Our "Tourist Home" bears the same name, Manjalikulam, or "Collection of Bouquets," as the road it is situated on. It was the most modestly priced receptacle we could find in God's own (sultry) country for our touring bodies; at Rs. 500/night it was neither cheap nor overpriced, but the staff (as per usual in my estimation) did take us for saps!
Colin asked if it'd be possible to get a sheet before sleep last night, so I placed my book down down and picked up the phone to call the front desk.
"Good evening, sir. This Rao (read Ralph) in room 3 aught 6. Would you please send a sheet or blanket to the room?"
"Mr. Rao, non-A/C rooms don't come with sheet. No sheets," replied the man at the front desk.
"Oh, that's nice," I said. "Please send a sheet up to 3 aught 6. My friend would like it for sleeping."
"O.K. Hold one minute, sir," replied the man at the front desk, and he handed the telephone receiver to another man at the desk.
"Hello. Sir?" Another man at the desk said.
"Hello, good evening. This is Ralph, Mr. Rao, in room 3 aught 6. Would you please send a sheet to the room for my friend?"
"It's non-A/C room, sir. No sheets for... Actually, the sheets are gone for wash," the other man said. "We've been calling the washer, and they say 10-15 minutes."
I know better, but how can I disagree with such a statement? I placed the receiver down and went back to reading my book, Textures of Time. Colin was using the computer to access the internet and listening to Regina Spector through headphones. About twenty-five minutes later, he completed his work and asked me, "What about the sheet, man?"
"Oh, they don't want to give us any sheets because we're in a non-A/C room," I replied.
"What?" Colin said.
"Yeah. Well, the two guys at the front desk are claiming that they're waiting for the sheets to come back from the laundry, but I'm pretty sure the sheets are 'coming from the laundry' and not actually coming from the laundry." It's a fine distinction, I suppose. From a Westerner's perspective, a lie? But these men most certainly aren't lying, and they certainly aren't being lazy. On they contrary, they would just have a boy bring it up to room 3 aught 6. I am as hard-pressed to believe there are no sheets in the hotel as I am when I hand Rs. 100 for a Rs. 75 purchase, for instance, to believe that when someone asks, "Change, sir?" that they actually don't have change. Sometimes, yes, it is true--they don't have change. But more often than not a simple, equally honest or sometimes true, "No. No change," ends up producing the correct balance. Maybe, though, with not as big a smile. I, too, want small-bill change. When there's no meter or price tag, it's handy to have! In the same way, I am thinking, this hotel must have a sheet. It's a hotel!
So Colin went to the front desk and asked the men for a sheet; they told him they'd have to get it from another hotel, and it would take about 10-15 minutes and cost about Rs. 10.
Maybe they were telling the truth: There were, indeed, no sheets in the hotel and they had to borrow sheets from another hotel on Collection of Bouquets road. The night passed and there was no sheet. There was also no fan, because Colin got cold and turned it off at two in the morning.
And so, in the dreamscape of Trivandrum, Kerala I experienced last night a strange reaction: Soft breezes cooled me through the early-early morning hours, but I awoke in sweat. Unable to modulate the fan, Colin flipped the switch sometime around two A.M. Instead of demanding the rise of consciousness to reverse the switch, my mind did the grunt work and I woke at six in the morning.
Today (29/12/2009) the Bharatiya Janata Party organized a political strike in Trivandrum. I found myself unintentionally leading one of the noisy parades of mostly yellow-lungi-clad and some crazily-costumed, or stilt-wearing men beating drums REALLY LOUDLY as they walked behind a jeep with a generator on its hood powering concert-grade loudspeakers that announced--in what sounded like Sanskrit--something I couldn't understand semantically, but it wasn't secular. That much I got, and a bus ticket to pull myself out of the lead.
I made my way to the Sri Chitra Art Museum in Trivandrum's botanical gardens. The exhibit is mostly comprised of Raja Ravi Varma's celebrated Sanskrit-literature themed paintings, and they are INCREDIBLE! They are, in fact, more incredible than the BJP's parade was loud. I'll try to work on this 'blog update a bit more to add details of Raja Ravi's work, but just google or wiki him for the time being, please.
Right now I am using wireless internet from berth number 26 on an Indian railcar with my computer charging from "lohagaminividyut" (that's train electricity for non-Sanskritwalas). The sound of the rain, indistinguishable from that of my fingers at the keys, patters away on the train. The breadth of India from Trivandrum, Kerala to Chennai, Tamil Nadu where I will spend New Years passes beneath me.
I miss you all, my family and friends, especially during these Christmas and New Year festivities. I am coming to realize how my life has changed in these past two years; I look forward to spending the holidays in the years ahead back home in the U.S.A., or here in India, but together with you all. Enjoying the finest company and the warmest hearts the world has to offer me, or to anyone, in my estimation.
I pray for all of your health, happiness, and continued successes in the New Year 2010!
