India: Day 32: Cooling Down (a bit)

Fury of the Monsoon

We left one month ago from a place where it was cold enough to maybe still turn the heat on. And for nearly everyday it has been nearly impossible to be outside during much of the day here because of the heat. The rain came, what was it, three times at most, always teasing and then disappointing with the arrival of the monsoon. It can't be stressed enough how we, everyone here, wants the monsoon to come, how blessed it would be. News of an early monsoon raised hopes but three days ago when the temperature climbed again to the 120 degree mark, I lost hope of ever going out again. I lamented yesterday with some frustration that I would be stuck in AC rooms or cars and not really see much, interact with people much. Though yesterday it was slightly cooler (just above 100), it actually started to get hotter in the afternoon.

But then this morning, the electricity went off and the sweet sound of droplets ensued. Then the fury of the wind came knocking on the doors and windows of our apartment. I came back very late last night from the "tehkil" and just climbed into bed and fell asleep. But the excitement of the earnest start of the monsoon was too much for me. I got up and opened all the windows to let the cool air come in. There was water in the dining room next to the window, but that was beautiful. All signs of a monsoon were beautiful. Nevertheless, I was still skeptical. It has rained before, and it would cool the whole day down, but I secretly wanted more; I wanted more than one day of coolness.

Outside there was chanting from the distance, maybe to celebrate the start of the monsoon? The rain and wind whipped through the city like an army of tough guys and mega weapons liberating a dispirited populace. The anger and fury of the monsoon didn't seem at all devastating, but rather liberating.

The rain and wind subsided, and I went out to assess the the situation. None of the roofs of those shanty houses across the street were blown off, as I had worried. These people have lived here long enough to know how to keep a makeshift roof stand firm against the worst winds. At the same time, I saw those slum children coming out and screaming in delight, playing some rain game. Some adults came out to patch up parts of some of the roofs or reinforce them. Apparently it wasn't all stable, but people make do. I am guessing that even if the roofs didn't get blown off, there were leaks through them and water came in on the ground.

Unlike the last few rain incidents, this time the rain came back after a few minutes of pause and the thunder and lightening resumed too. But the people are welcoming the monsoon. More chanting and now even music. It's auspicious sign that our friend's "tehkil" started the night before the monsoon (that's not Indian belief, just mine).

I can't tell you how delighted I am. It's strange to say that I am excited to hear the thunder, to see everywhere getting wet and messy. Now I can hope to go out and spend more time outside the confines of some AC box. Even the frogs have resumed their croaking even though that's usually reserved for the night. Last night they croaked for the first time I can remember since moving to this apartment; perhaps they knew something wonderful was coming.

Searching for Monkeys

One of the most things I wanted very much to do before leaving Lucknow is seeing a bunch of monkeys. I was told that monkeys have ruled India forever, prowling the streets, harrassing people, and not too long ago even caused the death of a parliamentarian. Like the cows they are left alone (to their wickedness, even) because of religious reasons. So I wanted to see how wicked these monkeys are. But so far I've only seen ONE! Jennifer thinks maybe finally in Lucknow they have implemented the monkey relocation program that they had started in Delhi (especially after the death of the parliamentarian).

So I've asked around and it seems that the nearest place is this temple near the Gomti river. So I set out to visit that temple on my own. First I had to return to that stupid Reliance store to get our money back. The saga this time really ended. I went there and they gave me back the $70. Finally. No more anything to do with these incompetent morons.

Then off I went to seek the monkeys. A few interesting points along the way:

dhobi ghat, that's a place by the river where the washer people wash their clothes (in filthy, septic, sewage laden water) and hang them to dry on a field.
I found this art school where I was told there would be a lot of sculptures. You would never have thought this was a school. First of all, as in the rest of India, no one was smiling. Second, there is trash everywhere! And there's a megaphone blasting I don't know what, probably some political thing? And in the hallways people were sleeping or lying down, as if it were a bombshelter and people were hidinng. But I did find an oasis, a courtyard where young couples in love were quietly chatting, momentarily interrupted by their own curiosity of the foreigner taking pictures of the randomly placed statues.
Next to this chaos is a very different world, a Muslim university called Daalum. It was very quiet, though that was because students were on vacation. But what was obviously different was that the place was so clean I thought I had left India. No trash, no paan spit stains, just very beautiful architecture, away from the noise and the confusion. People were very friendly, curious, but friendly.
Went into the narrow streets of the town surrounding these two buildings, very pretty, lots of men in white and wearing skull caps. This is what our friend, Amit, calls "Little Pakistan" because there are so many Muslims here, and among them is a Hindu temple. It's the not temple I was looking for, though. But it's strange to call this place "Little Pakistan" when the Muslims have lived here and even ruled it for centuries, longer than the Americans have ruled their country.

So I reached the end of the road and no monkeys, no temple, but that's because I forgot the name and it was getting late. We were to visit the Dhobi for dinner. So took a rickshaw back, a nice breeze as I was being taken along the river. I stopped by the fruit market outside the university and just stood there for a quarter of an hour, watching the chaos go by.

Dinner at the Dhobi

The dhobi invited us to her humble home for dinner with chicken. We had the previous night called to offer to bring chicken with us (KFC) but the husband said it wouldn't be proper for guests to bring meat. So we came pretty empty handed because we didn't know what to bring that wouldn't be improper. It's tough when you don't understand a culture that is quite different from yours. We did bring along grape juice, which the little girl, Khushi, really likes. We learned something new about the Dhobi family. We arrived and didn't see the husband. I had some expectation that maybe they were all waiting for us (we were half an hour late) and we would all be sitting down (on the swept dirt floor outside) to eat. But they didn't eat with us, and I think the reason was that they usually eat very much later. Their schedule is very odd. They have chai in the morning, then lunch at noon then chai around 4PM and finally dinner around 9:30. We were there at 7:30 so maybe it was just too early. But the little Khushi was not shy about demanding food when she saw us eating. So basically the family watched us eat on their bed while we all chatted. What was even more odd was that the husband wasn't there. I asked and the Dhobi, Neelam, quietly said that he was out drinking. In fact, he drinks daily with his buddies, beer, mostly. There are no pubs or bars in India, but there are these drinking shacks all over, not advertised, just some little shack with a light inside where men get together and try to forget about their hard lives. (Upper caste men either go to nice bars and restaurants or don't drink at all for religious reasons.) Jennifer said that statistics are alarming in showing majority of married men drinking on a regular basis, and nearly 100% for villagers. So a little after we started eating this expensive and delicious chicken dish, the husband, Ramu, came in. He was not reeking of alcohol, as I would expect from a drunk, but he was not entirely sober either, slurring his speech and laughing and smiling a lot more than the previous two times I had seen him. He started eating dinner too, and a lot! For such small people they eat a lot of food and they wondered why we didn't. (They didn't understand that I still wasn't used to the spicy food and would stop getting hungry pretty quickly.) He asked (to the best of my understanding with my limited Hindi and his limited enunciation in his speech) if I wanted to share some drinks with him. I told him I didn't drink (not entirely true, but once a month is really close to zero). All this time I sensed that Neelam was embarrassed and frustrated. She said earlier that she didn't like talking about it in front of the children, but then again, the children obviously see much of the drunken behavior. I don't know if that behavior had translated to violence, as alcohol abuse can often do. I wondered why Neelam's wedding bangles were gone, something you remove only when you no longer have your husband. She said he took them from her, but why I don't know and am not sure if it might have had something to do with his alcohol problem. He also started smoking a marijuana, though from the smell of the smoke it was pretty weak and low quality. It was really sad to see this man like this; the last two times he seemed like a very humble and gentle man. He stayed with us until nearly the end and went out. When we were leaving we saw him lying not with the children but a little further away in the grass, waving at us. The children were already lying outside. In the summer people sleep outside, and in this case on some tarp laid on the dirt floor. It's like camping but you have to do it whether you like it or not!

And, oh, by the way, as hopeful as the monsoon in the morning had led me, by mid day it was really hot. The fury of the monsoon really needs to come during the day for anything cool to talk about.