Sunday October 21st
I took this timelapse while I was in the shower and didn’t lock down the settings, so it flickers. Live and learn. Finished not perfect. It’s an active day at the scrap yards across the street. People are on the rooftops bathing out of buckets. I find this process fascinating and I’m far enough away to not violate anyone’s privacy, but close enough to learn something. I feel better prepared for the next time we lose power and water during a hurricane.
At breakfast I run into my fellow teachers who complain of a dog barking all night long and sleepless nights. I offer earplugs to those who will take them. Things I always travel with: Eye mask (it looks like a training bra, but trust me-it works like a dream) and ear plugs.
I realize after yesterday’s trip to the mountains that the entire range of peaks we drove through is right out my window in the distance, but I can’t see them because of the air quality. It’s like being in Boulder, Colorado and not being able to see the foothills and flatirons. Or being in Denver and not being able to see the Rockies. I wonder how and if this limited perspective affects the people who live here.
The city of Chandigarh is famous for its uncharacteristic order and planning. It is built in a grid like a typical western city comprised of different sectors and reportedly inspired by French architecture although I didn’t see the connection honestly (note: I’ve never been to France, all I know is it didn’t look like France does in the movies). There are a lot of roundabouts. I wonder if there are roundabouts in France.
There are tractors with black smoke going all up and down the road outside the hotel. Today they are paving the dirt lot in front of the scrap yard across the street. The machine they are using looks like the machine Lightning McQueen has to drag around in the movie Cars. In order to prepare the ground for paving, there are a dozen tiny women with tiny handheld brooms made of twigs sweeping the debris from the dirt and dust filled lot. They sit in a squat position, butts hovering just over the ground, always positioned correctly so the dust they generate from the sweeping moves away from them—the way you might just the right side of a bonfire to sit on to keep the smoke out of your face. It looks like hard work. I couldn’t sit like that for ten minutes, much less spend all day like that sweeping dirt. They are not wearing what I would consider work clothes. They are in light colored saris and dresses and sandals. They sweep sweep sweep. Occasionally a man stands over them and says something. They move slightly and continue sweeping. In the distance smoke billows up from multiple fires. It could be a dumpster burning garbage, it could be someone’s stove, it could be a farmer’s field burning. There’s no way to tell, it all just drifts into the air hanging, blocking the view of the most majestic mountains on earth. I write something in my journal about the rituals and habits of humans that limit their view, health, perspective and quality of life. Cycles of poverty, access and limitations of life.
I spend the rest of my day planning my lectures for the communications students at Chitkara University. This is interesting because at NO point has anyone told me what I should be lecturing about. I don’t have any idea what these students have been learning, I don’t know their level of study, I don’t know what tools and software they have at their disposal. This is the position from which I’m planning five lectures. Storytelling techniques are universal, so I start there building slides and decide I will play it by ear once I meet the students and learn more about them and the technology available. I want them to benefit from having me there. I want nothing more than for their time with me to be well spent and useful to their lives and careers, I just don’t really know where to start. Luckily, I’m pretty confident I can figure something out that will make it worth their while. If nothing else, we’ll do improv workshops for five days.