Type and Sweat, Sweat and Type

A colleague of mine reminded me that I wrote my thoughts from my time in Barquisimeto and as I recall, I had a similar headline for one of those pre-internet musings. But from every account, I’m glad it’s not summer in Hyderabad. I was listening to Janis Joplin’s cover of Gershwin’s classic "Summertime" today as I was continuing to help refine the Indian definitions of “clean” and “paint” as they were executed in our apartment.
But progress is being made. Electricity works (mostly) and what doesn’t work, I’ve eliminated – literally. One step forward, two steps back. Yesterday I went to a one-man performance of “The agony and ecstasy of Steve Jobs”. It was staged at the Indian School of Business and I was invited by students from Hyderabad University. It was a very funny account of an Apple cultist’s experience over the last 25 years.
But I wanted to get back to one of my initial anticipations of our trip to India and that is of my spiritual journey. Now, I can start from any of a number of perspectives, and I chose that of being a minority religion. And Christianity is the minority’s minority in India. About 25 million Indians are Christians. But in a country of one billion, it doesn’t even come onto the radar screen. I mentioned some of my perspectives on the various churches at which we attended mass. This is patently church shopping. Not gonna lie. But the criteria for selecting the church we’re likely to attend the most during our stay is worth some scrutiny. However, the process reminds me of some of the rat lab experiments in the 50’s and 60’s, some of which I got to observe at UofM. Those were some of the classics: white room, black room, low voltage grids on the floors, food at far end of the room. Rat wants to eat, food is in the black room and the floor is electrified. Results: generally stressed hungry rat.
What, you might ask, does this have to do with church shopping? Well, we’ve been to three churches: St. Joseph’s in Hyderabad, St Mary’s in Secunderabad, and St. Alphonsus in Banjara Hills. I’ve shown you the Pieta on steroids at St. Mary’s. St. Joseph’s is the center for the Archdiocese of Hyderabad which stretches east out to the coast and south for quite a distance. St. Alphonsus is the closest. However, it has its “dark room, electrical grid” drawbacks. You’ve probably seen or experienced the type of church in the US that is the “Baby Jesus Bar & Grill”. I took this picture surreptitiously before mass to give you a sense of the interior.
I’ve given some perspectives on the music of the “choir” which consists of some of the students from the school. The music is eclectic, to say the least. I’ve heard one hymn that was familiar but that was only after listening to at least two verses.
The exterior of St. Alphonsus is a mud courtyard surrounded by a mud stucco wall that is only punctured by one gate and one driveway which divides the church from the school. In the gateway, there is a gauntlet of beggars. From a suggestion by one of the expat association members, we purchased biscuits to hand out rather than cash. Well, can I tell ya, beggars CAN be choosers? Some give you a thank you, but a number of them give you a Telugu version of the raspberries. Cue the Flying Lizard’s cover of “Money”. Deb’s driver, Ashraf is pretty adamant when we’re at a stop for an intersection and the beggars come rapping on the window. “Don’t give them anything” is his constant counsel.
Now here is a picture of the exterior of St. Alphonsus with the old boy himself standing in the bushes of the courtyard, the only place where there isn't mud. It really is a contrast from the interior, but, hey, it’s India. Old habits die hard or better still, are reincarnated in successive lifetimes as something vaguely familiar but still garish. You can bet that St. Alphonsus is carrying over some heavy karmic matter from the previous life and it manifests itself in the orange paint and the neon cross. Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
I’m experiencing another “Waiting for Godot” moment as I received a call this afternoon telling me to expect a delivery of the furniture that was supposed to be here on Monday last. I am to receive a call at 11:30 tomorrow to let me know at approximately what time I should expect the driver whose name and mobile number I will receive at that time. Now why 11:30? That is when the store opens as so many retail shops do. Deb has started driving to the office via a specific store just so she can get something that she would otherwise have to wait for 11:30 on the weekend at which time half her day is over and by the time she gets home, three quarters of her day is over and she just wants to plop down and take a nap. Vicious cycle, that Indian shopping thingy.
We’re looking forward to this weekend as we finally procured tickets for “A Disappearing Number” which is on tour. One of Deb’s BFFs had seen it in A2 and told Deb to see it at some point. So why not here? And the reason we’re going now is that the International Congress of Mathematicians is holding its global event at the University of Hyderabad. Go figure. Anyhow, I will not go through the agony it took to procure them, but suffice it to say we got ‘em, and we’re going.
I’m going out on the balcony and gaze at the lights of the city. I hope you have a great day and I will be back soon to let you know that the plays the thing.