Aunty – open your shoes!

The day started hot and humid. Toni and I are getting used to the heat now and although everyone says that it will get cooler soon we are not so sure. We had lunch with the ‘Upstairs Boys’ – which includes Bijoy, who acted as our host. He took us up and proudly showed us their little beds - all beside each other in a large room. Walking into one room there were two tiny boys changing – Bijoy was mortified – cries of ‘Don’t look, Aunty’ ensued and lots of giggling! We sat on the floor with the boys and ate with them. There was one new little boy who had entered the school and the home two days previously – he clung to the houseparent’s hand and ate a huge amount! The boys love to encourage us to eat the green chillies – ‘They are only beans, Aunty!’ We know better!

Despite everyone saying that it never rains in November, we know that to be untrue and so we hoped for a shower later in the day to relieve the humidity. What we got was a deluge of Biblical proportions! We had been invited to hear Mark Tulley speak at the British Council and as we left the house the rain had been pouring down for about 20 minutes. Toni and I had made a bit of an effort with our appearance but within seconds were soaked to the skin! Tim’s Jeep is no match for this kind of rain and it seemed to be coming in from the floor, the windows and the roof! His single windscreen wiper on the driver’s side is certainly not man enough for the job but that doesn’t seem to faze him – the occasional arm out of the window for a quick wipe of the screen seems to do the job. The roads were several feet deep in water and as we were late (!) Tim took mostly to the pavements sending huge waves in every direction. It is surprising how something that would have had us screaming in England seems almost commonplace over here. We finally got to the British Council, clambered unsteadily out of the Jeep – put very attractive striped towels over our heads and ran in! There is obviously something about Kolkata and headwear that seems to haunt me!

We returned home later and although the streets had dried slightly there was a huge puddle straddling the pathway between our gate and our front door. The gate man kindly said ‘Aunty – you will have to open your shoes.’ Stifling our giggles and hoisting our skirts aloft we did just that!

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