A Small Town in Tamil Nadu
From Kerala we got an overnight train that took us across the South of India to the transit hub of Trichy in Tamil Nadu, ready to begin our month long volunteering assignment in a pre-school in a small nearby town. During this time we also transited from tourist India to another place, I suppose you might call “real India”.
This “real India” is an uncompromising place, where prices are a fraction of what they are in tourist India, the stares are hard and often angry or suspicious and the flies abundant. The photo opposite shows where we breakfasted most days before school began, eating with our hands off banana leaves for less than 50p each. These guys were some of the nicest people we met on our journey and always made us feel welcome. But living in a stock room next to a busy classroom with constant interruption during the long school day was wearing and stressful.
At the weekends we felt impelled to get a crowded bus back into Trichy to spend a night in a central hotel, for beer, restaurant food and satellite TV. Trichy isn’t famous for much apart from the Rock Fort in the centre and the massive Srirangam temple on the outskirts of the city, said to be the largest Hindu temple complex in India. A detail of it is in the picture above and opposite is a photo I took of a temple visitor, which sums up something about the incredible colour palette and sensitivity to colour one experiences everywhere.
The school itself was for me a challenging experience, as I had little to offer the situation and so for much of the time I acted as an inept classroom assistant, looking on and smiling rictus like or singing along in a halfway space between my normal English and the distinct Indian English of everyone else around me. Sue by contrast was in her element having genuine experience and enthusiasm to offer and doing what she does best – motivating and inspiring teachers.
For me the time might be summed up by this picture of the tired old dog that slept on the road down which we had to pass every day to go for breakfast or into the little town to shop for cardboard, felt pens or cornflakes and who would often growl and snap at me, inducing fears of being bitten and contracting something awful. In the end we reached a grudging accommodation in which I began to feel grateful affection for his lack of interest.
This “real India” is an uncompromising place, where prices are a fraction of what they are in tourist India, the stares are hard and often angry or suspicious and the flies abundant. The photo opposite shows where we breakfasted most days before school began, eating with our hands off banana leaves for less than 50p each. These guys were some of the nicest people we met on our journey and always made us feel welcome. But living in a stock room next to a busy classroom with constant interruption during the long school day was wearing and stressful.
At the weekends we felt impelled to get a crowded bus back into Trichy to spend a night in a central hotel, for beer, restaurant food and satellite TV. Trichy isn’t famous for much apart from the Rock Fort in the centre and the massive Srirangam temple on the outskirts of the city, said to be the largest Hindu temple complex in India. A detail of it is in the picture above and opposite is a photo I took of a temple visitor, which sums up something about the incredible colour palette and sensitivity to colour one experiences everywhere.
The school itself was for me a challenging experience, as I had little to offer the situation and so for much of the time I acted as an inept classroom assistant, looking on and smiling rictus like or singing along in a halfway space between my normal English and the distinct Indian English of everyone else around me. Sue by contrast was in her element having genuine experience and enthusiasm to offer and doing what she does best – motivating and inspiring teachers.
For me the time might be summed up by this picture of the tired old dog that slept on the road down which we had to pass every day to go for breakfast or into the little town to shop for cardboard, felt pens or cornflakes and who would often growl and snap at me, inducing fears of being bitten and contracting something awful. In the end we reached a grudging accommodation in which I began to feel grateful affection for his lack of interest.
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