“Lucy
auntie, look an alien!” I turned around to see this little face
beaming up at me.
Workshops
as always are full of life and excitement. Class 8 have put together
some really funky collages. The girls are continuing with their
earrings, whilst singing songs and joking.
Seated
at the back of a bus is generally not the best decision to make on
the journey to Arni. Because I don't think the bus drivers understand
the reason for speed bumps. Instead of slowing down, they seem to
speed up, so those of us sitting at the back fly a foot of the seat
and try not to land on each others laps.
There
is always something interesting happening on a bus. Men climbing up
the side of the bus with massive boxes bigger than them balanced on
their heads at certain stops,then the bus stops so tyres can be
loaded onto the roof. Babies and children get passed around to
relieve standing mothers. I haven't been handed a baby yet. Bags get
passed from standing passengers to seated ones. Horns blown, Tamil
music is turned up drowning out any conversation. There is the
driver, the conductor and often a man at the back of the bus who
hangs out of the back of the back entrance,he gets commissions for
shouting the destination and getting people on. People fight to get
on, people fight to get off. Some buses have glass windows, some
buses have shiny chrome interior. Pictures of Ganesh are often lit up
with flashing lights behind the driver.
The
conductor walks up and down the bus, squashing people along the
aisle. Rupee notes formed in a pretty cool fan in between his fingers
and a bag full of coins. Although I have had some bad experiences on
some buses, like my stolen phone and purse, the argument with the
death stare conductor or when I thought my life was flashing before
my eyes with the bus driver from speed, or on speed. I actually
really enjoy commuting round by bus.
After
a brilliant and long workshop I bumped into one of the female
teachers and she told me, “You look tired! You look tired... and
sweaty!” Cheers love, a much needed compliment.
We got paint messy down at the learning disability school. Now one
of the highlights of my week. This week we were creating a hand print
sun.
India
has some of the most beautiful people I have ever seen. Men, women,
old and young. The most beautiful woman sat next to me on the bus
during the week. I saw her walk towards the bus and my jaw dropped.
She was very petite woman, in an emerald green sari, probably a
similar age to me. Stern and strong face, and long black plaited hair
like most of the woman here. What really made her stand her out was
her eyes. It was as though her eyes were full of opaque jade. As clear as
water, pale green, with hazel outline and large. Every time I turned
to look in her direction, I was struck with awe. I will never forget
her.
I
am always making eye contact,sometimes I think too much. I think eyes
are wonderful, mysterious parts of us. The eyes can tell you so much
about that person. And being here in India, I have looked into eyes
as pale as honey, as smooth as caramel, as black as coal and as rich
as chocolate. Sparkling bronze or the colour of coffee. It's very
striking! And they probably are looking into blue eyes for the first
time too.
Smells
make up a large part of India, and a lot of them aren't too pleasant.
The smell of urine at the bus stand so strong it burns your nostrils.
Rubbish, just piles and piles of rubbish. I brought myself a kulfi
ice cream on Saturday. Really enjoying the tasty taste, when wafts of
rubbish seep into your senses. India does smell good too. Incense
burning and the smell of cooking, spices and the neighbours dinner.
I
am a big fan of chai tea, I always drank spicy tea in Nepal and the
first time I visited North India years ago. I must admit I was
slightly disappointed to discover South Indians don't really drink
chai. Instead South Indians love and grow their own coffee, filtered
and milky. Sometimes with added caradom or ginger. I've been
converted, and I'll only continue drinking it if I can learn the
magic behind the perfect cup.
After
practising on paper and practising on the rooftop, I was allowed to
transfer my newly learnt kolam design outside the front gate. A crowd
formed as praised my efforts, I told them all I take commissions,
more for my own humour really.
