More thoughts on Sunday

This morning I went to church alone, in the clear, bright, hot light of late May in Delhi. My driver was Yashpal, back from Himachal. The word earlier was that Yashpal would not return from Himachal - that he was working for his brother who had a government job. But the lure of more money from driving in Delhi must have brought him back. He doesn't have his old mobile phone because he got one in Himachal that costs him roaming charges in Delhi. So I have to remember to call him on Pawan Sharma's number. Pretty confusing as I have 4 Pawan's on my phone.

Yashpal had apparently just heard of the accident from two weekends ago where 4 young men were killed right at the corner of Ansal Plaza, just past the taxi stand where the drivers wait for fares. He showed me where he said the car hit a pile of construction rubble and then flipped over the median. I had seen the broken class and debris left after the accident and it horrified Yaspal to tell me the story. The boys killed were all related, cousins and brothers, on their way to the bus terminal for 2 of them to return to the Punjab.

Sunday morning driving is bliss - no one else on the road at 7:30 am. We flew through South Extension and around the Jindal stainless steel installation, shiny outer space globes of stainless steel set in the middle of the spaghetti bowl of access entrance and exit roads. Going up Aurubindo Marg (where the elephant is waiting patiently at the light in the picture above) is no longer an unbroken tunnel of aqua, red and green signs saying DELHI METRO, but is opening up a highway again, with an elaborate green fence, and the construction of metro stations evident on either side. Further on the aqua sign board tunnel continues - I love reading the Hindi for METRO, the "m" being easily recalled but the "tr" being one of those seldom used, conjoined consonants and then the "o" also being easy. Four little sounds, m, tr, o.

I dread entering the church because when it's 100 outside it's 10-15 degrees hotter inside. The red sandstone absorbs the heat and holds it like a reliable oven but without anything to bake except us. There are several dozen fans placed strategically around the sanctuary. The trick is to find the best place to sit, not too close where you have to constantly get the hair out of your eyes or too far where you don't feel any benefit. We were all wiping our foreheads and necks. I pity the pastors in their long robes and vestments.

When I got home Lucy the street dog was waiting to say hello - I just saw her out of the corner of my eye and went back to give her a rub. She licked my chin and my toes ... her hello. When I left for church Lucky was there looking bright eyed and ready for a biscuit. I rubbed his neck and big clouds of dust came off of him - hazard of living on the street under the cars. As I went to close the door of the Wagon R, I looked down and found Lady sitting there waiting for her rub and pat. I hadn't seen them all week.

Now for packing and learning to Tweet.