First the birds began chirping, singing and calling, then a gust of wind blew through the streets rattling the trees and papers in the road, next a haunting call to prayer from the neighborhood mosque – all this to greet the dawn in Pune. I normally would be missing this morning concert, not the early rising type, but for my old friend “jet lag” waking me in time to hear it. These wide-awake, pre-dawn hours have a message for me to hear. Now a dog is joining the chorus with a lonely howl.
Last evening I went to the doctors with my daughter-in-law. Her blood pressure is up. The doctor is somewhat concerned and wants the baby born before Friday when she has her next appointment. Asking for your prayers and a great peace to fill the air around her.
My son is quite the pro, navigating these streets in his little Santro. He weaves in and out of the myriad of cars, motorbikes, pedestrians, push carts, motorized rik- shaws, and occasional cows like he was born for it. On the other hand I find it daunting just crossing the street. There is no stopping the flow. Only in the wee hours like when we first arrived. One must, with great courage, look for the break in traffic and enter in weaving, stopping, and starting until you cross the 20 feet to the other side. It’s kind of like a dance, or maybe more like a bullfight.
The doctor’s office is on a very busy corner near the main shopping area: MG road. There is a narrow stairway leading to the 2nd floor balcony, again very narrow. I can imagine two pregnant ladies meeting in this hall and one having to back up into a doorway to let the other pass. A small door appears and there is a tiny waiting room with four plastic chairs. No receptionist, or billing department, just another foggy glass door to the Doctors office/examining room. I have complete confidence in her. She is a veteran and knows her stuff. Her equipment is ancient, but adequate for the task. I delightedly hear the swish-swish of my grandson’s heartbeat. I am gratefully reminded of another doctor’s office back in Whittier, California. The office was quite different, but I had another master doctor from Chennai who helped bring my son into the world 28 years ago.
Categories: borderlands, Life, Travel
Tags: birds, bullfight, dance, doctor, doctors, India, jet-lag, prayers, streets