Caught!

Shari writes:
Yesterday we decided to see more of the city. Two Indian friends (one a relative of our host family) served as our guides. We hailed a three-wheeled motor rickshaw to drive to a large park where we would start our journey. Our hope was to see a newer part of the city and wander through peaceful neighborhoods of upscale houses.

When we got to the park, it was not quite as we imagined. Instead of trees and grass, we saw monuments of famous people and miles of masonry. We began walking on a wide boulevard through the middle of the huge park. Walking on the long pedestrian bridge we viewed the park’s expanse from above.

The day started with bright sun, but as we sauntered slowly along the boulevard the sky darkened and it began to sprinkle. We kept walking, hoping it would stop. A few minutes later we were bounding down stairs to the only covered area in sight. It was a red stone ledge with a stone roof. The difficulty: the surface was about four feet above ground level where we stood. David gave me a huge boost with his hands amidst pouring rain and puddles and I catapulted ungracefully onto the wet ledge, getting soaked in the process. What could I do but laugh?

Later the rain stopped and our clothes dried a bit in the heat. We did find a quiet tree-lined street (unpaved and very muddy) with new, posh houses across from undeveloped fields of tall grass where stray dogs romped and cows grazed. Suddenly it began to rain hard, huge drops descending by the bucketful. We saw a petrol station in the distance and all four of us began to run as the rain came down harder.

Out of breath and soaked to the skin, we finally reached safety underneath the awning of the petrol station. Many others with motorcycles and bicycles had gathered, rain refugees brought together by the weather. We, the non-Indians, felt for a few moments a unity with the other stranded people, the kind of unity created by a shared experience. Wet, waiting, we are one in this moment.

Home again, we wash our feet and mud-encrusted sandals. We change into dry clothes. This, our initiation into the community of monsoon travelers.