"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!