A Rainy Morning of Errands and An Afternoon Watching Oxford's Encaenia

Wednesday, June 26, 2019
Bombay

A Rainy Morning of Errands and An Afternoon Watching Oxford's Encaenia

     Namaste from Bombay!
     As if on cue, so as not to make local meteorologists feel like sorry sods, the heavens opened at exactly 5.00 am today to officially bring in Bombay's Monsoon of 2019. I know because I was awake at that unearthly hour. It seems that the showers we experienced, two weeks ago, were merely a throwback from a cyclone that hit the Gujarat coast. This is the real McCoy! This is the sort of weather that shall keep us cool and indoors (as much as we can help it) for the next four months. I listened to the downpour drumming on outside and I felt transported to my childhood when it had rained with such might, accompanied by thunderous claps and streaks of lightning and it was declared a holiday, the next day, much to our delight, as the colony in which I lived (Reserve Bank) flooded copiously with knee-deep water. Such lovely memories of the beloved city of my birth are associated with the Monsoons. I love Bombay!
     Up, as I mentioned, at 5.00am,  I did a fair bit of reading (The Cuckoo's Calling), drafted my blog post and downloaded the Times of London. I also had a phone chat with my friend Shahnaz, just back from Delhi where she attended her daughter's graduation from Ashoka University with a Bachelor's in the Humanities. I was hoping that she would have the time to fit in a phone interview with me (on her acting career in Bombay, two decades ago), but she is swamped.
     It was on to breakfast then as I ate a chappati with mango jam and marmalade (I need to finish the stock pile of chapattis in my fridge!). While eating, I watched House Hunters International after a very long time and was transported to Lisbon, Portugal. I then did a bit of tidying up and noticing that the rain had subsided somewhat (although it kept up a steady drizzle), I decided to finish up a couple of pending errands I had to run for Dad.
     So I called him and told him I was heading out into freshly rain-washed Bandra to pick up Russel's culture reports from Hinduja Hospital.  I called first, of course, to confirm that they were ready and then I was off. It was painless and very quick as the reports were ready and waiting to be handed over to me by the super-efficient receptionist who mans the desk  Once again, I was struck by the cool professionalism of this institution--long may it thrive! That task done, I got into a rick and headed to Dad's. I called to tell him to keep his Man Friday Rohit ready as I would be picking him up and taking him to the Police Station for registration.
     However, Rohit is very busy in the mornings with his list of chores and he was not ready by the time I reached Dad's. I handed over the culture reports to Dad (all clear!) and chatted with him as Rohit got ready. I then called my photocopy man, Jay, and told him that we were heading to his shop. He suggested I whatsapp Rohit's documents to him--Rohit had received them from his folks in Chattisgarh from which state he hails.
     Ten minutes later, we were heading to Jay's where the documents were duly printed out and kept ready for me. We found a rick and headed to Hill Road to the Bandra Police Station. It is customary to register newly-employed domestic helpers in Bombay now with the local police station as thefts, extortion, kidnapping and even murders are often known to be the doings of domestic help--who do the deed and then abscond to their native places never to be heard from or seen again, As a way of combating this kind of domestic crime, the Bombay Police have set up a Registry service. You bring the new hire to the police station where he/she is finger-printed and photographed. Copies of their national ID cards are made together with documents from the place that they claim is their home town (as so many of these folks come from the rural hinterland of India to the metropolitan cities seeking work). Their details are then entered into a computer and become part of the data base.  God forbid there is a crime reported, their whereabouts are traced through their family members in their villages. Hence, utility bills and voter registration cards of their parents are considered valid documents for keeping on record. Rohit produced the electricity bill of his parents' home in Chattisgarh and his mother's voting card which has her home address on it.
     Inspector Yadav at the Bandra Police station, who knows me by sight by now as I have been there three times already, inspected the documents, ascertained that there were all in order and assured me that they would be entered into the computer.  It took all of five minutes and then we were off. We found a rick and I dropped Rohit back home to my Dad's place before I carried on in the same vehicle to my bank where I needed to deposit some money to swell my account balance. For the first time in ages, I noticed that there was practically no one at the counter--the rain kept all patrons at bay--and I managed to get my work done with no trouble at all.   
     I then walked out into the slight drizzle and got home for a nice hot shower. That done, I sat down to check my email and do some reading before it was time for lunch. I fixed myself a plate with meatball curry, stewed green gourd, sambhar and a chappati with some really wonderful Rajapuri mango for dessert.
     By this time, I had my TV on to the You Tube station that live streams from the Martin School Webcam at Oxford University. I was aware that it was the day of the Encaenia (Graduation) Ceremony--a red-letter day on Oxford's calendar. In the days when Town and Gown co-existed compatibly together, a procession led by the University's Chancellor, Vice-Chancellor, Provost and other big wigs, wound its way through the streets (they often came along Broad Street) before entering the Sheldonian Theater where the graduation ceremony is held. I understand that things have changed and that Oxford City Council had some sort of row with the university which no longer allows roads to be closed and traffic stopped to make room for the pomp and pageantry. Nowadays, the procession starts from a college close to the Sheldonian and weaves its way through a few university lanes only. Hence, the crowds of people lining Broad Street that I had seen in the Inspector Morse episode entitled The Twilight of the Gods is a thing of the past--sadly!
     All I could see (as my camera only provides views down Broad Street) was clumps of graduates, gowned either in all-black, black and pink or black and red gowns grow steadily after 10.00 am local time. Some were individually seen as they hurried in and out of the Weston Library--where I think the registration and ticket distribution for the ceremony took place. I spent a long while watching the growing spectacle of graduates, their mentors and professors swell in number outside the main gates of the Sheldonian Theater. At 11.30, they were allowed inside, in a orderly queue. Lucky tourists who still took the Hop On Hop Off bus tours today as they had the rare sight of newly-minted graduates take over the town. At exactly 1.00 pm, i.e. 90 minutes later, the graduates trooped out of the Sheldonian and disappeared down both sides of the Broad--no doubt off to a celebratory lunch somewhere. I felt absurdly pleased to be a part of this ceremony, albeit vicariously and albeit half a world away--but it was fun and it brought back for me so many happy memories of my days in that town over the last 35 years.
     I took a short nap in-between and then began drafting my May-June newsletter which will be a joint one this time as I did not send out a letter at the end of May as Llew and I were traveling in South America. I had fun remembering our times together.       
     Then it was time for tea and I helped myself to the goodies Dad had given me yesterday--a chicken patty and a small piece of cheesecake with a pot of tea--they were both good and I felt fairly stuffed by the time I dressed and left my studio to go to Dad's. I visited with Russel for a bit and then then Dad and I left for the Novena and Mass.
     Dad is having endless trouble with his landline where irritating and very loud static disturbance makes it almost impossible for him to carry out a conversation. He requested me to return to his place so that I could place yet another complaint with the phone service and tomorrow morning, we shall probably be going in person to catch hold of the linesmen before they disperse to do the various jobs that have been allotted to them.
     I got home for my own dinner--I had a cup of pea and mint soup with crackers and some pasta and more mango for desert while I watched another wonderful episode of McCallum.  It was about 10.30 pm when I went off to sleep.
     Until tomorrow.