A full day

This morning waking up was almost impossible. I let the alarm on my cell phone play through twice then followed that with snoozing twice as well. When I reset the alarm time to 8:15 I knew I would be paranoid lying in bed waiting for Fr. Arockinatham to climb the stairs to my room and call for me to come down for breakfast. I pondered thinking to ask to eat late today, but what's the point of eating alone? As the thoughts meandered through my sleepy head my name was surely echoing in the stairwell and I was half tripping, half sleepwalking to the door. I hurried to get dressed and join the two priests caring for me at St. Joseph's Branch School where I have been staying since last Thursday. We ate breakfast chatting casually about my itinerary, theology thesis's, and hiring teachers. The dosai were crispy and fresh before they absorbed the coconut tomato chutney and sambar with big yellow dal. There were noodles flash fried with curry leaves, tomato, chili peppers and spices. Everything was churned in my stomach by a tea cup of coffee, something in size resembling the tea parties of my childhood, but being India it was white fine porcelain with blue tulips and lillies (they make many ceramics and porcelain here) and not a pink plastic set. The instant coffee powder combines with rock sugar and hot milk fills my cup dissolving the two as the tiny metal spoon revolves in circles. I arranged to go visit the Primary Matriculation School in the morning at 10:00 to see whose English skills were boss and what was really being taught in the classes. After eating I went back to sleep. I gathered all my energy to eat breakfast and make conversation just to lay back on my palm tree beach front printed polyester bed cover. Once again struggling with the alarm I rose with 10 minutes to get ready. Being 10 minutes late is like being early as I checked the clock and walked across the sunny campus to the Primary School. I attended 3 early learning classes (UKG, and LKG standards) and then took a break with the students playing tag, called lock and key here, in the playground. Private English schools have the funds for a playground. I raced with the students running so fast in a labryinth pattern across the sandy plot. My speed got ahead of my feet around the fifth child I tagged and before you knew it me and one boy student tumbled to the earth landing on our knees. I brushed myself off, looked at the hole in my jeans and proceeded to run after another victim. After the bell rang and I was feeling grimy with sand I realized I was not only sweating profusely, as playing tag in 90degree heat will do that to someone, but I was also bleeding. I drank about half a liter of water and excused myself to change and cool off. Sure enough I had a gorgeous battle wound on my left knee, but I returned shortly to see another UKG rhyming spectacular and 3rd standard science class. Lunch followed a short conversation about the government posting certain sexes to certain jobs and more explanation about why all the Primary School teachers are all women. We ate rice with greens, similar to a goulash of spinach and green beans, plantains fried in their vegetable state before they ripen to become a fruit, vadai which are fried donut shaped dough bits with onions, curry leaves and other surprises cooked inside, tomato chutney and sweet shredded beets. After the lunch I was dying to see the resource library which only the teachers have access to. It was a mildewed time warp into physics, English literature, India history, mathematics and more. I managed to borrow Krishnamurti The Impossible Question so I can become more of the philosopher since my mind tends to resort there naturally. "We never put the impossible question- we are always putting the question of what is possible. If you put an impossible question, your mind then has to find the answer in terms of the impossible not what is possible." Should be interesting. I watched a 10th std matriculation class English lesson have review for the government exam, smelled some righteous body odor and followed that with a short Q&A with some students. Before the day was over I attended a matriculation math lesson for 6th std. I graded and corrected the students graphs trying tune their ears to my accent. Both fathers and I reconvened over coffee and lassi's and then the homeopathy began. As the puss oozed from my lock and key wound I scratched my mosquito bites vigorously. Fr. Arul taught me his grandmothers homeopathic remedy for healing wounds by rolling the leaves of a pundu chapati plant in my hands I generously applied the extracted green juice from my calves to my toes. I sure looked authentic with hairy legs that were now green, mosquito bite relics, and a juicy wound adorning my knee. Laughing somehow inspired father to show me a magic trick using my bangle bracelets,. Now I can surely impress all the youngsters I meet in the future. I napped, wrote in my diary, ate dinner and took a bath before a last minute Hindu adventure began. Today is Shiva Maharatri, a devotion to Shiva in all his many forms. It is celebrated by staying up all night and of course dancing, lighting ghee in clay pots and eating. Around 10:00 we left on motorcycle to a temple close by, of course previously a secret to me. The temple had a festival going on for Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev who runs an Ashram in Coimbatore. There was streaming live video in English where Sadhguru enlightened the listeners with his philosophies. I ate sweet pongol and tomato rice from a betel tree plate... the most natural way! Then we went roaming the temple. There were so many people I was sweating and taking photos, holding my purse tightly as instructed, security guards and women passing me by purposely brushed up against me or stared unabashedly, gods were in statue or mural form all around me and the heat from the burning ghee turned my face red with the heat as I walked by. I was holding a 3rd graders hand for protection, trying to take in the frankincense filled dwelling. There were people picnicking, decorating statues with flowers, beggars calling out to me, gurus in orange looking important it was a sense engulfing maze. One temple led to another through a path past generators and chili peppers littering the floor, I was completely lost. We ended at the Baradanotiam dance event and the accordion pleated brightly colored rich silks were as culturally unique as the heavy make up outlining the lady dancers eyes, lips and brows. It was a feast for the eyes as the Karnata music played booming into the night.