Laying Awake

Last night I watched the sun set in a lavender fog over the roofs of our street. The smoke never clears here-the heaviness in everything, even in the air, is unrelenting. The darkening of the evening is sudden and long, flat shadows of night traffic creep like black water in pools through the alley and splash up and onto the walls. There is a sister who sits eclipsed by a faint light in the third story window of the mother house. I can just see her through the laundrey lines to the right of our rooftop patio. She sits undisturbed for an hour every night, like clockwork- contemplating what, I wonder.

The shadows began to take shape, the lines of them hardening into the bodies of men, beggars and the street children who haunt our alley at night.  A little girl riding a bike in circles chased by two little boys- they were just around the corner and I could hear their games- games I can participate in only from this rooftop, and only in this way.

The nights are cool - though the temperature increases everyday.When the patio light is out I am hidden and can watch our narrow alley in peace. When the patio light is on- I attract an unwanted audience of curious men from the higher roof line of the building next door. But when the light is off, it is wonderful to sit alone up here and become invisible for a few hours. Not a foreigner, only a pair of eyes.

Yesterday was a half day at work. I became tired very quickly and we came home early-I spent the rest of the day in bed. I am feverish, more I think from exhaustion than from the cold that has finally caught up with me. We ate dinner early and spent the evening indoors. I talked and laughed with Krista and we stayed up later than usual. It is good to laugh here. I am thankful everyday that Krista is my companion!

I laid down to sleep and stared at the cieling for a long time listening to the night sounds of A.J.C. Bose Rd. The crows rasp of a birdcall is more reptillian than I would have supposed. The horns of every car, bus, autorickshaw and bicycle are like a chorus of a foreign song I have heard a thousand times and still don't understand. It must be a familiar, comforting sound to the locals. (I try to imagine being homesick for this place, but I can't.) At 2 am a man vomitted out the second story window of the building behind ours. Wild dogs fought hungrily in the alley. It weighed on my mind that the children might be down there and I worried. I stayed awake longer and thought about alot of things. I thought about several of you. The street went quiet. At 4 am the Muslim call to prayer wailed through the speakers of the mosque a block away. I fell asleep and had a vivid nightmare not worth repeating. Our alarm went off at 6 am.

Laundrey today with heavy limbs. I decided not to work directly with the patients because I wasn't feeling well. Washed dishes in bare feet after lunch. Soshanna, the beautiful 80 year old woman I mentioned at the beginning , waved me over to her. She blessed me- kissing both sides of my face, drawing a cross on my forehead with her thumb and folding my hands into praying hands-she bowed down and touched her forehead to them. She is wonderful.

I fell asleep in our apartment two hours later and woke to find that Krista had gone back to work and left me sleeping. She was excited about today- we finally have permission to visit Khaligat, the smallest and most well-known of Mother's houses. We will work there in the afternoons, Krista as nurse, and I as her assistant.
(Krista is feeling better by the way and has been busy all day trying to anticipate my needs-which she excells in doing.) I am anxious to hear her report of Khaligat this evening!

I will read a few chapters of Shantaram, a book Kat Shelley told me to buy- which I didn't, and then happily found a discarded copy of in my room! Tired and going back to bed for a little while.

Goodnight friends,

Ev