As is always our pattern when we are working with RUHSA on our project, the pace quickens to a fast trot as we near the end of our visit and we end up exhausted and weeping in heaps. And there is always the dread visit to Vellore for purchasing presents and other items needed for the projects. This happened with our lovely Rani this time as a guide plus Santi, one of the SHG (self help group) women who cook for the elderly. Our taxi driver was Mani, who we discovered to be the brother of the auto-rickshaw driver who died last week tragically young. Mani introduced us to his family and to the family of his brother, before we left. They live just a few doors up from Paul’s hotel where we eat most days. Mani was, as might be imagined, extremely sad and looked quite ill- he said he was not eating or sleeping.
Our trip was relatively successful but extremely exhausting. We were so grateful that on our return to the centre with our goodies- including lovely new mats for the children to sleep on and a pressure cooker and mixer for use in making the midday meal for the elders- the lovely teachers and ayah had saved us some food and sat us down sympathetically- two poor old ladies frazzled from a trip to town! The poem I wrote, below, expresses some of how the shopping spree felt and why we crawled home after the TLC from the kind staff- via a long walk to KVK and a hilarious trip in an over-crowded auto with some overweight Indian women- to a long lie down.
Our trip was relatively successful but extremely exhausting. We were so grateful that on our return to the centre with our goodies- including lovely new mats for the children to sleep on and a pressure cooker and mixer for use in making the midday meal for the elders- the lovely teachers and ayah had saved us some food and sat us down sympathetically- two poor old ladies frazzled from a trip to town! The poem I wrote, below, expresses some of how the shopping spree felt and why we crawled home after the TLC from the kind staff- via a long walk to KVK and a hilarious trip in an over-crowded auto with some overweight Indian women- to a long lie down.
Yesterday we went to hell
Yesterday we went to hell
My friend and I
First circle, not in a handcart
But jarred over rutted roads
To Vellore then on a shopping spree
Arriving, of course, in the overhead
Beat of the heat of the sun
Merciless, in search of saris cooking pots and sweets
Thank god for our local guides
Holding our hands in the dust and the shuffle
Battle through traffic, squalor and noise
Blaring and glaring
Random road-works, stenches stinks
Too long in the high and headache
Bright-white sun-light
Feet in the filth, wrangling for fruit
Best price
Drip drop time stopped
Sweating in streams
Hot as hell’s first circle
We went to yesterday
Yesterday we went to hell
My friend and I
First circle, not in a handcart
But jarred over rutted roads
To Vellore then on a shopping spree
Arriving, of course, in the overhead
Beat of the heat of the sun
Merciless, in search of saris cooking pots and sweets
Thank god for our local guides
Holding our hands in the dust and the shuffle
Battle through traffic, squalor and noise
Blaring and glaring
Random road-works, stenches stinks
Too long in the high and headache
Bright-white sun-light
Feet in the filth, wrangling for fruit
Best price
Drip drop time stopped
Sweating in streams
Hot as hell’s first circle
We went to yesterday
Don't ever stop writing poetry Sally. Reading this again after 3 years! It's like being there once more and experiencing the heat, filth and exhaustion but most of all the joy of being with these lovely ladies. How wonderful that our projects still survive and the Pachaikili centre goes from strength to strength. Rani and Padmini have never let us down have they?
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