I went back.

June 1st.

I’ve come back to Radha’s family for 1 more night with them. I’ve missed them at Sonopani. They all told me they missed me. I spent my first 2 hours back with the kids. I can’t tell exactly if it’s me or my camera they adore more but I’ll take the attention either way. Jagdamba and Garima insist on serving me lunch even though I had just eaten lunch at CHIRAG before I came. It’s impossible to refuse politely so I accept. However, when they bring me out a plate with a heaping pile of fried rice for my 2nd lunch today, I know what to do. I must return half of it immediately because once I’ve touched it anything I don’t eat will be tossed. I make a fuss of it being too much and they allow me to put some on another plate. Now I just must be careful when I finish. A precarious game ensews of them trying to sneak more food on my plate. As long as I keep my plate with me until the kids are finished I’m safe. This time I win, next time I may not be so lucky. Though I don’t complain, the food is delicious. The ingredients are relatively limited and simple, yet the flavor they achieve cooking over a wood fire is incredible.

I sense a stress amongst the 2 women home and when Radha returns I am sure I am right. She is so happy to see me and I her. We embrace and chat. However, soon the neighbors come by and several women gather around Radha asking her questions. She is telling a story with the words “medical report” and “doctor.” I ask if everything is ok, she says yes. I don’t want to push the topic. However, a while later when she is clearly distracted and seems stressed I ask again, she tells me her borther Trilok fell from a tree this morning. Her and her mother brought him to the Mukteshwar clinic. He’s gashed his head, face, arm, and leg. I haven’t been able to understand how serious the injuries are, but he is suppose to return tonight, so I guess I will see for myself then.

Radha’s father died a while back from a heartattack. It is difficult for a family to survive here without a head of household. Trilok has assumed the responsibilities of this role, though not the position, for the family. I’m imagining Radha is reflecting on the loss of her father.

This is a very united family. Each member works very hard for thw hole and they support eachother unconditionally, it is essential to their wellbeing. I’ve seen several families here now, and I can sense a very strong bond and love in this family in particular.
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The women and I have spent a good hour examining an American $1 and $5 bill I brought, along with several pictures of my parents and I. They comment that mom and dad look “smart.” Sometimes the British influence really shows…
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Trilok has returned, somehow he managed to get into bed facing the wall without me noticing. I can’t see anything Radha as made a home remedy for his wounds. He lies completely still.

The family I knew to be always laughing is mostly silent. I can feel the stress, mourning, and concern infesting the household. I feel like an intruder on the families grief. Radha’s mother is ranting to Govind. It’s an endless speech, clearly full of resent and frustrations. I hear “pani” (water) a lot, I imagine she’s listing all their hardships and saying, “and now this, why this?…” She clears her throat and continues. Govind, holding a sleeping Kushi listens obediently with mounting stress etching across his forehead. 5 min, 10 min, 20, 40… she speaks for an hour. Radha serves tea. With everything happening Radha stil asks me. “Is it too sweet?” “It’s perfect.” I reply.

Trilok sits up to take some tea but faces the wall. I can make out a bandage around his head and a patched eye. I’m praying he recovers quickly and send a text to the group to let them know of the accident. We need Neosporin and a get-well card.

It’s getting dark and the family has resumed boxing peaches to bring to the road. They constuct crates from planks of wood they purchase, then pack them with peaches, newspaper and pineneedles, and nail them shut. Each crate is painted to indicate quality, quantity, and seller. I notice 2 different sizes of boxes. Radha says the smaller size is top quality, the larger box is medium. The boxes weigh about 6 and 14 kilos, respectively, when full.

It’s dark now and various family members take the boxes to the road. 10 year old Rajul carries a 6 kilo box on his head. Radha carries about 20 kilos of peaches on her head up the path that always puts me out of breath without carrying anything. I don’t follow them because I would fall and surely sprain my ankle trying to walk up this path in the dark. I sheepishly return to the house to watch Daviki wash the mud floor with water. I’m confused as to the purpose of this since the floor is a dry dirt and dung mixture, why get it wet?

The peaches they leave on the road will be picked up by large blue transport trucks who will then drop the boxes with distributors in the town of Haldwani, from there they will be sold around the country. The family makes 25rps for each smaller box, 30 rps ($0.75) for the larger ones. I ask Redha how many boxes of peaches they make in a year. She estimates 60-80. I estimate the family brings in about 2000rps in 1 year from peach production (their main crop), minus any costs for pesticides, crates, etc. That is $50. I’ve paid 150rps ($4) per night I’ve stayed here, that is nearly 10% of their profit, per night.

The first time I stayed here I expected a small struggle with Rdha to allow me to pay for staying, however I encountered none. Now I understand, they really need the money. I had though they live a modest/poor life but get by with what they have as long as they work hard to maximize farm output. Now I see that they work hard to maximize output and it is barely enough. I’m amazed Radha manages to go to University in Almora, I can’t express how much I admire her.

I’m sitting in the kitchen writing. Walking in here chokes me from the smoke. But I’ve learned that if I sit down quickly it won’t bother me as much.

They eat dinner later here, though in the case of Radha’s family this seems more out of necessity then tradition. The women are working up until 8 or so, when they can not longer see in the dim light, and that is when they begin to prepare the food. Everyone is in bed by about 11pm and they rise to start another day at about 5:30am.