In The Neighbourhood

It is evening time, and the neighbourhood is buzzing. 

There are little whirlpools of activities: all self-contained but occasionally colliding with each other. 

Next door, the slum dwellers sit under the streetlight and chat, to escape the dingy insides of their dwellings. Incidentally, they are squatting in a tiny little property under legal dispute- four brothers claiming ownership. They don't look like they're moving any time soon.

Across the road, a huge office looks out of place in my leafy neighbourhood. Advantage: They have a power back-up so even during power outages my street remains lit. 

Around the corner, new apartment buildings are under construction. Obviously violating construction norms, spilling on to the streets, bringing with them migrant workers speaking multiple languages. I can see smoke emerging from the temporary hutments, where women are cooking the evening meal and men are sitting around chatting.

Down the street, bachelors inhabiting the many 'bachelor pads' in the area crowd around the corner store, smoking ciggies and drinking chai. Not a woman in sight. 

As I return from my shopping run, I walk down the streets thinking what this neighbourhood might have looked like twenty years ago. Quiet homes for retirees- not dusty backstreets of one of the most popular neighbourhoods in the city- pubs, restaurants and shops replacing the bungalows that once characterised the area. 

And as I'm thinking of these things, a car speeds past me and from it I hear a cat-call, a whistle and a guy screaming 'Hey, darrrling'. As I lift up my middle finger and mumble a curse under my breath, it's long gone. Another normal day for a woman on the streets of my country, in this neighbourhood, and many others.

Inside Outside(r)

I looked up at the sky, and the thin slice of a new moon showed itself amongst a sea of stars. Hesitantly and nervously, I slinked into the water. We were told that if we swished our arms around a little, we'd see glowing plankton, and we did. And so, on a quiet beach in Gokarna, I squealed like a child as I watched shots of flourescent light appear all around me.

Two days earlier, we had arrived at Namaste Cafe on Om Beach. Yes I know, it could not sound more Lonely Planet-esque. But placing my cynicism in a little black box, I embraced Gokarna with open arms. The blazing May sun had kept many people away. But Om Beach still contained an eclectic mix of fully clothed families, bachelor parties, shy young couples and a few red-faced backpackers. 

Enough to keep me entertained. 

Over two days, I 

...lay on my back in the sea, 

...listened to a white sadhu explain his meditative journey around India for twenty five years,

...caught a glimpse of two dolphins,

..ate chilli chicken and nutella soaked banana fritters,

before I hitched a ride with a truly lovely new-found friend, back to Bangalore.

I sometimes wonder what it is about exploring new places in India that makes me feel so centred. After all, the stories that people tell me of travelling here rarely go without mention of the chaos and confusion that is such an inherent part of discovering this land. And of course its not that different for me- things are never straightforward and easy. 

But I think part of the ease that I feel comes from the fact that the sights that I see seem so new, yet so familiar. There is a sense of knowing- about the people, the culture, the food - but also a curiosity about the unknown. 

On my travels, I'm very rarely one of the families/bachelor parties/couples. And that's when I can happily play anthropologist, and imagine stories of the people and the places that embrace me during my journeys.

M'aidez

It's the first of May. The day to highlight workers' rights. The day when labour rests or rises. 

In Bangalore, things remain quiet, but the roads are not without hustle and bustle. Local grocery stores take a break. All the big corporate chains are open without apology; their employees sulkily looking out beyond the window displays. I walked past the cobbler sitting on the side of the road, busy at work. KFC was serving its May Day customers. 

Getting home with my new curry leaf plant, I looked up at the sky - the clouds are threatening to split wide open. Seasons are a-changing here, and so its time to leave this seething city for a few days. To escape and breathe some sea air. To help and inspire me.