Park Life (part 2)

View from remaining secret location of solitude

It’s not that I am someone who enjoys long periods of solitude or prefers to be alone. Mostly I am happier amongst a crowd, which is just as well when I live in Delhi. However, occasionally I do need time away from the hustle and bustle and time to sit and think or read quietly. There have been many failed attempts at finding a place where it is possible to do this without being disturbed by school children, students, families, etc. (note earlier entries on Lodi Gardens and Jama Masjid) but for three months now I’ve managed to maintain one place where I could sit for a whole half hour outdoors at a time undisturbed. Until today.

There is a small park just the other side of the road from my office where I often go at lunch times. I sit in the same spot each time, on the flower bed wall just next to some benches where the local grannies usually congregate to do their knitting. I like to sit there and listen to them chattering in Hindi and I also think that them being there helps to ward off any unwanted attention. If there is one force you don’t mess with out here its elderly Indian ladies. Occasionally I have two small friends, Vivek and Mishra, who come and sit with me when it’s a school holiday. They are the grandchildren of one of the grannies and usually run between the grannies’ bench and my seat asking various questions in English about where I come from and what I’m doing in India. I suspect they are sent by the grannies as spies to interrogate me and I’m just waiting for the, do you have a husband and how many children do you have questions to come up. The other day they turned up with accountants’ ledger books and proceeded to ask me whether I had anywhere to live and could they take down my telephone number. I told them thank you but I already had somewhere to live and thought it wise to give them a fake number. It seems one of the grannies is also running a side business as a broker (UK equivalent of an estate agent without the fancy office and the BMW).

I enjoy talking to my two small friends turned entrepreneurs and they only pop up once in a while so I don’t mind when they interrupt my solitude. But today the game was well and truly up. I’d been sat for about 5 minutes reading my book when someone in pink moved into my eye line and then sat on the flower bed wall a metre or so to my right. I continued to read my book but was conscious of the fact that they were sat turned towards me, staring at me whilst I read. I pretended to not notice and continued to read. “I see that you are reading your book!” Damn it. I’d been discovered. I looked up, smiled and nodded hoping that this would be taken as it was intended, a polite but firm, yes I am reading my book and would prefer to not be disturbed thank you. “Where are you living? What are you doing in India?” Fail.

The girl in pink was aptly named Angel and had decided that I would be her confidant for the day. Essentially she wanted to talk to me about boys. Why are all boys cheaters, how do you know if you can trust a boy, what should you do if your parents see you with a boy and get mad, why do married couples sometimes fight, why do boys never think with their brain (her words, not mine!)…the list went on. I attempted to give a few half-hearted answers where I could get a word in, “I suppose not all boys are cheaters, you can trust some of them, some think with their brain…” none of which seemed to be considered very satisfactory. I was quite taken aback as I’d not heard an Indian girl (she was 19) in India speak quite so frankly and openly about men before. In comparison I felt like quite the prude, especially when she mentioned her twelve “most recent” boyfriends.

After a while I tried to extricate myself from the conversation and said I really must be getting back to the office. “Ok, we’ll get something to drink.” So we started walking. I said thank you I wasn’t thirsty, she said yes but what do you want to drink and bought me a coke. I said I really must be going, she said yes ok I’ll take your number, grabbed my phone, typed her number in and proceeded to ring her phone from my mobile. “You come to the park every day? I’ll call you when I’m here. If you disconnect I’ll know we’re not friends.” I wasn’t really quite sure what was happening during any of this transaction but I knew that any hope I had of being able to return to the park to read my book undisturbed was scuppered.

I do have one place left. It is quite literally out of reach of most human occupation with just one small rickety ladder leading up to it and a view over all of south Delhi. It is the only place outside of the flat where I can go and feel confident that I won’t be disturbed, but it can only be a matter of time before I’m discovered.

Cricket

On Saturday Score Foundation (the organisation I work for) joint hosted an event to welcome the Dutch cricket team to India and introduce them to the game of blind cricket. Members of the Dutch cricket team, the Dutch Ambassador and Embassy employees and a blind cricket team from one of the local schools turned out to play cricket and teach the Dutch team and other attendees about the rules and logistics of blind cricket.

Thankfully my attendance did not require me to play cricket, a game I last remember playing about 18 years ago in the garden at home when at least half of the match would be spent retrieving the ball from the neighbours’ gardens and fighting over who would have to go round to pick up the ball this time or climb over the fence. However, since arriving in India I’ve had a double incentive to understand more about the game and give it due respect. I now understand that cricket is to India what football is to the UK. In every park and ‘empty’ piece of flat land you will find a cricket game or several taking place. Cricket players are given a godlike status in India and passions run particularly high during the World Cup series. Then there is blind cricket, a much less widely publicised or understood game but with a considerable following and kudos of its own which since working at Score Foundation I’ve had cause to learn more about.

Score Foundation was my first encounter with blind cricket as the organisation’s Chief Exec, George Abraham, is the founding Chairman of the World Blind Cricket Council (WBCC) and the Association for Cricket for the Blind in India (ACBI). The game is played internationally and since 1998 three Blind World Cups have been held. Blind cricket is essentially played to the same rules as sighted cricket but with a few modifications. For example, the ball is made of hard plastic and filled with ball bearings so that it makes a noise when it moves and the wickets are screwed together to ensure they are aligned. The bowler also gives an audio clue before bowling and the batsman gives an audio clue when he is ready. Saturday was the first time that I’d actually got to watch blind cricket in action and they certainly gave the Dutch players that attended the run around.

As ever the day would not have been complete without a lesson of some kind and when I went to talk to the boys from the blind cricket team and told them where I was from they proceeded to give me a detailed breakdown of the England cricket team and their recent performances in the World Cup. Mostly I was required to just stand and murmur in agreement apart from one tense moment when one boy excitedly said to me, “Sachin Tendulkar is a god! Don’t you think so?” There was a moment of awkward silence when I murmured, “Mmmm,” enthusiastically in response thinking, ‘who the hell is Sachin Tendulkar?’ but was thankfully saved by another voice piping up from the crowd in disagreement to this statement, which then ensued in the rest of them rounding on him. I decided this was my moment to quietly slip away. And yes, I have since learnt who Sachin Tendulkar is and why he is considered a god. For all those that are as ignorant as I was and interested here’s a link! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sachin_Tendulkar