Mon. Jan.25

Well, it happened. I did the head wobble before I even realized it. Inevitable. I also hear myself saying "Ok, Ok" a lot. I picked this up from my 22 month old grandson, Gabriel. He uses this phrase often during the day, usually in response to "Would you like a snack?" Those hungry Gentile genes asserting their presence. Spoke quite a while with Jai today on the phone. Ten cents per minute. He complimented me on my writing. This meant a lot as he is an excellent writer. I am reminded of a day about 6 years ago when Jai had come home from college for the weekend. He showed me a paper he had done onto which his professor had written compliments to his writing. I puffed up and said, "That is because you come from a family that speaks good English. He responded gently, "Mom, you mean 'that speaks English well' ". I still laugh when I think of it.

There are definite rules here. One is that you have special shoes used only for the bathroom. Another is door protocol. The doors here are shutter like. If you do not want to be disturbed, you close them completely. If you are busy, but don't mind an occasional interruption, you open them about 8 inches. If you open them completely, all are welcome. Our dilemma now is how to be sociable but keep in the heat from our little electric heater. A most important rule is only touching food or offering something to someone using your right hand. Left hands are used when you are wearing bathroom shoes. Is that put sensitively enough. Now you more clearly understand the punishment of cutting off the right hand of a thief.

As I read through past blogs, I realize I have given a false impression of Anita Bahoo and Smita Bahoo. Not only do they both work tirelessly at home, Anita helps her husband at their little stationary store down the street, and Smita tutors 5 little boys after school. She has a master's degree in Indian Literature.

I put on my gold bangles and we go into the storm of traffic back to the peace of BHU, after JP spends the requisite 5 minutes arguing with the rickshaw wally over price. As I have mentioned before, there are many maimed and crippled people here. I see many wheeling themselves about in their hand-cranked wheelchairs. Others are limping about with nothing more than a stick to help them. As soon as we pass through the gates of BHU, we take a deep breath as peace descends. As I walk along a wall, I am pelted with peanut shells from above. Monkeys. These are cute little devils that can cause a lot of mischief. JP recalled times in his childhood when a monkey would take a piece of clothing off the line and hold it for ransom, only returning it when you gave them some food. I see them sitting by the food court here, their intelligent little faces constantly alert for discarded food. I can almost hear them saying "OK, OK". I see college boys holding hands or walking hand and hand. There is no fear of being dubbed effeminate here. It is very easy to distinguish poor from rich by their size. The poor tiny from generations of poor nutrition. We pass the gazebo where Archana was first introduced to her soon-to-be husband, with family in toe of course. There are garlands of marigolds thrown into trees. I don't know why. Groups of college boys sitting on the ground, laughing, chatting, and surreptitiously looking at groups of girls. Somethings transcend culture.

We sat on side steps to the temple there, JP chanting from the Gita while I closed my eyes, turning my face to the warming sun.

Returning home JP looked at our rickshaw wally and commented how easily that could have been his life but for the money his brother had scrapped together to pay for his final college exam.

Back at home