The Up Side of being Down

There I was - steeped in misery after a not terribly jolly outing to Basingstoke with the blind neighbour. I had seen two dresses I wanted in Monsoon and then looked at the price tag and realised the only way I was going to get them was through the power of  imagination. Don't worry - the blind neighbour was doing his thing in the blessed pound shop.

So we got home and I lugged my massive bag of veggies - new food routine - fresh and healthy. Mmmm wonder what time Domino's start delivery? More to the point I was in right mump and the doorbell rang.

I trotted downstairs and there was one of my most beloved ex students holding a big brown envelope-  couldn't ask her in 'cos it is a tip at the moment and I have some pride left - not a lot but some.

The blessed girl (Tina) had bought me a copy of Desmond's An Artist's Impression and a news agency photograph of Desmond trying to explain to group of Sherpa that he was looking for the yeti. How kind was that? I really don't deserve the love that I keep being shown. Needless to say my mump turned into a jump for joy. Thank you darling Tina.

And then as I was thinking about her at school it came to  me - all the memories I have of her are happy one. The very first Rock Challenge where she saved our bacon by slotting in her solo dance with two of my little guys as sidekicks. They thought they'd died and gone to heaven. She choreographed part of the next year's dance and we made it to the final. She was in my top set English GCSE group and I loved every lesson I taught them. She got so carried away by Cider with Rosie she made her parents take her to Slad.

Here is something that we can all learn from - her random act of kindness stopped me in my tracks today and made me grateful to been here to see her and to be given such lovely gifts. We never know what affect we will have on others by our behaviour but to be kind can be lifeline. It was for me today - it gave me a reason to live.

Monsoon

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Imagine being covered in a wet blanket that is hot. Your limbs are slow to move and everything is an effort. It feels like thunder but the sky is empty. Everybody is tetchy, quick to argue. There is nowhere other than a roof top to feel some air.


And then... a single fat drop of water comes from the sky, followed by another and another until the deluge seems imminent. And you go outside and smell the rain and feel its coolness soak your clothes and hair and you laugh. The monsoon has come.
The Rains Came: A Novel of Modern India tells of time of waiting for the monsoon and as a teenager it was one of my favourite books,deeply torrid romance and a brilliant film.

For the poor of the great city it brought both relief and misery, the cleansing water giving relief but the flooding that ensued gave misery to many whose only home was a shack made of cardboard or a large pipe that turned into a river with the floods

For us as children it was sheer magic. Floods ankle/knee deep to be waded through with screams of delight. A friend had a blow up dinghy which we paddled down Burdwan Road feeling like great explorers

My old school had had its gates forced open be the floods and we went inside to see desks and chairs bobbing merrily in the muddy water.

Once, on our way back from Tollygunge, the skies opened and faster than we could drive the road in front of us flooded. My friend Shashi was  driving, the usual mob in the back: Harish, Darius, Annabel, Pomi and me. The car stalled - the boys offered 'helpful advice', Annabel and Pomi and me got out and started to push through the ever deepening puddles. Finally the boys got the message and we pushed and pushed and pushed, past the lakes across Chowringhee and then the engine sputtered into life and like the film 'Little Miss Sunshine' we ran to catch up and jump in.
I don't know why it is such a joyous memory, something about the sheer desparation, the mother of all rows between Shashi and Harish (she was always fiery), the being soaking wet or just the laughter as we kept on pushing and the laughter we caused from rickshaw wallahs and street vendors that made it a moment of pure joy.

In a city built on marsh land the water tries hard to reclaim its old ways and the river,  Hooghly, the artery of the city swells alarmingly. Once or twice a year there is a bore tide, where the tide rushes form both ends of the river to meet in clash of waves up to seven feet high. It is possible even when standing on a rooftop safely some distance from the water to feel a real fear that the river continue to rise and the wave will take us all.

And then of course, the Monsoon races, I received an announcement yesterday that they were due to start. These were not the cold weather fashion parades, but still the RCTC provided a good card that allowed for a few horses to pull off some major coups. There was a particularly nasty stallion called Aya Toofan (here comes the storm) who hated the statring gates and hated his jockey - had been known to turn and bite his foot during a race. He was at the end of his racing days and was seen as Darius put it; a donkey.

The time for the race neared and the skies above grew blacker and blacker; we could hardly see the 1400 metre start. I stood up in the box and said, " the storm's coming and he'll win", they all laughed and I went and put my last twenty rupees on Aya Toofan. When I got back to seat the race had begun and the lightening forked the sky and the thunder made the buildings shake. Further down the course for us by the home bend there was a cry of ,"Aya Toofan," and he was indeed coming yards ahead of the rest of the field and the rain and the storm and the shouts of the crowd spurred him on to win. For this was not a favourite but never has synchronicity seemed so perfect and all there that day understood and cheered for a bad tempered but great hearted horse.

Yes, I will tell you - 100/1!  Never listen to those who say don't back  it, it's a donkey, or those who say sentiment has no place in racing. They are both wrong.

When we moan at our wet summers and the grey rain we forget the elemental joy of the monsoon and its life enhancing properties, let us cherish our rain a little more and find the joy of splashing about in puddles again.

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