Swimming to Class

When the monsoons ended, I was happy to dry out a little bit even if it meant enduring the October heat.  If only I were so lucky.  After the monsoons, there are post-monsoons.  Basically an angrier version of the monsoon rains with some added thunder and lightning for good measure.  They started Sunday night and continued for the last few nights but only after dark—until today.

A, C and I had gone to the Chocolate Room for a treat after lunch before we had to be back at the classroom in the afternoon.  As we got up to walk back, we noticed the torrential downpour facing us outside.  Standing under the awning for a moment, we weighed our options.  Only C was smart enough to bring her umbrella with her.  A and I had left ours at the program center.  Brilliant.  First, we tried to all huddle underneath one umbrella.  We must’ve looked absolutely ridiculous, three little foreigners clinging to each other in one wet blob underneath a single umbrella, inching forwards.

After about 20 feet, we realized this was not going to be effective, and we were better off just running through the buckets of water slamming into the street.  So, A and I broke off to run across the street when there was a pause in traffic.  I made it to the middle of F.C. Road and realized one flip flop had been left behind.  There weren’t many cars so I quickly decided to run back and get it.  My flip flops are beautiful leather Rainbows so they do not adjust well to the rain.  As I slid around to get my lost flip-flop, I realized I couldn’t make it back across the street at this rate.  So, I made the bold decision to hold my shoes while I darted back across the road to join my friends.  That’s right, I ran barefoot across a wet Indian city street.

Upon reaching the other side, I managed to get my shoes back on only to slide around like a dog wearing rollerblades, trying to make it back to the program center.  There are two main reasons the sidewalk is so slippery.  One is the fact that Indians don’t understand the concept of drains.  The second factor is the tiled sidewalks.  They’re just like bathroom or kitchen tiles... outside... on the sidewalk.  I don’t understand it.

We stopped a few times to catch our breath underneath a storefront awning with the other Indians.  The best part is that no one else was running around like a mad person.  All of the Indians were relaxing under various canopies, waiting for the rain to die out because none of them are worried about keeping to a particular schedule.  All I could do was laugh.  I mean, we must have looked completely insane to them, slipping and sliding around on the tiles, getting soaked to the bone.

We finally made it to the program center, toweled off and changed into spare kurtis from the cupboard.  But our trip wasn’t over yet.  We still had to go to class.  A, F and I set out for the journey to class, slightly more equipped this time with umbrellas or raincoats.  My jeans were still completely soaked though.

There were little streams, waterfalls and small lakes forming all around campus.  We managed to dodge most of them at first until we realized it was pointless and happily sloshed through the puddles.  When we reached the second security gate, the guards were standing in the doorway.  Clearly they had no intention of checking our IDs in this weather.  We all stopped upon noticing the lake as large as my bedroom that stood between us and the other side of the security gate.  There was no way around it.  I started laughing hysterically because what else could we do at this point? I gestured to the guards that we were going to swim across, which they found even more amusing.  We literally waded our way through, the water sloshing around my calves.  We reached another lake shortly after, this time with a bit of a current and came upon a dead rat floating near our feet.  Deep breaths.  Deep breaths.  I kept telling myself not to think about the contents drifting around my feet as I made my way through the streams and giant puddles.  We finally made it to class, but I couldn’t stop laughing.  I looked like a drowned rat.  Get it? Like the one we encountered on our way to class? Okay, a little too dark to be funny, I know... but you have to laugh to keep from crying, right? Where does that expression come from, anyways?

Don’t worry Mom & Dad, I came straight home after class and scrubbed myself from head to toe with hot water, spending extra time on my feet which are stained brown from my leather flip flops.  I still can’t stop laughing but again, laughing is better than worrying about the potential diseases I just contracted from sloshing around nearly barefoot in the street waters.  It’s not like we don’t have rainstorms in the U.S., but when we do I’m wearing knee-high Hunters, a raincoat, an umbrella, and we have this thing called a drainage system in the States.  Oh, India.  You continue to find strange and amusing ways of testing us.