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  Kolkata, West Bengal, India
Thursday, January 8, 2009

6.20am. I am woken up early each morning by a whole variety of different activities happening outside my window. The paper boy begins his rounds early (I have already described his call!), and Sabatri begins talking (read shrieking) to the neighbours early on. The most constant and interesting sound coming in my window though is one that still, even after all these early mornings, still amuses me. A whole collection of men gather outside our house every morning and do vocal excercises. I think it must be some way of getting the energy flowing, but I'm not sure. Every morning it goes; 'AhhHHHHHHHHHHH', 'aaaHHHHHHHHHHHHaaaa. 'AHHHHhhhhhhh'. I am staying near a small lake, so the constant ahhhhhhhhhhHHHHHing rings out across the water and probably wakes up the whole neighbourhood. I think these men are part of an excercise club as there is always three or four men doing stretches in our front yard when I leave for work. I don't understand what they do, or why they do it, but the AAHHHhhhhh goes on and on for at least half an hour.

6.30am. Turn on the hot water system and have THE most delicious breakfast while it heats up (apart from the Tibetan bread and curd) - rotis smothered in Ankur Kala's own jam and squashed banana. I used to read the paper, but that system has gone awry so now I just read any of the trashy magazines I have sorted (actually in my defense Indian magazines are not so trashy! There is a whole lot less celebrity gossip and more fashion, which is not really much more interesting but at least a lot less nasty). I also listen to Miaow! 104.8fm, the only radio station JUST for women! It plays English lanaguage songs at night-time so I stay constant.
I pick out a salwar kameeze set and look, a little depressed, in front of the mirror at how my poor (former-) fringe is just a big old mess.

7.40am. Time to go. I head out of our gate (past the stretching men, who always look at me as if I have just emerged from a space-ship) and down the streets, over the bridge, along the road, through the railway crossing and to the autorickshaw stand. On my way I see men washing or brushing their teeth in the lake, learner drivers practising their driving (WHAT could they possibly be learning? How to speed up on approaching women and children?), men with briefcases on their way to work and young boys riding bicycles. The railway crossing is always closed so I wait until the train - people hanging out all over the doors and windows and roof - passes, unlike many of the other impatient people who simply walk around the bars and cross in front of the oncoming train. I read a report in the paper that stated a man had recently died at a crossing, and the people of the town were so upset they all squatted on the tracks for half the day in protest...I couldn't help but think that if he wasn't on the tracks...he probably wouldn't have died. I also pass the chicken butcher. I am shuddering and retching here, I don't want to think about the way he skins, slices and de-gizzards those chickens every morning ever again.

First rickshaw drops me off at Ruby Hospital, where I don't have to cross any roads (oh joy), I just walk down to the next one. Here I pass men selling chai, breakfast and newspapers.
Second rickshaw drops me off at Gariahat market - which is always crazy busy, even at 8.10am when most stalls are closed. I pass men building new stalls, taking down old stalls, or setting up current stalls, men selling mishti and chai, and the security guards for the jewellery stores who start work early. There are always plenty of neat and clean school children on their way to school here, usually accompanied by their parents.
Third rickshaw drops me off at Park Circus where I have to cross four main roads. If I am lucky I can get the driver to stop n the other side of the road so I only have to cross two roads, but if not it's time to send a quick prayer to the roadside gods, try to join a group and just grit my teeth and go.

This is all pretending that the autos are running. Kolkata has constant strikes (bandhs) and protests due to political unrest. The communist party of kolkata is in control of the city, but they are challenged by the Kolkata communist party...and the communist people's front...and the front of communism in Kolkata, and the popular communist's party, and the communist popular people's front, and...you get my drift. I have been told to stay away from these protests, but they are usually pretty boring. Mostly just loudspeakers strung up and hitched to a tape recording of a man screamning into the microphone, going crazy and being all distorted because everything EVERYTHING is listened to at decibel shaking levels. I thought the protests in Darjeeling would be more lively, but it was the same thing - I could hear it from my hotel room 20 mins walk away. I walked down to have a good look and just saw a whole lotf of men (and women!) standing around idly holding flags and smoking. It went on for a few hours, so they must have been taking it in shifts.

From here it's a 5 minute walk to 72b Park St. There are plenty of beggars on my way, some lying on the ground banging their begging bowls, legs and feet disfigured and on display across your path, other beggars walking around approaching or following you. Some beggars that have hand or arm deformities bang on the windows of the cars while they are stopped at the intersection - banging and banging and yelling into the car for money, it's so horrible. I hate this part of the walk. This enbd of Park St has a large muslim population, so I pass a mosque and many women in all encompassing black body and head scarves (but no burqa's in this area).
Soon I come to Park St Sweets, a little haven of goodness and joy. The men here know me well by now as I stop in every morning to buy a bottle of water, and some afternoons to buy mishti. They always ask me 'mithai, mithai?' (sweets, sweets) and speak to me in rapid Bengali as I choose.

8.55am I'm at Ankur Kala, signing in, saying hello to all the girls and taking my place for the 15min yoga session that starts our day (it's really fun, and all very light-hearted). After that we have a multi-faith hymn and prayer session. All the songs are in either Bengali or Hindi, but I have the script and a translation in front of me so I can happily sing along. Women here are muslim, hindu, christian or catholic (or me, but everybody assumes that I am catholic) so the prayer session is all-encompassing. One of the best things about living in a multi-faith country such as India is all the public holidays people get - everybody gets a day off regardless of their faith, what fun!

10am We have tea and a bread roll and a chat about things.

10.15am USually I help in the kitchen in the mornings. I love helping out in the kitchen so much! Who knew that my love of cooking even extended to being ecxited about the prospect of peeling potatoes for hours on end (Dad do you remember that joke...?). I peel and chop aloo, sag, cabbage and beans, plus do the washing up under the constantly running tap out in the courtyard, help clean up and just do whatever needs to be done. Sometimes we pick rice or lentils (everything has to be checked over before cooking - rice and lentils come with large amounts of stones in them that have to be sifted out) I would really love to make rotis but I am not allowed near them since the great 'roti-rolling' incident. I thought I was doing pretty well, considering I had had 5 minutes practice and Muserrah di had had 20 years, but the look of horror on the faces of everybody around when they spotted me assured that I was never allowed near the rolling pin again.
Sometimes I also help out in the JSP department, doing much the same thing. Cutting, chopping, peeling, scraping oranges, pineapple, lemons, apple, jailpal, all types of fruit. Squuezing lemons and oranges in a hard physical task but it's very satisfying. The women all use the Indian knife, a vertical blade stuck into a block of wood that you place on the floor and hold down with your foot. You saquat in front of it and cut vegetables and fruit in front of you. It looks incredibly dangerous and takes some getting used to - I prefer to use a good old knife and a chopping board and not risk losing a digit!

1pm Time for lunch! We all line up with our plates and dhal cups (I with a spoon) and have rice, curried shobji (vegetables) and dhal. The vegetables are all fairly spicy, and everyone giggles as I blow my nose after eating. We all sit on the floor upstairs and chat about the day. Ha, not really. Everybody else chats and I sit and try to finish off the massive meal that I am always served. The dhal is always so good, and the vegetables are always so tasty.

1.30pm I've finished in the kitchen and now I either do tracing work (I can't stand doing tracing work) or help Sazda in the tailoring department - which is always fun. Sazda, Azmati di and Nasreen sit and sew and talk without taking a breath as I sit on the floor and either hand stitch hems or cut fabrics to make bags. I feel like I am really doing something here, as I can see the eventual outocme when we are finished (not like stupid tracing)

3.30pm Cup of tea time! It's always special tea now, with a secret added ingrediant - salt! Sounds awful doesn't it, but actually it's so delicious. Saza always makes sure I have two cups because I told her how much I love it.


4pm Home time for me, but not for the girls who will stay back until 5.30pm. I pack up and walk back down Park St (maybe a little stop at Park St sweets on the way...) and cross four major roads to find the first autorickshaw. Gariathat market is extremely busy by now, thousands of people all hustling and bustling their way down the narrow streets, pushing, elbowing, haggling loudly...There is no 'excuse me can I get past here' except the use of your legs and elbows, so it can be a bit of a punch-up trying to get through the streets.

5pm Finally at home. Walking past Big Bazaar and up the streets to my home is always more interesting by now. It's getting very dark very quickly but the city only comes alive in the afternoon, so by now everybody is out on the streets. The shops are going, music is blaring out, taxi drivers are yelling at you for a fare, rickshaw wallahs follow you hoping to givew you a ride, goats are chewing on the grass in the middle of the road, men are wandering around or grouped together playing card games, school children are coming home with their parents, vegetables sellers have found a patch of ground and are squatted together gossiping about the day.
This is also the time that the shops send out their megaphone scouts. A single wooden cart sits on the side of the road with a megaphone on it, and advertisements are yelled out at deafening volumes as the caretaker sits looking bored by it's side. I can hear these ads from my house, and they go on for hours. The only threat to their volume levels is the political treatises that jostle for top position. These political megaphones usually drive around in their carts though, just to spread the message.

First thing I do when I get home is wash my poor feet and hands, that have turned an interesting shade of grey.

I can usually find something to do until dinner. This week I have been packing and repacking my pack after folding and refolding and considering and reconsidering. I'm all excited about going home now that the date is getting closer. Usually I write in my diary for about 45 mins, listen to the radio and read anything I can get my hands on.

7pm Dinner! Dinner is eaten very late here in India, and it was tought to get Sabatri to serve me so unfashionably early. I devour all the good she has eaten - aloo and other vegetables in a delicious spicy mix, (always always potato, I can't tell you how much potato I have eaten since I've been here), delicious dhal, and rotis. Sometimes pakora, sometimes parathas. I save some roti's for my breakfast the next morning.

Once dinner is done I get a little sad..It's better now that Sabatri is cooking dinner in the kitchen on my level, at least we can smile at each other and have some companionship, but once she is done cooking she disappears and I do some more reading, eat my mishti, and get ready for bed.

9pm Once in my bed I read a few chapters of whichever book I am on now (Kim, by Rudyard Kipling and no it's not good at all it's boring), and plug in my earplugs and strap on my face mask so I can survive the night relatively unscathed. I say goodnight to my little gecko friend and attempt to sleep through Sabatris chatting (very LOUDLY) to her friends, the construction work happening across the lake, the nmight watchmen blowing his whistle and riding his squeaky bike and the general sounds of life of the local neighbourhood.

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