to the Tea Stall. I explain
one last time, leaving tonight at 4am, will come back in two
Saturdays. We set off with the kids towards Dinur, wait till we're
on the little trail to start running together. What a wonderful life!
We run together to the school governement school in Dinur. Nazia
proudly shows the 10 rs. she holds in her hand. She hasn't had
time to eat anything this morning. The three children are only
carrying two bagpacks. A ghost has appeared
again last night, troubling their sleep, tells me Nazia, which
is why they all woke up so late.
Later, by a strange trick of the mind, Ruksanna's true name
unexpectedly comes into my memory, Gulzar, Gulzar Begum...
-- One the way to Dinur with Shayed, Nazia and Shazia --