New Relationships

Saturday, June 7, 08
With a Poori, puffy donut without the hole, and dips, Milan and I head out for more sight seeing. These include Suicide Point, where again we have a long view of the valley with its towns, agricultural plots, peaks, sholas (forests), lake, clouds and mist, and red dirt clearings. On to Pillar Rocks with a garden of the largest hydrangeas I've ever seen, poppys, chrysanthemums, and others. On to another view of the valley and we are ready for lunch.
Again at the Punjabi restaurant, we have fish and black pepper curry with rice and nan. Milan returns to the room for a nap, it is 3:00. I need to get more exercise. Eat, chai, eat, chai, eat, chai, that has been the theme of the past days.
Walking past the Tibetan stalls which are stretched along the end of one of the four fingers of the lake, I raise my umbrella against the rain. Anticipating the rain, I sport my blue wind breaker, hat (always my hat, which a monkey was seriously eyeing 2 days ago) and my umbrella, which was purchased in Bangkok (it hasn't seen much service since arriving in India). As I round the finger's end and pass the boat house where a variety of paddle boats have been rented, it begins to pour. Five young men from Trichy run whooping over to join me under my small umbrella. It's beyond a tight fit. Our heads are dry. The rest of us is not. We share the usual questions - Where are you from? And you? Do you like India?... They peel off one by one till only 2 remain, then one. I point to the standing room only at the boat house tin roof's edge. He pulls himself close with one hand around my waist and one on my left shoulder. Again, with him whooping, we run for the shelter. Having deposited him, we laugh and say our good-byes. Scrambling, as if they aren't already as wet as they ever will be, the boat renters hurry. Women drape edges of sarees over their heads and the men gallantly paddle.
On I walk, finally stopping under a large tree along the hillside edge of the road. Two men have taken shelter under a cement culvert along the roadside. Two others are leaving the tree, where they have sought shelter, and come to stand with me, again, under my small umbrella. When the two culvert men see this, they come to join us - 5 of us. We laugh, and again share our stories, and they leave. They are from Chennai. Now alone, I cross to the lake side walkway just in time to receive a splash up to my knees from a passing car. Well, I was that wet already.
Continuing on, past two cows, lotus, groups of young men and women bicycling with the usual laughs, heads into the wind and rain and fun written all over their wet outfits. Excitement is contagious.
I press on past the 2nd, 3rd and finally round the 4th, the bridge, and take the bottom road back to the Kodaikanal Boat Club canteen where I have two small cups of coffee - no milk, no sugar - surrounded by talkative youths. Someone says the lake walk is 5 km, not to be believed. It can't be over 3.
It's still raining. It's only the degree which varies. Rain brings out an energy and vitality which is softened in the sunny, calmness of the usual. It's that which catches us unawares which brings with it an opportunity. I now have a new relationship with 9 young men and 2 cows.
Kodaikanal pics: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/KodaikanalIndia