Yesterday I walked into Kalighat and Radha waved me over. So excited. "What? What is it?" I ask her. And she is laughing and trying to tell me something. In her bad English and my horrendous Bengali I managed to gather that yesterday a baby had been born at Kalighat. A baby!

A woman was brought in off the street and immediately went into labor. The volunteers (luckily one was a nurse) helped deliver the baby. actually caught the baby! and she was breech and the umbilical cord was around her throat. But she lived and she is well and she is now at Shishu Bhavan getting bigger. And the women were so excited. All day. Apparently she was born with her eyes wide open. And a head full of hair. But oh so small. And all day the old women sat and talked about what her name should be. And a baby! A baby!

So I painted a wall blue and red and yellow and green. In her un-named honor. Because I wasn't sure which color she would like best. I hope yellow. But she is free, of course, to like whichever color she wants.

And when I got home we pulled out blankets and made popcorn (thanks SueLynn) and drank beer and watched Darjeeling Limited. Our own private film festival on our own private computer screen (well, Anita's) the size of my hand. And when it was over I laid on my back and looked at Orion, so bright up above. And went to bed with sweeter dreams than I've had in a long time. (But then, that perhaps could have been the beer.)

Tomorrow the American Consulate is hosting an election party at the Park Street hotel. Free food and television access to everyone holding an American passport (it's about time - I swear the German embassy throws a free dinner at least once a month!) So I think I will go. At (gulp) 5:30 in the morning. For coffee and Obama fever.