Children play with sticks and old tires in the dirt roads; city buses arrive with daily workers; farmers return from the fields on rickety bicycles with loads of foilage strapped behind them; cows, sheeps, goats, and oxen stroll ahead of women carrying huge pots of cleaned kitchenware or clothes on their heads. 
This past week, I decided to give it a go, this whole balancing baskets on your head thing. This lady was on her way home from the bus stop, so I asked her if I could borrow her bag for a minute....one nimsha, ma?
There were only three coconuts in the basket, an odd number (never good for balancing) and the bottom was flimsy. Two strikes against me. We continued on to the next village where I took this picture of Mercy and a pack of kids who tagged along for our home-to-home survey. Now mom dukes over here jumped in the picture with that huge pile of sticks on her head as she was returning from the fields. 
So I admit. She looks a bit more steady than I did with the coconut bag. But... any physics student will immediately recognize that her sticks essentially form a uniform rod with a sturdy COM (center of mass). Much easier than balancing three coconuts. You know?
After finishing up for the day, Mercy wanted to buy some fresh vegetables. So these same kids led us out to the fields to gather cucumbers. They got some fresh snacks while this nice lady cut long, ridged vegetables i'd never seen before.
Sure did make for a bomb diggity curry the next day at lunch, thanks to Fazila.
Here, Praba, one of my co-workers, sits to interview one of these village midwives, known as a traditional birth attendants (TBA). We had originally set out to interview TBAs in all of the villages surrounding Mysore City to investigate rural birthing practices. The idea was to use these TBAs as community links to identify pregnant women in each community and ultimately help increase access to HIV testing and counseling in these hard-to-reach populations. While our strategy has shifted slightly, given the relative inactivity of traditional birth attendants in the past several years, through these interviews we have gleaned some very interesting and useful information.
Take, for instance, this lady here. We sit in her house on a woven mat, and Praba begins the interview. As we cover issues regarding antenatal care visits, problem-solving during dangerous deliveries, and post-partum practices, I find myself enthralled with this woman. At first, she inspects me with inquisitive eyes. I can see the questions in her mind churning. But as the minutes pass, skepticism lends itself to warmth. There's a solidarity speaking woman to woman about these issues. Her deep creased lips open, exposing a mouthful of broken and expressive teeth. Glassy, yellow eyes meet mine. I didn't think it possible, but the creases on her dark brown skin deepen as she smiles. Around her eyes. On her forehead. And cheeks. Her earlobes droop down low from the gravity pull of golden earrings. 
After the interview, she pinches the shit out of my cheek and kisses her hand. The Indian way of saying: so much love. Really, the kind of love-pain only old ladies can get away with. Then to top it all off, Praba decided to buy a chicken. As I'm bracing myself to watch a chicken killing, she motions for me to follow her outside. But no killing ensues. Her grandson grabs a chicken and then she makes me assist in packaging up the goods (picture me holding a plastic bag and this woman shoving the live chicken into the baggy: I'm screaming, she's laughing). 
At the end of each interview, we give the traditional birth attendants birthing kits. The same ones that came with me through airport customs. Each kit contains: a pair of gloves, soap, a string, and a blade. Above Selvi, PHRI's driver (fun fact: Selvi is the ONLY female professional driver/taxi driver in the State of Karnataka), places gloves on one of the TBAs. Usually, we end these village outreach trips around 5pm and, inevitably, the rain starts coming down. Time to head back to Mysore and wave goodbye to the kids:
