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The queues outside the house have been getting longer as we’re getting closer to the official start of school. Parents from all the local villages are desperate to get their kids into Shikshayan school thanks to the success Aruna and Raghavan have made of it and the children who attend. The parents don’t seem to understand that no matter how many people they pressgang and how many people they try to pay off and how much money they offer Aruna and Raghavan - if the child’s name’s not on the list they’re not getting in…
A&R have one rule – the children they accept are underpriveledged with little chance of education elsewhere. The parents queuing outside the house each day are priveledged enough to be able to bribe their way into other schools. It’s an interesting reversal. I’d love to see the Guardian readers of St Reatham queuing to get their little darlings into one of the area’s deprivation schools.
My senses are still swimming with all the stimulation here. Cuckoos, mynahs, crows, crickets and lizards wake me up by 6am every morning. (Yes, lizards… These guys make one hell of a noise). I spotted the electric blue of
a kingfisher on the way to school the other day and the morning is generally filled with smells from the freshly-picked garden flowers piled into wicker baskets ready for the daily ‘pooja’ to Ganesha, along with spicy incense, sandalwood and burning oils.
By 9 am the aromas coming from the kitchen have changed to announcing breakfast. This can be Dhosas (grilled pancakes) with honey and chilli powder, coconut chutney, upma (not unlike cous cous), sweet pickles, fresh mangos or papaya, or one of my recently discovered favourites – jagfruit, which taste like a cross between an apricot and a pear. It’s hugely ugly melon-shaped exterior hides a sticky sapy pulp that has to be carefully extracted by a strong man with a sharp knife and lots of coconut oil.
Then there are all the colours here… .the bright saris, the golden bangles the women wear, the bindis, the vibrant flowers, the lush greenery and of course the technicolour of the temples.
It’s kinda lucky really that there’s so much going around me as the the telephone cables are still down. Well, the school is the only place with a telephone / internet connection in the area, so
the phone company doesn’t eally see the point in restoring them. Whilst that’s a tad frustrating for me, it must be infuriarating for Aruna and Raghavan, though they seem to be taking it all remarkably in their stride.
So here I am again in Thiruvarur’s (dial up) internet café. At least it’s got AC and there’s an ice-cream shop next door which sells only-slightly-melted cream ice-cream, so it’s worth it :o).
I’m beginning to feel quite proud of my little army of kickboxers. I no longer need to talk to them quite so carefully and precisely and they’ve started answering back and even started making jokes with me (or is that at me? :-o).
That’s all for now but here’s a limerick for you.
There was young fellow from Tyne
Put his head on the South Eastern line
But he died of ennui
For the 5.53
Didn’t come til a quarter past nine
S
X
Stephan/Daniella: Thanks both for the earplugs! Unfortunately that damned Cuckoo is still cuckooing at 5.30am but now it just sounds like he’s in the room rather than sitting on my head every morning.
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branka
non-member comment
good wishes
dear suzie, since begining ifollow your journal. It is most interesting and photos are just stunning. I always knew you are very talented but with this you just made a new world. I love all taht area where you are at the moment. Keep sending us your comments and images. Good luck yours Branka