agni nakshatram

Turns out the sweat lodge(s) might not have been such a good idea after all. After suffering from a case of black lung for a week, I finally went to the doctor on Saturday. Dr. Dheep is probably one of the best doctors in Madurai, and he didn't accuse me of any cool drink or ice cream consumption. He did, however, kindly offer me an injection but I opted for tablets instead. He confirmed a respiratory infection as well as dehydration. Looks like 106 degree temperatures don't mix too well with sweat lodges. And by sweat lodge, I mean my house. It's so hot in here that everything, included paper and books, is hot to the touch.

This time of year is known as agni nakshatram in Tamil, which literally means "fire star." And it's an apt name as it does feel as though a fire were burning in the sky. Considering that I simply cannot sleep at night from the heat, and the illness is showing no signs of retreat, I reluctantly went to a hotel on Saturday night so I could get some rest in an A/C room. It was a gamble, though, because as we all know it was ice cream and A/C which caused my disease in the first place. I didn't really want to go to the hotel because I felt like some sort of failure: after all, are the Indians around me having heart palpitations because of this heat? I decided, however, that this is foolish thinking, as I think that people here are genetically predisposed to be perfectly jolly in heat that would otherwise kill an American.

So I did what any self-respecting American would do in my position and I lied to everyone around me and told them I was going to a "friend's house" for the night. "Friend's house" meaning the brand new, super sleek hotel right across the street from the railway station. On my way out the door, people across the street inquired as to the status of my black lung, and asked whether or not I had consumed any ice cream recently. I told them that I certainly had consumed an ice cream and look where it landed me. Instead of fighting the ice cream hypothesis, I'm embracing it happily now. It actually makes people happy to hear that I realize my folly and will never repeat it again.

So on Saturday night I slept soundly, making sure the A/C was as cold as possible so as to get my money's worth. But I ended up feeling lonely and I came home yesterday. I guess I'd rather be getting annoyed the hell out of in this crazy zoo than relaxing in a quiet, cold, posh hotel room with television and room service. My "welcome back to Meenambalpuram" moment occured this morning when, inexplicably, the loudspeakers were dragged out yet again and the nagaswaram music started blaring at 5:30 AM. At first I thought it was Sunday, because people sometimes like to blare music on their one day off, but then I realized it was Monday with seemingly no holiday to explain the loudspeakers. Music at this decibel level usually indicates God is involved, but Chellapandi told me that folks are opening a photo studio in the neighborhood. This time the reason for neighborhood glee appears to be secular in nature. People's happiness appears to be directly proportional to the degree to which they can make homes in the area shake through the use of loudspeakers.