A visit from my Indian mother and father!

Hopefully by now you've realised that a delayed blog post is usually because I'm having a very busy, but exciting week, unless, of course, the power is particularly bad. Hopefully, from the next few blog posts, you'll see that this week is no exception.

On Saturday I had a visit from Bharavi and Sugathi, my rep and his wife (although they are known in Tangutur as my Indian mother and father), so that they could see how things are going. After discussing a few minor issues (like the fact that my knowledge of Indian General Knowledge isn't the greatest!), they invited me to come to Ongole with them, which I was more than a little bit excited about! We had a delicious lunch at Siva Kumari's house, during which Bharavi told Ramana that he must let me teach him computer skills, and in fact on Tuesday we had our first lesson, so he can now log in and shut down! We traveled to Ongole in one of the small vans, which Bharavi said are called 'Magic' and headed to the hotel for coffee and to freshen up. Saree shopping was fun, even if we decided that I'd wait until I visit Hyderabad, where there is more choice, to buy some with Sugathi. Next we went on a hunt though crowded winding streets in search of toilet roll, eventually finding some, after asking a dozen or so shop keepers, in a shop selling building materials. During the shopping trip, Sugathi and I must have lost Bharavi five or six times - his inquisitive nature means that he has a tendency to wander off! Before dinner we went back to the hotel and ended up watching a rather gruesome film where some people on a boat trip get eaten by a crocodile one by one. Bharavi's wandering off to explore meant that we found even better toilet paper on the way too the restaurant for dinner, which was tasty thalis. The curd was heaven, especially mixed with banana, so Bharavi made sure I had seconds! Full to bursting, we headed back to sleep - the hotel had prepared an extra bed for me in the room - but not before making fun of Bharavi's sleeping habits. He put this air-con on full, then wrapped himself up in a blanket and put on a hat. Sorry Bharavi, you told me to keep it off facebook but didn't say anything about my blog!

Tiffin the next morning was tasty too; I had giant pourris with a potato curry and coffee, in addition to the coffee we'd had in the room - like me, Bharavi and Sugathi love their coffee! Then we packed up our things and headed to UCLI school to visit Rebecca and Kyekue. We sat in church with the girls until the service finished some two and a half hours later, which turned out to be slightly more eventful than planned. Six American missionaries were leaving the project, so they sang some songs and spoke as well, meaning that the service had a lot more English than expected. The Reverend's son described the missionaries as "angels from America" and even mentioned me as a "visiting angel"! Even though I was wearing my bindi, everyone was welcoming, especially the people who I recognized, this being my third visit. I was even invited up to hold a candle in the Christmas photo (Christmas is one whole month here!) and sing a Christmas song which I had to mime the words too. After lunch, I spent some time catching up with the girls, before heading to the bus stand, armed with my rolls of toilet roll and all of the delicious fruit Bharavi and Sugathi had given me, to catch the bus home. Walking through the bus stand, one of the eighth class girls, Gayathri, shouted to me from her house and invited me to come inside, where she fed me lots of tasty treats, including hot milk. Since then I've spend quite a lot of time with her, buying bondas (a fried snack), eating crisp type things on her roof, and learning Telugu (and Bollywood dancing).

It was dark by the time I got home, and I was exhausted. Even though I had over two hundred slip tests to mark, I'd had one of the best weekends since being in India. Thank you Bharavi and Sugathi!

The joys of marking

For all of Katie's followers who have been wondering what has happened to her weekly blog posts, missing detailed insights of  her new life, Katie has asked me to let you know that she is busy marking 'slip exams.' I think these are tests that Katie has set for her classes to gauge their understanding and to help her plan the next steps. With teachers for parents, it seems ironic that she is complaining about all the marking she has to do!

Must get back to my books ... lots of love, Mum x

Curd and other wonder-working beauty products

Today Haseena madam told me I was looking "cute". I'm not sure if my laughing was because of her word choice or the fact that I think I look anything but cute, but it's good to know I'm finally getting my 'look' right! Every day the teachers seem to have another beauty tip for me; the first being to put curd - the yoghurt type food eaten with rice - in my hair! So below is my step by step guide to looking "cute" in India, sans curd.

Step 1: Buy some Indian clothes.

Unmarried women wear Punjabi dresses, which have baggy trousers, a knee length dress with slits up the side to waist height and a scarf that is usually a mixture of the pattern on the trousers and the dress. Accidentally showing your tummy at the sides is a 'No No', as the girls in my classes once told me the boys were laughing because 'there is white skin.' It's also a 'No No' to wear your scarf too high. It must cover your chest - at the Ganesh festival a stranger pulled my scarf down because the wind had blown it up ... bit embarrassing. Since then Haseena has shown me a variety of ways to tuck and pin my scarf, including a "3D fold". Still, I find it hard to keep my scarf on when I'm teaching! If you're feeling brave, buy a saree. Last week I finally got round to going shopping with Siva Kumari to buy one, which ended up with half the shop spread around me on the floor and means that I'm now living off 200 rupees until Bharavi brings my pocket money! Hopefully the stitching will be finished by tomorrow, as Fridays are 'new clothes days'. Azeema madam has promised me she'll help me put it on, but says I have to try first, although I'm petty sure she just wants to laugh at me!

Step 2: Scrape your hair back off your face, get rid of the parting, and put it in one plait. Either plait right to the end of your hair and roll up the bottom so the end of your hair is hidden, or, for a "cuter" look, leave four or five centimeters  loose at the end.  Use hair oil - and lots of it - to make sure your hair is slicked back and shiny. Have a "head bath" once a week. Accessorize your hair with clips or bands which match your dress and buy flowers from the stalls to clip in too.

Last week some of the teachers invited me to go with them to the 'bazaar', which turned out to be a tiny shop with trays full of random things, from hair clips to spoons to combs to saucepan cleaner, all costing 2.5 rupees. Most of the teachers all grabbed empty trays (aka shopping baskets) and started filling them, whilst Haseena helped me to pick out matching hair clips and bands from the trays and trays of kid's style, brightly coloured and glittery hair pieces. My plain black hair bands and blonde hair grips from the UK are now on a shelf collecting dust! As well as the sparkly hair bands, I also occasionally go to the bus stand and buy flowers from one of the stalls on the side of the road. My favourite being jasmine, because the smell is so strong and fresh. I buy one arms length of jasmine (the individual flowers have been woven together with cotton, which I've watched Siva Kumari doing, so hopefully she'll teach me!) and put it in the fridge so that the flowers open over night. Have to be careful though, because Raja warned me that Gopi eats anything!

Step 3:  Buy a gold chain, gold earrings, some silver ankle bracelets, the same one for each ankle, and bangles, the same number for each wrist.

I'm pretty limited in my choice of bangles, because my wrists are much bigger than tiny Indian wrists. I even had to get Mum to send me some bangles from the UK! But I do have some silver coloured (will have to save up if I want real silver!) ankle bracelets and some dark red glass bangles which I can just about squeeze on and off without breaking them. Sharleen, one of the girls in 10th class, took me to buy a (fake) gold chain which I wear with my saree to complete my 'look'. Only problem is I don't have my ears pierced so no gold earrings for me. The children are always commenting on how I have 'no holes' and Haseema even offered to take me to one Aunty's house to put a needle through them!

Step 4: Put red or pink nail varnish on your left hand. If you're feeling adventurous, buy a Mhindi cone and draw - or get someone to draw - on your left hand.

On the last day before my October holiday, there was a bit of excitement at 'trips time' (the end of school). I sat on a chair next to Haseena madam, with Vesundhara madam and the children all crowded round, whilst Haseena drew a beautiful mhindi design on my arm. She's always talked about loving drawing, and when the teachers told me that she's good at it they were definitely right! Since coming back from holiday, I've started wearing red nail varnish - on my left hand only, because your right hand is for eating - and the teachers comment on how "super" it is. I have also experimented with mhindi on my hand, and it's definitely a lot harder than it looks. My design may not have been a work of art like Haseena's, but for a first attempt I'd say it wasnt all that bad!

Step 5: When you are out and about, make sure you walk very slowly. Speed walking is not attractive.

So that's the end of my Step to Step guide, although I'm sure by the end of the year I'll have picked up lots more tips, including some saree related advice. Have fun perfecting your Indian look!

 

Katie with volunteers and Ramana

Arriving volunteers: Hyderabad

Katie and Abi

Abi, Katie Nuala and Caitlin

Nuala, Katie, Ramana & Caitlin

Marriage Madness

The one thing which I had most hoped to see this year was an Indian marriage, so I couldn't believe my luck when I received two  beautiful wedding invitations, the corners dipped in curry. However, it take me a while to work out where the weddings were, when they were taking place, and if I would get the chance to go. Of course part of the confusion was that the invitations were in Telugu, but the main problem was that both teachers were getting married on the same day, in the same village, and both teachers were kindergarten teachers called Anusha! So I decided to just go with the flow.

The day before the marriage I went with two high school teachers to a celebratory meal in Tangutur for one of the Anushas, which was similar to the street meals at the Ganesh festival, except with special, very sweet, wedding food. Before the meal I was invited into a room to 'help' Anusha get ready. Even though I had no idea how to attach the almost floor length flower piece to her hair or put on the gold head piece or belt, I felt honoured to be allowed to enter the room and watch the preparations.

I thought that was the end of the marriage excitement for me. But the next day at lunch time I was told to go to my room, quickly wash my face and come straight back. Then I piled into a school bus with about ten other teachers and we headed to the two Anushas' village. The speeding bus, bumpy journey, laughing teachers and the fact that I didn't know whose marriage I was going to all made it feel like a start of an adventure! We missed the official marriage ceremony (that's what happens when you work on Indian time!) but the teachers assured me that the best was still yet to come. Preparations for the meal were well underway as we walked through the tressled tables. Turning a corner, we saw the second Anusha in a beautiful off-white saree adorned with gold jewellery and flowers decorating her face and hair sitting on a raised, decorated platform with her husband. I never found out the name of the husband. None of the teachers knew, because of course with it being an arranged marriage, as most marriages in India are, even Anusha had only met him once or twice before the ceremony. But, we sat at chairs surrounding the stage which was almost like a viewing platform, and watched the different blessings, the tying of Anusha's saree to the man, the cracking of the coconut, the searching in the pot for the rings (which the teachers called "a little game"), the sprinkling of rice and the gift giving, before eating another celebration meal. Then we headed to one madam's house for a rest, before taking the school bus back where the talk ranged from the colour of my skin, to sarees, to curry. Haseena madam held my hand as we walked which, as it is a sign of friendship in India, was a touching gesture. Looking back, I suppose that I will remember this day, not for the wedding, but for the feeling that, for the first time, I really was included as a fellow and equal teacher.

There are still more marriages going on in Tangutur this week. Across the street a neighbour is getting married and yesterday the family went to a relative's marriage in another village. This meant that I rode on Ramana's motorbike to go and eat at the other house with Siva Kumari. When I told him that it was my first motobike ride (and I was a little scared because Ramana had an accident last week), he replied with, "Well I've only had two months experience so its all new to me too!" Madness!

Diwali!

I'm beginning to realise that Indian festivals involve a lot of sleeping. And after a breakfast of special tomato rice, I did exactly that ... until Balu crept up on me snoozing. Balu loves computer games. I often see a light on in the office room on Sunday evenings, and know that it's Balu playing 'Ben Ten's Alien Adventures'. But last Sunday, Venkayamma madam banned him from the computer because he should have been studying (which I didn't find out until later), so I caved in and let him play games on my tablet. His favourite game seems to be the London 2012 Olympics game, which brings memories of home flooding back every time I see the logo. Anyway, after making me jump, Balu sheepishly asked to use my tablet (which definitely isn't a white elephant any more Mum!). I sat out on the balcony with him, writing letters and laughing at his victory dances, and a voice constantly shouting, "disqualified" when he attempted the pole vault. We lost track of time, and it wasn't until nearly three o'clock when Venkayamma called, "Baaalluu, Kaaattiieee" from downstairs. She told me that she had forgotten that we would want to eat (!?) and considering how much food the family consume, I'm surprised that they weren't all starving!

As the sun was setting, I went on the hunt for fire crackers with Raja and Balu. They led me into a neighbour's shed and it wasn't until a candle was lit (perhaps not the wisest move in hindsight) that I realised we were surrounded by piles and piles of different types of fire crackers. I let the boys pick out the best ones - although I'm pretty sure I ended up with one of everything - and they were wrapped up in a thick black plastic bag. Later Raja explained that the crackers in the bandstand had "too high cost", so we bought from a man without a license - no wonder it felt like some kind of dodgy drug deal!

 

When darkness fell, I helped Raja to pour oil into and light tiny candles, which we placed around the entrance to the house and the school. All around us other neighbours were doing the same, and gradually the street became beautifully lit up with hundreds of tiny lights. Meandering through the tiny streets with the boys, I watched small children waving sparklers at their gates, until we arrived at an aunty's house where bags and bags of fire crackers awaited us. I sat on the front steps waving sparklers and trying to stop my Punjabi scarf from falling into the dozens of candles lighting up the entrance to the house. As the crackers got bigger, the family seemed to become more eager for me to help with setting them off, until eventually I was launching giant rockets into the air, lighting huge bursts of flames  and sending fire spinning across the floor. After we'd exhausted the aunty's supply, we headed back to the house, where we waved flaming ropes to "warn away evil". Then we climbed to the roof, four storeys high, and let off the crackers which we had bought earlier in the day. Sat around a candle with Raja and Balu writing 'Deepawali' in the air with our sparklers and watching the fireworks and bursts of light from other rooftops light up the sky was, as strange as it sounds, incredibly peaceful and a beautiful sight that I will never forget.

"You don't choose your family"

I've decided that it's time to take the advice and tell you more about Ramana's family. After all, it is the small moments with them which I cherish. I have a feeling I may end up repeating things which I've said in previous blog posts, so bear with me!

My host's name is V.V Ramana (in India surnames are written before given names) and I couldn't wish for anyone better. Ramana is a genuinely lovely and caring person; always buying me food, offering me things and, even after his motorbike accident yesterday, making me chuckle. His spoken English might not be amazing but his eagerness to make conversation, intrigue about life in 'London' and willingness to learn, all make up for it. We've had conversations ranging from the Olympics to James Bond and the adventures of Robin Hood (which I'm hopefully getting posted out on DVD for a Christmas present) to the electricity problems in Andhra Pradesh to my 'life plan' - when I told him about studying French and German at University, he immediately told me I have to teach him some words and phrases before I leave. Another thing Ramana wants - and needs - to be taught is how to use the computer. Whilst typing a list of tenth class student details, I found out that there are four more computers (although one's been ruined by the rain) in the school's equivalent of a storage room, but no one knows how to do anything apart from turn them on. I wonder who kindly donated those!

Ramana has two wives. There's quite a lot of gossip and speculation about why, and how, he has two wives - according to the teachers it's "not normal!"  However, I'm pretty sure the story goes something like this: Ramana's first marriage was an arranged marriage to Siva Kumari, who is a teacher at the school. Together they have two children, Vishnu, who seems to have the job of ferrying any food that Ramana wants between the two houses, and a daughter, who is off studying somewhere. Siva Kumari, Vishnu and Ramana, when he feels like it, live in a house closer to the bus stand, but further from the school, which I live opposite. Sometimes I visit Siva Kumari's house with Ramana, especially at festival time. She seems to like making little sweets and treats, some delicious and some which go straight in my bag, never to be eaten. Although it often means an extra meal in the day, I quite like visiting the house and watching Telugu films or cricket on the colour television, whilst Siva Kumari picks the bad grains out of the rice (and eats them) and Ramana eats an overflowing plate of rice and curry. Then there is Venkayamma, who was also a teacher at the school, until her marriage (which I think was a love marriage) to Ramana. Now she is the headmistress, which is one level down from Ramana, who is the Secretary and Correspondent. To start with Venkayamma didn't say a word to me, despite my constant cheery attempts to start a conversation. But slowly she seems to have warmed to me, and we often have conversations at meal times about curries, holiday or school among other things, and she sometimes invites me downstairs to watch Telugu soaps with her. She's even got into the habit of calling "Kaaatttiiieeee", like she does with the boys, when she wants me ... usually for tea, post or meals. Although her favourite hobby seems to be giving me tips on how to keep out mosquitoes, the latest being a bat which electrocuted them!

There are three boys in the hous: Raja and Balu in tenth class and Gopi in sixth class. Raja is Ramana and Venkayamma's son and he probably speaks the best English out of everyone, even though he claims that English is his worst subject. He is the one who has shown me around, helping me get to grips with living in Tangutur and will still come with me to the bus stand if I can't find something I need. He also took me to all of the different events at the Ganesh festival, so hopefully he'll do the same for me at Deepawali this week! After Abi left, Ramana made Raja sleep in my room for a couple of nights, to check that I was okay. To start with I thought that it was strange to ask a boy to sleep in my room, but because he is younger than me, it is "socially acceptable" as Ramana said. Raja will occasionally come to me for help with homework or using the computer and, as the same age as Josh, I often feel like I've adopted a new, less grumpy brother! I'm not so sure where Balu and Gopi fit into the family; 'cousins' can mean anything in India. But I'm slowly persuading shy, maths and insect-loving Balu to teach me to cook. Raja insists that Balu is the better cook but that could just be Raja trying to get out of the painful task of teaching me. And Gopi I'm already training up for next year, when Raja and Balu go off to college, and he will be the only one to look after the volunteers. His English will have to be perfect, as I often tell him. At least he'll be free of Raja and Balu's brotherly jokes - making him slip in the monsoon mud, joking about his exam results, and pretending they've eaten all the curry, so that he spoons curd onto his rice only to find a pan full of curry on the table! On Sunday's Gopi goes back to his villages because only tenth class have school. I always miss him at meal times: his ridiculous dancing, his cheeky smile, the way he rolls his mounds of rice into balls with his chubby hands, his twinkling eyes, and his talk of heroes, chocolates, and powerangers. Raja might be the one who reminds me of my brother, but Gopi is the one I'll be smuggling home!

I think that just about sums up the family but if I have forgotten anything do let me know. Next step will be telling you about some of the teachers!

Letter to the UK

During the quarterly exams, I would often sit at the front of the class writing letters, which would always lead to "Letter ma'am? Letter?" from the intrigued children. So last week, when I wrote on the board 'A Letter to the U.K.' the excitement almost made me laugh out loud. Although it may have taken a week to explain the task, brainstorm ideas, and write out letters by filling in the gaps from template I wrote on the blackboard, I'm glad I persevered. A thick envelope of the best letters and pictures of Tangutur is finally on its way to Ms Westrup (mum) of Rydon Community College in the U.K. If they make it, we are hoping to set up a link between Sri Chaitanya and Rydon through letters, in which the students can ask each other questions to find our more about a completely different way of life. I'll keep you posted on how things are going!

5 4 3 2 1 SILENCE!

Since I have been back there have been lots of new rules in Katie Madam's lessons and so far (touch wood) they seem to be working. For the first time I really feel like I have stepped into the role of teacher: outlining the objectives on the blackboard; giving praise, extension work and most importantly stickers to the well behaved pupils; and not being afraid to get angry when I need to. In one of her letters, a friend gave me some advice - "remember don't be afraid to shout and also consider the fact that disappointment from a teacher is often a lot worse than the fear of being told off" - so I am working on my disappointed face too.

Originally the three 2nd classes were proving the most challenging, especially 2nd C which has students aged 6 to 11 and all of them are new to Sri Chaitanya this year. Part of the problem was probably that I had about thirty students sat on the floor in a tiny room with no space to move between them, and also the fact that they were all so excited for my lessons. Now, I am almost glad that they don't have benches, and I am slowly managing to harness their energy and enthusiasm into positive learning. On the first day back to school, I attempted to make the children sit boy-girl-boy-girl, compared with their boys on one side, girls on the other side. I almost gave up when they screamed, giggled, outright refused and one girl even cried. However, after two or three lessons of repetition with the other teachers wondering what on earth I was doing, and a compromise of half a row of girls and the half a row of boys and so on, I finally began to notice some progress. Teamed with that I have a new rule. I put my hand in the air and count down five four three two one on my fingers. When I shout silence everyone has to put their hand over their mouth and anyone talking has to stand up with their hands on their head. The children seem to love it! It works so well that I have even managed to do conversation classes with one boy and one girl asking each other questions in open pairs across the classroom without any fuss! As a reward I taught the children 'Simon Says' (although maybe I should have called it 'Katie Madam says' because the teachers keep asking me who Simon is). Now they know that if they are well behaved, we will play a game at the end of the lesson and, as mean as it sounds, I make any naughty children stand outside and watch so they know what they are missing out on!

With my 3rd classes I have taken a different tack, although I may brave a new seating plan with them too at some point. After one particularly unproductive lesson with the boys running riot and the girls chatting, I decided a punishment was in order. So without addressing them I wrote on the blackboard 'SPELLING TEST ON FRIDAY' along with the words I wanted them to learn. Then I just stood at the front of the classroom waiting for them all to notice me. After what seemed like forever, they grew quiet, so I said very softly, "write these words down and learn the spellings for homework, there will be a test on Friday". Well Friday came and it was clear that not many of them had learnt the words. But we managed to do the test with very little talking or copying. Whilst they completed the classwork, I marked their tests and I decided that 7/10 and above were good scores, whereas 6/10 and below was unacceptable. Trying to explain this was a struggle. Although it felt wrong, I ended up splitting the class into 'passes' and 'fails', because it was the only way I could make them understand. With the 'fails' sat at the front, I made someone write down their names and told them that their homework was to write each word out ten times. Of course, only three students in all of the classes which I asked actually completed the homework. So I made the ones who hadn't sit at the back of the classroom writing the words out thirty times whilst everyone else played a game. Never knew I could be so mean, but hopefully they are slowly learning what leads to a punishment, and what merits a reward.

On the first day back to school, I walked in to 4th B to find everyone crowded around a boy's bag making such a racket that they didn't even hear me come in and there was no standing up, saluting, shouting, "Good morning madam". As much as I don't like that little ritual, I was cross that they hadn't registered me and taken their seats. In my ever stronger Indian accent, I shouted, "All of you sit down!" and when they didn't respond I tried, "Guh-chun-di, now!" in my angriest voice, which provoked a response of "ma'am ma'am, no ma'am". Eventually some of them realised that I was really cross and slunk back to their seats. I turned back to the group of boys still crowded around the bag giving them my 'get in your seats now stare'. Next thing I knew, a giant cockroach about as long as my hand scurried out and shot through the classrooms. I accidentally let out a scream in shock and the whole class laughed. I guess it served me right for not listening! Aside from that, the 4th class lessons have been much better. I used the same techniques as with 3rd class, but they seem to have a greater effect. One lesson when the boys were misbehaving, I rewarded the girls by letting them play 'Noughts and Crosses', whilst the boys wrote their sentence, trying to make the point that good work leads to games, but bad behaviour leads to silent working. In another lesson I let individual students go up to the blackboard and play 'Noughts and Crosses', which worked well because everybody concentrated once they clocked onto the reward for finishing. Today, as a plenary, I managed to incorporate the lesson into 'Noughts and Crosses' by making the students answer a questions before they were allowed to mark on the grid. Think it could be time to think of a new game soon though!

So as you can see I'm finally beginning to overcome some of the disciplinary problems. Even though the teachers tell me everyday that I should at least pretend to beat the children, you could say that I am beating the beating!

 

I've have a few messages with tips and ideas about different aspects of teaching, so if you do have any advice, guidance, or even questions, please don't hesitate to contact me.

What is a cyclone?

As the daughter of a Geography teacher I should probably know the answer to this question. I'd always thought, and been taught, that hurricanes, cyclones and tornadoes are all the same thing, it's just that people have different names for them all over the world.

I didn't find out about the cyclone in the USA until Thursday, when Ramana told me to go on the internet and look at what was happening in New York. Scrolling through the pictures of the flooding and reading about the deaths, it scares me how out of touch with the world I am; if something happened in the UK I would never know. I asked Ramana to help me to subscribe to an English newspaper to read more about the hurricanes. He replied with "ah, yes, hurricane, cyclone, same". So maybe I was right about cyclones?

In the evening I went to use the computer and was rather unsuccessful. My first attempt failed because for some reason Gopi had the keys to the office room and was off 'playing' somewhere. My second attempt hit a dead end when the power went as soon as I'd turned the computer on. On my third attempt I got as far as opening my email account before the office was invaded by tenth class girls. First they force fed me their snacks, then they asked to see pictures of my family, and next they wanted my phone. Bad move, I forgot it had a camera. Next thing I knew they were taking photo after photo on my phone and on my camera. I must have had about four photos with every girl there, almost all of them blurry. Suddenly the power went again. And we had been so loud that we hadn't even noticed the rain beating down on the window. We rushed outside and stared out at the boggy road and the flooding, which was already springing up. "A cyclone is coming ma'am." whispered one of the girls. Slightly worried, I led the girls back towards the house by the light of my torch and were ushered inside by Ramana Sir. Huddled around a battery powered light, I kept hearing the girls whispering about the cyclone. Outside the thunder was getting louder and louder. I thought I misheard when Ramana asked me if I wanted Raja or Balu to sleep in my room as a bodyguard. But then, by way of an explanation, he said, "If you open your door, the wind will blow you away".

School was cancelled in the morning because the flooding was so bad. Raja even brought dosa and sugar to my room - breakfast in bed - because the rain was apparently too strong for me to go outside. That evening, when things seemed to have calmed down, I watched the sky turn a reddish brown, and knew that the storm was back. The rain was beating so hard that is found its way under my door and even seeped though the walls. For the next few days my classes were half empty. Apparently the flooding in some of the villages was head height. The blackboards were soaked through making it impossible to write on them and two of the classrooms had flooded, so some classes had to share classrooms. There was a strange atmosphere in the school, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

When I mentioned the storm to Ramana, he didn't understand. So I tried the word "cyclone", to which he immediately replied. Then I asked if the cyclone here would be like the one in America, but that provoked a response of, "You mean the hurricane? No, no, no". So what is a cyclone? In India it seems to mean anything from a small storm to a huge hurricane. For that reason Ramana, I think I'll decline the bodyguard.