Gulbarga fort mosque(Photo by Louayg )
As a soft dusk fell, we went to the Gulbarga mosque; 600 years old and very beautiful, huge and clean, old paving cool on bare feet, rich tombs hung with reds and golds and outside, white washed walls. But nowhere is woman's inferiority more brutally demonstrated than here; the few women there prayed in the open courtyards, are not allowed inside.
In one tomb/mosque, men prayed and filed past the draped sarcophagus while the women crowded round the little grilles in the walls to peer inside. These oppressed women, made to feel themselves so little when they do so much, when their lives are so completely dedicated to other people, they stand there with their hideous veils thrown back over their heads as they watch, then down it comes again, the iron mask.
How did women ever allow themselves to be so used and abused? And the beggars came crowding round...now I've really heard beggars whine.
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Top of the list of cheap texts for telegrams displayed at the Post Office: "Best wishes for election success" and "Congratulations on election success".
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A wild little museum in Gulbarga: a Mogul empire chain of "male" shards of brilliant blue pottery nearly 2000 years old; stone age arrows; a lady's litter...and a stuffed kangaroo! How and why did that get there?
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A bribe is called "black money".
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Slept on the roof again last night. Stars were numerous and bright and no recognisable pattern. I woke up in the middle of the night with the moon shining in my eyes like a 250 watt globe. At dawn we drove towards Shorapur. The people and cattle as grim and gaunt as ever. The country dotted with old temples and palaces; passed a lovely old fort with walls of different coloured stones, blue, mauve and red, volcanic perhaps. One wall disfigured by that ugly yellow and red family planning painting. People accept history so casually here, they seem to live with it--perhaps they don't feel they live in a separate time, a "new" time.
The country is dust dry and we passed many government relief works. One group breaking stones by the side of the road by the side of the road had large and shady grass canopies to work under and grass tents to rest in. On the whole there do seem to be more women than men working on the sites -- at one I saw only women, at another I saw some boys who couldn't have been more than 14 wielding pick axes. I sit and pant in the landrover -- I can't understand how they do that work in the heat; it's a least 42 degrees.
There are long queues at all the government "Fair Price" shops. From Shorapur onwards, the bullocks looked quite sleek and well-fed and we say quite a few hay-ricks. Some better off farmers have "adopted" bullocks for the duration. But twice we passed a group of men leading large herds of lean cattle, mainly calves. We asked one man where they were going, he told us they were off to sell the village cattle. At least half the cattle in the drought areas has died or been sold for slaughter, in spite of the government "cattle camps". Many farmers who have lost their bullocks won't be able to plough their land when the rains come.
We hoped to find a doctor at the leprosorium in Gulagud, to discuss possibilities of the hospital starting a feeding scheme, but he was "out of station". So we rested up for a while in the guest house and set off for Sholapur when the worst heat of the day was over. And the rain came pattering down! Not much, and not for long, the melodramatic lightning didn't warrent the result -- but it was enough to clear the dust and brighten the eye. "The air is sweet here," said our driver, Mohammed Khan.
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Sholapur: The car was stoned again at the fourth village feeding scheme and the programme had to be stopped. Sad for the children, but the principle of total village co-operation can't be bent, ever.
At the scheme we visited, the feeding went beautifully. True, the children here have also not gained any weight, but they all look reasonably healthy in spite of the ubiquitous runny noses. Sujatha and Stina stopped a few children, lead out rather promptly by their mums or older siblings and made them go back for second helpings, which all the kids ate. The mothers are rushed, the older brothers and sisters bored, so you have to do this occasionally. It's a pleasure to see healthy appetites.
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