Come tomorrow

I'm back in Delhi. And (surprise, surprise) it's hot.Shamsher, PJ chach and I drove down from Kasauli yesterday, and it did not take us all that long to get here (6 hours with a 45 minute pit stop for food), which was great because I hate sitting in cars.

As far as Kasauli is concerned, after my last, incredibly crabby post, things got a lot better. Partly because I began to tune out the annoying, extraneous noises (demands from my family, my sister's whining, the annoying pitter-patter of pine needles on the tin roof of the Kasauli cottages, Angober's (sometimes) shitty music) and partly because the rest of my cousins arrived so my family stopped pushing me around because there were a bunch of other kids to push around instead!

Friday was really interesting, because I FINALLY took my first official project train ride. I woke up at 6:30 and we drove down to Dharampur station so that I could catch the 7:30 train to Shimla. Dharampur station is really cute- it's a small station in the middle of a hill town. When I got to the station, the booking window was closed, and the station master was nowhere in site and I was the only person in the station, except for the man who was selling chips. So I waited for 10 paniced minutes (it was 7:15 when I got to the station) until it finally occured to me to knock on the station master's door. Which is, apparently, what I should've done earlier because the station master was in there, sleeping.

I eventually bought my ticket (it was Rs. 14 which should've told me what kind of train I was getting onto), and waited on the platform.

At this point, I think I should mention that my family had led me to expect a proper, long distance train to arrive at the platform. In fact, the train that has traditionally gone from Kalka to Shimla is called the Himalayan Queen, and it is FAMOUS for it's "old world charm".

So of course, the train that showed up on the Dharampur platform at 7:55 that morning was not the Himalayan Queen, but a local train. Which is fine, except that there was NO space on the train for me. The ladies compartment, which was the nice short length of 7 feet, was crowded to the extent that there wasn't even a square inch of space (women were scattered all over the seats, all over the floor and were even hanging out of the door). I pleaded and pleaded with the ladies in the compartment, and all of them refused to move, which was just great because the TT had blown his whistle twice by then. Eventually, when the train whistle blew, I ran along the platform in a panic, looking for any bogey with any space, and finally climbed onto a random one toward the front of the train. Of course, there was no place to stand in that one either, so I ended up being one of the people who hung out of the door.

The whole hour long ride to Solan was really awkward, partly because I was the only woman in the compartment, and partly because I was dressed in jeans and a hoodie (all the other women in the train, above the age of 15, were wearing Indian clothing). But after the first stop, a lot of people got off and more space opened up on the train. So eventually, I was able to stand near the compartment door in peace and was able to take in the mountain scenery, which was incredible. I have a ton of pictures, but the reels are being developed right now, so I might put them up later.

Anyway. When I got off at Solan, and I can't lie but I was a little relieved. It was the first time I had traveled alone as the sole woman in a sea of men. And now that I've done it, it will definitely be easier to do next time. After Solan, we drove to Shimla (it took an hour and a half to drive to Shimla; if I had stayed on the train, it would've taken me an additional 3 hours to get there) and I took a bunch of pictures at the station there. And then headed back to Kasauli to enjoy the rest of the weekend with the family.

So at the end of it all, the last weekend turned out to be great. I won Rs. 500 at a tambola game at the Kasauli Club, lost Rs. 239 while playing rummy with my family, ate a shit load of great food, re-read The God of Small Things, and walked a hell of a lot everyday. Now I'm back, and getting ready to go to South India on Thursday.

So until next time, stay safe, and stay tuned.

My Vacation So Far

I'm up in the mountains in Kasauli with my family, which used to be a really fun thing because it usually meant hanging out with my cousins for extended periods of time and not really having to give a rat's hairy ass about what the adults say/said. But so far, only Niamat, Fateh, Gurbani and Jagat (who is 1) are here. And we're staying in a house full of 12 people. Which means that I'm always getting told about what I should and shouldn't do, and I swear to God I am going to hit someone if they don't stop.

There are so many things I want to say (mostly hatin' but whatever), and I can only formulate the thoughts if I make a list. So here we go.

Things That Have Been Annoying Me Since My Return To India Two Weeks Ago

1. The lack of rain. On Wednesday, I got excited because it began to pour. Which (I thought) would mean that the Monsoon had arrived in Delhi. Unfortunately, it rained heavily for about 15 minutes and then stopped. Which means that Gurgaon witnessed a passing cloud. Which means that I wanted to scream and curse at the sky. On Thursday, it began to rain when we were at Harshyla's in Defence Colony. This time, it went for a whole 10 minutes before it stopped. Yesterday, after I came up to Kasauli, the clouds burst above this mountain. It rained for 20 minutes. Needless to say, I want Pooja to do her rain dance again, because I want some rain goddamit!


2. Trains (and my family when they talk about trains). Train bookings are a bitch here. I can't get a train reservation for the days that I want to be in South India. Which is just great because that means that I have to fly. Which means that I have to spend more money. Fucking hell. Ordinarily, I wouldn't get worked up about this, but of course, my family is looming over me and bombarding me with all sorts of advice, left, right and center. I know they think they're being helpful, but they're only giving me a headache.


3. This burn on the inside of my lip. We went to the market here yesterday. Inevitably, we came across a man selling bhutta. I paid my Rs. 12 (rip off) and waited for him to find a good cob of corn to put on his small coal fire, and ended up waiting for a full 10 minutes because everyone else was trying to be smart with him and tell him how to do his job. Anyway. He eventually took the roasted cob off the fire, put some salt and lemon on it and handed it to me. I was completely famished, so I took at bite at it. Unfortunately for me, there was a small, tiny piece of BURNING HOT COAL lodged in between two kernels. That hit my lip and burned the inside of my mouth. I now have an ulcer on the inside of my lower lip. It's swollen and I look like an idiot.


4. The lack of good options at Sarojini Nagar. Harshyla, Pooja and I went to Sarojini Nagar on Thursday. And I was looking forward to it because who doesn't like good, wholesale clothes for cheap? It was evening time (around 6ish) so I expected the bazaar to be crowded, but we walked into a never ending throng of human flesh, bones and mal-odour that pressed onto us like mould. Which was also fine, because hey, that's just the nature of thing. But as we cruised through the market, and looked through all our options, it turned out that there was nothing worth our time and Rs.150 in the market. We came away with one to two things each. And the one thing that I took away with me, well, Harshyla and Pooja bought that shirt for themselves too.


5. Pushiness. Why the fuck does everyone have to be so pushy. Why the hell can't we discuss our plans and come to a consensus about our proposed plan of action together? People here keep trying to make everything play out their way. Including my aunt, including my cousins, including some of my friends, including those stupid people who were waiting behind (but pushed in front of) me in the line for bhutta yesterday. Next time someone is being pushy, I am going to push their heads up their asses so that the only thing they can be pushy about is figuring out how to get their stupid noggins out.

Eh. I know I'm complaining a lot, but to be honest, there have been some good things too. The food and mangoes are amazing, I've already read 6 books for fun in these past two weeks, I've (re)watched most of House seasons 1 and 2, I've already found so many leads for stuff that I can use in my History thesis (thank you Di Drumond!) and I have pretty much been eating an orange bar a day. Which definitely brightens my day, even if it is only for a minute. At least for now, there's nothing that an orange bar (or two or three) cannot cure. Even if it is only for a few minutes.

JFK, Heathrow and Indira Gandhi International

I never thought I would be one of those people who went home in the middle of the semester. But here I am, sitting in Terminal 7 in JFK, waiting to get onto my flight to Heathrow (and eventually Indira Gandhi International).

I can't help it. My cousin is getting married, and I can't imagine not being there for the wedding. I can't imagine not going home for a bunch of different reasons: not only will my entire family be present at this (at least for us) momentous occasion, but I also can't believe that this moment has come upon us so soon. I always imagined this happening maybe 2 or 3 years down the line from now, and I can't pretend that it's not going to be really strange next Sunday during the wedding.

But as it stands, it's real and the wedding is happening. So I'm here in in JFK, even though I know I'm missing an assload of work for college (God knows I'm emailing 3 papers in next week) and even though my family is paying a lot of money for me to be in Delhi next Sunday. But honestly, I can't imagine it any other way.

I guess the next time I update, however small the entry may be, it's going to be from my house in India, probably with some sentimental crap about how weird it was to see Hersi get married. But until then, I guess this will have to suffice, because um. They just announced the final boarding call, and I have to run!

Channeling Ruby

So what I basically wanted, I got. Because today I found out that I got the grant.

And I am so excited about it! Yayay! I can't wait till the summer, and I can't wait to travel! Look out South! Here I come.

PS: Gangbad, Ximian is ready to put Microsoft to shame! Whooop.

Epic Train Journeys

I'm currently in the process of writing a grant proposal.

If all goes well, I will get money to travel around India by train and to do a photographic study of colonial era train stations in modern India. I really, really want this project proposal to be accepted because if I get it I think I will have an epic summer. It's going to be insane.

Cross your fingers for me people!

Cold, Miserable and 8000 miles away from the Monsoon

So here's the thing.

I grew up in a city where rain was a welcome relief from what seemed like the furnaces of hell. Every July, we'd all wait with bated breath for the monsoon to explode in a combination of bangs and flashes, and we'd all sigh with relief when the clouds eventually relented and unleashed their weight in precious rain on our dry, dusty city.

And the truth is, the city really came alive with the rain. Little kids would run out to play in puddles and overflowing drains; leaves that were spotted with dust and dirt finally became shiny and green again; building edifices actually managed to looked clean; the smog would disappear; and that godforsaken heat would finally dissipate, even if it was only for a few hours.

But when I come to think of it, it's really funny how I came to love the monsoon, because it can truly be a huge pain in the ass. Traffic, for one thing, comes to an absolute stand-still (I will never forget the day that my mom came home from Dhaula Kuan and announced that she might as well have gone to Jaipur that day because she had been stuck in traffic for a full three hours). The drains, for another, become raging rivers with lovely little bits and pieces of floating debris bouncing along in them, as if they were boats trying to navigate frenzied waters. Socks and shoes, for another, also become more than slightly annoying, because no matter how hard you try, they will absolutely never remain anything less than soaking wet.

But overall, I think that I loved the monsoon mostly because, despite the rain, it remained warm, and I could go about my daily business without resorting to sweaters, jackets, wind-cheaters and other cold weather paraphernalia. More often than not, I would prefer to wear flip-flops because it meant that I wouldn't have soaking wet socks, and also because I could actually wear them without having my feet fall off from cold and frostbite.

Which brings me to what I absolutely hate about rain in Claremont, and places other than India in general: it's fucking cold! SERIOUSLY. I absolutely hate the rain when it makes me this cold and this miserable. I especially hate it when I have to stand in it to wait in line to watch a speaker who insulted pretty much everything I believe in. I really hate it when it makes me sick and keeps me sick. And I absolutely detest it when I'm supposed to be in a place that doesn't receive rain at all!

Ordinarily, I would not complain about it if it were the torrential monsoon rain that I remember and love. I would not complain about it if this place was prepared for it and if there weren't gigantic puddles and raging rivers on every major street crossing. I would not complain about it if I had a rain coat and rain boots. But I don't. And it's cold. And it's wet. And I'm miserable. And I'm freezing. And I HATE having to walk through it to get to class.

So no. I will not stop complaining until it stops to rain, or until it gets warm in spite of the rain. I will not stop bitching and moaning, and if you're going to hate, I'd say you should step to the left. Or go drown yourself in one of the many rivers that are forming on Columbia street.