The Last Day of this city (Until I come back in May of course)

So, this is our last day. It is finished. I handed in my last paper. I made it perfectly clear in cool and calm tones that my exchange program was over. All I need is for them to hand in my marks. And that can be done over email. I have cleared my room. I have a bag full of stuff for the Didi with a daughter who is 'just you size Di!' I have fobbed my caffetier on to Nandini. We have arranged a farewell luncheon. Soon I will get my deposit back. I will have put all my crap in the bin or somewhere equally able to take it out of sight and out of mind. I am actually GOING.

Tonight we take the train from Delhi to Lucknow, arriving at some unholy hour of the morning in a new, and apparently hotter, city. Lucknow: the scene of the siege of the Residency and the battle for Awadh (Oudh), the relief led by Colin Campbell of the Highlanders (I think). I have studied it intensely anyway. It is called the Golden City, or the Constantinople of the East. I will update while there.

I don't really know about how I feel about leaving Delhi. This is the last time I will see many of the friends I made here. There are a few that I believe I am going to see again at some point in the future. But for the most part, I wouldn't bet on it. And then there are the people who have just been a part of my life. Made it a little bit simpler. Minaxi ma'am hitting me on the back when I have forgotten to sign and her infectious bubbling laugh. The Didis outside our room, laughing with each other and at us. The professors we have come to respect. The man in the History Dept canteen who laughs at us when we come for tchai. The tailor on Bangalo Road who always says hello whether or not you have something for him. The men in Barista who know our names. AIM cafe - our haven, our oasis of calm in a dust storm. The Koreans laughing at us every time we order anything Korean, always taking an active interest in our lives and giving us free tea when we are sick. 

And then my friends. Egle, our crazy Lithuanian who cannot accept her own successes as successes and who has the right consciousness to work for a better and fairer world. I may see her again - she wants to work in the UK. Ste, the lovely Swiss girl with such long blonde hair, I will see again in the North East. She can wait. Stephanie, Samuel, Gulshan, Guillame and Brunelle - the Frenchies. Will I see them again? Who knows. I hope so. Sam and Guillame's dancing will be burned into my memory forever. Paris looks a lot closer to the UK when you are in India. Then the Dutch, who I  will see again, who are traveling with us. They don't need to be thought about yet. There is Wouter and Lorriane: two very lovely people, very active, Wouter with all the precision of a military man and Lorriane with turquoise harem pants to match her eye shadow, both obsessed with children's toys especially the squeaky kind. Sansanee our mad and adorable Thai friend, who is probably going to drop out of University again and go off to live with monks or have a baby and name it Galaxy. Rachna, the shrieking Mauritian. Mehrnoush who oozes womanhood in a way we can only ever dream to do. Elham who has painted me. If I ever go to Iran, it is going to be for them. Elmira, one of the most driven young women I have ever met, the poet and sweet heart. Karima, my next door neighbor, who opens the door every morning and evening to hear the prayer call come over the buildings. Saloni, sweet and fresh and very much up for a laugh. She too has the activism to change her situation and that of other's around her. And she can salsa. Nitin, the chauvinist English student who is so obviously going to be a professor it hurts. Tanveer, who is going on her first flight to Paris soon. I hope it takes her further. I have managed to have some of my most interesting conversations here with her. I am so glad to have found someone as like minded as me. She gave me a book as a farewell gift on gender poetry. Nandini, I will see again. Next summer, in fact. And she will be here in Delhi when I get back. Her good bye can wait just a little longer. Anjalika, one of the most enviable women in this place, with perfect hair and skin and face and a brilliant laugh. She laughs at everything, even the things that are not funny.

ah. What will be will be. 

I had an incredibly odd evening on Sunday.

I went with my friend Elmira to LAP at the Hotel Samrat, an exclusive members-only night club/lounge bar that is owned by some Bollywood star. We went on the invitation of the corporation Elmira is having her internship with this summer. I was slightly confused as to why we, completely unimportant students, were being invited to some corporate big-wig night. I did have the thought that maybe it had something to do with us being firmly within the 'young and female' category...Elmira had assured me however that it was all very much above board and they were giving us free alcohol and transport anyways. I am always up for trying new things, and seeing as I will probably never have the chance to go to one of these things again, I thought it could do no harm.

LAP is not what I expected. You would think such an exclusive and hyped place would be buzzing, or at least, incredibly opulent and jaw-dropping when you walk in. Instead it was mediocre decor, not much ambience what so ever and some absolutely terrible lighting. You could barely see two feet in front of you, which was maybe a good thing, as when you squinted through the gloom you got a look at some of the 'high points' of the decoration. These included a brown-grey chandelier and some mock-Victorian Raj style paintings of some quite ugly women. Unfortunate. The bar tenders knew more than your average however and could mix a very good mojito I quickly found out. The drink was free, so every time you finished one they brought another to you before your empty glass had hit the table. Can't fault the service on that front. I didn't eat any of the food on offer, though Elmira said it was lovely. I really should have eaten the food, as I hadn't had dinner (idiocy) and proceeded to drink a LOT. More on the effects of that one later.

Aside from the slightly disappointing setting, the most interesting thing about the night was the company. Men old enough to be my father (or older in fact) in IPL cricket shirts schmoozing away with each other. All were Danish or Scandinavian, most based in Singapore, all very rich and all very intelligent. I found one who was half British and spent the evening mostly chatting to him about home and life in India. I found it all very odd. All these middle aged men making small talk with Elmira and I and a few other pieces of far posher Indian totty scattered throughout the room. Two of the Indian girls I managed to chat to were air hostesses. Is it just me, or is that horrifyingly inevitable? Possibly it was all in the name of corporate big-wigging, but I did feel like I was probably only there to provide a polite foil to some drunk Danish's posturing and some eye candy. I think the greatest moment came when one of the men was telling me about he had taken up skiing at 37 (he was no longer 37, most definately the past tense) and then asked me if I liked skiing and I said I was able to ski and had learned a few years ago. This led to a "Ahhh when you are young I am sure it is easier" which in turn brought on a "And how old are you? You are a student, yes?" My triumphant "Actually, I am only twenty. PRACTICALLY A CHILD (you lech)" made me smile and them raise their eyebrows so high they nearly disappeared into their receding hairlines and quickly excuse themselves. Most satisfying.

The cab ride home was what did it for my stomach. I had had four glasses of white wine and two mojitos, no food since lunch and more disheartened leches than I could handle in one night. Was quite, quite sick. Yummy. First time I have been sick from alcohol in quite some time. it meant I didn't have a hangover the next day though, which was just as well, because if I had done I wouldn't have been able to start my essay at all. 

Said essay is still occupying my time and becoming more and more urgent every day. Gah.

On a different note:

On Saturday I will leave Delhi. It is, just about, over. I am going to be travelling, but you know...no more Delhi for a month. It hasn't really sunk in yet.

Ciao.

x

Emma's visit in slightly more detail than the bugger all I have already given...

I can finally get around to telling you all about Emma's wonderful visit. 

Out of all my friends who proclaimed they would be following me out to India, Emma was the only one who actually didn't spend all her money on something else. Evidently the lure of my company and the myriad of shiny things was just too much to pass up on. She was only here for ten days, which really isn't enough time, but then I am realising that ten months really isn't enough time to see everything, never mind little over a week.

The trip consisted of:

1. [To be said with a loud and obnoxious posh English accent, over and over again. Repeat at top of voice in the presence of English students on their Gap Yah for added effect and thus added hilarity] "This one time I was Literaaaally in Buuurma...and I just CHUNDERED all oover a monk! Yeah I know, I know...out on the laaash the night before...Best night of my LIFE!" (We modified it for the Dharamsala high-monk contingent). Hilarity. Particularly as Dharamsala had not too few Gap Yahs. 

2. Went to Agra for the fourth time. Spent a disproportionate amount of that time in Costa coffee trying to cool selves down. Emma agrees: Agra is not somewhere to go to twice if you can help it, let alone four times. At least I am damned sure I will never ever go back there.

3. Dharamsala was amazing! It was very Alpine and the hills had red rhododendron bushes on them and the houses were built into the hill sides. There were little prayer flags everywhere and then the huge gold brass prayer wheels and the multi-coloured houses. It was very peaceful, very clean and very enjoyable. I bought a lot of stuff, including a fairly ridiculous Kashmiri embroidered and fringed hippy handbag that I am sort of proud of. Lauren and Emma went all out and bought Kashmiri hand-embroidered scarves - most posh. There was a lot of Buddhist regalia, including a lot of life size photographs of the Dalai Lama and Obama. I almost felt like nicking one to bring it home for Frances. Unfortunately His Holiness was not in residence at that point so, quel suprise, we couldn't turn up at his door step. We did wander round the temple complex that he lives in however. There were a couple of white guys carrying out ritualised prostrations in front of one of the temples. Lauren went on a rant about how Buddhism is a rejection of ritual. She knows a lot about it, and I don't, so I won't try and replicate what she said exactly here as I will get it wrong. Either way: ritual has no base in Buddhism. One night we managed to completely freak out a man in a wool shop by trying on all his hats, making ridiculous comments about the wool animals, and generally by giggling insanely at every single little thing we or he did. In the end he was giggling as well and he became our new best friend. He seemed a bit drunk and it was maybe just as well; three giggling and hyper white girls in a woolen goods store is never easy to deal with without some Dutch courage. The Tibetan refugee museum was very good as well actually. It is very interactive, with a lot of photography and relics from Tibet brought by the refugees now living in Dharamsala. The whole town was full of refugee rehabilitation programs, like tailors or coffee places run by them. Some of the refugee stories were absolutely terrible. Many walked over the Himalayas to come to Dharamsala or somewhere similar. Imagine walking in all that snow for days on end with no equipment. Think of the frost bite if nothing else. There were bloodied shirts the prisoners wore in the Chinese prisons. All very educational, enlightening, and highly depressing. But you got the impression that they knew that people needed to be educated about the whole thing, not just yell 'Free Tibet' because it is a popular thing to say.

I am very glad we went. I wish we had stayed longer.

4. Emma managed to stay well until the last night of her trip. Apparently her mother declared she had dissentry and then that she had Dengue Fever. Interesting. I think, from my own experiences of having had said illness many many times in the past eight months, that it was good old fashioned, top-grade Delhi Belly. Most unfortunate, but definitely not life-threatening with the twin elixirs of Ciproxin and Coca Cola to immediate hand. Got to love Christine's worry for her. Evidently India is a killer. It was very unfortunate though coming back to the all too familiar sight of Emma lying on the bathroom cubicle floor being sick into a bucket. I felt for her. I knew her pain. I doubt that helped any, but at least I was aware of what she was going through as it were. She also managed to pick up a drive-by grope that night (in Muckherjee Nagar of all places where usually there are very few problems with the men...) which was incredibly unlucky and probably didn't help the stomach trouble any. Men on motorbikes are bastards and never ever to be trusted. Not a good evening in many respects.

I highly enjoyed her being here. I wish she had stayed longer and that we could have travelled more. However it is possibly best she didn't, not just due to the illness, but also because she would have run out of money. Oh, the shiny things...:D "Chundered" is our new phrase-du-jour. It never stops being funny, ever. If anyone reading this hasn't yet seen the genius of the Gap yah video: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKFjWR7X5dU

Welcome to a small piece of my life in India. We get a lot of these.

A Diversion

Ok. So I know I need to post up on Emma's visit. And I will. Tomorrow. In the mean time, I have a diversion.

My friend from Lithuania has had various panic attacks for the past week. Her degree is coming to an end, she has to write her final paper, she will be leaving her boyfriend to start life away from here, and she is unsure as to what she will be able to do with herself next year. On top of this, she has decided she hasn't 'used' her time in India properly.

 The situation in India for an awful lot of people is not wonderful. You only need to look out of my window and notice the half-dead donkey carrying bricks over to a woman in her torn up saree with her semi-naked child scrabbling around the building site in the dirt in the 38 degree heat to see that. And she is possibly one of the lucky few - she has a job. Her child is alive. There is a donkey carrying bricks rather than her doing it herself. She is earning money. She has clothing. Her child is with her. 

My friend has decided that she should have used her time in India to do NGO and charitable work. She feels that she has wasted her time by not trying to engage in some social uplift program to help some of the less fortunate people in Delhi. She thinks that it would all have been of far more use to have gone and volunteered in an orphanage entertaining the kids or teaching English. She says she feels guilty about coming here and not doing something like that. Guilty about studying, living as she does, in the environment she does...guilty about not having 'done something' with her time. Her anxiety over this has made us feel it too. Why didn't we DO something? 

I have an issue with this attitude. She didn't come here to work as part of an NGO or mission. She came here to complete her degree in Indology. She came here to study Hindi, Sanskrit and Sociology. She came here to be a student.

Whenever my friend talks of her home in Lithuania it isn't ever very positive. She describes the situation as fairly dire for her countrymen and women, especially in the terms of earning money or getting a job. She completely supports their leaving to go to the UK or America or wherever else to get a job, as there is just nothing at home for them. As far as we can tell from her description, Lithuania is also ugly, boring and devoid of any attractive prospect whatsoever. Even the housing is terrible. But my friend doesn't seem to see this bad situation in the same way as she sees the situation in India. India is somewhere she feels she should make a difference because she 'can'. But Lithuania, despite all the problems with her home, can be happily abandoned because she feels she can do nothing. She doesn't want to work for any social uplift organisations in Lithuania. She wants to leave as fast as possible. She doesn't even want to try and work there. She says she will go an waitress in the UK (with a full undergraduate degree mind) rather than try to work in her chosen field in Lithuania.

The poverty of India has had an affect on her, yet she doesn't seem to acknowledge that there is poverty in Lithuania that also demands the attention of compassionate people such as herself. Also, she is a student. She came here to study, not to work as part of a NGO. 

There just seems no sense in her feeling guilty because she does occupy a position of privilege over a lot of people by the virtue of her purposes here. By going and volunteering at some charity teaching a class full of kids English in the back water of Delhi, she might impart some knowledge of English to these kids. She might brighten their day. And don't get me wrong, I think this is important. But I can't help thinking that it would also be taking the position away from an Indian girl who could have done it. That it is teaching English, when maybe they should be taught Hindi. That in all reality, it will probably result in these children being able to say 'Hello! Ten rupee!' with better enunciation rather than anything else. Because at the end of the day, her individual effort, though admirable, means next to nothing in the grand scheme of things, as she would be leaving any way, and the men in government would be left unchanged. The information on the situation for a lot of people would be the same, the legislation on their situation the same, the reality of the situation the same. She would have joined the ranks of all those well-meaning people who felt they could 'do' something for a third world group, who actually furthered the cause of cultural imperialism, took jobs away from the indigenous labourers who really need the jobs, and left the rest powerless by not imparting the knowledge of how to teach and carry on the services they provided for three months. Of course those three months or whatever will have been better than the three months without them, but once these do-gooders leave with their sense of self-satisfaction nice and full, the people they 'helped' will be once more helpless. 

To make a lasting difference there needs to be legislation, the support of people in a position of power, the teaching of teachers with a particular focus on the needs of their particular location, the creation of jobs, indigenous social uplift organisations, more awareness of how the privileged in society can make the lives easier and provide more opportunities for the poor and the oppressed. There doesn't need to be just a vaccination campaign, there needs to be doctor training and a local medical centre that is open all year, built by the local labourers, using local materials. There shouldn't just be an English language class, there should be a school with local teachers, once more built by local labourers using local materials. If local materials aren't possible then they should be subsidized by the government. If those who would teach don't have the ability, then they can be taught by those who do so that they can return empowered, not enthralled. 

 

She is compassionate, a sympathetic and aware young woman who is not blind to the world's evils and inequalities. She could make a difference if she were to finish her degree and become a sociologist who worked to disseminate information on these issues to the rest of the world, to the people in power. To make others aware to that they who do have such powers may use them to actually change the situation. Why is this a thing to be guilty of? To have an ambition for yourself? To know that in your own reality, your priority is to get your dissertation handed in and that might mean you can't go to an orphanage for a couple of afternoons to entertain the kids? That dissertation, that degree will place her in a position of power - she might actually be able to change the lives of the children she mourns, not just entertain them for a few afternoons and leave their true location in society unchanged. 

And maybe I am cynical and a horrible person. It sounds like I completely disregard the effort of individuals in this sort of thing. I don't. I admire them. But there is no sense in not wanting something for yourself. For your happiness. Because it might empower you to REALLY make a difference.

I am on to a new essay. Woolf now. On whether or not gender is a fantasy. I think it is. Thoughts?

The cricket was great. I even understand what an 'over' is now. Ben spent the entire match explaining everything that was happening to Amanda, Saloni and I, so we now vaguely understand what is going on when the men hit the ball and it goes out the park and that is a 'Sixer' and all that what not. Most educational. The match was between Delhi Daredevils and Mumbai Indians (surely a little too obvious?) and I have to say, even with my limited cricket experience, Mumbai were easily the better team. They beat delhi resoundingly by a margin of 100 runs or so I think. What was nice though was that the crowd really didn't seem to care about which team won or lost. They cheered everyone's successes equally, winced with every mistake, went wild whoever hit a 'sixer' (check me with the lingo). What was also a pleasant change to my only other experiences of major sports events (read: rugby with everyone hating everyone else/football with everyone hating everyone else AND drunk men throwing unnamed warm yellow liquid down on you) was that every time there was a good hit or a catch or whatever, all the guys would go completely crazy, stand up on their chairs yelling and singing and break out into Punjabi dance. I swear, any opportunity for the Punjabi dance is taken here. I will miss the breaking out into dance as soon as a drum beat (internal or not) is heard regardless of where or who you are. There were whole families out together, and the atmosphere was really nice and exciting, but not at all in a threatening way. The only off-putting aspect of the whole thing was the teams of white girls at the side of the pitch in hot pants who were the 'cheer leaders'. My friend Egle (being tall and blonde) has been asked to be a cheer leader before, but she turned it down despite the money. And I can see why. These girls didn't do much cheer leading as far as I could see. They spent their time on a podium and every time someone from their team scored a good number or something they would gyrate and shake their hair for five minutes or so, at which point all the younger guys would be pressed up against the fence filming them with their phone cameras. Not entirely brilliant for the cause of women everywhere and all that. It was actually really not nice to watch. But then if these girls wanted to be used as sex objects for four hours then I guess it is their choice. Even Egle, while refusing to be a cheer leader, has agreed to be paid 3000 rs to sit in the front row of a game and be in some of the film of the match in a 'look white girls come watch our players' kind of way. I think she might just be angling to meet Shahrukh Khan though, as he owns the Kolkata Knight Riders. 

In other news, my friend Emma is here! It is most exciting, though she is leaving tonight. In fact the reason I haven't written anything here for a little while is because I have been too distracted running about with her. It has been amazing and I will be sad to see her go. I will give a fuller update on that one tomorrow I think. So until then.

I have finally completed my Wordsworth essay. Possibly not to a satisfactory standard, but it is there on the page anyways. So I am taking an Opportunity.

It was the International Men's Hostel night the other day. It all started out quite nicely. My friend David was hosting alongside this woman with brilliant hair who was apparently a radio show woman. He looked like one of these wierd paintings you get from the EIC Raj of officials 'gone native' in a red kurta and white pajama trousers and these woven leather shoes. If you had placed him on a brocade chair, given him a hookah and stuck some ships in the background you really wouldn't have been able to tell him apart from these old lunatic orientalists from days gone by. 

The cultural program they put on was a bit slow in organisation terms, but the actual acts were generally very good. There was a Sri Lankan tribal dance that we all really liked with two guys wearing loin clothes and blue paint all over their bodies. The Ethiopian guys did a dance as well, which was very fun to watch as they all shook their hips and shimmied. I have noticed that there is a great love of shimmying here. All the Indian men do it as well. Many is a time that we have been dancing and then find ourselves backed into a corner as soon as a Punjabi song comes on as all the Indian men are shimmying at us. It's like some bizarre mating ritual. If they had peacock tails they would be up and wafting. Actually, it all reminds me so much of those wee birds of paradise you see on Planet Earth with the black feather fan with the bright blue stripe. These wee things back their mates into a corner, confuse the hell out of them and then swoop. Perhaps these guys think that is evidently the way to go about things. Getting back to the show, there was also a Sufi band that played some really nice stuff. They were very good, it was a shame they came on at the very end when everyone was starving. Ben, David and our Mauritian friend Kaveesh also played a few songs on guitar and singing. David and Kaveesh sang, and they are both very good it has to be said. They played one nice relaxing reggae number from Mauritius that would be great to listen to in the summer in the evenings and some Beatles and John Mayer. It was really well done. 

Bit annoyed with Marie who has broken up with David for the umpteenth time and who decided she had to leave when David came on as it was all too difficult for her to bear obviously. We all told her not to come when she had started going on about not wanting to hear him or see him or even be in the same building as him, but she had insisted on coming just so that she could create some drama. It has now got to the point that we get either angry or bored of the Dutch people's ridiculous friendships/relationships...ah well. I am sure they will be back together in a week or so. And then the whole rigmarole can begin once more...

Unfortunately the lights all went when we were meant to get food. So everyone ended up a bit grumpy as they were hungry and in the dark. Finally got food however which perked things up and by eleven the power was back. Which meant it was time for dancing! We got in tow with our Ethiopian friend from history and the other guys who had been dancing earlier (one of whom was evidently styling himself on Bob Marley so much it hurt) and some cool Nigerian guys as well. All of them were really good dancers and we had a lot of fun careering about with them. Amanda and I ended up so sweaty it was disgusting. Not as bad as Omar though. Omar is our friend from Paisley (of all the places in all the world, he even knows where Inchinnan is!) and he sweats so much when he is dancing it is like he is on E. Either way, a good night was had by all, and the dancing went on till half one in the morning. My thighs hurt by the end of it. The 'bird of paradise' thing happened A LOT at first, but once we insinuated ourselves into the African group we were well protected. Some of these Indian men are just bonkers. 

In other news, I found a tiny spider on my bed the other day. What was far worse though was that the spider could JUMP. It could leap an inch or so under its own tiny steam. I nearly cried. I was very good though and manage to immobilise it (read: bash it to death with a large book) so that I could pick it up with tissue and chuck it in the bin. I was really proud of my near-lack of freaking out. I didn't even scream. I do however think every little itch or twitch on my skin is a spider. Continuing the bug theme, there are these giant bright acid yellow wasps everywhere and they are really huge and scary. I don't even know what happens to you if they sting you. Goddamned spring. Makes everything be alive. The mosquitoes are back as well. Sigh. Slightly nicer wildlife: there was a small falcon on my balcony the other day. It's the smallest I have seen. There were about thirty eagles swooping about inside our hostel last week too. Most exciting and slightly menacing.

Had a really interesting talk this morning on Indian foreign policy in the years after Independence. Talking about the non-aligned movement, and the personal role of Nehru in the whole thing. He basically decided India should not go into military alliances with the US or USSR block so that he could use both countries for aid and for economic and social links instead. It is quite interesting how the relationship with China deteriorated in the period and how that basically put-paid to the non-aligned movement in practice. Also quite interesting how these countries viewed the coming of the Hydrogen bomb and the atomic bomb as well as the sure path to the destruction of humanity. Ironic that for a government so convinced in earlier years of the evils of nuclear weaponry, India is now a nuclear power and quite keen to make the rest of the world, especially Pakistan, know it. All under the dubious excuse of 'self-defense'. I might try to write an essay on Indian foreign policy as the relationship with China and the USSR is really interesting, especially since the USSR's neutrality during the Indo-China war of the 1960s basically cut the USSR off from the People's Republic, acting in the interest of a capitalist democracy... 

Tonight we are going to the cricket. It is Delhi vs Mumbai. I have never been to a cricket game before now, and I hope it is worth the hassle. The cricket here is much shorter than the stuff at home. Sort of on a par with a football game. All us Europeans are going. Shall be a fun outing. I don't know the rules of cricket, but I am sure there is no problem with that. I will cheer when everyone else does. I have been interested in seeing a match actually ever since ShahRukh Khan brought it all to international attention after he denounced the IPL's decision not to elect Pakistani players into the teams for 'security reasons' and the Shiv Sena went completely bonkers as per and attacked cinemas showing the actor's latest film in Mumbai. 

Other than all this, I am so excited for Emma coming on Friday. Her father is evidently a well-respected cheese as people from his company base here in Delhi have been calling me sorting out how Emma will get to and from places and offering me services. Its all very civilised and I am tempted to abuse their offer of a car to ferry us around the city. Then again, might be more hassle than it is worth, considering how terrible traffic in Delhi is. 

Ah well. Enough for now. Wish us luck at the cricket. Dilli Jao!

Tiny Trip Up North

A bit late. But there we have it. Wordsworth is currently eating my eyes (or so it feels), and I have decided to take a well-deserved break and update.

 05/03/10

Tonight was the North Eastern students Guest Night. I have to say, it was far more organised and professional than our own Grand Shambles. But then, that wouldn't have been hard in all honesty. They followed about the same schedule as we did, with a welcome address, cultural program, dinner and dance. Their chief guest was Deepak Pental, the VC of the University, who, I am sure those of you who remember my earlier blogs will see no change in my opinion, was characteristically late and completely boring and ineffectual. He is such a drab man. Nothing in comparison to all the turbaned stature of Navjeet's father. He exudes 'imperial'. Deepak exudes something along the lines of 'a wee cup of tea'. He is small, wears drab brown clothes (the male equivalent of your granny's), has a droopy expression, a weak smile, unmemorable voice and action, shuffles, and is quite saccharine and silly. He isn't even old. I could forgive an old man. Not a middle-aged one. Sigh.

So of course, he was late, and I had to sit waiting for about two hours getting my legs gnawed to pieces by mosquitoes. I still have the scabs. Not cool. Our mess men were wanderign through the crowd keeping everyone sustained with veg croquettes and fizzy pop though and they laughed when they saw me there. Eventually everything got started though, and the night opened with the cultural dress show. I was most taken with the different Naga and Mizoram dresses. The Naga dress is a patterned woven scarf/skirt that is sort of like a kilt in size and function. It come in varying patterns, depending on the tribe to which the wearer belongs, and whether it is a particular festival, or if it is a married/unmarried woman. They have long strings of jade and ivory beads as well. The Mizoram dress has tall head dresses of flowers and pompoms and peacock feathers. One of the head dresses had two prongs sticking out the sides with long strings of green beads and this one was for more auspicious occasions. After the cultural dress show, there were various dances from the states, including a brilliant one that is done at Assamese New Year. There was a group of boys, all using their own instruments to make the music and singing the lyrics (there was one particular one, Raj, who could REALLY sing, and who I would have happily listened to all night), and then the girls came on to participate in a group dance. It was very joyful, and there was one move that did remind me sort of the funky chicken. The Naga and Mizoram dances were fun as well, lots of stomping and jumping involved. Some of the girls put together a Western Revue dance that was also really well done. They had obviously practiced for a while, as they could even all do the Beyonce Single Ladies dance. I was impressed. After the dances, the girls had got a local group in, The Skinny Boys, who were all either North Eastern or Korean (they tend to be the other cool kid group around here) and who were all girls. They were really very good, and the lead singer and the drummer were particularly good. It was a really nice way to wrap up the programme and wait for dinner. After dinner we had paan (got to love paan). I have learnt to ask for mitha paan now if I ever want sweet paan. Though I tried it with the betel nuts for the first time and I had to spit them out as I couldn't even try to chew them they are so hard. By the end of my second one my teeth were a nice red colour. Thankfully, everyone else's were too, so it wasn't a massive issue. After the dinner there was a DJ (a good DJ at that!) until half twelve and we danced like loonies for about two hours. Met a few more really nice girls, including one from Assam who does physics, and who offered me to stay in her house if I go to Assam in May. 

I left feeling incredibly happy. It was probably better than our own Guest Night. 

Also, note on the fashion of the North East girls - they know how to dress. Buggered if I know where they find these clothes, but god are they fashionable. One girl was in a black, blue and bright pink swirl pattern chiffon playsuit. A playsuit! A chiffon playsuit!!! In DELHI!!!!

All is not lost.