Last Weekend

Saturday I was still recovering from being sickish but completely anxious about staying in bed another day. And the thought of more Tom Hanks. When we got a call in the morning formally inviting us to a dinner with Dr. Nair at the Calcutta Club I made it my daily goal to pull it together and go out to dinner looking gorgeous in a Sari. 45 minutes of multiple internet videos on how to put on a Sari later and I looked like a mummy. I’m blaming it on the fact my Sari still has it’s blouse piece in it, which I have yet to cut out and give to a seamstress to make, so the Sari is an awkward length. I was going to give up but my mom e-yelled at me that it was a formal dinner and I better go looking nice. So I wrapped the Sari around my head and went downstairs to the Ladies Beauty Parlor. They all laughed and took immediate action, a few tucks, pleats, safety pins, and 30 ruppees later (approx 75 cents) and I was an Indian again. Michael and I met Dr. Ganguly and his wife and went to the club. The Calcutta Club is a British Colonial era country club. Huge leather sofas and big mahogany antique tables and basically composed of numerous sitting rooms. The membership is no longer British but almost 100% old fancified Bengali people. We met Dr. Nair and his wife, their friend Maya, and an old student of Dr. Nair's. For 2 hours before dinner we sat in lounge chairs and drank wine (and in my case fresh lime soda.) Maya talked about the work she does with widowed women and prostitutes (both are equally outcast in society). Now her work is entirely devoted to helping the destitute from Hurricane Isla. Hurricane Isla affected over 300,000 people in South Bengal, wiping out mud homes and killing all crops and livestock with the saltwater. Almost two months later people are still dying from starvation every day. And if that isn’t fire and brimstone enough, the waters have brought mountains of scorpions and snakes and the tigers are leaving the forest out of starvation and are literally eating people every day. None of this is on the news in this communist propaganda country. The government says it’s getting cleaned up and people are living normally again. Maya, whose small NGO is just drowning in the wake of the waters, went to the government to ask for money. She is an NGO, they said, and gets money from foreigners. She doesn’t need their money. Maya was brilliant telling this story. She was emphatic and funny and cried at the right moments. She reminded me of my grandmother, who won’t give in to wrinkles and Velcro shoes, but instead still puts on her makeup and gold and does her hair and outfit every day. She explained to me the excitement behind an arranged marriage. How you peek at him around the curtain. You dream about him and shake the first time you’re introduced. You know you’ll have a lot in common because he is from the same social background and culture as you. And then your wedding day, and you peek behind your veil and finally get to know him. And you fall in love. Good story, but I’ll still like to know how my Romeo takes his coffee before till death do us part. Dinner was a huge buffet of Indian goodness. I like buffets here because you can take exactly as much as you want and don't get the evil eye for not finishing everything on your plate. After dinner Dr. Nair took Michael and I to the club bakery to pick out delicious morsels for breakfast. He bought us ample muffins and also a beautiful chocolate arrangement. Sunday Feeling a lot better, I woke up and started one of my Sunday adventures, just me and Kolkata and the subway. 

I went to park street and sat in this nice little air-conditioned café, had a sandwich, a huge delicious coffee and a mango smoothie. I made my way to see the Kali temple at Kalighat. As soon as I approached the temple I was hounded with priests asking to take me around. I knew the drill, they show you around, you pay. But I was willing and I’m glad I did. He showed me the fertility tree which was barren of fruit itself but young woman tied stones onto its branches in the hopes of becoming pregnant. He showed me the disgustingly smelly stone slab used for goat sacrifice where he promised once Kali had her fill, the meat was given to the poor. He took me to the very holy spring Kalighat, where the temple got its name. People bathe in the pool (along with randomly floating plastic bags and I’m sure lots of cholera) every morning as a ritual. The priest whipped out a “guest book” where the same handwriting had different people’s names and their very generous donations of $2000 ruppees (appx $40 ha ha yeah right). I gave my donation of $100 ruppees and when I told him I work at the ID Hospital working to find a cure for cholera and he gave me some of my money back. Then a bunch of crows shit on me. All over me. Karma? I braved through the poop and made my way to the famous and still active Mother Theresa house for the dying. Just cots and cots of gnarled bodies and blank hollow faces staring at the ceiling waiting for death. The volunteers sat by them and tried to assuage their pain and moans with kindness. I asked how I can volunteer and will try to as soon as I get back from Rajasthan. 

 I leave for Rajasthan in 8 hours (4am)!! I haven’t updated much this week because I have been completely swamped with an intense experiment all week. The experiment was like a Monty Python skit of difficulties. I’ll update about it while I’m in Rajasthan. Wish me luck!!!