The final count-down

In 24 hours or so I'll be back at Indira Gandhi International airport checking in with Air France and what I hope will be a relatively shortish journey back to Steenhive. There are, as you may imagine, a variety of emotions coursing through the veins today! I haven't exactly said farewell to Mother Teresa's as I'm going back tomorrow to foist my fashion sense (or lack of it!) onto the guys with all my western clothes. I just know that this will be a "ball-breaker" as Sister Maria has told me that the guys have really taken to me, and she is such an honest person that I can't see her ever telling a "porky-pie".

My thoughts about the whole thing are difficult to quantify or indeed put into paper/writing, but I hope that the blog has been a wee taster of the sort of time I've had the privilege of having here in Delhi. This is particularly the case at MT's, more so than the Habitat Learning Centre, since the need at the former is so much greater!

Has India changed me? Without a shadow of a doubt it has had the most profound effect on my attitude towards things commercial. I won't say that I'll not be trying to cut a deal wherever possible and for whomsoever I'm working for, but the fact is that no matter what problems we (collectively) have in life, then we can all rest assured that they are as nothing, in comparison to the residents of MT's. On that basis my patience has been forced to review it's speed of running, and to adopt a more pragmatic approach to life at a slower pace. The grinding poverty some of the 1.2 billion people live in without a state safety net of social security is not a pretty sight, but they are still entitled to dignity as that has no monetary value, and at that price dignity is cheap for everyone.

I said in an earlier post that the paradox of India is the extremes of everything; wealth, health, technology and kindness to some animals while at the same time demonstrating an almost blase approach to death in all of its forms (accidental, suicidal, homicidal, fratricidal, matricidal and any other "cidal" you can think of). The Billionaires against the 20 rupees a day labourer (if he gets paid at all). The leading lights in I.T. and medicine and the almost middle ages style of rural agriculture where the tools and methods are still the same as those of the 13th century.

India is a very proud and ancient civilisation, there is a passion about being Indian which is endearing and unlike other forms of nationalism which I tend to gloss over. In a society where there are so many forms of religion, they exist side by side, with each being equal in everyones eyes (a lesson there for Scotland!). Their constitution has this equality cast in a tablet of stone and no-one would dream of trying to dismantle the status quo in that area. There is a paranoia which I found disconcerting when it comes to Pakistan, the antipathy towards their near neighbour is tangible and is one area which has the capacity to really set the region alight if it's not kept under lock and key.

The quirks of India have been too numerous to mention here, but the traffic, and their propensity for beeping the horn of whatever they're driving both night and day, is a drain physically and mentally while you're in it, yet there seems very few instances of "road-rage" which is perhaps a "Hindu" thing and, the being re-born dependant on how you've behaved in this life. Which brings me back to guy who comes into MT's every week on a Thursday with cakes/sweets for all the male and female residents. The Barber who gives up his time to give the guys a shave and hair-cut once a week free gratis. Neither of these two guys are "Christians", they're both Hindi! (Mmmhh can't see that happening in some of Scotland's cities)

So "Mera Dosts" with a heavy chunk of sadness at leaving Delhi and it's people whom I've really taken to, here's a final Namaste from the "effin ref". In fact I don't think I was that bad a referee.

Just when I thought I'd seen everything, the "Jains" pop up

Shanta and I were having a leisurely drive to Mother Teresa's this morning when we noticed some female members of the sect in all white saris, and we remarked on how they looked crossing the road. That was before we saw the male members (literally) following them. Four of them followed the sisters with not a stitch between them! They did carry staffs or walking sticks but naff all else, not even so much as a loin cloth between them. All of this while crossing the main road in single file. It took my breath away on the shock basis if nothing else, (and I can assure you there was nothing else literally).

The day at MT's flew by as we had mass first thing which always throws the schedule a bit out of kilter, but it was a productive day and I'm left with a bit of an empty feeling as I'll only be there for two more working days, and Sister Maria did say that the men will miss me too as we've all got on well together despite the language barriers. I hesitate to think how I'll feel on Friday when it comes to an end as it has been an emotional journey!

On the road home to the base my roadside barber was quietly waiting for custom so I duly obliged by getting off the transport and crossing the storm drains to sit on my seat supported by two slabs over the actual drain itself. He duly did the business and noted that my finger nails were a bit ragged and offered to give me a manicure to boot. Well in for a penny in for a pound as they say so I agreed thinking he'd the necessary equipment.

How wrong can you be? He pulled out what was in effect half of a hacksaw blade with one end sharpened, this was to be the tool of choice for my first ever manicure. I have to say even I was filled with trepidation, but let him get on with it. The result was not bad at all, if somewhat archaic in implementation, that allied to the shave and a massage came to the princely sum of 100 rupees (about $2), I'm certainly going to miss all this when I return in 4 days. I can't see Gordon or Kate in the Stoney Barbers doing either for that sort of money!

Namaste from Delhi.

Goa - The place that time forgot, but not the "Hippies"

Since our gang are all longer term volunteers, we get a long weekend as a treat. We'd already decided on some sea, sun and general relaxation in Goa. Our flight left Delhi on time and we were in Goa in the two hours flying time advertised. That was meant to let the readers know the distances involved, it is further away than Rome from the UK. That said we'd a hotel booked which at the last minute was cancelled, and Zoe (a friend of Laiah's) had booked us into a "guest house" on one of the beaches. It sounded alright, but the reality was that the room I had to myself was pretty rudimentary which I could have put up with, were it not for the battalion of bed-bugs which came free of charge. The location was indeed on the beach but the walk to it was disconcertingly dark and isolated with the occasional call from the darkened bushes in broken English.

Shanta, Erin and I decided that enough was enough and we opted to hire a taxi and go further north away from what can best be described as the worst of Ibiza with Garam Masala thrown in. It had so many expat pubs and disco/clubs that I didn't really feel that I was in India at all. The end result was another hours drive to where the beaches were cleaner, infinitely less crowded and there was a distinct lack of double base pounding out. We checked out a variety of hotels and their facilities and picked one that had us in tents, not the common or garden type of tents, rather ones that had t.v. (satellite to watch the Barclays premiership live), shower, toilet and guaranteed no mosquitos! That last item was a must. The place also had a swimming pool, catering facilities and first class service all for about twenty quid a night.

The saturday night had us travel about twenty kms to a market, but not just any old market, this one is where the hippies come out to sell their wares, it had two live bands on the go, food counters from every part of the known world, draught beer and the bonus of not having to roll a joint to get high! All you had to do was walk around the market which must have had about 200 stalls catering for all tastes (providing you have an eclectic taste!), the style was very much a la "San Francisco" in the sixties with the twist that most of the hippies were either British or European in origin. The sight of a very portly hippy with blonde (?) dreadlocks and about 60+ in years was okay till he spoke with a broad "Brummie" accent, the Jesus boots and denim outfit did look in place but incongruously the accent didn't. It just seemed out of place with my interpretation of a hippy, never mind he's positively at home there so it doesn't matter if I don't get it.

Sunday is a real chill-out day for us, as we spend it on the almost deserted beach, and having fish masala with paratha soaked in butter and straight out of the oven, a kingfisher beer on the veranda of a beach bar which isn't over-crowded is my idea of heaven! I really caught the rays there and my tan looks positively brownish, well on the face and forearms! We're not scheduled to fly out of Goa until 8p.m. on Monday evening so decide that we'll go to the waterfall in the Collem park, which on the surface sounds innocuous enough, until you find that there is a 10km drive over the roughest track imaginable, if I thought the rickshaws were a pain in the arse, then this took the biscuit! At the end of the trail there's about a 150 or so yards of climbing over boulders and the pool at the base of the falls (which are about 300-400 foot high) a lot of the visitors are swimming in this pool, but with my negative buoyancy, crap knees and spine now damaged irrepairably, I gave it a miss! The girls and I shared the Tata motors 4x4 with a couple just out on holiday from Blackpool for this back-breaking ride to and from the start point! They were good company and put up with us having to go back when Shanta had left her watch on the rock where she changed for her swim. Believe it or not she found it so all's well that ends well.

The 8p.m. flight to Delhi is late (by 3 hours) and we don't leave Goa until 11p.m. which means that by the time we get back to base it is 2a.m. and I need to get my laundry ready for the morning, this meant that it was nearly 3 before I got to bed and have to be up for 6a.m. to go to Mother Teresa's. It is done but I'm cream-crackered for the want of sleep.

An after-thought, there's two new girls from the US arrived while we were down in Goa, I swear to god that one of them is a clone of the early finishing New Yorker. I lay 5/4 on that she doesn't last the 3 weeks either! This is a pity as it makes people think that Americans are schizo's, when in fact Laiah, Shanta, Lindsay and Erin have been model examples of everything that is good about America. This latest model would curdle milk at 30 paces with the looks she's giving everything from food to the need for the door to be locked when I'm sitting in front of it, before shutting herself in her room without so much as a by your leave! The consolation is that I only have 3 more days and I can handle that no bother at all. The one from Colorado though, has to put up with her for the whole period. God help her and the staff.

Namaste from a very tired correspondent.

Making a monkey out of my hanging the washing out!

This morning started with mass and Fr Julian, then we all trooped outside for a celebration of the youngest nun's birthday! The whole shebang of us had flowers (individual ones) and after two of the women sang to her with the traditional refrain of "Happy Birthday" but in Hindi, she was decked out with some garlands and everyone took it in turns to hand her a flower. The ladies who're resident had all dressed up in their finest (Sari's or Sarwal Kameez'), the guys on the other hand were just their usual rag, tag and bobtail selves. It was a nice interlude to the run of the mill cleaning and swilling down, but that was only postponed not cancelled, as that wouldn't do at all.

By the time I got round to helping hang out the blankets on the roof, we were joined by a couple of monkeys who were oblivious to the industry around them. Since they were only about six feet away it was obvious that they weren't fazed in the slightest by the activity (not that the speed of work is earth shattering).

Last night I met with Paul for dinner, and if I'd known he was going to pay I'd have gone easy on the "Long Island Ice Teas", having consumed two before he arrived, still I could have been on the wine list which would really have strained PSN's finances! We didn't argue post the league cup final, and generally left that side of Scottish life alone. It was a good night which I enjoyed, and the Iced Teas made the rickshaw drive home fairly painless when sobriety would have rendered my spine in need of a chiropractor.

Sad to say yet another fatality on the flyover yesterday, words fail me! The blame game has started and the designers saying it's the motorists fault and the public say the opposite! I note they've installed speed bumps on the flyover now in an attempt to curtail the carnage, a bit late in the day if you ask me.

Namaste from your wilting scribe in Delhi.

From Barber to Manicurist in a single leap!!

My barbering skills have left their impression on some of the guys and they still come back for more. This I can't understand, but since none of them will be going out for a while then it is no big deal. This morning Shanta brought nail varnishes for the ladies in the hospice and started to give them the tlc that may not feature too much in their lives. The joy on their faces was worth a fortune in gold. She really has a nack for making people happy in an otherwise bleak situation, such was the demand on her services I went into give her a hand so to speak.

The combination of my shaky hands and the inalienable fact that I've never put on any nail varnish means that I'll pass on that occupation on my return to Steenhive! One of the older women too had a shake in her hands (Parkinsons I think), if only she and I could have got our shakes co-ordinated she'd have got a belter of a job done. In any event the ladies weren't too bothered that my efforts weren't a patch on Shanta's, the attention was more important than the quality of the finished article.

The pompous one has taken on the mantle of spokesperson (I don't think, at least not for me!) and is exacerbating the already fraught situation within the group, she's obviously suffering from that well known Hawaiian disease "Lakkanooky" and would do well just to shut her "north and south" and keep it that way!

As a sad aside, the dreaded flyover has now claimed another life, that makes 7 fatalities in 6 days all in the same area of the road. Such a tragic turn of events in the UK would undoubtedly see the road closed and a thorough examination of the facts over design etc undertaken, but there are rumblings of that here but no action thus far!

The temperature is inexorably creeping up and it is 35c today, and means I'm wilting a bit under it as it means that what little energy I have has dissipated by lunch. Shanta though is a glutton for punishment and is out on another assignment this afternoon, teaching at one of the mobile creches which are run so that the mother can get back to the labouring job she'll have on a building site. From the temperature perspective it is as well that I came here when I did as in their summer it reaches 50c!

Namaste from the oven!

Paul's not too upset and I promise not to gloat!

Paul and I will get together tomorrow night for a nose-bag and a couple of beers, so the result hasn't dampened his state of mind. I hereby promise in writing that I won't bring up the subject of the mighty Bhoys turning over the evil Empire.

The time is drifting inexorably towards the end of this wee jaunt and there's still some last minute things to buy, so I went out for some retail therapy today after the meeting which was to put things right within the group (fat chance!). The rather pompous one took it upon herself to vent her spleen at lunch which fortunately I missed as I'd eaten and gone back for a shower to get rid of the dust from the journey home! I'm told it almost resulted in the sisters phoning New York and departing post haste. She did partake in their discussion over culture and tried to pick on me suggesting that marriage was unnecessary and that legislation was needed to protect men from women, i.e. "Fathers for Justice" being the yardstick.

In any event she picked on the wrong guy to have this sort of argument with as those who know me will be fully aware of the joy derived by yours truly when forced to pick sides in an argument which in reality I could have done without! Since she's not married at this time and presumably hasn't been in the past from points she's made in the past, the opinion comes from an inexperienced perspective!

Not all men are toss-pots but then I venture to suggest that women are the ones who're more sinned against than sinners when it comes to the divorce statistics in the west. This whole thing came about on the basis of arranged marriages in India and do they work or not? Well since divorce is a minute aspect of marriage in a population of 1.2 billion, and I really mean minute, then it seems to work for the vast majority.

Enough of the serious crap, her opinion of me and everyone else is of no consequence. As you can see it is another fallow day in the news department of the life of a temporary Delhi resident, so I'll close with "Namaste."

"Trouble at t'mill"

There is dissension within the camp. The new punters don't seem to want to participate in the manner which everyone else has thusfar. The planned topics for discussion, the participation in the cultural events has obviously left them cold, especially the two "Paddies" from Dublin. They go to extraordinary lengths and porky pies to avoid participation, as an example they said they were going to Darjeeling over the "Holi" period, but in reality went to a hotel in Delhi. This afternoon they were supposed to participate in a discussion relating to culture in India and their understanding of it so far. The result was that only one turned up and despite the excuse of feeling sick and having a migraine, one of the Irish girls was in town shopping with her sister. Such a cure should be patented. The end result is that we all have to be at the revised meeting tomorrow and that includes those of us who've already done this! There is a definite rift developing and that can only bode ill for the balance of this week when some of this group piss off! The truth is it probably can't come quick enough for the majority as the latter group have been frankly a bunch who've done nothing to enhance the rapport which to a large extent has been the hall-mark of the sojourn. There have been odd ones who were possibly a pork-pie short of a picnic, but for the most part it has been cool with flexibility on individuals part to accommodate each other.

I know it is difficult to pull diverse characters from across the globe and put them into this sort of circumstances, and events of the last wee while have brought that into sharp focus!

Other than that, the hospice was fine today and the Bhoys won the league cup against the Dark Empire from Govan so I'm over the moon and fear that my meeting with Paul Lapsley (an old friend from KBR who's a blue-nose) may not now take place if he's in the huff !! Rumour has it that the loss of the league cup may be the least of the problems in the West of Glasgow.

Namaste from a Happy Tim in Delhi.

A ceremonial palm planting and the paradox that is India

11.00am on Sunday and what else would one do, except get dressed up in my kurta and meet the great and good of the quadrangle of flats surrounding the garden where the 15 bottle palms I bought for the communal garden are to be planted. In fact it wasn't as cheesy as it could have been and after the wee speech and everyone concerned getting a chance to plant them out we had tea and samosas. There will be a wee sign saying that "some tube from Stonehaven bought these plants and will be remembered for being a tube", seriously though, they were charming and it all went swimmingly with photos aplenty.

Laiah and I being the only ones back at base, went into Connaught Place for lunch in Zen the Chinese/Japanese restaurant and pigged out on fabulous seafood and in my case a beer! By Indian standards it was expensive but the reality was it came to about $34 which included service charge and there was so much I have a doggy bag for tonight which we're to share.

Life in Delhi has been such a paradox of attitudes and practices that in the absence of any news (again, I must be getting boring), I thought I'd share some with you.

The cow is sacred as are monkeys & elephants and yet in a village in Haryana the locals went on a killing spree against the wild dogs which roam about everywhere (none of which seem to attack or even bark at you) on the basis of a story which had circulated that they'd eaten new born babies. The sad truth is that the female infanticide is a more likely source of the disappearing babies. A glaring example of this has been reported this morning when an IT engineer (I thought they were supposed to be smart), was charged with throwing his 4 day old baby daughter down a 30 ft well, what made this gruesome story even more tragic is his defence to the charge was that he wanted to spend more quality time with his wife and hence his actions!

Another story that left me speechless was a fairly famous and wealthy man phoned his wife from somewhere in Essex in England and uttered the word "Talaaq" 3 times to her, and as he's a muslim, she's now divorced despite her having changed to Islam only 3 months ago to please him. To ensure she got the message he sent her an sms with the same utterings.

On "Holi" there were about a thousand people convicted for drunken driving in Delhi alone, they got caught presumably because there was a distinct lack of traffic on the road that day and they must have been the only ones who, being pissed didn't notice!!

There is a flyover in south east Delhi not far from where we are, and it has been so badly designed that 6 people in three separate incidents have fallen off from it to their death in the last four days. On one day alone a family of 4 on a motorcycle (father, mother and two children) were killed after a collision with a crane and resulting in the four of them going over the side falling to their death on the road below, and this only hours after a young man toppled over the edge after a minor collision on the other side of the carriageway.

The number of suicides which happen when people are sacked or laid off is hard to comprehend, though this reaction certainly would reduce tribunals, if not a touch dramatic in the circumstances.

The traffic does get congested on the weekend and given the amount of vehicles on the road I suppose it is strange to see so many road accidents, since it is hard to imagine anyone getting up enough speed to do any lasting damage. The three wheeled rickshaw is the most vulnerable and is for the most part my form of transport when I have to go out at all. It is not hard to imagine it being crushed by some of the behemoths that pass for trucks with the equivalent of railway sleepers as part cabin and load bed. All of which is added to by the quirk employed of just going on whatever side of the road you fancy. The official driving side is the same as the UK, i.e. the left (a hangover from the colonial days), but doesn't seem to hold much sway, since everyone just picks whichever side they want and hope that anything coming the other way will have his lights on in the dark or will slow down to let you back in!

If all of this death and destruction sounds a bit pessimistic, then you'd be wrong. I love the chaos of the traffic in a perverse sort of way and so far the other forms of carnage haven't really impacted on anyone I know, so it is for the most part (and sadly) peripheral to my life in Delhi. It does though make for some gruesome reading in the papers we get daily, and when taken in the context of the life of a "Hindi" believer is paradoxical. Perhaps the high suicide rate is linked to the belief that the worse your life is here, then you must have been pretty awful in an earlier one and the next one will get better.

Namaste from a boring Sunday in Delhi and c'mon the Hoops!!

No news isn't necessarily good news, but then there's no bad news either!

The weekend is here, but 90% of the people aren't as they're off jaunting round the country to various sights. I've to stay behind and go with Yathendra Jafa to get the plants I've decided to buy for the communal garden and Laiah isn't feeling a hundred percent. The New York "cookie" is on her last day, and despite the best attempts of everyone concerned she's still on the planet Zog! I would say a sandwich short of a picnic, but that is an understatement. Tomorrow we'll do the official planting and thereafter Laiah and I will go out for dinner, that'll save the staff coming in to cook for just the two of us.

I've started to think about what I want to do when I get back to Steenhive, and I guess the first thing will be to get a tax rebate, since the last 3 months have seen no wages coming in. Then a tour of the agencies may well be on the cards.

We're all booked up for Goa next weekend and really looking forward to it, I may even push the boat out with the hotel and pamper myself into the bargain. There's nothing much else to report on as it is becoming routine now as we drift towards completion, so I'll sign off with;

Namaste from Delhi

Beasts eating bananas and one who is bananas!

The days are drifting by, and it is only two weeks till I leave, which in some respects will be sad. On the other hand I need to get myself fixed up with a job to earn some filthy lucre in order that I can come back here next year! It was a scorcher today at MT's and quite sapping, the traffic was a nightmare to come back from the hospice. The journey there took 40 minutes and the one back an hour and a half. It appears that some Swami is addressing the faithful in the area today and as a result there must have been in excess of a hundred traffic wardens all blowing whistles and gesturing with their arms for people to move forward. (If only we could)!

This meant that I missed mass this morning and the whole schedule was knocked back, but I did get the chance to feed the cows and the solitary bull with the banana skins we'd left over from giving the guys their mid morning snack of cake (?) and bananas. The sacred animals didn't leave it to waste and the lot were scoffed in the time that I moved onto the next beast! So nothing goes to waste at MT's

Charlotte has announced that she's leaving the programme tomorrow as she can't stand the dust, the heat, the spicy food and just about anything else you can think of. I wonder why she chose to come to India especially if you don't like spicy food. Even a rudimentary check in New York's Indian restaurants would have told her what to expect. What is even more amazing is she tells everyone she's been to India before and stayed in a little village in the south of the country. The village must have been a 5 star hotel with American food 24/7. In fact I do feel sorry for her as she's never really been relaxed here despite the assertion that she is. The fact remains though that you can't tell her anything as it goes in one ear and out the other, and she ignores everything being said to her and talks over whatever you try and advise her on.

Almost everyone else is away for the weekend to somewhere, including a party going to Varanasi, this is supposed to be a vwery holy place in Hindu terms, but for the life of me it only makes me think of the burning corpses on the banks of the river. That is ongoing day and night, so unless you have a strong constitution, and patently some don't, then it isn't high on my agenda.

Tomorrow I'm buying some plants for the communal garden and on Sunday we're having an official planting. These are for Alison who will never get out here, and just a wee momento of my stay which has been great.

Namaste from a scorching Delhi!

Green hair and a purple face!

Today is "Holi" and the whole of India grinds to a halt, in order to celebrate (?) the festival. The CCS staff are having a party round at the HQ in flat 5. I was a bit reticent about going as to be honest I'd rather have gone to Mother Teresa's where they won't be celebrating. The idea is about squirting water over everyone and what I hope now is water based paint powder. The fact is though it was a gas, and we all entered into the spirit of it! The colours are garish yellows, purple, blue, green, red, and any other colour you can think of. I think the object of it is that by colouring everyone you get rid of any ill feeling you may have towards them.

We also had alcohol and snacks which was relatively ground breaking for us, bearing in mind the shenanigans over the bottle of vodka I'd bought earlier for dinner at the Jafa's apartment. I'd thought last night that there had been a shortage of alcohol in the world when I saw the queue outside the off-licence in the market, as it was about 60 long and showed no sign of depleting as they were served only to be joined by others. The guy who bought Gandhi's effects at auction in New York is in liquor for a living, and if the queues are anything to go by it is no wonder he's a billionaire! I really had no idea that Indians consumed so much alcohol with such regularity, jand was taken aback by the rush to get loaded. The other kids in the area came into our party and the whole affair was a riot of colour and a lot of childish fun which appealed despite my reservations.

The colour of my "barnet fair" is fine since I'm green in footballing terms, but the purple kisser makes me look like a beetroot. I feel sure it will come off, but in case it doesn't I'm prepared to have the hair scalped as it'll grow in quick enough but not before I get home, since there is only 16 days till I return to the cold weather! I should add that I'm not counting since it means I'll have to look for a job, and if I earn enough I'll come back next year again but for a month rather than two.

Back to the hospice tomorrow and hopefully to Sagar back from the hospital and feeling better than he was yesterday.

Namaste from Delhi and "Happy Holi, Jai Ho!"

All quiet on the "Western Front"

The home-base internet has crashed and is pretty much dead as a dodo! Never mind, there isn't really any news since Saturday. The weekend was quiet as was Monday at work. It is now fairly routine with the hospice, I have set tasks as soon as I get in and need to knuckle down as the guys have all been up and at it since 5 a.m. The routine of squee-geeing the disinfectant, sluicing down and the hanging of their blankets out on the roof to dry takes up the first couple of hours and then I get a cup of "Masala Chai" which is terribly sweet and spicy. Up on the roof this morning there was a minor surprise when a troop of monkeys came over the left wall of the site and rampaged through the vegetable plot with the leader being pretty large, funnily enough, they were all terrified by my whistle and since I seem to be the only one in the hospice who can actually whistle I'm hardly going to stand and watch the furry yobs! The noise drove them over the wall on the right side and they disappeared into the big posh house with the ostentatious style of garden furniture.

Little Sagar was taken out to the hospital this morning in a rickshaw, I pray he's okay as his smile is infectious and everyone really likes him. Another minor fracas with a couple of the patients ended up with one of them weilding a folding metal chair at one of them and then throwing it at another. I can't say he started it so concentrate on calming things down successfully. The barber who comes once a month to give them a proper shave, came this morning with his assistant and set to work while we were serving lunch. He asked me if I wanted one too so I had to agree, but he did change the blade and his assistant was pretty adept with a razor for someone so young (approx 16yrs old), so to let the guys know that if they are to accept me in every aspect, I submitted to the shave. Probably a bit more risky than the shave I have in the street with leprosy being one of the principal illnesses, but hey hoh, in for a penny in for a pound.

Tomorrow is "Holi" a national holiday in India where everyone gets covered in what I hope is water based paint and in all sorts of colours. Trouble is now I don't have any really old clothes and neither can I apply the recommended coconut oil to my skin in this heat as I'll fry. The newer arrivals have all pissed off to various parts for the holiday which lasts for two days, but the schools may have closed but the hospice goes on 24/7 so I'll be back at it on Thursday, though Wednesday is of necessity a non-working day as there is no transport.

Namaste from Delhi.

We've a slight prang on the way home!

Saturday morning and I'm off like a tourist to see some more of the thriving metropolis. First stop the Bahai Temple known as the "Lotus Temple" not surprisingly because it is like a lotus! It also looks like the Sydney Opera House minus the waterside. The plan was to follow this with a visit to the "Mughal Gardens" which are open today (they're not open every day!), but after my drive there it appears that no cameras or mobiles are allowed inside the gardens. I'm not one for gambling so I decide that I don't need to see the gardens since it means leaving my camera in some large sort of left-luggage tent. The camera has all my pictures since coming here and I've no intention of risking it's loss. On that basis the gardens can be missed. A change of plan sees me go to the "Jama Masjid" the largest mosque in India (it should be noted there are more muslims in India than there is in Pakistan) and the Indian muslim population is second only to Indonesia in terms of numbers.

My footwear are placed for safekeeping with a shoe keeper as opposed to a zoo keeper (puerile joke), and I purchase a small decorative hat for the visit. The temperature is now well up since in keeping with "mad dogs and englishmen" I'm out in the mid-day sun. The result is that walking across the open court yard is like walking on coals that are alight, and again my plates of meat are being put to the test (just like playing football yesterday or the day before with wimpish squeals).

That's enough for me and I'm off back to Connaught Place in the centre, but via the "Thieves Market" as it is known colloquially as, but the tattoo is enough to distract any would be "tea-leaves", so no problem there.

A wee bit of retail therapy in CP has me ready for the journey home. I've a choice of rickshaw drivers, but choose one who has fewer teeth in his mouth than me and looks about 75 yrs old. His price is 80 rupees to base in Hauz Khas, but in a reversal of haggling I tell him he can have 100. After all he's smiling like I imagine I do at night! In fact he drives like a bat out of hell and dodges in and out of traffic like a retired formula one driver, until some cretin cut across our bows damaging his own car but not the rickshaw to any great extent as it was already battered!

Namaste from New Delhi

I hate tattoos!

Thus proclaimed a rather pompous woman from London who's now offended two of us, a career in the diplomatic corp is undoubtedly her forte. Actually she asked if I'd had it done, and when I said yes, the response was the headline of this. I pointed out that life was too short to use hate as an emotion but she prevaricated to reiterate her hatred for them. I took this opportunity to point out that I was unlikely to lose much sleep over her hatred of them since it was my arm it was decorating and not hers.

The same pompous woman had the temerity to tell Laiah in a very early conversation that she hated Israel, despite knowing that Laiah is Jewish! We're now convinced that she was stood up at the altar in her wedding dress by an Israeli tattooist, which can be the only logical explanation for her somewhat belligerant dislike of the country and my arm art work.

Still it is Friday and the weekend beckons, though no travelling for me! The heat is beginning to sap me physically, and by midday I'm not worth a brass farthing. I may go sight-seeing in Delhi this weekend as there are still places I haven't seen, and I should really as they're on the doorstep so to speak (well a rickshaw away!)

The morning started at Mother Teresa's with a mass with Father Julian coming in to do it. He's a nice guy and the day had started well, for the most part it went that way till near the end when I'd normally be leaving the hospice. Lunch at the hospice was behind schedule today and in the interim there was an incident which wouldn't have happened if they'd been eating as they'd normally be doing at that time. One of the stronger boys bit one of the weaker ones on the arm, breaking the skin on the kid. It all happened so quick no-one was near enough to stop it, but I was near enough to see it and dive in on top of him. Dinner was obviously not soon enough for his appetite. So much for a vegetarian diet!

Namaste for now.
p.s. A-M Cargill, Who's top of the league?? Your stay at the top on goal difference didn't last too long. C'mon the Hoops!

Penalty taking flops!

No I'm not referring to Tottenham Hotspur, even although they'd qualify for the description! I'm referring to myself and one of the hospice helpers, when we had a penalty shoot-out in the yard this morning. Neither of us could kick a barn door if we held the handle. I saved all of his and he saved all of mine, not that they were exactly rockets since it was a leather ball and we both had cheap sandals on! Other than that it was another good day at the hospice, which I'm enjoying more as each day passes.

Maybe enjoying is not the right word, but it is not as harrowing as I thought it would be on Monday. I still have to watch closely for any aggravation between the strong ones (and there are some who, whatever else they may have wrong with them are built like the proverbial brick "outhouses") and the weaker ones. The fact that they do stop whenever I whistle piercingly at them and shout "Nehi" in an authoritive voice seems to be enough.

The afternoon saw me at yet another tattooist, this time not in a van but in a beauty parlour of all places, for the two latest editions to the Tom Walker body art (?) collection. It took some time but they are done and look very good according to all who've seen them thus far.

One of the new arrivals this last weekend had taken to sleeping on our lounge floor since her room-mate snored too loudly for her to sleep. Since I start about two hours earlier than the rest I'm normally in the lounge for a coffee and a nicotine injection just after 6 a.m. This morning to my horror an enormous cockroach made it's way across the lounge floor, I tried to stamp on it but missed and it scurried under one of the settees. She asked me what that was, and I lied and said it was a wee ant. However, after I'd gone there was some shrieking which woke everyone else in the flat, as she undoubtedly saw the 2.5 inch long potential resident! His present state of life is as yet unknown, but I'm willing to bet that he's joined "Roland" in the big rubbish heap in the sky.

Namaste from a very hot Delhi (33 dec C)

Two more tattoos in the calendar

Yesterday I bought the guys at the hospice a football and today 6 of us went out for a bit of a lark in the yard where the animals are kept. Since most of them are physically disabled we decided that footie was out so we tried our hand at a form of volleyball. Neither of which sports are going to get us any recognition (myself included) by the sporting press and I include myself in that honourable discipline. Nonetheless, they enjoyed themselves and although I don't know how they do it, they managed to run about bare-footed on the stones! It was sore for me with sandals on (European wimp!).

Anyway it was a good day and although I was "cream crackered" at the end of it, I did enjoy being with them! Whenever I go in to their area in the morning at circa 7.25 a.m. they're all up and dressed with their beds stripped and ready for the wash, and the smile on their faces when I speak to them or address them as "Brigadier" gives you get a feeling of being wanted which is kind of soft I know, but really heart-warming.

Chinese for lunch at the base with two kinds of meat (chicken and lamb/goat), it says lamb on the board but I haven't seen too many sheep so I guess these may have had an identity crisis being called lambs when in fact they were goats!

I've got an address for a genuine tattoo parlour and went this afternoon to get another one maybe two depending on price. I fixed up a deal that I'm prepared to pay and the appointment is at 2.30 tomorrow afternoon! All that remains for today is to get another cut-throat shave (much against local advice but hey hoh when did I ever listen?), this time with a head massage thrown in for good measure. Such simple pleasures are indeed my lot in the absence of more constructive plans.

Namaste

"Sweeney Todd" takes on a new role in 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 mens 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 generousity 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 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.

Namaste!

Heaven & 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", 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 buscuits 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 pasically 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 waqs 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 religous 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 sparechair 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, weilding 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 epsiode 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!