Thursday, Dec. 21, 2006

Perhaps the most frustrating day thus far.

Prashant picks me up at 8:30am to follow the widow with leprosy into Mathura, about 20 minutes away by motorcycle.

We arrive at her home, and she is happy to see us. She will be riding in a vehicle called a “Tempo” into Mathura.

These vehicles are a real sight. They are three-wheeled taxis, basically. They are painted yellow and green and belch black smoke into the air from their exhaust pipes. People cram into them, sometimes sitting on each other’s laps or hanging out of the open doors.

The widow with leprosy climbs in and sits on someone’s lap for the ride.

All is well. Prashant and I follow the Tempo and eventually pass it. Number 9014. Then I stop to take a photo of her Tempo as it passes. She sees me. When we catch up to the vehicle again, she is gone.

Prashant asks the driver where he dropped her off. Earlier, at the temple stop, he says. We retrace our path to the stop and search for her for an hour or so.

She is nowhere to be seen. But then, you couldn’t spot this fragile little woman in the massive crowds of Mathura anyway.

Defeated, we wander around for a little bit and head back. But not before stopping at a Nepalese market, where I buy a soft black scarf. My first purchase since coming here.

The woman must have lost us on purpose, Prashant says. Maybe she was embarrassed.

****

We head back to another widow’s house. This woman lives with several kids in a home that consists of a tarp and clothes strung across some wooden beams.

But she is not there.

Now what to do? We pass by Prashant’s house. I both see and smell my next photo opportunity. A man is cleaning out the sewers. He uses a rake and pulls up scoop after scoop of sludge from the open sewers, which run along all of the streets. The muck sits in big black piles in the afternoon sun.

I crouch to shoot, but the lighting is bad. I move, and the man moves. I can’t catch him. Another wasted moment.

****
We do manage to go to one widow’s home. She is cooking chapattis outside. They have potatoes and greens inside. Good for the body during the winter season, Prashant says.

She lives with her son’s family. This son has broken ribs and walks with a cane. He lifts his shirt so I can photograph the bandage.

She is relatively well off. She has a roof over her head. Others do not. But the one thing that gets me about this place is the flies. They are everywhere. They cling to my hands and my camera and to the widow’s face and shawl. They swarm about the food and buzz eagerly about the dough.

****

We make it to Pinky’s house, but today is a festival in Vrindavan, so the family is gone. Pinky’s mother is blind, and her father has a form of cancer. She is another female child growing up in a difficult situation.

They return, but later than I hope. The daylight is rapidly fading. I take a few shots and leave. Hope for a more productive day tomorrow.

Tomorrow will begin early. 5am. Female laborers get up this early to clean the gutters and sweep garbage out of the streets.

****

On another note: DEET apparently doesn’t keep away the mosquitoes here. I woke up this morning with 20 bites on my hands. I will be trying something else tonight.

And here is my vain attempt to photograph an Indian monkey. Clearly I am not a wildlife photographer....yet.