The wind is buffeting the new, badly made windows in Room 3 at the Quad but through them I see the Doon glittering, clear after a rollicking hail and thunder storm. It is unbelievable and perfectly right to be here on this October day. A tribe of rhesus monkeys were roaming over the roof of the cells and up the ramp in front of me after the rain, bedraggled, wet and wary after the storm. The guards at the main gate have sling shots to keep them off the grounds.
I contemplate what it means to be so at home here - a foot in both places, streaming classical music from KSUI in Iowa City, talking with Jack on the phone about car repair, radiator replacements, cat food coming by mail. Then speaking to Om Prakash the dhobi who brings me a pile of warm, freshly pressed pajamas and underwear. He wants to know why Jack is not here. I tell him Jack has work at home, not explaining he has to take the air conditioners in for the winter. Things don't translate except in small ways.
It was been thrilling to watch an art installation take shape - in a favorite and sort of sacred place, the entrance to the cells, where Mrs. Biswas had her desk for all those many years, as she supervised our music practice. The building now the business center, complete with an ATM. But the entrance is transformed by new friend Antonio Puri, artist in residence. He photographed everyone's eyes at Woodstock for the installation and they form a circle on the ceiling, lighted all around.
I don't know that name yet - there will be a formal opening next Thursday. The figure has all the skin tones of everyone - the tyranny and racism of black and white transformed into glowing, golden, chocolate, tan, umber, pinkish stripes. With lots of gold embellishments - fanciful and fun.
It was been thrilling to watch an art installation take shape - in a favorite and sort of sacred place, the entrance to the cells, where Mrs. Biswas had her desk for all those many years, as she supervised our music practice. The building now the business center, complete with an ATM. But the entrance is transformed by new friend Antonio Puri, artist in residence. He photographed everyone's eyes at Woodstock for the installation and they form a circle on the ceiling, lighted all around.
I don't know that name yet - there will be a formal opening next Thursday. The figure has all the skin tones of everyone - the tyranny and racism of black and white transformed into glowing, golden, chocolate, tan, umber, pinkish stripes. With lots of gold embellishments - fanciful and fun.
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