Monsoon Days and Monsoon Nights: Wednesday August 4, 2010

Today was the first in several days that there has been a break from the monsoon. It has been strong since my arrival last week and was late to start this year. The rain fluctuates between torrential downpour and a blanket of sprinkles and if it is a heavy rain at night then it drowns out the sounds of the street that drift in through my bedroom window.

My apartment is next door to the Institute so I do not have too far to go when it is raining hard. It is also backed up against a large park and none of the windows in my room face the street which has become highly utilized since a large mall sprung up on the corner. There used to be a no-horn sign posted on the street outside the Institute of which I took a picture in 2005. I haven’t checked thoroughly to see if it is still there but I expect it to be deeply faded and apparently ignored. During class Monday morning it was difficult to hear Prashant’s words over the blast of horns from the street below.

I have started to make sense of when the horn is utilized, these are what I have complied so far:
• To signal that you are going to be passed
• To signal that you are passing
• To signal that you have just passed someone
• To signal to the car ahead to get out of the way
• To signal the car ahead to go faster
• To assume right of way
• To signal a left turn
• To signal a right turn
• To signal that you are going straight
• To see if you want an auto-rickshaw to take you there
• To signal you are entering the street
• To signal you are pulling over
• To get a dog/goat/ cow to move out of the road
• To announce your presence

There may certainly be more reasons than this.

I had a funny experience this evening. I decided to visit the giant mall on the corner to buy some water and look around to see if they sold any items that would be suitable in case I experienced extreme homesickness. The building is six stories high and the first five floors contain electronics, appliances, shoes, clothing, cosmetics, etc. On the top floor is the supermarket and food court. The escalators are set up in such a way that you have to walk through the entire floor to continue up or down in the same direction. It feels a little like the Ikea showroom minus arrows on the floor but there is a defined path and trying to cut through racks of clothes often leads to a dead end or bottleneck.

For fun I decided to try on a few tee shirts of the yoga clothing label they carry. I selected four items but was informed that I could only take three at a time. The dressing room was a little larger than a phone booth with tiny glass shelves and three hooks on the inside of the door. I had a hunch that it would not be successful as my torso is much longer and shoulders broader than the locals and that I would be better off having things handmade. My hunch was right so I decided not to try on the fourth top that I left with the security guard. This made him a little upset but I explained that it was not the right size and returned it to the piles of shirts from which it came. One of the sales associates took notice and I explained to him too that it was too short. He started digging through the piles and handed me some shirts to try which were marked with a smaller number. He said it was a misprint and I should try it on. At this point I had grown tired Lady Gaga blasting from the speakers and told him I had to leave.