The heat is on. I knew it when sweat starting rolling down my temples during the opening invocation before class, before I had done anything. Granted, the practice room is always hot after the 5:30 a.m. group have been sweating for an hour, but never before have I broken into a sweat just thinking about a string of words in Sanskrit. (I don’t even move my lips – most of us just silently imagine the words, so as not to disturb fellow students whose practice is already underway.)
After a drenching practice, a litre of partial replacement water, and fresh clothes, I felt great. I made my way to Holly & Tony’s for breakfast. Surprisingly, no one was there, except the owners and crew, so I read the paper and had my fruit salad and masala omelet. 21 women were crushed to death yesterday at a nationalist political rally, when the organizers started giving away free saris. The organizers said it was “only heat stroke,” and that the press “should not report on the deaths, because this sort of thing is to be expected.” As I began to eat my fruit salad, I noticed that I was sweating again. The movement of my jaws was causing me to sweat. But I felt lucky to be alive.
After breakfast, there was a wonderful AA meeting under a fan. Just three of us ashtangis, but some good truthtelling, and each of us spoke for about 20 minutes.
Everybody says April is the hottest month, and half of April is gone, so the worst should be over soon. And the worst is not nearly as bad as I had heard or feared. The temperature is reaching 95 degrees about every day now, which is not as bad as New York City gets. For most people here, the solution is simple. Just don’t do anything from about noon to four. Air conditioning is virtually non-existent.
Before the heat, came the rains. They started about two or three weeks ago. For the first time in 8 months, clouds arrived. Around 7:30 p.m., they became thunderous and opened up. I was at an AA meeting near the city center. We could not leave. The rain was coming down in buckets. The streets had emptied of everyone and everything, except water pouring from the sky. After about an hour, there was some relenting, and motorized rickshaws starting hauling stranded pedestrians, about five to a rickshaw, which has about the seating space of a chair. When the rain slowed down even more, people and scooters and bicycles poured back into the streets. Nearly everyone wore plastic bags on their heads. I did not think to bring one.
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