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bridge. Walk back the light in Ram's room is on, the ceiling fan working, head and shoulders glance from the bared window in recognition of my outside presence. Crowded car, two sitars and six people, the girl in a bad mood because Ram is late. The driver an old man with large white mustache leans his arm continually on the horn in a constant pattern of honks. Swerving among the cows and bicycle-rickshaws, pedestrians and trucks. The code of the Indian road being: the bigger and faster you are the more noise you make the more right you have to make anything smaller get out of the way. As Indians respect money and positions, they respect the right of anyone with an automobile to push them around. Outskirts of cantonment, park walled houses set back from the road. Circular drive, fountain, lighted porch, tea and sweets buffet style, plates with spoons. Upper middle class government officers. The sub deputy director of . . . and this wife, the guests place their dirty plates on the floor under the table. In the next room the small platform is set at one end on the left side the ladies sit in a long row on the floor against the wall. The men scattered on the padded white cloth and against the right wall, a small aisle separating the sexes. Bomasa pan is offered among the guests by a servant. And an older man (the father of one of the hosts?) comes to each one of the guests in turn and leaning down covers their hands and shirt sleeves and fronts with perfume from a small vial. There is much clasped hand greeting

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a bit obsequious on the part of the self-satisfied officials and the concert begins.

Ram and Krishna begin staggering short phrases one playing against the other on their sitars. The host and a few of the male guests murmur verbal approval and encouragement to the performers egging them on with ooos etc. The pace is slow. Krishna plays with great coolness and some technique, Ram in a more animated manner directed towards his hosts. On the second half of the piece Misra with tablas joins for the gathering speed of the music. One long piece followed by two short ones make up the offering (the second being the most satisfying). Covers on sitars. The crowded car flashes of naked light bulbs shops, open eyes bed reflected in the headlights, the whole half-lit jumble of traffic falling bye, Sonarpura, goodbyes, see you in America (all three players leave in a few days on scholarships to universities in the U.S.) dark lane gullies, bed.

Aug 19, 70

The people leaving in the house next to ours (on the left) have been battling for two days. A woman's voice is raised in fury above the rest, screaming with full uncontrolled force. This has happened two mornings in a row now. I think they are too tired by evening to fight anymore and have to rest for the next day's conflict. Joint family style, everyone yells at the same time, not just a husband and wife but kids, grandmothers etc. Pent up frustration released volcano style, tumbling down the shell walls of family shelter.

Aug 19, 70

Black ant, large superpowered model, hind legs higher than the front giving a race sport car look to the insect racing back and forth over the white covered flooring in a continual act of non-discovery (insert concert piece above)

Animals lie in the middle of the streets resting or asleep unperturbed by the passing clatter, [ILLEGIBLE] oblivious and undisturbed by your foot falling 1/8 inch from his nose. Another example of the acceptance of closeness that Indians tolerate and encourage?