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.
Tuesday, 10 March 2009
Saturday, 7 March 2009
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
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
Thursday, 5 March 2009
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!
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)
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)
Wednesday, 4 March 2009
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
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
Monday, 2 March 2009
"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!
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!
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!
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