BOOKS

Geetika, her thin frame bent over with the weight of her bag, had just been to the xerox shop down the road to collect three books which had been photocopied for her !  This is common practice among students.  I was astounded at the mere concept of having whole books photocopied.  But text books are scarce and the bookshops have a very limited selection of academic books, in fact none at all, so this practice of copying books has become the way round the problem.  The shop will undo a book to photocopy it in its entirety and then rebind it - I felt a sense of horror at the idea of actually taking a book apart in order to copy it and then found half a dozen other students  were walking around with the same bundles of raw photocopied information.  So I decided to try it myself and sure enough, I was told that I could come back in an hour to fetch my copied book!   

THE UPS AND DOWNS OF LIFE

Who would have thought it - the garden swing is ubiquitous in India !  Like many things which I had always considered Western, the garden swing, associated with my childhood, along with Enid Blyton and Pollyanna,  has had a certain spice and dash added to it in India.  I have seen my neighbour in the half light coming in through the window, sitting on a bamboo swing in her living room, swaying to and fro in the heat of the day.  It looks something like a woven bamboo basket and reminded me of the intricately carved stone balconies used by the ladies of the Mughal court, centuries ago, so that they could watch the activities of the street below, without being seen themselves.  But an indoor swing.....how exotic !

A few months ago, searching for an apartment, I was shown a studio on the top floor of a building - it consisted of one large room, and an outdoor shower.  To this minimalist offering, in pride of place on the terrace, was a swing with a wide wooden seat.  Needless to say, the apartment had no cooking facilities - this was a place for dreams, where the realities of life would have no place.

Similarly, at Ellora, in sight of the centuries old Buddhist temples cut into the granite mountain, was a garden swing with wide wooden base and ropes which hung from the tallest Neem Tree I'd ever seen.  I couldn't resist climbing on and pushing myself off.  How peaceful it was feeling the gentle rush of air through my hair and gazing out towards those stone caves with the sound of a waterfall splashing over the rocks in the ravine below.