Barsaat

I've finally settled down a bit in my new Lucknavi home. I live on the top floor -- the roof, really -- of a popular paying-guest house in the Mall Avenue area. My room is spacious, clean, and cool. This last quality is thanks to a giant, whirring machine that sits in my window: the cooler. For those of you who have not lived in India, you may not have experienced the cooler. It's basically a giant box with open sides, which are covered in thin grassy reeds. In the front of the box blows a big fan, and a motor propels a constant stream of water through to the top of the box. The water then trickles down the reeds, and is evaporated by the blowing fan. The effect is amazing, although you have to be careful about mosquitoes becoming friendly with the pool of water in the bottom of the cooler.

Right outside my room is the rooftop garden, through which I walk to get to the bathroom, on the other side of the roof. It's dozens of hot-weather plants, from plumeria to various strange knobby succulents, all in terra cotta pots. Most people have at least a few of these plants, but my family has a veritable forest of them. It was a key factor in choosing where to live.

Today actually cooled off quite a bit, so cooler or no cooler, I wasn't too hot to sleep. Despite this, I woke up with a start this morning, far too early. The sky was so dark that it seemed even earlier than it was. Sure enough, the heavy clouds that had been thratening for some time finally broke into a huge storm. The Hindi word "toofaan" describes the thick, sudden rain and gusty wind that swept through the town this morning. It's where we get the English "typhoon."

Classes started today with a thud, as well, because all four of us from my program who live in this house were flooded in for some time. When the river outside of us slowed to a trickle and allowed us to exit, none of the cycle-ricksha drivers were interested in taking us on a 20-plus minute ride to our institute. We therefore arrived, sodden and somewhat dispirited, about an hour late, missing our very first class.

Nonetheless, I managed to have an acceptable day. Going to the 'mall' -- it shouldn't even have quotation marks, it's a bona fide mall -- that was miserable. The Big Bazaar (it's really called that) is the star attraction, and I thought it would kill me. Even now I have pounding headache from frustration (it may be big, but it didn't have most of what I needed) and elbowing my way through hordes of consumption-crazed Indian families. But after that, I had a suprising and lovely trip to a new tailor, which hopefully will become my tailor in Lucknow. One has to be careful with tailors, but the Fashion House comes highly recommended. This first suit I gave over for stitching has a very complicated design. If it turns out well, I'll be thrilled and stick with her.

By 'suit,' by the way, I mean 'Punjabi suit,' aka salwaar kameez. Mostly you buy them in matching pieces of fabric, one long enough for pants, the other intended for the top. They almost always come with a long, wide scarf. It's what I almost always wear in India.

At any rate, I should get going. I leave you with the image (hopefully) of me, dressed in what is commonly, irritatingly called Typical Indian Dress. This is near the Valley of the Flowers, in Garwal, on the monster trek from last week.