The Ironing Room

All the workers in the place, the scrubber/thwackers and the ironers, were male. I wondered why.


When we first entered the premises, we passed through the ironing building, to the walkways between the washing booths. I felt more comfortable outside, not quite such an intruder as I felt passing through the quiet of the ironing area. But by the time we came back through, it seemed our presence was part of the place, that they had accepted us there and maybe were as quietly curious about us, as we were about them.


In contrast to the athletic thwacking of the washers, the ironing room was a place of precise, almost serene movements. We stood and watched while the huge electric irons glided back and forth, making precise folds in the shirtsleeves and panels of the shirts. The finished ones in a pile were sculpture-like, beautiful in their curves and crisp lines.


Perhaps accounting somewhat for the tranquil atmosphere of the place was the shrine, high on the end wall, where a small light bulb took the place of a candle, and Hindu icons reminded workers of the presence of their deities.


In the midst of this, a tall thin fellow scurried in on his spindly legs carrying an impossibly large bundle of laundry on his shoulder, and depositing it in the room opposite the ironing, where sorting took place.

At the Laundry - Part 2

Walk out through the passage to the area outside the washing booths. There you will find row upon row of laundry, hung out to dry. Amazingly, there are no clothes pegs, but the sheets and shirts are hung from ropes by twisting their edges between the ply of the ropes. I try to imagine someone doing this and don’t quite get it. No one is hanging things at the moment, just washing, rinsing and wringing.



We writers sit here and there and scribble on our pads, feeling a little self-conscious. How come we get to sit around and write while these guys are literally working their butts off? It doesn’t seem fair, which of course it isn’t. But they are probably glad to have the work. One of the big problems around these parts is unemployment. I try not to think about the serious cases of prune-foot these fellows must have at the end of their work day.

At the Laundry

He works in booth #16 – a cubicle of cement with foot-thick walls about eight feet apart, a cement wall at back and open in front. He stands in water up to his ankles. Against the back wall is another vat of water at the height of his thighs. Here is the method he uses over and over:


He picks up the towel (or whatever article) from the pile. They have been pre-soaked, wrung out and lie in a pile ready for the next phase. He flops it in the water at his feet and plops it on the knee-high slant board folded in half. Now he rubs it quickly with a bar of soap and scrubs it lightly with a hand-sized brush; flips it over and does the same on the other side, putting a little muscle behind it. Next he swishes it lightly in the water at his feet, and now the fun begins. He swings it over his head and thwacks it against the slant-board repeatedly, with great force, exhaling audibly.


Finally he swishes it in the upper vat and folds it in half lengthwise, then presses the cloth into a ball against the slant, as if kneading a ball of clay. He holds it up and folds it lengthwise, making a thick rope which he will twist and twist till it is semi-dry.

Trip to the Backwaters near Kottayam - Part 10

During this meal Smitta taught me the effective method of eating with the hands, which I have always wanted to learn. In the past I have been mystified by the fact that Ethiopian people can eat so gracefully with their hands, while I feel like an uncoordinated baby. This method eliminates the indignity of opening your mouth and tilting your head back like a kid trying to catch snowflakes.

Here’s the trick:
1- Pack the food together into a little pyramid on your plate (or, in this case, leaf)
2- Pick it up with your fingers and thumb, then turn your hand palm up, with your fingers still cupped
3- Now – move your thumb back behind the little pile of food on your fingers and use it to shove the food into your mouth – BRILLIANT! Your thumb is a little pusher. It really works for this kind of food. Thankfully we had spoons for our delicious vermicelli with creamy sauce, flavored with cardamom and nutmeg, our dessert.


Later:
On the shore of the lake, a man and woman untangle the fishing net together. Below them a beautiful ebony-skinned woman in scarlet and gold dress sits in a gondola-like boat, waiting. Our boat slips silently along. Other tourists behind me murmur quietly among themselves. The water sparkles in a path of sunlight; I am mesmerized by the gentle rocking of the boat, the dancing ripple of the waves, the occasional splash of the pole as the valakaren lifts if from the water. I am rocked in my cradle and have returned to babyhood. I hardly have a thought in my head, let alone a care.

Trip to the Backwaters near Kottayam - Part 9

After a while the larger boat on the other shore started moving towards us, and we were amazed to see that just one man poled it all the way to our shore. We piled on with our fellow tourists and were soon deposited on the opposite shore, where we enjoyed my favorite meal while in India. I think one reason I enjoyed it so much (aside from the fact that it was delicious) was because this was what most people in the villages eat – well, maybe on a feast day.


We sat on plastic stools and took turns washing our hands in a basin (while lovely Smitta poured water over our hands). Next, a beautiful section of banana leaf was placed on the narrow table in front of us, where we sat on three sides of a square. The roof overhead sheltered us from the sun, but the sides of the building were open. The temperature was perfect due to a high cloud cover and a slight breeze off the water.


The above photo has refused to lie horizontally, so for the moment I am letting it have its own way. To get the true effect you willl have to have a laptop and turn it on end:)
In the photo you see the succession of dishes: fat white rice that had the largest grains I have ever seen, spicy hot chutney, vegetable curry poured over the rice, and then thoren, a cabbage, coconut and mustard-seed dish, followed by aviyal, a delicious wonder which was a combination of the following: drumstick (not chicken, this is a vegetable), snake gourd, ash gourd, brinjol (eggplant), elephant foot yam, plantain (not sweet), cucumber, potato and finally carrot. Also there was the crunchy papadam - YUM! Of course I found all this out later by interrogating Thampi, who was a jack-of-all-trades and one of the people serving the food.


Here you see a shot I took from our dining area of our awaiting boat with the European contingent already on board.

Trip to the Backwaters near Kottayam - Part 8

On our arrival back at the wide lagoon area it was time to pile back into our bus and head for the next leg of our journey. After a ten-minute ride, we were deposited near a wide body of water that is part of the network of backwaters. Across the way we could see a larger boat than the ones that had taken us down the narrow channels; this one had a roof covering made of bamboo with little open windows on the sides.


While we waited there we were fascinated to watch an operation that could have been taking place in almost any century. Men were poling long-boats, similar to the ones we had ridden earlier, filled to the gunnels with sand. They brought these boats up to shore where a crew worked together.


A couple of men shoveled sand into huge bowls, which were then hoisted onto the heads of three extremely muscular young men. With their burdens expertly balanced, these incredibly strong fellows walked up the bank to the place where they dumped the sand. Hopefully this is a career guys don’t pursue for too many years – I cringed to think about what this does to the vertebrae in their necks! (see below)

Trip to the Backwaters near Kottayam - Part 7

While in this spot, which was a slightly wider portion of the channel, we were passed by a couple of boatloads of Indian tourists, which was rather comforting. It wasn’t just us foreigners who came to gawk at this amazing treasure trove of flora and fauna. These boats were furnished with red plastic chairs, which were a nice complement to the bright saris and salwar kameezs worn by the women. Every one of them smiled and greeted us with a friendly hello.


As we traveled the length of this portion of the channel we saw people going about their normal, everyday chores and activities, and tried to discreetly take photos of things that were charming or fascinating to us. We joked about having one of them come to America to photograph one of us mowing the lawn or washing the dishes in the sink so we could wash them again in the dishwasher. Most everything here of a washing nature happens in the channels, including goats, humans, laundry and dishes.


We came to a wider area of the backwaters and there was room for us to do a three-point turn and head the other direction. Along the way we saw various exotic birds, bright turquoise amazing somethingerother, a “fish eagle”, cormorant, an elegant white bird that looked like a crane relative (my godfather is a bird zealot – where is he when I need him?) – anyway, of the 500 species around here, we saw quite a few.