-- Ganesha's ("Bos") last photo, from 09/19/10 --
-- (His parents Murgesh and Sampa are seen sleeping in
the background) --
Ganesha has disappeared -- 10/02/10
Palm Meadows - Imadhalli - trails to Northern Route -
Chansandra - Patalamalevet: 0:50:28
Kadugodi - Along the rail tracks past the IPTL turn-off -
to ITPL main road: 0:27:26
Urban streets to Sai Baba Hospital -
Past ITPL - Pattandur Agrahara "Lake Community": 0:24:60
Back through Nellurhalli -
Dunmore House area - West Trail: 0:25:56
Time: 2:08:51
Mileage: 14.3 Miles
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
I have resolved to run to Chansandra/Kadugodi, then come
back through Pattandur Agrahara. I have pictures to distribute
in these various places, particularly from Manni's family in
Patalamalevet, as well at Sonu Khan's pictures from Ganesha
Chaturthi in the "Lake Community".
But once out, I hesitate a bit. Today is the Gandhi
Jayanti holiday, so I expected schools to be closed, especially
given the recent fallout of the Ram Janmabhoomi / Babri Masjid
verdict which has essentially shut down the country for the past
three days for fear of communal riots, although luckily nothing
has happened. The streets are indeed unusually quiet this Saturday
morning (third day after the verdict), with the exception of the
schools, where children in uniforms participate in various parades.
Seeing this, I wonder if I should change my plans and venture out
to the villages instead, but eventually stay the course towards
Chansandra, running the "Northern Trail", briefly stopping by
a hamlet along the way where I had previously taken a few pictures.
The tree which has sheltered Manni's family and various
slumdwellers is now completely empty. Instead, I find the whole
family inside that house under construction, still open to the
street. A few surprises await me: Ubagarimary (Sampa and Valli's
mother) has also slept here. She gets up painfully, looking awful,
her cheeks swollen, her eyes red and puffed up. But the good news
is that all the children are here today, Manni, Sangita who I haven't
seen in a long time, and even Sathia, who must be spending the
holiday away from the Hostel. All - except one.
I present the images I've brought to Murgesh, Bos, Bos,
he cries nervously before finding the photo of his youngest child
Ganesha, who they've nicknamed Bos.
He points desperately at the picture, Bos, Bos, while
Ubagarimary explains that the little boy has disappeared. In the
side of the room, Sampa lying is heard crying, the shape of her
body discreetly convulsing under her saree,
hiding her face in the cloth. Bos, Ganesha,
continues Murgesh with tears in his eyes, as if I hadn't
understood him. The child was seen
twelve days ago. The poor destitute man continues to repeat
the child's name, as I reassure him that I know him very well.
In the midst of all this, having noticed the pus coming out
of Manni's ear, I ask Murgesh about it but get no response
(instead Manni shows me other wounds on his legs).
A few onlookers have joined the scene, as Murgesh and I touch
hands. I propose going to the police with the photo to help
them find him. A man from the small group that has gathered
agrees to go with me. Murgesh mentions
something about not having any money for the police, but
I don't quite know what that means. Both parents sob and
lament,
as well as Ubagarimary, over the lost child, while I remember
the wonderful smile he would always have for me, in spite of his
incredible hardships, wandering the streets butt naked and
filthy. I seize Murgesh's shoulder as I promise to do whatever
I can (although I'm not sure what that is exactly), approach
Sampa who's still lying in the corner, hold her hand as well,
promising to return. She struggles to get up, attempts to
touch my naked feet, but I push her back, feeling unworthy.
Murgesh bows to similar gestures of prayer which I discourage.
The children though, seemingly unaffected by
this, start laughing at the way I pronounce their names,
so we take turns at calling everyone by over-emphasizing
the last syllable, Sangit-A, Sathi-A, Murgesh-A, Philippe-A...
Murgesh himself ends up laughing at this game.
Preciously keeping two
pictures of little Ganesha, including a close-up of his face,
I leave with my new companion towards the Kadugodi police station,
which happens to be right next to Sampa and Ruxanna's tent
community.
We walk up the tracks, crossing the quays of Whitefield
train station. My companion is a carpenter.
I ask many questions of him, but for no
apparent reason my Hindi is not clicking today, and I barely
understand his answers (his Hindi may not be that good either).
He believes it is possible that someone
took the child to feed him and will return him eventually.
In Kadugodi, sure enough, I meet
many of my friends, first Arpudam, then Suresh by the
tea stand, and finally Ruxanna in front of the police
station, who's returning with a plastic jar of water. I explain
the situation to them. Arpudam knew this already, and all sadly
express no surprise. These children, they say, they come,
they go, they come, they go, here, there, here, there...
we all feel defeated. They shrug at the vanity of helping
such destitute people, but the parents' hopeless
behaviour is none of
this poor child's fault, and I remind them that the search
for these lost children (the children of the lake)
is what led me to Kadugodi in the first place.
My companion reassures me that he'll do most of the talking,
since this is my first time going to a police station. It's
a small square building in a shaded courtyard. We enter the
first room with about ten policemen in brown uniforms.
We start stating our case, but are soon interrupted and
held to silence as an important call is being received
at the desk. We are again interrupted as a superior
arrives, wearing a motorcycle helmet, and we all part
for him to go through, while the policemen salute. One
policeman disappears in the next room with small garlands
of flowers. My companion and I both talk separately (him
in Kannada, me in Hindi). I show the photo, but am asked
to go back to Ganesha's parents to make sure the little
boy hasn't disappeared with some relatives. I insist
that this is highly unlikely. I ask whether they want
the photo but am ask to return with passport size
photos, which I promise to bring back in a few days.
Offering little hope, one of the policemen concludes
that Bangalore is a big city.... I unfortunately
understand his point of view.
I offer the carpenter a drink at the tea stall outside
of the slum, but he refuses. We comment on the events,
he repeats that Ganesha's parents are worthless with
alcohol, and offers to help me next time I visit the
police, but unfortunately I still have a difficult
time understanding him fully. Selflessly, he offers to help
me again, another act of solidarity such as I've often
witnessed here, so we exchange phone numbers. He insists
that I call him next time I visit the police station.
His name is Murthi.
-- The children play with food, Kadugodi --
Inside the slum is a usual peaceful day. With Asha's help,
I buy tea, careful to have enough for my friends (in fact,
we return to the stall twice). The children have gathered
on the ground, preparing food (or are they playing), a nice
little scene. Eventually, Asha and I enter Ruxanna's tent
where we spent a long time talking. She insists on showing
us a mother cat and her newly born kittens, excitedly
pointing to how the cat takes the babies in her mouth
to carry them.
Four of Ruxanna's five children
are today staying with her, the last one with her husband's
parents. As I've seen often before, she has created a cradle
by hanging a piece of cloth from one of the beams, in which
she is swaying little Sophia to and fro. I jump on the
opportunity to take pictures of the child.
-- Sophia inside the cradle --
As we're chatting, Ruxanna tells me the story of a cobra
which was found in front of Kupamma's tent. She describes
the shape and sound the snake makes when it's about to
strike, miming with her hand. A few man were able to
catch the animal in a jute bag, took it away and released
it, without killing it, she insists. The snake,
being the representation of Lord Shiva, should not be
killed, she adds, showing again how liberally religious
beliefs are mixed in the community (she is Muslim).
I point at the small box hanging from her necklace,
which she says protects from all evil.
I have asked to go to the nearby Sai Baba Ashram with
them, but we again postpone to next Sunday. Instead, she
produces a Sai Baba card from her purse, then looks for
the scented powder it contains, which is also endowed
with healing properties. She shows me similar necklaces
around the other children's necks. Speaking of, she
asks me if I'd be able to buy the children's anklets
for Diwalli as we had discussed. I am still thinking.
As an alternate, she proposes buying Sarees for all the
women for Dessara, 200rs. per saree she says.
I have gotten back into the habit of carrying my little
notebook, so we organize a drawing game, taking turns in
complementing each other's drawings. I even get Ruxanna
to participate, who draws a series of hieroglyphics looking
pictures, representing sun, bird, etc., before apologizing
that she can't draw as well as the children having not
gone to school. I encourage to simply see things in her
mind before putting them on paper. I try to get Sazia
to draw something other then the usual Mosque. She complies,
but then the Mosque comes from her younger sister Nazia,
beautifully adorned with trees and flowers. Asha gets
the price for most elaborate drawings. Nazia then takes
my camera, disappears outside before I call her back in
(she has taken mostly self-portraits).
In the meantime, Sampa has joined us, at the doorstep.
She too takes the notebook to draw Rangolli designs.
Ruxanna has gone to see a Kannada movie in Chansandra,
Sampa and Asha ask me if I would go today at 4 (40 or
20 rs. they tell me, depending on the class), but although
curious I don't want to wait this long.
I ask Sampa about Valli, who she tells me has gone back
with her husband in Bangalore, the crisis over. Deivani
has moved out too, also joining her husband, in TamilNadu.
You stay alone, I say while she makes her kia karna?
face. I tell her that I met her mother in Patalamalevet
this morning, not looking well. We're about to leave the
tent, but before exiting I notice Nazia laying on the
floor looking sad. She starts crying as I approach her,
apparently sick. Ruxanna applies some balm to her temples.
I touch the girl's forehead with my hand, as if it
could wield some healing power.
Sampa and Asha have moved outside to make flower garlands. They install a mat on the ground for me to sit with them. This practice, extremely common here, requires quite some skill. Sampa tells me she learned this for a year, after which she used to sell garlands at the Sai Baba Ashram. And why not now, I ask, to which she replies she can no longer work with the children. She lets Asha take over, carefully supervising her work, giving her advice on how to appropriately overlap the flowers for the desired effect.
-- Asha and Sampa creating flower garlands --
Ruxanna reminds me that I haven't bought her ration
for some time. She encourages me to come back tomorrow
to go shop with her, Sampa, Arpudam, and Asha's mom,
5kgs rice per family.
But I can't do this any more. I invite her back inside
the tent for a quick council,
followed by Asha who's asked to join us.
I explain the dilemna, state that I can no longer create
such conflicts in the community by giving to certain
members. And even if we went tomorrow for these people,
what about the others, Rosie for example, with whom
I'm on speaking terms again?
I ask her how does Vijay Kumar does it, to which
she replies that he recently bought 2kgs rice for each
tent. We both try to strategize on how I could do something
similar, how to carry the load, how to pay for it.
Bahout Zyada, she concludes sadly.
For now, we decide to go buy juice across the street
at the bus station. Outside, Kupamma asks for 1/2 litre
Mazaa (a mango juice). As we're walking out, all the
children hold my hands, fighting as usual over them,
but I ask that they be left behind. This only works
temporarily, since at the shop we're soon joined by
the loud rowdy crowd of all the slum children, meandering
dangerously between the dangerous buses. We buy eight
bottles of juice and ten packets of biscuits, and a cold
Coke for me (for 466Rs.). Near the railroad crossing,
I say goodbye, to Sampa and Ruxanna's disappointment.
But finally Ruxanna sends me off with a smile, Thik
hai, tum jao...
-- Ruxanna with children - Ramaka with child --
I have barely started running in Kadugodi that I run
into Sathya and Manni and friends, happily walking
in the street, apparently unconcerned by their
younger brother's disappearance. They've gathered
a few miscellaneous objects, a broken phone, a Sai
Baba book (which they thought was in English but is
actually in some Slave language), and a lipstick which
Sathia has applied to herself in awfully gawdy fashion.
I meet her best friend Shamla (whom I've heard
from before), and see again Salim, today accompanied
by another boy by the name of Moubarak, who's half
bald. Little Sangita is keeping Gutkha in a pouch,
which she reassures me is not for her. I take
pictures of them before resuming the run.
-- Sangitha and Sathia - Sathia and Manni --
On the road along the track, I happen to cross many
manual laborers breaking away from work, invading
the decrepit roadside food shacks, their feet and
clothes covered in blue gray dust, wearing turbans.
I decide to explore this road further than the ITPL
turnout, following the tracks for some time until
a bifurcation leads me to the busy ITPL road
intersection. From there, cutting straight through
proletarian neighborhoods (I've run here a few times
a long time back), I ask my way to the Sai Baba
Hospital (finding a great shortcut), and from there
to the Pattandur Agrahara "Lake Community" to meet
Sonu Khan, whose Ganesha Chaturthi photographs
I'm still carrying.
But the community appears nearly deserted.
A group of young men greets me, and tell me that
Sonu's wife must be in her room. I cautiously
knock at the door - no response. The men point
out that they could see the photos too, so I show
them. They encourage me to wait for Tayamma as she
must be out washing. Indeed she soon comes back,
and I'm able to hand her the beautiful photos of
Sonu and his daughter Nisha in front of the beautiful
Ganesha altar they had built here. She tells me Sonu
is sleeping, proposes to wake him up but I prefer
not to, respecting his rest. (If we wake him up,
he'll be mad, I say, which she denies smiling).
I show her the photo of missing Ganesha who used
to live here with Manni and Sathia, when I had
first met them, but she doesn't remember the little
boy at first. She too holds little hope that he
could be found.
I run back through Pattandur and Nellurahalli, making a quick detour through the Dunmore House area. But I am weakening, as I haven't eaten anything since morning, and it's near three o'clock. I struggle to complete the run, return shaken by the day's events.
-- Sathia, Manni, Sangita (in Chansandra) --
Training run, "Hoskote" (23.8 miles) -- 10/10/10
Palm Meadows - Imadhalli - stayed on the road -
Chansandra - Patalamalevet: 0:42:07
Back along the main road into Chansandra - then back
again, across the rail tracks - First followed a dirt road
heading East along the railway - Then turned North on a trail
to NH207 in some village: 0:30:46
NH207 to Hoskote, junction with NH4: 0:35:56
Headed back West on NH4- Then small road through villages back in
direction of Kadugodi - Reconnected with main road near Kadugodi: 1:02:23
Back through Dinur - ELIM/ECC route - Palm Meadows: 0:43:02
Time: 3:34:16
Mileage: 23.8 Miles
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
Had not planned such a long run at all.
I first make it to Patalamalevet
where on the main road I meet Sathia, Manni, Sangita and
Shamla (Sathia's best friend).
They're pushing around a
metal chariot, which Sathia says comes from a factory. Sangita
looks particularly disheveled as if she had just come out of bed.
We take a few pictures, both in the street and on a dirt mound.
A woman comes to us making sure everything is ok. She comments
to me on the children's miserable life. Sathia is actually no longer
staying at the hostel it seems, having probably run away again.
And still no news of little Ganesh, who still hasn't been found.
I leave them to meet the parents. In the bottom floor of
house under construction, I meet Murgesh, who has grown a beard,
and can barely speak today for some reason. An inert shape on the
floor under a cover must be his wife Sampa. He confirms that
their son Ganesh hasn't returned, mostly with head signs. I show
him the passport size photos of the child that I've been using,
without eliciting much reaction. Some slumdweller from Pattandur
Agrahara said he would meet me here today, but given the lack
of contact, I don't stay.
I'd like to reconnect with Sathia and Manni so run back up
the main road towards Chansadra, eventually catching up with them,
still lugging their strange chariot. I witness someone just about
to hit them, as if they were about to steal something, a testament
to these children's infamous reputation. They ask for biscuits which
I buy for them at a road-side store. We then part, although I would
have loved to follow them, to witness a day in their lives.
But how could I do that without getting in the way?
-- Manni, Sangita and Sathia --
I retrace my steps back towards the rail tracks, decide there
to explore something different. I continue straight past the
crossing, follow small alleys through the outskirts of Kadugogi,
eventually landing on a dirt road which more or less follows
the railway. Eventually, I turn left into a dirt trail which
leads me through the fields and farmlands, rare hamlets. My plan
is to keep going on this until I find a road which would head
back west, towards the main road leading back to Kadugodi.
I do eventually find a road in some village (name unknown),
but I slowly realize that this road (NH207) is headed North,
and no junctions going West. A road sign in Kannada (which
I'm proud to read!) indicates Hoskote as the destination.
But I definitely haven't planned for something this long (this
could end up being almost a Marathon distance), so I stop at
a shop to buy bananas and Coca Cola. The main confirms that
I'm about to reach Hoskote, that I should be able to return
to Kadugodi that way, although it will take longer.
Hoskote is a relatively big town, busy and chaotic,
with cluttered traffic, street merchants, crowds... I reach
the main thoroughfare, NH4, a wide road which is partially
under construction. Here the crowd is at its peak, people
boarding honking buses (I notice a man boarding with a goat)
in the usual pele-mele. I run along this quasi-freeway, which
of course is quite unpleasant, although the construction work
has freed up portions where I can run away from the trafic
and pollution.
I notice an appealing trail on the left, try it out, only
to be discouraged a little later by someone to whom I've asked
my way. I wonder if he's right and whether this would connect
back to some road in my direction, but I can't take the chance
to experiment. He confirms to me that I will find an intersection
on the main road that will lead me back to Kadugodi.
Shortly before reaching that though, I notice a smaller road
and decide to give it a shot. This works great! Far more pleasant
than the main road would be, it takes me through rural landscapes
and small villages, where my unusual passage is as usual quite
welcome. I've been carrying a single flask of water which I
need to refill. There are many public taps in the villages,
but after asking I'm directed to the ones that are safe to drink
(although you could probably tell by the constant trafic of
colored plastic jars at those particular points). I confirm
my way several times along the way, getting full reassurance
that I am headed in the right direction. Finally, in a somewhat
bigger village, I hesitate between two roads, one which will continue
in the fields, another one that will take me back to the main road,
and after some experimentation, decide for the latter.
Back on the main road, I first feel a little discouraged.
This is not a pleasant place to run, and I fear I'm further away
still than I had hoped (I've run here once a very long time ago
by the way, so it's not completely unknown). But luckily, I soon
enter the urban area, and eventually recognize the familiar ramp
to the bridge. I've made it back to Kadugodi!
I break from my run as I'm passing a few Sai Baba paraphenalia shops,
stop at the bakery to buy drinks and biscuits, both for myself and
the Kadugodi community. I run into Asha first, who has seen me crossing
the railroad, so I enter the community escorted by the teen girl.
She organizes distribution of drinks and cookies, asking every child
to fetch a glass and stand in line. Prashanth the minute he sees
me walks to me to grab my chin, wanting to play Barbichette
(he doesn't understand the game at all, but really enjoys it).
I talk briefly to both Sampa and Ruxanna (whose husband is here
by the way), but today I'm grabbed by Rosie and the "Hindi speaking
fat woman" for a quick meal in Rosie's house. I finally learn
the woman's name Kaliani as we exchange phone numbers.
To my surprise, Deivani has returned from Tamil Nadu, although
I don't fully understand whether she has separated from her
husband or whether this is temporary. They accuse him of not
earning any money. Even Deivani is Sampa's sister, the Rosie
and Kaliani plea for me to help her with medical exams for
her pregnancy. We go through a booklet from the Government
Hospital in Chansandra (most of which is in Kannada), which
states that she is overdue for a "scanning", for which she
of course has no money. After realizing that the place is
open on Sunday mornings, we agree to go with her next
Sunday, before my friends from the DDU come into the community
to conduct an Art Camp.
I show them the photo of Bos (Ganesh), explain
again the story. Kaliani, as others, laments the dreadful
conditions of these children, the horrible parents. I tell
her that there is some good news at least in the fact that
Sathia has now joined a hostel, but Kaliani retorts that
Sathia must have lied to me, that she is no longer going.
She's probably right unfortunately, given the girls history
of running away back into the streets - besides, how is it
that I met her this morning roaming the streets if she's
supposed to be staying in the Hostel? Kaliani thinks that
baby Ganesh must have been abducted and taken to Beggar's
Colony, a large area near a mental hospital
which she calls Niemans (although I'm probably
transcribing that wrong). The children are used for begging.
In the middle of this conversation, Jayanti happens to call.
She has taken little Ganesh's photo to the Ashram, has shown it
to Nithyananda Swamiji. She says the Swamiji has predicted
that the boy should return in ten days.
Arpudam joins us. I have (finally) brought the pictures
from that day where Kupamma, Ruxanna and the kids had come home,
with great photos of Gaiatree playing Tabla. At some point,
I let out their typical exclamation, Oyoo, and explain
to them how it has stuck in my mind, to the point where I repeat
unwillingly even at work, which makes them laugh. Indeed, it's
hard to not get caught by its recurring usage and its particular
singing inflexion Oyooooo, emphasizing the last syllable.
This is the Tamil equivalent of the Hindi Aré, something
like oh God! in English. Arpurdam complains that her family
has not benefited from the juice and biscuits earlier, so we
do a quick run to the bus stand, in a relatively organized
fashion.
Running back, on the large field past Dinur, I notice
a woman in Saree running from the road, as if to intercept
my path. She eventually calls my name. It's Ambuja's mother,
from Harohalli! They invite me back in Dinur where some of
her family lives (I knew that, as a coincidence,
the Harohalli villagers had family ties here, but I had never
met them), where I'm received like a king. They too insist
that I come back next week, as a large Pooja will be performed
here.
-- Playing "Barbichette" with Prashanth --
Dassara, The end of Kadugodi -- 10/17/10
Saturday 10/16/10:
Palm Meadows - Vartur - Gunjur - Left on the road to
Katiregupa: 0:52:47
Nerige - "Junction": 0:18:18
Hanuman crossing - Mutsandra - Kottur - Harohalli: 0:44:10
Time: 1:55:10 (could be long?)
Mileage: 12.8 Miles
Sunday 10/17/10:
Palm Meadows - Hagadur - Imadhalli - "North Trail" -
Chandsandra - Kadugodi: 0:52:09
Through Kadugodi - Along the railway - to ITPL - Pattandur
"Lake Community" - Nellurahalli - Dunmore House area - back
via West Trail: 1:02:20
Mileage: 12.7 Miles
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
- Saturday -
Hesitant where to run. This weekend is complicated as usual.
We had planned to go into the Kadugodi community on Sunday to do
an "art camp", but because of the Dassara holiday, most people aren't
available, so we push again. Instead, I plan to buy food rations
for the whole community tomorrow. I first think I should go to Kadugodi
to inform them of the change of plans, but seeing the intermittent
sunshine in the morning, I finally decide for the villages, hoping
to catch some of the festival celebrations.
But the villages are much quieter than I would have expected.
As usual, different people are holding the festival on different
days, so it's hard to follow. In Nerige though, I am stopped by
the villagers. They've assembled a number of bicycles in front
of the temple, (5000Rs / bike they tell me), and will perform
a Pooja at 10:30. But I can't wait this long, decide to continue.
For a change (and against the villagers advice who are pointing
me to the shorter route), I take the longer tour in direction of
Mutsandra, like in the very early days. Even there, things are
quiet as I pass the narrow alleys of the village. Mutsandra, in
spite of its modest size, has twenty temples!
I've been recovering from last week's monster run, and don't
want to extend this too long. Slightly discouraged, I opt to reach
Harohalli to phone Xavier from there. I first meet Manjula and her
husband who serve me a small meal, then Neetra and Roopa. I ask
Roopa if she would come with me to Kadugodi tomorrow to help
distribute the food. She accepts enthusiastically.
-- Satia and Shamla playing, Patalamalevet --
- Sunday -
Here I am on the run again, again two relatively long runs
in a row. Last week, we had agreed that I would meet Deivani at
8am in Kadugodi to take her to the hospital to perform a scan
for her pregnancy, before my friends would come in around 10:30
for the art activities. I start a bit late, at 8 from the house,
and therefore won't reach before 9 at best, especially since
I've chosen the longer road through the beautiful fields (I've
promised myself to not pay undue attention to the exact hour
any more!). But first stop in Patalamalevet.
As I approach the area, I see a teen girl playing with rocks
on the ground, nearby the tree that has sheltered Satia's family.
This would make a great photo, but not knowing the girl, I let
the opportunity go by. I approach the house under construction.
Today, only Satia and her mother Sampa are there, both looking
horrible, the worst I've seen. Sampa's face is all puffed up,
her lips gnawed by cuts, her mouth red with blood and Paan.
I ask her, or rather state, that she is not doing well, to which
she nods her head painfully. Satia doesn't look herself either,
showing her mother the palm of her right hand which is hurt, now
covered with a white powder. I feel a little silly with my photos
in front of their distress, completely helpless at the sight of
this wretched woman who probably could not be helped, feeling that
I've caught today in her true despair. I make signs to Satia who
follows me to the side of the house to distribute the photos
from the previous couple weeks. We sit together, are joined by
the girl who was playing in the dirt, who turns out to be no
other than Shamla, Satia's friend. We discover together the
great photos, and am heartened to hear their laughs and
amused comments, which I cannot understand. The girls like the
pictures so much that they scrutinize them a second time, carefully
distributing amongst themselves, with no argument, a short episode
which perhaps provides temporary relief from this terrible misery.
"Sacchi Dost", I point at their photos together.
We're eventually joined by Manni, arriving from the Kadugodi
direction. I ask the two girls to reconstitute the scene of them
playing with the rocks so I can take pictures, although these
look somewhat staged compared to the simplicity of the scene
earlier. I look at Satia's hand again. The girls explain that
she fell. I try to touch around the wound very softly, but Satia
immediately recoils in pain.
-- Gaiatree and Pushpalata playing with the dragonfly,
Kadugodi --
In Kadugodi, Pushpalata (whose eye is swollen from an insect bite)
has caught a dragonfly, which she holds by the wings in her mouth
while trying to tie a knot with a string. Helped by Gaiatree,
they manage to tie the insect's body, then holding it on a leash
as it tries to fly around. A few times, the insect escapes their
hold to fly around dragging around the heavy string, then landing
before being caught again.
A couple men (whom I don't know) have invited me to sit. We
hear a women's loud voices coming from the other side of the
community. Kuch Bahas? I ask, to which they nod as indeed
some argument is going on. Deivani
appears though, for once looking very happy, says she has to change
before going to the hospital. But I object that due to the Dassara
festival the hospital will almost certainly be closed, to which
the men agree again. We are joined by Suresh, while I distribute
a heavy stack of photos. Kupamma once again asks for Gaiatree's
photo playing Tabla, but I'm sure to have brought it here (perhaps
no one gave it to her). Sampa appears, her face altered, her
eyes grossly swollen, which she soon covers with sunglasses
at Suresh's injunction. Madras eye, they explain,
before making fun of her movie star looks.
I reveal my plan to come tomorrow to offer food for everyone
for the Dassara festival. But Suresh meets this with disapproval,
saying that again this will create Jhagra (fighting). The
other two men agree, also strongly advising me to drop that plan.
They explain that even if I brought "rations" for each tent (25
in total), because the number of dwellers varies so much from
tent to tent this would inevitably create conflicts. I don't understand
all their approximate Hindi, but it sounds that if I need to
feel good in my heart, then I'd better go give the food
to a Mandir rather then bothering them. A fat policeman
arrives into the scene, walking slowly into the community without
a word, as if scrutinizing the environment, bringing everything
to a halt. The conversation resumes where it had stop once
he's gone, with Kupamma now joining in,
further confusing matters. Could this become
yet another argument? Taking the matters in hand, Suresh
invites me to the tea stall in front of the slum, Chai pikar
jao... Time has come.
This could be the end, I feel. I drink two cups, discouraged,
gradually realizing that I may never return to Kadugodi,
overwhelmed by the endless difficulties of this group. Clearly,
I have failed here, and need to rebuilt elsewhere differently. Such a
sad moment, as many unforgettable times have been spent with
this fascinating group.
Yet I saw this coming, as the questions regarding my
influence here had week after week become more acute.
What was I bringing here exactly? Perhaps
it's better so, although I will miss the endless conversations with
sampa and Ruxanna dearly.
Not having said goodbye to anyone, I part with Suresh
who has insisted on buying me this last tea, probably happy to
see me leave, at last.
Carrying heavily the end of era of sorts,
I choose the longer way along
the tracks towards ITPL, feeling despondent, still understanding
the moment. In Pattandur Agrahara,
a particularly loud Dassara celebration blocks the narrow street,
to the deafening rhythm of the drums preceding the idol's chariot.
Affected, I decide to visit my old friends in Nellurahalli, the
Dunmore House area where all had started with Giryamma's family,
those magic moments that elapsed before her family
left for their native Gulbarga.
It feels like coming back to family. The children
of the construction workers accompany me to the temple to get
water (they have been sent by their parents with a few jars).
I meet Krishna's beautiful baby and wife, of whom we take
many pictures. In the third settlement,
Simon asks me why have I neglected them for so long?
I was always going to Kadugodi, I explain sheepishly.
-- Krishna's wife and child, Nellurhalli --
- Monday -
Today is off for the Dassara holiday. I have run more than
enough for the past couple days, so decide to cycle instead. Besides,
my plan is to bring sweets to a few of the communities, for the holiday.
It's a gorgeous day of pure sunshine. I feel freed in some way
from the presence of Kadugodi, sad yet relieved, now realizing
what heavy burden the community had put on me. Imagine running
free again, the renewed thrill of new discoveries, exploring
careless as in the early days. I imagine life after
Kadugodi, no longer compelled to visit there always, an
opportunity to connect with those other better communities
which I had been neglecting to some extent, as so much energy
went into Kadugodi. I had felt a constant quandary of fascination
and doubt, whose break eventually lightens my spirit, as if
liberated from a dark spell. And cycling
is so much easier then running! My body feels fully recovered,
light, as from the influence of Swamiji.
Buying boxes of sweets along the way ("mix-u"), I first
stop by Krishna's shack in Nellurhalli, in the second settlement
of the Dunmore House area (which used to be Giryamma's). I first
see the children playing in a puddle, offer them a box of sweets
as they run to me. Krshna, also not working today, asks me if
I am on leave (I only recognize the English word after some
time as he pronounces it something like "li-ew"). We sit
there while his wife offers us tea, on that same bench that I used
to sit with Giryamma's family. The children run with me (they
call it walking) to the third settlement where most dwellers
are idly sitting outside. I give them the remaining two boxes of
sweets, then buy three more on the road to Pattandur, to meet
Sonu Khan in the Lake Community.
Sonu is busy with a group of men, making plans to build
a small shop near the entrance of the community. We chat for
a while, his Hindi being one of the most understandable to me.
He asks me if little Ganesh has been found, says that he showed the
picture to his friends, but no news. He repeats once
again how these people are evil, contrasting that with his
own life. I explain that I've given up on the Kadugodi
communities, discouraged.
Sonu tells me more about his own past,
having emigrated here from Bihar
where life was hard and dangerous (people would kill you for
only 100 Rs, he describes). His wife's original name is Rashmi,
and I gather that because she is Hindu, they had to keep their
marriage at its simplest, and she nad to change her name.
Sonu describes his goal to work abroad
to earn more money, in Koweit, where he has
apparently been before. He
quickly runs to the house to come back with a plastic pouch
from which he produces various documents: Photos from their
marriage on which neither of them appear as beautiful as they
are in real life (in fact, we make fun of the pictures, taken
as if they had been in half-slumber, in spite of their
great happiness that day). Sonu (his real name something Ali)
shows me little Nisha's birth certificate, then his passport,
asking me to read its expiration date, 2017. Seven years
are left, he concludes visibly relieved. We then read a paper
which depicts several job descriptions with their corresponding
salaries. Mason, he points out.
From there,
I climb the short hill up Whitefield to descend into
the lush fields, arriving in Madhuranagar
where I meet Shilpa and family to offer sweets.
Shilpa is applying oil to the hair of a woman named Saraswati,
whom she describes as her friend. Saraswati then invites us
to her house right around the corner, more modern than
Shilpa's, offers us a little food.
-- Shilpa and Saraswati --
-- The children of Harohalli at the DDU --
(photo by Mayank Kanyal)
Second visit to ITPL -- 10/21/10
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
I've promised the children of Harohalli to do this for a long
time. They had already come to the DDU last December. That time,
we had organized a quick animation workshop, and shown them
a few pieces of our work. While showing them the "Bride of Gingy",
fearing that it might be scary for the little ones (particularly
Ruchita), I had interrupted the sequence. Since then, they've
kept asking, "when do we see the end of Cookie?".
Maiatrayee has sent three cars to get them in Harohalli. They're
supposed to arrive at six, but sure enough are quite late. I've asked
Roopa to select twenty members. This year, no adults accompany them.
In the lobby, Mayank takes a few group pictures, then we tour the
facility, stopping at a few artists desk who perform quick demos.
How things have changed in a year! I remember from last time Rakesh clinging
nervously on to me, afraid of the dark floor, and the children's
unusual silence, but none of that this year, as they appear so much
more comfortable, under everyone's benevolent eyes. It's such a sight
to hear them greet loudly in unison the few people they know.
We conclude the
tour in the FX review room where we show them a few sequences from
Scared Shrekless, and finally the end of "Bride of Gingy". It's hard
to say how much they relate to it, as they watch mostly silent (they've
never heard of Halloween of course).
We then take them downstairs to eat at Kadamba (Jayanti, Mahdavrao,
Nikhil and "Uncle" Rakesh" have come), where we order a few Dosas
that we all share. Going back, the children have divided themselves
into two groups. I am with the boys, whose ferociously loud singing
turns heads all along the way. We reach the village around 9pm.
-- Lakshmi and Bhavani, Dunmore House settlements,
Nellurahalli --
Training run (14.9 Miles) -- 10/24/10
Palm Meadows - West Trail - Dunmore House settlements -
Nellurahalli - Pattandur Agrahara - Whitefield Hill -
Down into the fields - Ajgondanahalli - Timandanahalli -
Harohalli: 1:26:55
Back through the classic Ajgondanahalli road, although
with a few forced detours
due to the high level of the waters: 0:46:51
Time: 2:13:47
Mileage: 14.9 Miles
Wght: 154
-- With the jewelry merchant: Bassama, Krishna's mother,
wife and child --
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
First stop in the Dunmore House settlements, where I offer
Krishna and his wife the beautiful photos of his family. Children
from the neigbouring settlement gather as they've caught wind
of my arrival, also take their photos. At that
time comes one of those habitual jewelry merchants, women that
walk the slums carrying suitcases of cheap jewelry on their heads,
selling as they go. Everyone gathers around her.
I meet Samuel and Simon in the third settlement (where Hindi
is the best, since many of the dwellers have lived in Mumbai as well).
Simon takes me to his "room" to take photos of his one-month-old
newborn. These people are all construction workers, but talking
to them I realize that some can't work for health reason. It appears
obvious to me that this is where we should do our next clothes
distribution. This particular community is Christian, and some
have dressed up to go to the little informal church in Nellurahalli,
which I've been planning to visit.
-- Simon's wife and newborn child --
But not today. I am awaited in Harohalli, where Roopa has said
that I could meet Nethra future husband Muniraj. I run the long
way through Pattandur, passing by the Lake Community which is quiet
today. But a further up the road I cross Sonu's wife walking, and
stop to offer the few pictures of her children that I've been
carrying.
From there, I run up the Whitefield hill, and down on the
other side through the poorer areas of Whitefield, a long road
down that eventually leads to the beautiful countryside. This
is bound to become a new area of exploration for me. I tried
commuting to work through here last week (which takes about
an hour), and yesterday visited a marvelous school with
Malika Ghose, a school that offers free tuition to the children
from the nearby slums. This new opportunity provides a much
more grounded approach than what I've haphazardly done so far.
But running uninterrupted is just about impossible now.
On the road to Ajgondanhalli, I am stopped by Raman's family,
this Muslim boy who I haven't met in a long time for some
reason. They offer me water and juice, and invite me for the
upcoming Eid (this is the family that has migrated from Assam
under apparently horrible conditions. The boy says he speaks
about ten indian languages.) I then resist children's calls
for photos in Ajgondanahalli, but am again stopped in the
next village by a group playing kabari, kabari, a
form of tag. A group of three adults have joined the children.
They explain that they've driven here from Bangalore to play
with the kids, in the name of Lord Krishna. They invite me
into the game but I need to finally reach Harohalli.
Roopa's family is all here, Roopa's father, Nethra's two
sisters, and little Ruchita, who of course has changed quite
a bit since I last saw her. She's wearing a school uniform,
and her little face, still mischevious, has grown more mature.
She has started to write (in Kannada) and proudly shows me
how she can write the name of each family member.
I salute Roopa's father, but the women escort me into
a smaller room where we sit on the floor and eat a bite,
saving some apetite for later when the groom will arrive.
But we soon learn that this has been canceled for today,
due to an uncle's death in the family.
I have brought a deck of cards, as last time, Roopa
had told me she didn't know how to play. After quickly
explaining the cards, we start simple with a game of
Bataille just to teach everyone the value of the
cards. Lavania is the lucky and seems to keep winning,
but eventually, Roopa gets tired of the game. So I now
teach the superior "Bataille Corse", which captures
everyone. Roopa really taking to the game is able to
come back spectacularly from no cards at all to winning
the whole thing. Nethra serves us a bigger meal, after
which I'm given a good dose of Paan (which makes
me sweat profusely). Eventually, Roopa's father and
the sisters leave for Dodbalapuram on two motorbikes,
but the children Arun, Shirisha and Ruchita have refused
to leave, whining (they'll return in a few days by bus).
We resume our card games, this time drawing the interest
of the men of the house, one of whom plays with us for
a long time. Eventually the party ends, and it's time
for me to leave, in spite of Nethra's insistence (it's
already three o'clock).
On the way back, following the small trails,
I get stuck by an impassable ford
across a swollen stream, so have to retrace my steps
to find another way into Imadhalli.
-- Eating at Roopa's house -- Ruchita --
-- Sangita (in Patalamalevet) --
Sathia and Sangita -- 10/30/10
Sergueï Prokoviev: Concerto pour Piano no. 5
Palm Meadows - Hagadur rd. - Imadhalli - Northern Route -
Chansandra - Patalamalevet: 0:45:58
Kadugodi - Dinur: 0:10:50
ECC route back home: 0:28:11
Time: 1:25:00
Mileage: 9.8 Miles
(Link to complete photographs on Flickr)
I don't have too much time today, as I'll be flying to Mumbai
for a presentation later in the day. My decision to not return to
Kadugodi has been weighing on me for the past two weeks. I can't
quite get away for the enthralling times spent over there, their
faces still vivid in my mind. I therefore decide to run through
the area again, leaving the possibilities open if I happen to
meet someone.
It's a cloudy overcast day, mild temperatures, actually quite
pleasant for running (my running has been great all week, feeling
somehow fully rested). I stop in a hamlet along the northern route
to distribute a few pictures. I elect to not run the "snake trail",
but instead go through the Chansandra main road, in case I might
meet Sathia and friends there. It's not been very long, but returning
here feels like plunging back into the dark, a mesmerizing impression
of visceral emotions. Somehow Prokofiev 5th concerto has implanted
itself in my head, a chaotic melange of bombastic lyricism and
frenetic rhythm (the composer's self proclaimed
motor and lyric styles).
The street is actually relatively quiet, but
approaching the house under construction which shelters Sathia and
family, I hear the excited cries of the little one. It's the little
brother (whose name is Chet) who has seen me first, calls
Sathia and Sangita. Sathia is as usual wearing a different set
of clothes (where does she get them from), for once oversized
(usuallly it's too small). Sangita looks like she just got out
of bed, her hair wild. No trace of the parents Murgesh and Sampa,
or of little Bos who still hasn't been found. Sangita asks
me if I could give her a photo of the lost child.
-- Sathia, getting Chet and Sangita ready --
-- Sathia, applying her own make-up --
-- Sathia and Chet - Sangita in "Sai Baba" pose --
I take the familiar way into Kadugodi, across the railtracks
through the opening in the wall, then along the busy street
that parallels the tracks, alive with street merchants and
trafic. A noisy band of monkeys is scurrying at the foot of
a tree, not such a common site in Bangalore.
A train has just arrived
so I'm drowned within the crowd as I cross the tracks again
towards Sampa's community. I walk past the familiar
tea stall on
the lookout for familiar faces, but all is unusually quiet
this morning. So be it! I pass my way...
I have brought photos from Ambuja's relatives whom I had
met in Dinur. I stop in the little village and ask around. Soon
I'm led through the back alleys to the right house, where I'm
able to distribute the pictures. A good time of course, as
I am generously invited inside. I refuse food though, pretexting
that I need to hurry home to catch my flight to Mumbai.