"Sweeny Todd" takes on a new role at the Hospice !!

 For everyone concerned that I've taken up the use of a "cut-throat" razor, with my shaky hands forget it! 

The guys at Mother Teresa's have more stubble than a spaghetti western, so I've put my old Braun razor to use having ensured I could charge it on site! I could, at least while the power was working! Thus equipped I've started giving the patients a shave, and those that have enough (and there's plenty of them) are all getting the sort of "Goatee" that I could only dream of. It is going down well with the troops and the smiles on their faces at this menial bit of pampering is worth countless rupees. 

That aspect of the day is after the routine chores are out of the way though and first thing is sluicing down the floors to get rid of whatever! Then squee-geeing the excess down the drain. Next up is the hanging out on the roof, of the blankets and their "Dhobi/Clothes" All this domestic stuff takes up a couple of hours, then taking a couple of them for a walk either by hand or in one of the only two ancient wheelchairs the men's ward has. 

Here is a paradox about India (of which paradoxes there are too many to count). The home when I'm up on the roof with their blankets being hung out, is situated next to a veritable mansion with an almost unsightly display of ostentatious wealth. On the one hand the Order is lucky to have had such generous benefactors, and for those who'll be here till their dying day (all of them I guess) it is a really nice place to be in, were it not for the fact that there is a bunk room which must hold about thirty men. The same will be the case for the women on the opposite side of the corridor. 

Sister Maria gives me a warning not to give them too many hugs as some of the guys are sexually aware and although it doesn't seem like a fair suggestion to ignore their need for contact, she assures me that my very being here is more than enough and that they're enjoying the change of face and language! 

After my stint as a barber, the sisters and some of their helpers release a baby owl which we'd ended up with yesterday. It had been in the ward where the helpers sleep, in a sort of home- made cage with food and water to give it a break from whatever had been frightening it. This simple act again reinforces the kindness and generosity which is endemic in the order and is having an effect on my cynical old psyche, which can only be for the better I guess. 

After my lunch duties as a boiled egg-placer on their plates with rice and spinach (which I tried to do with some nouvelle cuisine panache), it is time to head back to base and a fag as I'm gasping! As we pass the "Qutub Minar" on the dual carriageway there is a pachyderm (Elephant) with its trunk duly painted, lumbering presumably to a wedding somewhere and a camel at the front and one bringing up the rear! I know I've seen it all before but it still amazes me when it happens. 

I truly LOVE India and its people !  Namaste

Heaven and Hell in a weekend

 The weekend has been organised to travel to Amritsar to see the "Golden Temple" and yes the roof is gold (approx. 570kgs of it). 

However to get to the Temple we have to get up at what seems the middle of the night to catch the train for an 8 hour ride since we can't get on the Shatabdi Express, and the crowds (even at that ungodly hour) is amazing as they jostle each other to get onto whatever train they're catching. 

After what seems like version of the "Eton Wall Game" with thousands on each side we do get onto the train and settle down for the journey. We'd already bought provisions for the journey based on our colleagues experience on the previous weekend, thus avoiding "Delhi Belly" and having to use the toilets (?) on the train. 

In fact I had to use them for a cigarette break as there seemed to be no smoking permitted in the carriages, with that in mind I used the "Indian Style" Loo, figuring that the stench in there would overwhelm anything created by a Marlboro. The ploy worked and I was a relatively happy bunny during the 8 hours. During the journey there was a constant stream of vendors trying to sell Chai (Tea) or Fine Coffee and assorted foodstuffs which ranged from a "Bread Omelette" whatever that is, to sweets, chocolates biscuits etc etc; When we eventually got to Amritsar it was on time and enough for us to go to drop our bags off, register (I didn't have my passport nor the visa, but bluffed my way with my free bus pass). 

It just didn't look like a passport but the clerk wasn't unduly concerned, being more concerned that since I'd a room to myself he'd half to charge me 800Rps (about a tenner). That done we hired a taxi to take us to the border with Pakistan for the nightly pantomime of the changing of the guard. In fact it is quite a scene, with both sets of guards marching with steps that the "Tiller Girls" in their heyday would have been proud of! 

There is much tooing and froing between the sets of border guards but basically anything the one side can do, the other side can do with as much dramatic effect as the other. This includes shouting out the respective orders by the guard commander, the two men were giving it much "tenor" with the first command of "Guard" being drawn out till there was nothing left in their lungs (about 50 seconds). 

Anyway the (Indian side was jam-packed and rather sadly the Pakistan side had roughly about a tenth of the number) which was somewhat sad as the whole thing is a metaphor for their respective countries antipathy for each other. You (as a neutral) just wished the opposite side of the border had been a bit fuller, if only because it looked a wee bit sad! 

If I'd anything to do with the other side I'd be bussing them there for nothing just to hold up my end of the panto! 

Sunday a.m. We get up in darkness to walk the 500 metres or so to the entrance of the Golden Temple complex, so that we can view it in dawn's morning light! My shoes are deposited in a room specifically for that purpose, and I have to go barefoot and with a natty bandana tied covering my head via the feet washing trough which is constantly being cleaned out. Even at this early hour there's a queue of thousands to traverse the "bridge" to the temple itself. 

Men are stripping off to their Sikh underwear (1 Item of the 5 K's) and bathing in the enormous pool in which the temple stands. I couldn't help notice that there is enormous carp which also swim languidly beside them. The noticeable feature (apart from the magnificent architecture) is the genuine spiritual devotion the Sikh's have. 

All of these people are not doing this to go through the motions, there is a dignified and devoutly religious feel about their every action. 

Laiah & Shanta went in the early afternoon to the "Silver Temple" which is Hindu, but my aching old bones have done enough this weekend and I'm "Cream Crackered", so I stroll round the perimeter of the Golden Temple's complex gardens and they're really beautiful and cool from the sun which now has my skin like a camel's, and since I'm breaking in the camel's teeth for him, it comes as no surprise that my skin is equally dried and wrinkled. 

I'm meeting the girls at the station at 4pm for the Shatabdi Express at 5pm back to Delhi so meander back to the station surprisingly easily considering I don't know where it is except in general terms. 

There are open air barbers outside the station so another cut-throat razor shave is in order, it's only 10 rupees, but in the return for a new blade in the razor he gets the 30 I'm used to paying in Delhi. It's still a bargain. Because he's had a tip, he gives me a spare chair in the shade and a cup of "Chai". Whilst taking this piece of largesse on his part, there's a stooshie out by the main gate into the station. It transpires that a couple of army men are shouting the odds (in civvies!) about police brutality towards them, and are succeeding in agitating the crowd who've gathered. No sooner done that Punjab's finest "Old Bill" appear and get stuck into them without much discussion, wielding canes that would bring tears to a glass eye should they catch your back! 

The Punjab "polis" don't take prisoners and they're all big laddies, this has the crowd and a nosey, freshly shaven Scot in hasty retreat should they fail to realise who has the canes. The whole episode was over and done with in about 5 minutes except for the soldier being tended to by medics for some form of ringing in his ears (what a surprise when you've been clocked on the head by a five foot long split cane!) 

The journey back to Delhi was duly completed on time at 11pm and we got back to the base at half past the hour. A big surprise for me was the fact that my new assignment at Mother Teresa's Home for the destitute and dying means I have to leave at 7am; so no time for any pussy-footing around with unpacking, it'll have to wait until morning or afternoon when I get back. My first day at the home is something I don't feel like sharing on the internet, I'm working with them in the men's area. God love them there's about 40 guys in the area with a nun, a couple of helpers and me ! I have no medical experience, but Sister Maria (a young German nun) keeps me busy. She was also taken aback when I spoke to her in German. My role is just to help wherever I can and to sweep, squeegee, hug, talk and generally show the guys that I care and I do! 

Enough already as Laiah would say with her Jewish humour, I can feel myself getting emotional just writing about their plight. They're all humans and this order treats them with dignity! The Mother Superior says I can use the chapel any time since I'm Catholic (she doesn't know about the lapsed bit), and I think I may do since it has all been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster; but I can and will keep with these guys since the look in their eyes makes you feel humble just being with them. 

Namaste!

"Tears for Souvenirs" by this "Diddy"

 I didn't post yesterday as it was fairly innocuous except I ended up at an Orthopaedic Consultants with what turns out to be (according to the x-ray) severe arthritis in my shoulder, since everywhere else is riddled with it why worry? The pain-killers have numbed it anyway. 

Today though was my last day with the students, as there is to be a wholesale strategic rethink on how their programme is to be structured and there is nothing we can do to stop the march of progress (?). Nonetheless we had a full turn out and a productive afternoon, punctuated with a farewell gift from the programme manager, group photos and hugs all round at the end of the afternoon. I cannot tell a lie there was genuine sadness on my part to parting with a group, that in a short time I've come to regard as friends. It did bring a welling up in my eye and voice as I bid them farewell. Laiah was there too since with my arm in a sling I couldn't write on the board. 

 Next week I'm going to work at "Mother Teresa's" for a month and in some respects this will be more of what I'd anticipated from voluntary work in Delhi. I'll be working with the men in the home for the destitute and dying, so I anticipate some emotional straining of the sinews. 

 Tomorrow Laiah, Shanta and I are going to Amritsar for the weekend, most of which will be on trains (packed to capacity I imagine), but the chance to see the famed temple is too much to miss out on. Namaste.

The "Wind" is getting up !

Chana Masala

Gobi Aloo

Alas dear friends, it isn't a change in barometric pressure which causing this phenomena, rather it is the preponderance of pulses in my all too familiar diet of veggie food. To be eating Indian food 3 times a day is on one level a joy, on another it is a trial for an inveterate carnivore such as yours truly. In the spirit of honesty I can divulge that I'm enjoying the Indian version of "veggie food" better than any effort I've seen passed off in the UK. The downside is the effect all these vegetables are having on my digestive system.

There are fewer more embarrassing things than having to stifle the side effects of such a high dose of plant life, especially whilst in the company of sari clad, graceful women. I assume they have a similar problem since meat is non-existent in the Hindu diet, yet they manage to pass muster rather than wind. Anyway enough of the toilet humour!

Today was fairly innocuous especially after the bottom squeaking events of yesterdays drive to work! 

Laiah has a day off since her pupils are sitting Hindi exams so she gets to sample the delights of my work-place. My cover is well and truly blown now, since everyone else here works in appalling circumstances in the slums and mine is palatial! That said, the fact that she came to the class with me meant that the young men were suitably quiet, with only questions about how old was she and did she have a boy-friend? This prompted me to say that he was 6ft 5ins tall and weighed 14 stones, this figment of my imagination was enough to quell their post-pubescent queries.

The day went well and I did make them work for their corn so to speak. Embarrassingly my mobile phone went off in class. The upshot was that I had to stump up my fine, which I'd threatened to impose if anyone had a mobile phone switched on during lesson time. They were magnanimous in telling me not to, but the rule is the same for me as it is for them (except my fine is larger), and the deed was done! I may regret the vast sum of 19 rupees (nearly 25p), but the fine will bring us in some "Khana" tomorrow for our "Tiffin/Tea" break.

A wee observation; as I was coming through the alley to the office, I had to step round a tiny old woman (She must have been in her 80's), sitting cross legged on the concrete path and having a 40 wink break from watching her Grandkids. Her husband does a variety of wee jobs round about and he too must be nearer 90 than 70! My heart tells me to empty my wallet and let her get a break from her toils, but perhaps nearer the time when I'm coming home. Life can be hard sometimes, but the wee soul just made me think how lucky we are in Scotland to have a safety net which is conspicuous by it's absence here in "Mother India".

Where are my "Rosary Beads" when I need them?

 Dear readers, 

Verily my bottom was squeaking so tightly at lunchtime today, I swear that even WD40 wouldn't have helped! 

I was being driven to work in abnormally heavy traffic on the main road when we came to an almighty traffic jam, the like of which I'd not encountered even in Delhi! 

No big deal I hear you say; and normally you'd be right and I'd agree (having become yoga like in my approach to the vagaries of Delhi traffic).

 The point of this was, that we were stuck in this jam next to a car that burst into flames. the initial flames were slightly alarming and our mini extinguisher wouldn't have dented the flames so to speak. These flames became an inferno in a matter of seconds (the car's occupants had done a runner by this time), and the first thing that crossed both Kewal and my minds simultaneously but in different languages was "Shit what if the tank blows" as it had every potential for so doing. If it was a CNG car then it is just as bad, in either event I am beginning to feel very, very afraid with a vision of a loud bang and then infinity with my body parts and those of several hundred round about us being scattered over the flyover and underpass some 100 yards away. 

 The "frigging" traffic lights are at red still and the jam is not moving an inch! Despite everyone blasting their horns at the people in front, the punters who're crossing the road show no sign of letting us or anyone else through and now my rear end is the same temperature as the flaming car not 6 feet from my window. By now people are beginning to make a dart for it on foot or driving their cars up onto the pavement and barging all and sundry out of the road to get as far away as possible from the potential explosion, yet Kewal and I are stuck like a couple of turkeys with no exit and too close in anyone's language. 

 As if by a message from some ancient Hindu god, whether Ganesh, Shiva or anyone else in the pantheon of Hindu gods, the lights change to green and we set off (everyone that is) like the start of the Le Mans 24 hour race to get as much distance between us and the raging inferno/potential bomb as quickly as humanly possible. I'd calmed down to a frenzy by the time we got to the school, but in total frankness I'd had a scare which I could have done without and hope never to repeat. I didn't hear any explosion, so assume that either the fire brigade had got there (I doubt that with the volume of traffic) or that the tank was empty and the whole thing just burnt out. I'll know better tomorrow when I pass by again. 

The rest of the day was insignificant by comparison, so I'll brush over that. Namaste from a very relieved part time teacher in Delhi.

The "Teacher" is back on his own

 I have a late start from now on and that means a long lie in if I want! The reality is I still get up at the same time, and in any event the ladies are all doing Yoga in our living room at 6.30 a.m. I would have joined the class but hey ho an old war wound (2 artificial knees) prevent my joining in. The women tell me they enjoy it and that it is doing them good. I'll take their word for it as the prospect of the "Lotus Position" on a marble floor has all the desirability of a Cactus enema. 

I went to the centre this afternoon not knowing if I'd have any students since the time had been changed, but to my delight the first one in was the class stud Deepak, he's a really good looking young man who has the girls eating out of his hand, but every now and then you'll find him trying a flanker!

 Despite this I can't help but like him. He'd come in because he thought I'd be lonely if no-one came because of the time change (a possibility). Shortly thereafter, 3 of the girls also came in, one of whom is on a fast, as today is a special feast day for Shiva. Next thing another of the guys turned up. I'm really touched by this as it took effort on their part to do it! Such kindness is the norm in India and it is touching as I don't think it would happen in some of our schools. 

I've decided to dive further into the Ganges and get myself a working Indian outfit with the long shirt, white cotton trousers and a waistcoat! If the suit is anything to go by then this will be pretty cheap, mind you where am I going to wear it in Stonehaven? Maybe when I go to the carry-out for a "Ruby Murray". 

Going to breakfast this morning at the office, I was watched intently by a monkey which meandered out from one of the gardens, he was quite large and it leaves me thinking where does he doss down at night as we're in the city centre? I forgot to mention that when I was at Gandhi's burial plot on Saturday as I stepped out of the rickshaw I almost stood in the basket in which a snake charmer had his cobra ready to perform for any unsuspecting balloon like me. The thought of destroying his source of income was bad enough, the thought that the cobra might have been slightly pee'd off with me standing on him is another matter altogether, anyway I moved to the left somewhat sharpish so as not to offend either party. 

 Namaste Doste