Anand - Napa - Borsad - 17.5 km / 11 miles
Tuesday begins with a visit to the Dada Naoroji High School. Tahir is proving himself to be a wonderful interpreter and gains us permission to enter through the gates with the car. As we cross the school yard I see brightly painted pictures on the tree trunks: a woman in a red and green sari balancing a pot on her head, a dancing turbaned horn-player, a peacock. A live dog lies prostrate on the sand nursing her litter of pups. We meet with the administrator who tells us the school is on holiday however with a few classes in session. I’m surprised at the ease Erico is granted access to photograph. We interrupt a class of high school students seated at their desks, again the boys to one side, girls on the other. As they attend to the lesson on asexual reproduction Erico quietly makes his way around the room with his camera. In his excitement, Tahir seats me at a desk in the front row and as I’m feeling the old dread of school rising inside me, starts taking photos on our phones. The students are remarkably mature and don’t react to the disruption. More quotes on the wall catch my eye, “I am a good citizen when I volunteer” and “I am successful when I do my best” which strike me as far more motivating than the deadening cliché of my schooling era, “Could do better.”
Sometimes it is difficult to differentiate reality from imagination because of the meditative quality to walking. I sight a white ibis perched atop a dead tree, his curved fish hook bill and spindly legs blending with the wiry branches. Napa is situated next to an emerald green lake reflecting the delicate gold-domed mosque and towering palm trees on its shore. I’m still in my reverie when suddenly a young man on a motorcycle pulls up and invites us to hop on. Feeling the wind in my face with this injection of speed is exhilarating. His name is Jasimkhan and he takes us home where we are introduced to a large mixed family of Muslims and Christians who offer us tea and snacks. We relax and chat together inside rooms painted in blocks of bright contrasting colours – pinks and blues and greens and oranges- while the portly father gently sways on a swing hanging from the ceiling. It seems Tahir is enamoured with the brilliant sister Sanjana but she is already engaged for marriage. Addresses are exchanged and mother asks me to send her a Christmas present. “What would you like?” I ask. “A cell phone.”
After the heat of day Jasimkhan and Sanjana escort us through their village of Napa. The shuttered windows open one by one as word gets out foreigners are on the street below. Erico asks if we might enter a home to access a better viewpoint to photograph the faded murals from a second storey. A Muslim couple, she all in pink and he in white, invite us in where we meet their four young children. They offer us ice cream cups and as I don’t care for ice cream I leave mine by the door to give to Erico when we leave. He takes his photos and as we are saying our thank yous and good byes I’m amused to see their baby girl spooning ice cream in her mouth, I Love You printed across the front of her cotton shirt.
Back at the emerald lake an ancient lengthy footbridge constructed with beautiful arched brickwork leads us out to an island. Looking back at the mosque as daylight fades the view is serene. Coloured string lights following the curve of the dome create a fairy tale fantasy tinged with the soft grey haze rising from an open fire burning garbage at the water’s edge. But the sun is now low and we must leave for our night halt in Borsad, a distance of 8 km (5 miles).