Ladies and gentleman, I have arrived in Kolkata, a truly nostalgic Indian city. This is the place where I first ate real Indian food, made my first Indian friends, saw my first real manifestations of urban poverty, and the first place where I lived among Indians. It is great to be back in this humid, chaotic city full of mixed faces. Any race or ethnicity imaginable lives in Kolkata. Everyone blends and has a place. Everything is held in the heavy, pungent air.
My friend Vishal offered to pick me up at the airport last week, but informed me on Saturday that he would be out of town for business until late Sunday evening so I would have to get a pre-paid taxi at the airport. Of course when I get off the plane and walk towards baggage claim, whose friendly face do I see? Smiley Vishal with the lopsided dimples. I haven’t been so surprised or thrilled in a while. I literally could not stop smiling. Once we got into the city, we went to my favorite dosa restaurant outside of New Market. This place is a tiny little hole in the wall that smells faintly of masala and limes—a strange combination I know, but still wonderful and vibrant. Outside of the restaurant are bangle vendors yelling at every female passerby for business.
Vishal and I caught up for three hours over two dosas, two chais, and many laughs. We spoke about religion, our work and research, and our plans for the near future. Currently Vishal is still coordinating the volunteer program that I went on last summer, but he has been directed more into the social entrepreneurship program that employs women from the slums and markets and sells their handicrafts. The company is struggling through the global recession. What once was an office filled with orders for sari blankets, purses, and other crafts for sale abroad, has become an empty file folder on a desk, women receiving handouts from the foundation’s reserve, and slow search for future markets. While the news about his work is extremely depressing, he seems optimistic and motivated. “The only way to get through hardship,” he says, “is through faith, perseverance, and optimism.” I guess that’s an inevitable side of this type of business. All depressing elements aside, it was wonderful seeing him and catching up. It’s good to be back.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Train Escapades...
Sadly I have not updated with posts in quite a while and its high time I do so. Recently I’ve been really busy in Jaipur, recovering from illness (I’ll fill in about that later), developing my independent study project, visiting various NGOs, catching up on my Hindi homework, and living life. On March 6th-9th, a group of my friends and I traveled to Udaipur, a beautiful city in southern Rajasthan. The trip, rather impromptu, was quite a test of personal strength and ability to function, even through the worst of circumstances, alone.
Usually I talk a pretty big game about having a “strong stomach.” The last time I was India, I barely suffered from any of the typical “travelers’ illnesses” and managed to enjoy the majority of food. I worked in an urban slum, drank questionable water from time to time, and ate street food. My confidence had blossomed into cockiness as I entered India again, this time as a student. The first month and a half of my stay proved to be rather stable, never feeling more than just a stomachache.
The morning of the day we left for Udaipur I felt lethargic, queasy, and completely unlike myself. I slept through the majority of my classes at school in the library waking up ever so often to the soft nudges of my friends checking in on me. My Hindi teachers looked concerned that I planned to travel that very night. Even Mrs. Singh, who barely enters into matters that are not her own, spoke to me about considering the option of staying behind. My cockiness got the better of me. I let the warnings pass by hoping to prove to myself that I could be strong and in fact let mind trump matter.
The group had planned to take an overnight train to Udaipur that would arrive at seven in the morning. In the train station I felt completely fine, blinded and energized by the excitement of a trip on an overnight train to a beautiful city with my friends. I was not listening to signals my body was sending. That very night, after all were peacefully in bed snoozing away under worn woolen blankets in the AC car of the train, I jerked out of bed feeling more violently ill than I had ever felt in my entire life. A sudden wave of sickness, desperation, and fear overcame my whole being. How quickly could I get to the bathroom? Can I leave my belongings unattended in the train car? How am I ever going to survive this feeling? I decided to bring my purse and camera with me, leaving my overnight bag. I occupied the small squat toilet bathroom for over two hours in waves of illness, all alone in a train in the middle of rural Rajasthan. No parents stroking my back. Friends peacefully sleeping. The feeling of total and utter vulnerability piercing me. I managed to make it back to my seat, weak, dehydrated, and exhausted. I slept two hours before the train arrived in the Udaipur station. Of course I looked utterly terrible and my friends noticed my change in behavior immediately. Several friends assisted me the whole way to the hotel and got me into bed. Not completely unwillingly, I slept alone for the morning and most of the afternoon. I called my parents just to hear their voices and to commiserate over my sudden sickness. My mother, always caring and sympathetic in these situations, was a comforting ear as I lay, head throbbing, in the middle of a hotel room.
I won’t go into any more details of the course of the illness because they are pretty unnecessary in getting to the main point of this experience. I improved over the weekend and made the best of my trip visiting havelis (large Mughal style mansions), lake parks, and lake view restaurants. I enjoyed the company of my friends and slept the majority of the train back to Jaipur. It took more than a week for me to get my appetite back and to realize how much I needed that to happen to me. Feeling sick is terrible. It is debilitating, scary, but truly a test of how strong you can be and how, ultimately, you can and should rely on yourself. My cocky bubble burst. I no longer felt invincible and unaffected. The blurry memory of the sitting alone in a small train bathroom without help made me realize that you can get past painful experiences; you can and will be ok without the constant watch of your family and friends. Yes, of course, these people are irreplaceable elements in one’s life, but it is reassuring to know that, at the end of the day, you can feel safe and know that you can take care of yourself.
Usually I talk a pretty big game about having a “strong stomach.” The last time I was India, I barely suffered from any of the typical “travelers’ illnesses” and managed to enjoy the majority of food. I worked in an urban slum, drank questionable water from time to time, and ate street food. My confidence had blossomed into cockiness as I entered India again, this time as a student. The first month and a half of my stay proved to be rather stable, never feeling more than just a stomachache.
The morning of the day we left for Udaipur I felt lethargic, queasy, and completely unlike myself. I slept through the majority of my classes at school in the library waking up ever so often to the soft nudges of my friends checking in on me. My Hindi teachers looked concerned that I planned to travel that very night. Even Mrs. Singh, who barely enters into matters that are not her own, spoke to me about considering the option of staying behind. My cockiness got the better of me. I let the warnings pass by hoping to prove to myself that I could be strong and in fact let mind trump matter.
The group had planned to take an overnight train to Udaipur that would arrive at seven in the morning. In the train station I felt completely fine, blinded and energized by the excitement of a trip on an overnight train to a beautiful city with my friends. I was not listening to signals my body was sending. That very night, after all were peacefully in bed snoozing away under worn woolen blankets in the AC car of the train, I jerked out of bed feeling more violently ill than I had ever felt in my entire life. A sudden wave of sickness, desperation, and fear overcame my whole being. How quickly could I get to the bathroom? Can I leave my belongings unattended in the train car? How am I ever going to survive this feeling? I decided to bring my purse and camera with me, leaving my overnight bag. I occupied the small squat toilet bathroom for over two hours in waves of illness, all alone in a train in the middle of rural Rajasthan. No parents stroking my back. Friends peacefully sleeping. The feeling of total and utter vulnerability piercing me. I managed to make it back to my seat, weak, dehydrated, and exhausted. I slept two hours before the train arrived in the Udaipur station. Of course I looked utterly terrible and my friends noticed my change in behavior immediately. Several friends assisted me the whole way to the hotel and got me into bed. Not completely unwillingly, I slept alone for the morning and most of the afternoon. I called my parents just to hear their voices and to commiserate over my sudden sickness. My mother, always caring and sympathetic in these situations, was a comforting ear as I lay, head throbbing, in the middle of a hotel room.
I won’t go into any more details of the course of the illness because they are pretty unnecessary in getting to the main point of this experience. I improved over the weekend and made the best of my trip visiting havelis (large Mughal style mansions), lake parks, and lake view restaurants. I enjoyed the company of my friends and slept the majority of the train back to Jaipur. It took more than a week for me to get my appetite back and to realize how much I needed that to happen to me. Feeling sick is terrible. It is debilitating, scary, but truly a test of how strong you can be and how, ultimately, you can and should rely on yourself. My cocky bubble burst. I no longer felt invincible and unaffected. The blurry memory of the sitting alone in a small train bathroom without help made me realize that you can get past painful experiences; you can and will be ok without the constant watch of your family and friends. Yes, of course, these people are irreplaceable elements in one’s life, but it is reassuring to know that, at the end of the day, you can feel safe and know that you can take care of yourself.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Lesson Learned...
Patience is a greatly underrated virtue. When you least expect it, the patience that you lacked at a time of little importance comes back and slaps you right across the face. Let me elaborate.
In my homestay, the laundry is done by my younger host sisters once or twice a week, depending on the regular, if not persistent, wardrobe needs of my older host sister. We have a washing machine in the backyard and a drying rack for all of the clothes. Two weeks ago, I gave a rather large batch of clothes to my host sister Lakshmi. In it contained several new kurtas (the long tunics paired over scrunched leggings—very fashionable among young Indian women). The next day I saw the dark colored clothes perched on a drying rack and the day after the light colored clothes similarly situated. For two days following I asked Lakshmi if I could have the clothes back to iron them. She obediently returned all of my dry, yet wrinkled, clothes to my room minus a pair of these leggings and my favorite navy blue kurta. I waited a day to see if the kurta would appear, but it didn’t and I, being possessive over my clothing in a country where I am lacking a general volume of clothing, did not hesitate to ask here where the pieces were. Over the next several inquiries (which spanned over a week) I was directed to my host mother, then back to my host sister, then back to my host mother all over again. I felt lost, vulnerable, taken advantage of. I assumed the worst. I wondered why my host sisters, technically the daughters of the family’s main servant, would want to take my clothes when my host parents so generously provide them with everything they need. Was it an act of power? Was it a display of their superiority over me in their environment? Was I being handed off from woman to woman with meaningless answers because they were purposefully trying to confuse me and teach me a lesson not to ask stupid questions? No, no, and no.
Today, when I returned home after a long and eventful trip to Udaipur, I saw a stack of neatly pressed and folded clothes lying on the coffee table in the living room. My navy blue kurta and black pants were at the top of the pile. My face brightened as I lunged for the clothes. All of fears of loss and deception dissolved. My host mother simply smiled and said, “When you wait, you see beauty in things that come slowly.” Here words are humbling even as I write at this very moment. In our hyper-prioritized, time-constricted lives in the U.S, we place emphasis, energy, and negative emotion on the things that ultimately do not matter. The loss of an insignificant kurta outfit having little monetary value and somewhat small sentimental value plunged me into a set of emotions that internally forced me to turn against the women in my host family—women who have been nothing but hospitable, kind, and warm to me. The twinges of anger and frustration I felt when I sorted through my clothes every morning hoping to find what I thought had mysteriously vanished were completely unfounded. My host mother sent away the clothes to be pressed so that I would look and feel better in them. Despite the two weeks it took for the clothes to return the intention and meaning behind the gesture amounts to so much more than the waiting period. In a very silly way, this interaction restored an element of my faith in people and in the inherent urge we feel to do good and help others. As trivial as the example may be in reality, I deeply questioned my tendency to jump to conclusions and pass judgment. Throughout my life, I have been guilty of this far too many times, losing friends and alienating people in the past. The simple act of doing something nice for someone without informing them coupled with a language barrier can lead to miscommunication and misunderstanding, yet it should never warrant silent and unforgivable judgment. The pace in India teaches many lessons that I hope will resonate in me over the remainder of my life. Time does not condition the meaning of actions, the journey and the intentions do.
In my homestay, the laundry is done by my younger host sisters once or twice a week, depending on the regular, if not persistent, wardrobe needs of my older host sister. We have a washing machine in the backyard and a drying rack for all of the clothes. Two weeks ago, I gave a rather large batch of clothes to my host sister Lakshmi. In it contained several new kurtas (the long tunics paired over scrunched leggings—very fashionable among young Indian women). The next day I saw the dark colored clothes perched on a drying rack and the day after the light colored clothes similarly situated. For two days following I asked Lakshmi if I could have the clothes back to iron them. She obediently returned all of my dry, yet wrinkled, clothes to my room minus a pair of these leggings and my favorite navy blue kurta. I waited a day to see if the kurta would appear, but it didn’t and I, being possessive over my clothing in a country where I am lacking a general volume of clothing, did not hesitate to ask here where the pieces were. Over the next several inquiries (which spanned over a week) I was directed to my host mother, then back to my host sister, then back to my host mother all over again. I felt lost, vulnerable, taken advantage of. I assumed the worst. I wondered why my host sisters, technically the daughters of the family’s main servant, would want to take my clothes when my host parents so generously provide them with everything they need. Was it an act of power? Was it a display of their superiority over me in their environment? Was I being handed off from woman to woman with meaningless answers because they were purposefully trying to confuse me and teach me a lesson not to ask stupid questions? No, no, and no.
Today, when I returned home after a long and eventful trip to Udaipur, I saw a stack of neatly pressed and folded clothes lying on the coffee table in the living room. My navy blue kurta and black pants were at the top of the pile. My face brightened as I lunged for the clothes. All of fears of loss and deception dissolved. My host mother simply smiled and said, “When you wait, you see beauty in things that come slowly.” Here words are humbling even as I write at this very moment. In our hyper-prioritized, time-constricted lives in the U.S, we place emphasis, energy, and negative emotion on the things that ultimately do not matter. The loss of an insignificant kurta outfit having little monetary value and somewhat small sentimental value plunged me into a set of emotions that internally forced me to turn against the women in my host family—women who have been nothing but hospitable, kind, and warm to me. The twinges of anger and frustration I felt when I sorted through my clothes every morning hoping to find what I thought had mysteriously vanished were completely unfounded. My host mother sent away the clothes to be pressed so that I would look and feel better in them. Despite the two weeks it took for the clothes to return the intention and meaning behind the gesture amounts to so much more than the waiting period. In a very silly way, this interaction restored an element of my faith in people and in the inherent urge we feel to do good and help others. As trivial as the example may be in reality, I deeply questioned my tendency to jump to conclusions and pass judgment. Throughout my life, I have been guilty of this far too many times, losing friends and alienating people in the past. The simple act of doing something nice for someone without informing them coupled with a language barrier can lead to miscommunication and misunderstanding, yet it should never warrant silent and unforgivable judgment. The pace in India teaches many lessons that I hope will resonate in me over the remainder of my life. Time does not condition the meaning of actions, the journey and the intentions do.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Living Americana
As a student abroad, one tends to feel longing for familiarity and comfort. Now, five weeks into the program I have begun to miss trivial luxuries like bagels with cream cheese and lox, warm baths, or feeling safe walking around at night. While I have adapted pretty well to India and I love living here, I miss having an American life. Yesterday, however, I felt as if I was living an American life relocated in India. I had a test in school in the morning, checked my email and posted pictures in the program center. After school, despite my two hour interlude hectically buying train tickets at the Jaipur railway station, I went to Central Park with friends, played cards and ultimate frisbee. At 7 o'clock we walked to a mall, bought sodas and journeyed over to my friend Sam's house for a birthday party. Sam and Hily were both celebrating birthdays, 20 and 21 respectively. We had the party on the rooftop terrace, a popular venue in India, listened to music, drank cold beers, and ate pizza. Even though we were surrounded by the Birla Mandir (Lakshmi Temple), the Queen's hilltop palace, and wedding fireworks, our environment felt strangely American--a feeling I had sincerely missed. Dancing and shouting song lyrics with friends while eating familiar food transplanted me back to my college life. We weren't harassed or prodded for looking American, sounding American, or acting American, but existed within a small rooftop bubble, safe from the dangers of uncertainty. Those moments of comfort are rewarding, but in the end I really like feeling disjointed and challenged in a new environment. Swaying in the strange flow of Indian life is much better than static life. I like being thrown out of place, but ever so often a little rooftop party makes all the chaos worth it.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
A Normal Day in the Life...
Today I had my first real exam of the semester. After arriving at the SIT program center by our usual autorickshaw, we were broken up into groups of 7 to take the written exam. What was supposed to take 2 hours ended up taking most people 40 minutes. I felt pretty good about my Hindi exam — it wasn’t too difficult. Then again I am learning a completely different language, alphabet, and writing system. I’ll be pleased if I retain what I’ve learned. After the written exam and an hour break, I took my oral exam with one of my Hindi teachers, Goutam-ji (aka Mr. Mehr). He is extremely hilarious around the classroom and is always cracking jokes with us on all of our excursions. For the majority of the time he is our teacher, but he also serves as a translator when he goes on field site visits with us. I feel really lucky to have such an involved group of Hindi teachers who try to get to know us as individuals rather than just as students.
During the oral exam, we had a short conversation and Goutam-ji asked me a number of questions regarding the size of my family, the occupation of my father (not my mother interestingly enough — the patriarchal nature of the society really does shine through, sorry mom), my hobbies, what I am studying, etc. He asked me vocabulary questions and we went on for more than the assigned 15 minutes. At the end of the session he asked me to write different words on the white board, something I am much weaker at. Spelling in the Devanagri syllabary is extremely difficult. There is just the slightest difference between retroflex and dental sounds, aspirated and unaspirated inflection.
In the afternoon we had a lecturer who spoke on the future of Indian urban planning and thoroughly went into the issues of caste and religious segregation in the cities. He spoke of how Muslim and low caste communities are regularly located on the outskirts of the cities away from the amenities provided by government municipalities. The issues of real estate negotiations, transfer of property between communities and the prejudice intertwined in all of this is unfathomable. In the afternoon, I went with my friends Katie, Chloe, and Kedryn to a 70% off sale at a fancy saree boutique near the Lakshmi temple in Jaipur. I have never seen so many women swarming over clothing in my entire life. Gorgeous, posh women dressed to the nines were pouring over all sorts sarees, salwaar suits, individual cloth pieces, and scarves. I felt extremely awkward in my heavy backpack and short kurta next to these sophisticated women. I ended up buying several salwaar materials and a two scarves. After the sale, I met my friend Josh for a run around our neighborhood. We met at around 6:30 and discovered a beautiful part just near our house. We ran about two miles around the complex and watched the sunset. I can definitely say that it was a good day.
During the oral exam, we had a short conversation and Goutam-ji asked me a number of questions regarding the size of my family, the occupation of my father (not my mother interestingly enough — the patriarchal nature of the society really does shine through, sorry mom), my hobbies, what I am studying, etc. He asked me vocabulary questions and we went on for more than the assigned 15 minutes. At the end of the session he asked me to write different words on the white board, something I am much weaker at. Spelling in the Devanagri syllabary is extremely difficult. There is just the slightest difference between retroflex and dental sounds, aspirated and unaspirated inflection.
In the afternoon we had a lecturer who spoke on the future of Indian urban planning and thoroughly went into the issues of caste and religious segregation in the cities. He spoke of how Muslim and low caste communities are regularly located on the outskirts of the cities away from the amenities provided by government municipalities. The issues of real estate negotiations, transfer of property between communities and the prejudice intertwined in all of this is unfathomable. In the afternoon, I went with my friends Katie, Chloe, and Kedryn to a 70% off sale at a fancy saree boutique near the Lakshmi temple in Jaipur. I have never seen so many women swarming over clothing in my entire life. Gorgeous, posh women dressed to the nines were pouring over all sorts sarees, salwaar suits, individual cloth pieces, and scarves. I felt extremely awkward in my heavy backpack and short kurta next to these sophisticated women. I ended up buying several salwaar materials and a two scarves. After the sale, I met my friend Josh for a run around our neighborhood. We met at around 6:30 and discovered a beautiful part just near our house. We ran about two miles around the complex and watched the sunset. I can definitely say that it was a good day.
Pushkar Debrief
It has been quite a while since I last posted, but I can assure you that it is for a very good reason. The group just returned from a week-long excursion to Jodhpur, Jaisalmer, and Bikaner. In addition, I traveled to Pushkar, a small hippie settlement in the middle of the desert, with several of my friends the weekend prior to the trip. I can honestly say that this was one of the best trips I have ever taken in my entire life — educational, fun, interesting, stimulating, diverse, and emotionally moving.
A group of my friends (12 of us) left Jaipur on Saturday morning, February 21st and took an AC taxi to Pushkar. We arrived at the hotel in the mid-afternoon, checked in, received delicious (and free!) mango tea. All of us were desperate to check out the falafel restaurant that came highly recommended, so we ventured off into the streets of Pushkar wandering through the markets. On the street I purchased a camel leather notebook with a stone of amber on the front, for use as a future journal. I’m hoping to write in it as often as possible. Last summer I returned home from Kolkata with a composition notebook full of letters, poems, notes, and ideas, something I will treasure forever. I plan to replicate it over the semester.
The falafel restaurant, The Third Eye, is run by Israelis who have emigrated to Pushkar and have essentially established a hippie colony. I ate some of the most authentic falafel I have ever had in the Israeli diaspora, with French fries inside the falafel sandwich itself! In those moments I really missed home and hummus and tahini I eat regularly with my family. All of the Jewish kids in the group kept reading all of the Hebrew signs around the restaurant and hotel with pride. I even had a very short conversation with an Israeli guy in Hebrew (dad, you would have been proud). On the way back into the market I happened upon the Chabad House and an Israeli guy came out wearing tefillin and a kippah. He asked me first if I was Australian and then if I was Jewish. I was with my friends so I didn’t stop, but it was extremely tempting to sit down with a bunch of hippie religious Jews and feast in India.
For the rest of the afternoon we wandered around Pushkar and happened upon the Brahma temple, the only one of its kind in the whole world. In my honest opinion, the temple does not stand out from many of the other temples that I have visited here; nonetheless it does hold great significance for many Hindus. It is the only Brahma temple in the entire world, drawing pilgrims from all parts of India. After the visit to the temple, my friend Josh and I wandered through the streets of Pushkar and happened upon a religious musical gathering near one of the ghats on the lake. As I crossed the threshold into the ghat to start taking pictures of the lake, an old man stopped me and said I had to participate in the pooja before I could start taking pictures. At that moment I recalled my friend Becca telling me not to do the pooja because it meant jumping into the lake and exposing myself to multiple parasites and bacteria. I was extremely hesitant. Luckily, Josh, who looks Indian because his father is Bangladeshi, is extremely outgoing when it comes to interacting with Indians so we decided to play along. We sat at the water’s edge separate from one another and were tended by individual priests. I was given a red powder bindi and was relieved of my bad karma. I placed a blessing on my family and friends, poured a little bit of the lake water on my head, and made a 100 rupee (roughly $2) donation; with that I completed the ceremony section of the pooja. Josh and I then proceeded to walk around the lake to see all 52 ghats at sunset. We sat with other pilgrims, walked shoeless through the pigeon poop, soot and waste, and felt completely satisfied as the sun fell behind the horizon.
That evening we returned to the hotel and sat on the roof for several hours sipping lassis and talking about life and India. We had dinner at the hotel restaurant, a pure vegetarian place with all organic produce. It was really delicious. The next morning all of the girls in the group received sketchy massages from the hotel masseuses, all men. I obviously kept my clothes on and stayed pretty tense for the entirety of the massage due to my heightened sense of male libido (from the sexual repression in this country).
Overall, I had an amazing two day vacation from the busy city life of Jaipur and a lovely escape into some hippie and Israeli culture. If you ever get to Rajasthan I unhesitantingly recommend Pushkar for a lovely weekend away and a great shopping retreat.
A group of my friends (12 of us) left Jaipur on Saturday morning, February 21st and took an AC taxi to Pushkar. We arrived at the hotel in the mid-afternoon, checked in, received delicious (and free!) mango tea. All of us were desperate to check out the falafel restaurant that came highly recommended, so we ventured off into the streets of Pushkar wandering through the markets. On the street I purchased a camel leather notebook with a stone of amber on the front, for use as a future journal. I’m hoping to write in it as often as possible. Last summer I returned home from Kolkata with a composition notebook full of letters, poems, notes, and ideas, something I will treasure forever. I plan to replicate it over the semester.
The falafel restaurant, The Third Eye, is run by Israelis who have emigrated to Pushkar and have essentially established a hippie colony. I ate some of the most authentic falafel I have ever had in the Israeli diaspora, with French fries inside the falafel sandwich itself! In those moments I really missed home and hummus and tahini I eat regularly with my family. All of the Jewish kids in the group kept reading all of the Hebrew signs around the restaurant and hotel with pride. I even had a very short conversation with an Israeli guy in Hebrew (dad, you would have been proud). On the way back into the market I happened upon the Chabad House and an Israeli guy came out wearing tefillin and a kippah. He asked me first if I was Australian and then if I was Jewish. I was with my friends so I didn’t stop, but it was extremely tempting to sit down with a bunch of hippie religious Jews and feast in India.
For the rest of the afternoon we wandered around Pushkar and happened upon the Brahma temple, the only one of its kind in the whole world. In my honest opinion, the temple does not stand out from many of the other temples that I have visited here; nonetheless it does hold great significance for many Hindus. It is the only Brahma temple in the entire world, drawing pilgrims from all parts of India. After the visit to the temple, my friend Josh and I wandered through the streets of Pushkar and happened upon a religious musical gathering near one of the ghats on the lake. As I crossed the threshold into the ghat to start taking pictures of the lake, an old man stopped me and said I had to participate in the pooja before I could start taking pictures. At that moment I recalled my friend Becca telling me not to do the pooja because it meant jumping into the lake and exposing myself to multiple parasites and bacteria. I was extremely hesitant. Luckily, Josh, who looks Indian because his father is Bangladeshi, is extremely outgoing when it comes to interacting with Indians so we decided to play along. We sat at the water’s edge separate from one another and were tended by individual priests. I was given a red powder bindi and was relieved of my bad karma. I placed a blessing on my family and friends, poured a little bit of the lake water on my head, and made a 100 rupee (roughly $2) donation; with that I completed the ceremony section of the pooja. Josh and I then proceeded to walk around the lake to see all 52 ghats at sunset. We sat with other pilgrims, walked shoeless through the pigeon poop, soot and waste, and felt completely satisfied as the sun fell behind the horizon.
That evening we returned to the hotel and sat on the roof for several hours sipping lassis and talking about life and India. We had dinner at the hotel restaurant, a pure vegetarian place with all organic produce. It was really delicious. The next morning all of the girls in the group received sketchy massages from the hotel masseuses, all men. I obviously kept my clothes on and stayed pretty tense for the entirety of the massage due to my heightened sense of male libido (from the sexual repression in this country).
Overall, I had an amazing two day vacation from the busy city life of Jaipur and a lovely escape into some hippie and Israeli culture. If you ever get to Rajasthan I unhesitantingly recommend Pushkar for a lovely weekend away and a great shopping retreat.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Food, Bollywood, & ISP
So I'm sitting in the library right now snuggled comfortably into one of the corner floor couches with a lovely wool shawl. I felt a little under the weather this morning. I woke up with a sore throat and stomach pains so I'm a little worried, but then again, I'm not going to feel 100% all of the time. Today, like class day (typically Monday through Friday) we have a catered lunch at the program center. I look forward to this meal every day. Our cook, Uday-ji, is amazing, always using fresh ingredients and foolproof recipes. Today we had a sliced cucumber and carrot salad, white rice, brown lentils with parsley in a dal style, sauteed okra, raita with chickpeas, and fresh chapati. Dessert was gulab jamun. Yum. These past several days we have had the host parents of various students join the group for lunch so that they all feel more connected to the program. It's been nice meeting my friends' "parents". My friend Greg actually sort of resembles his host father. They eat similarly, walk similarly, are both tall. It's really cute.
Last night I returned home from school with my neighborhood buddy Josh and decided to dive into my newly created pirated Bollywood DVD collection. Josh has a sort of obsession with pirated DVDs and videogames, so he has become an expert in the art of DVD hunting and Bollywood culture. He gave me a great DVD with the top 6 Bollywood Movies of 2008--really great. After we got home, we watched "Om Shanti Om," a film with Shah Rukh Khan, the male Bollywood sensation. The story essentially follows a boy-next-door trying to make it into stardom and his huge obsession with the starlet of the day. It takes place in the 1970s for half the movie and the second half in the present day. It's musical madness coupled with oversexualized interactions that don't actually result in sex. It's great escapism which I plan to dive into far more over the semester.
After my movie evening, I went with my host sister, Mintu, to a hotel in my neighborhood for several drinks and a get together with her friends. The hotel is pretty ritzy and expensive, but the top floor has a Mediterranean themed rooftop bar and lounge, with an open roof and beautiful view of the city. India has seriously gotten it right with all of the rooftop and open air architecture across its metropolitan cities. Then again, when it gets that hot, you really need to be elevated to catch some of the wind sweeping through the miserable heat. Mintu's friends arrived, an adorable couple from Jaipur. The husband, Sachin, is a general surgeon and owns a hospital in Malviya nagar, a nice neighborhood of Jaipur. His wife, Chinu, is a contractual hospital management and public health consultant for the government. Currently she is working on a project for the World Bank observing the management and allocation of funds across a secondary sector of hospitals across 5 Indian states. I really enjoyed talking to her and getting sort of an idea of the Indian hospital system. I got an invitation to visit Chinu's hospital at the beginning of March. After the couple left, Sanjay (Mintu's boyfriend/fiance), Mintu, and I all hung out a little longer and danced a bit. It was really fun and a nice escape from my typical routine.
At school, I'm in the process of designing my ISP, or Independent Study Project, which will be my complete focus for the month of April. I feel like I'm on the brink of something really good, but I just can't seem to hone down on one specific topic. My general interest as of now is looking at Food and Development. Ha. Yes, I know. Broad. The three abstracts I proposed are:
1. Looking at produce vendors in urban areas and their incoming competition from the commercial supermarket industry. What are the relationships between the food vendors and farmers? What infrastructure exists to protect the employment of these individuals? (I need to further expand this idea to sort of come up with a project goal).
2. Examining food aid programs in a state, NGO involvement, intertwined with food education. Evaluating methodology and distinguishing some of the unique challenges facing the public aid sector.
3. Researching and studying nutritional education in India and the influence of Ayurveda and the commercialized and popularized notions and approaches to health. How does the media influence individual's perceptions of nutrition and health.
Honestly, I am open to suggestions. The ISP needs to be specific. These categories are rather broad and open-ended. I am currently reading a lot of economic food policy and also "The Political Economy of Hunger" which is fascinating. Eventually I want my ISP to be creative and really reflect my interests. I also want to be based primarily in an Indian city. So, yeah. That's where it stands as of now.
Next week the group is traveling to Jodhpur and Jaisalmer for a development and NGO excursion. While in the two cities, we will be doing some sightseeing, but will primarily visiting and interviewing NGO managers trying to get an idea of the development "industry" in India. We are also going for a camel trek and camping in the desert for a night. I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS!
Anyway, I should probably sign off because this has been a long entry and I've undoubtedly exhausted or bored you. Please give me feedback about the ISP at my email address: mtaskier@gmail.com
Thanks for reading!
--Madeline/Mimi
Last night I returned home from school with my neighborhood buddy Josh and decided to dive into my newly created pirated Bollywood DVD collection. Josh has a sort of obsession with pirated DVDs and videogames, so he has become an expert in the art of DVD hunting and Bollywood culture. He gave me a great DVD with the top 6 Bollywood Movies of 2008--really great. After we got home, we watched "Om Shanti Om," a film with Shah Rukh Khan, the male Bollywood sensation. The story essentially follows a boy-next-door trying to make it into stardom and his huge obsession with the starlet of the day. It takes place in the 1970s for half the movie and the second half in the present day. It's musical madness coupled with oversexualized interactions that don't actually result in sex. It's great escapism which I plan to dive into far more over the semester.
After my movie evening, I went with my host sister, Mintu, to a hotel in my neighborhood for several drinks and a get together with her friends. The hotel is pretty ritzy and expensive, but the top floor has a Mediterranean themed rooftop bar and lounge, with an open roof and beautiful view of the city. India has seriously gotten it right with all of the rooftop and open air architecture across its metropolitan cities. Then again, when it gets that hot, you really need to be elevated to catch some of the wind sweeping through the miserable heat. Mintu's friends arrived, an adorable couple from Jaipur. The husband, Sachin, is a general surgeon and owns a hospital in Malviya nagar, a nice neighborhood of Jaipur. His wife, Chinu, is a contractual hospital management and public health consultant for the government. Currently she is working on a project for the World Bank observing the management and allocation of funds across a secondary sector of hospitals across 5 Indian states. I really enjoyed talking to her and getting sort of an idea of the Indian hospital system. I got an invitation to visit Chinu's hospital at the beginning of March. After the couple left, Sanjay (Mintu's boyfriend/fiance), Mintu, and I all hung out a little longer and danced a bit. It was really fun and a nice escape from my typical routine.
At school, I'm in the process of designing my ISP, or Independent Study Project, which will be my complete focus for the month of April. I feel like I'm on the brink of something really good, but I just can't seem to hone down on one specific topic. My general interest as of now is looking at Food and Development. Ha. Yes, I know. Broad. The three abstracts I proposed are:
1. Looking at produce vendors in urban areas and their incoming competition from the commercial supermarket industry. What are the relationships between the food vendors and farmers? What infrastructure exists to protect the employment of these individuals? (I need to further expand this idea to sort of come up with a project goal).
2. Examining food aid programs in a state, NGO involvement, intertwined with food education. Evaluating methodology and distinguishing some of the unique challenges facing the public aid sector.
3. Researching and studying nutritional education in India and the influence of Ayurveda and the commercialized and popularized notions and approaches to health. How does the media influence individual's perceptions of nutrition and health.
Honestly, I am open to suggestions. The ISP needs to be specific. These categories are rather broad and open-ended. I am currently reading a lot of economic food policy and also "The Political Economy of Hunger" which is fascinating. Eventually I want my ISP to be creative and really reflect my interests. I also want to be based primarily in an Indian city. So, yeah. That's where it stands as of now.
Next week the group is traveling to Jodhpur and Jaisalmer for a development and NGO excursion. While in the two cities, we will be doing some sightseeing, but will primarily visiting and interviewing NGO managers trying to get an idea of the development "industry" in India. We are also going for a camel trek and camping in the desert for a night. I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS!
Anyway, I should probably sign off because this has been a long entry and I've undoubtedly exhausted or bored you. Please give me feedback about the ISP at my email address: mtaskier@gmail.com
Thanks for reading!
--Madeline/Mimi
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
India's Animals
So, this morning I ever so gracefully arose out of bed after having been woken up by cooing pigeons that live just above the air conditioning unit outside of my window. These are some clever little fellows. They pretend to be all cute and quiet and the moment I doze off or even venture into some day dream, they FREAK OUT and start maniacally pecking at one another signaling to me that the pigeon apocalypse is at my doorstep. In conclusion, these pigeons follow my main framework of how to approach Indian strangers in general: They may be friendly, but they aren't necessarily your friends.
After I got ready for school, quite early for me I might add (around 7am or so--Mom and Dad you should be proud), I walked downstairs to join papi for breakfast. Papi likes to wake up ridiculously early to read the paper, stretch, and do adult-like things. I typically join him at the end of his routine at his most talkative point, but this morning I caught him at a rather surprising moment in the front garden. I looked out the front door and there is papi with a tin of biscuits in his lap. The biscuits are crumbled and there are FIVE (YES FIVE) CHIPMUNKS crawling on his shoulders and chest feeding right out of his hand. Deeply affected by my ravaging fear of rodents, I instantly reacted with a scream, not the expected, animal-friendly sigh. The whole house gets woken up, my one scream has wreaked havoc on the whole family. Wow, I'm an idiot. Then again, how can I not be shocked when my host father is feeding chipmunks, humming in a garden like snow white? Who voluntarily touches rodents, honestly?
And, for another piece of news: My host sister, Mintu, may be getting married next month. Last night she asked me for my schedule in the month of March so that she could start coordinating guests and relatives. Apparently her boyfriend, Sanjay, has been pressuring her for the last month or so to finally get married. Yay! So I hope the whole thing works out and I get to be involved with all the festivities. Then again, considering Mintu's high-maintenance attitude and general approach to life, it may be thoroughly exhausting sitting through all the fittings and wedding decoration decisions which I normally couldn't care less about. We'll just have to see.
That's all for now. I think this afternoon I may head to a book fair near the old city of Jaipur and see what I find.
After I got ready for school, quite early for me I might add (around 7am or so--Mom and Dad you should be proud), I walked downstairs to join papi for breakfast. Papi likes to wake up ridiculously early to read the paper, stretch, and do adult-like things. I typically join him at the end of his routine at his most talkative point, but this morning I caught him at a rather surprising moment in the front garden. I looked out the front door and there is papi with a tin of biscuits in his lap. The biscuits are crumbled and there are FIVE (YES FIVE) CHIPMUNKS crawling on his shoulders and chest feeding right out of his hand. Deeply affected by my ravaging fear of rodents, I instantly reacted with a scream, not the expected, animal-friendly sigh. The whole house gets woken up, my one scream has wreaked havoc on the whole family. Wow, I'm an idiot. Then again, how can I not be shocked when my host father is feeding chipmunks, humming in a garden like snow white? Who voluntarily touches rodents, honestly?
And, for another piece of news: My host sister, Mintu, may be getting married next month. Last night she asked me for my schedule in the month of March so that she could start coordinating guests and relatives. Apparently her boyfriend, Sanjay, has been pressuring her for the last month or so to finally get married. Yay! So I hope the whole thing works out and I get to be involved with all the festivities. Then again, considering Mintu's high-maintenance attitude and general approach to life, it may be thoroughly exhausting sitting through all the fittings and wedding decoration decisions which I normally couldn't care less about. We'll just have to see.
That's all for now. I think this afternoon I may head to a book fair near the old city of Jaipur and see what I find.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Thoughts on India
I’ve had many thoughts on my mind pending written description, so this update may seem a little scattered, but the themes are extremely relevant in the context of my life here.
First of all, it’s wedding season in India and the air is buzzing with families shopping, elephants hustling down major freeways in the groom processions, and fireworks going off at literally all times of the day. My house is situated around several very nice hotels so I have been falling asleep to the booming, yet lovely songs of Bollywood films and MCs pumping up the crowds in Hindi. As I said, fireworks are pretty popular and completely legal here. You can be in an autorickshaw on a street in the evening minding your own business and all of a sudden beautiful fireworks will be set off right in front of you. At first I was extremely jumpy at every crackling sound, the memory of last spring’s bombings springing forward. Fortunately they are not bombs or sounds of violence, but of celebration.
On the 19th, I should be attending a wedding with my host family at a nearby hotel for a family friend’s niece. Let me just preface my whole wedding discussion with the fact that weddings are accepted as extremely loud, ridiculous, crowded events that cost a lot of money and a lot of effort. My host parents have attended 5 weddings in the past week, all for individuals they have never met directly, but are related to or acquainted with. When ma announced the possibility of me attending a wedding, I was extremely excited. She of course sighed, rolled her eyes, and said, “Ayyy, not another one.” So, while these weddings are of course a great party and celebrated event, being well-established in a community can be thoroughly exhausting because of the many invitations. At some of these functions, a thousand people attend! At first, the idea of several hundred people attending a life milestone celebration I thought to myself, 'Jesus, I’m never doing that.' But, guess what? I already have. My bat mitzvah was an enormous event itself. I can just remember, at 13, thinking about all of the random people in the giant sanctuary, wondering if I would be at all able to remember their faces and names. I can speculate that the bride and groom are probably thinking and feeling the same thing.
So, in several days, I’ll be going to this wedding in a saree and all. Here is my segue into the next topic. My host-mother’s sarees. Mom, if you are reading this, just know that this woman beats you in all categories of clothing organization. If you thought you could organize colored sweaters, you should try and organize 400 different kinds of sarees. One day last week after a lecture at Diggi Palace, I came back to be invited into ma’s room to chat. She was sitting on her bed staring at her open closet. I came in, glanced and nearly had a heart attack at how many beautiful pieces of fabric were in the closet. Everything was color coded by major hue and then sorted into sections by type of fabric. It was unbelievable. Apparently, ma reorganizes and refolds sarees everyday and barely ever wears the same saree twice. This is a very common trend among the upper class women. An Indian woman is seen as more beautiful, more goddess like if she wears different clothes everyday. Come to think of it, I have never seen either of my Hindi teachers wear the same sarees or salwaar kameez twice. Yesterday in a market in the old city I saw a beautiful silk saree for Rs 2500, roughly $50. I was extremely tempted to buy it, but knew that I wouldn’t really be wearing it. Younger unmarried women tend to stick to the long tunic top and skinny leggings or jeans. I think for the wedding on the 19th I will get to borrow one of ma’s sarees and be satisfied for a while.
Another love-related event shook up our group and really reminded us of the intense cultural differences in Indian relations and American relations. My host sister, Mintu, works for an event management company that organizes weddings, conferences, and large promotional events. This year, her company decided to organize and throw a Valentine’s Day bash for any young Jaipurite couples who were willing to pay Rs. 2500, roughly $50 a couple for open bar, all inclusive food, and entertainment. Of course, Mintu wanted me to come and bring friends from my program. I talked to the group and a good portion of us were prepared to go, buying nice dresses and shoes for the occasion. However, what I didn’t realize was the context in which this holiday takes place in India. Valentine’s Day has emerged very recently in the past five years as a commercial holiday advertised mostly in Indian film and among the Bollywood stars. Boutiques, bookshops, and restaurants have started selling love and couple paraphernalia to individuals in hordes as Indian youth gets sucked into the trends. The commercial nature of the holiday has also shifted from accumulation of goods to the daring, somewhat newly rebellious behavior of young Indian men and women against the cultural norms and male and female interaction. Couples are holding hands in public, kissing, and cuddling. According to Mintu (this may not be an entirely credible source), there are even some young girls who run off with their sweethearts and get married in the mood of love. In the eyes of many right-wing Hindu activists and thinkers, Valentine’s Day has disrupted the appropriate system of male-female relations. In their eyes it is a disgrace to disobey the cultural norms of marriage and dating; disobedience of the parents is the utmost demonstration of disrespect and dishonor. The Shiv Sena and other right wing fundamentalist were getting rather heated on the topic of Valentine’s Day for Jaipur’s youth. Several days leading up to the party, newspaper articles voiced the threats of the Shiv Sena against any Indian individuals who planned on displaying their affection and love in public. The government of Rajasthan announced the dispatch of unmarked police officers all over the couple “hot spots” in the city in an effort to curb and prevent the violence against young men and women. Three days before the party, a largely public event, Mintu’s office got a call from an anonymous right wing member that threatened “compromising of the safety and security of the guests at the event.” Mintu and her colleagues decided to cancel in an effort to avoid potential liabilities and violence that might have ensued. Imagine the shock and confusion my group must have felt at this threat and subsequent decision. Why are Indians so afraid of PDA? The right-wing groups really will take action when they are displeased with activities that go against tradition. Wow, I can’t believe that they threatened a private party. These are just some of the thoughts going through my friends’ minds. How has one commercial holiday that in theory causes little damage, stimulated such strong feelings of anger and fundamentalism in a society? It is not as if every young person is going out and parading his or her relationships around openly. It is the idea that these individuals are thinking about love and love relationships as an acceptable avenue to walk down. The possibility of change scares many people here. Lack of control, order, and loss of tradition scares those who cling to it. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. While I agree with the ideas of preservation of tradition, I take issue with political and religious interference with individual autonomy. Young people are people as well and should be allowed certain rights. Respect and honor for the family is very important, but I don’t think the participation in such holiday celebrations actually violates these values. There can be a middle ground between the expectations of parents and families to be respectful individuals and the desire to interact with youth from the opposite sex. How one can achieve this is being shaped by individuals on a daily basis.
As I might have mentioned to some people earlier, my internet is really terrible. I don’t yet have it at my homestay and the program center is in the process of transferring from a government line to an Airtel line which should be more reliable. Sadly, whenever I want to get on the internet, everyone else does as well and the routers get overloaded. I’ll try my very best to stay in touch with you all as much as possible. Please send me letters - I really love them. I’ll update soon and, again, thanks for reading!
Mimi
First of all, it’s wedding season in India and the air is buzzing with families shopping, elephants hustling down major freeways in the groom processions, and fireworks going off at literally all times of the day. My house is situated around several very nice hotels so I have been falling asleep to the booming, yet lovely songs of Bollywood films and MCs pumping up the crowds in Hindi. As I said, fireworks are pretty popular and completely legal here. You can be in an autorickshaw on a street in the evening minding your own business and all of a sudden beautiful fireworks will be set off right in front of you. At first I was extremely jumpy at every crackling sound, the memory of last spring’s bombings springing forward. Fortunately they are not bombs or sounds of violence, but of celebration.
On the 19th, I should be attending a wedding with my host family at a nearby hotel for a family friend’s niece. Let me just preface my whole wedding discussion with the fact that weddings are accepted as extremely loud, ridiculous, crowded events that cost a lot of money and a lot of effort. My host parents have attended 5 weddings in the past week, all for individuals they have never met directly, but are related to or acquainted with. When ma announced the possibility of me attending a wedding, I was extremely excited. She of course sighed, rolled her eyes, and said, “Ayyy, not another one.” So, while these weddings are of course a great party and celebrated event, being well-established in a community can be thoroughly exhausting because of the many invitations. At some of these functions, a thousand people attend! At first, the idea of several hundred people attending a life milestone celebration I thought to myself, 'Jesus, I’m never doing that.' But, guess what? I already have. My bat mitzvah was an enormous event itself. I can just remember, at 13, thinking about all of the random people in the giant sanctuary, wondering if I would be at all able to remember their faces and names. I can speculate that the bride and groom are probably thinking and feeling the same thing.
So, in several days, I’ll be going to this wedding in a saree and all. Here is my segue into the next topic. My host-mother’s sarees. Mom, if you are reading this, just know that this woman beats you in all categories of clothing organization. If you thought you could organize colored sweaters, you should try and organize 400 different kinds of sarees. One day last week after a lecture at Diggi Palace, I came back to be invited into ma’s room to chat. She was sitting on her bed staring at her open closet. I came in, glanced and nearly had a heart attack at how many beautiful pieces of fabric were in the closet. Everything was color coded by major hue and then sorted into sections by type of fabric. It was unbelievable. Apparently, ma reorganizes and refolds sarees everyday and barely ever wears the same saree twice. This is a very common trend among the upper class women. An Indian woman is seen as more beautiful, more goddess like if she wears different clothes everyday. Come to think of it, I have never seen either of my Hindi teachers wear the same sarees or salwaar kameez twice. Yesterday in a market in the old city I saw a beautiful silk saree for Rs 2500, roughly $50. I was extremely tempted to buy it, but knew that I wouldn’t really be wearing it. Younger unmarried women tend to stick to the long tunic top and skinny leggings or jeans. I think for the wedding on the 19th I will get to borrow one of ma’s sarees and be satisfied for a while.
Another love-related event shook up our group and really reminded us of the intense cultural differences in Indian relations and American relations. My host sister, Mintu, works for an event management company that organizes weddings, conferences, and large promotional events. This year, her company decided to organize and throw a Valentine’s Day bash for any young Jaipurite couples who were willing to pay Rs. 2500, roughly $50 a couple for open bar, all inclusive food, and entertainment. Of course, Mintu wanted me to come and bring friends from my program. I talked to the group and a good portion of us were prepared to go, buying nice dresses and shoes for the occasion. However, what I didn’t realize was the context in which this holiday takes place in India. Valentine’s Day has emerged very recently in the past five years as a commercial holiday advertised mostly in Indian film and among the Bollywood stars. Boutiques, bookshops, and restaurants have started selling love and couple paraphernalia to individuals in hordes as Indian youth gets sucked into the trends. The commercial nature of the holiday has also shifted from accumulation of goods to the daring, somewhat newly rebellious behavior of young Indian men and women against the cultural norms and male and female interaction. Couples are holding hands in public, kissing, and cuddling. According to Mintu (this may not be an entirely credible source), there are even some young girls who run off with their sweethearts and get married in the mood of love. In the eyes of many right-wing Hindu activists and thinkers, Valentine’s Day has disrupted the appropriate system of male-female relations. In their eyes it is a disgrace to disobey the cultural norms of marriage and dating; disobedience of the parents is the utmost demonstration of disrespect and dishonor. The Shiv Sena and other right wing fundamentalist were getting rather heated on the topic of Valentine’s Day for Jaipur’s youth. Several days leading up to the party, newspaper articles voiced the threats of the Shiv Sena against any Indian individuals who planned on displaying their affection and love in public. The government of Rajasthan announced the dispatch of unmarked police officers all over the couple “hot spots” in the city in an effort to curb and prevent the violence against young men and women. Three days before the party, a largely public event, Mintu’s office got a call from an anonymous right wing member that threatened “compromising of the safety and security of the guests at the event.” Mintu and her colleagues decided to cancel in an effort to avoid potential liabilities and violence that might have ensued. Imagine the shock and confusion my group must have felt at this threat and subsequent decision. Why are Indians so afraid of PDA? The right-wing groups really will take action when they are displeased with activities that go against tradition. Wow, I can’t believe that they threatened a private party. These are just some of the thoughts going through my friends’ minds. How has one commercial holiday that in theory causes little damage, stimulated such strong feelings of anger and fundamentalism in a society? It is not as if every young person is going out and parading his or her relationships around openly. It is the idea that these individuals are thinking about love and love relationships as an acceptable avenue to walk down. The possibility of change scares many people here. Lack of control, order, and loss of tradition scares those who cling to it. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. While I agree with the ideas of preservation of tradition, I take issue with political and religious interference with individual autonomy. Young people are people as well and should be allowed certain rights. Respect and honor for the family is very important, but I don’t think the participation in such holiday celebrations actually violates these values. There can be a middle ground between the expectations of parents and families to be respectful individuals and the desire to interact with youth from the opposite sex. How one can achieve this is being shaped by individuals on a daily basis.
As I might have mentioned to some people earlier, my internet is really terrible. I don’t yet have it at my homestay and the program center is in the process of transferring from a government line to an Airtel line which should be more reliable. Sadly, whenever I want to get on the internet, everyone else does as well and the routers get overloaded. I’ll try my very best to stay in touch with you all as much as possible. Please send me letters - I really love them. I’ll update soon and, again, thanks for reading!
Mimi
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Arrival in Jaipur
I am absolutely loving India.
Today I moved into my homestay which was extremely nervewracking but exciting. The entire group (all 21 of us) was chatting non-stop about it all day worrying whether we would like our families or whether they would like us. I can honestly say that I had nothing to worry about and my family is fantastic. I'm living with an elder Bengali couple in a 'posh' neighborhood on the south side of Jaipur. My homestay father, Varun (or papi as I call him), is an architect and just won an honorary lifetime award for achievements in modern Indian architecture. Very cool. My homestay mother, Indira (or ma), has lived at home caring for the children, but is an AMAZING cook and is one of the more beautiful older Indian women I have ever seen. She has bright green eyes and gorgeous skin. Papi and ma have three daughters and were very pleased to know that I am one of three sisters as well. As of now, the oldest daughter, Mintu, lives at home with her parents after a terrible divorce from her ex-husband. Mintu is extremely talkative, bossy, outgoing and has so far been a great host. One of the other daughters who lives in Australia just gave birth to a baby girl, making the third grandchild for ma and papi. I helped Mintu drop off almost 25 gift baskets to friends and family around Jaipur in celebration of the new family member.
In addition to the Mintu and her sisters, ma and papi have adopted two young girls and taken charge of their education. Lakshmi and Devana (15 and 11) are extremely adorable, but quiet so I haven't gotten to know them all that well. Papi puts extreme emphasis on education, especially education for women.
Ok, so I should probably talk about the orientation I've been through for the past week. However, it's been sort of a blur so I thought I would just highlight some of my favorite parts.
• On Thursday we visited Humayan's Tomb. This Mughal Ruler built a fantastic tomb in the middle of Delhi chockfull of Islamic architecture. We walked around the building, got a tour, and explored the gardens. Then in the afternoon we ate at Delhi's most famous vegetarian thali restaurant.
• The drive from Delhi to Jaipur was absolutely amazing. Peeling through the Rajasthani countryside on highways was not only exhausting, but also captivating. One of the most prominent things about India is the idea that you see so many things at once and often have trouble processing it all. We rolled into Jaipur just as the sun was setting passing elephants, monkeys, parrots, and camels.
• The program center in Jaipur is absolutely amazing and an oasis in the dusty city. The whole place is marble. When we walked in, we were given rose garlands that smelled unbelievable. Inside the program center are offices, a kitchen, a large lecture room, a library (with the comfiest floor couches), a meditation room, a rooftop terrace, a beautiful front lawn, and a computer room. The whole place is quaint and grand all at the same time.
• On Sunday we traveled to Diggi Village, approximately 80 km outside of Jaipur. I was shocked and amazed to find out (today of course) that one of our academic directors Mia-ji or Maria Stallone is married to a Rajput or one of the old royal family members of the kings in Rajasthan. His family owns Diggi Fort, the village, and everything around it. SO COOL. Ms. Stallone arranged for a private visit to the Fort and the Temple of the Village and organized a scavenger hunt throughout the town. My friend Jason and I were paired up together and we went walking around the town. Two women approached us with their infants and toddlers asking in Hindi what we were up to. We asked for directions to the market and followed them, but instead they led us to a polio vaccination clinic for their children. We had gathered a pretty large crow d by then so as we entered the clinic, the mother placed a baby in my arms and I held her as she got her treatment. Jason was surrounded by many of the men in the village and they kept handing him carrots (which by the way are a bright pink color here). It was absolutely amazing.
• That same afternoon, Mr. Aadhar, our program coordinator and Mr. Sain, the assistant program coordinator, organized a game of cricket with all the students. The majority of the group including our Hindi teachers, Goutam-ji, Mrs. Mehr, and Ms. Singh played along. It was so much fun and absolutely hilarious as the whole village sat on the wall watching us like a peanut gallery.
Several nights ago we all went to a Rajasthani themed village restaurant. It was literally like Disney world meets India. We ate a traditional meal, wore turbans, it was totally ridiculous and hokey, but very fun. After, we walked around the village seeing snake charmers, dancers, and magicians. I RODE AN ELEPHANT! It was so much fun.
I'm about to go to the mall with a couple friends to buy a cell phone charger, hang out and get coffee.
Today I moved into my homestay which was extremely nervewracking but exciting. The entire group (all 21 of us) was chatting non-stop about it all day worrying whether we would like our families or whether they would like us. I can honestly say that I had nothing to worry about and my family is fantastic. I'm living with an elder Bengali couple in a 'posh' neighborhood on the south side of Jaipur. My homestay father, Varun (or papi as I call him), is an architect and just won an honorary lifetime award for achievements in modern Indian architecture. Very cool. My homestay mother, Indira (or ma), has lived at home caring for the children, but is an AMAZING cook and is one of the more beautiful older Indian women I have ever seen. She has bright green eyes and gorgeous skin. Papi and ma have three daughters and were very pleased to know that I am one of three sisters as well. As of now, the oldest daughter, Mintu, lives at home with her parents after a terrible divorce from her ex-husband. Mintu is extremely talkative, bossy, outgoing and has so far been a great host. One of the other daughters who lives in Australia just gave birth to a baby girl, making the third grandchild for ma and papi. I helped Mintu drop off almost 25 gift baskets to friends and family around Jaipur in celebration of the new family member.
In addition to the Mintu and her sisters, ma and papi have adopted two young girls and taken charge of their education. Lakshmi and Devana (15 and 11) are extremely adorable, but quiet so I haven't gotten to know them all that well. Papi puts extreme emphasis on education, especially education for women.
Ok, so I should probably talk about the orientation I've been through for the past week. However, it's been sort of a blur so I thought I would just highlight some of my favorite parts.
• On Thursday we visited Humayan's Tomb. This Mughal Ruler built a fantastic tomb in the middle of Delhi chockfull of Islamic architecture. We walked around the building, got a tour, and explored the gardens. Then in the afternoon we ate at Delhi's most famous vegetarian thali restaurant.
• The drive from Delhi to Jaipur was absolutely amazing. Peeling through the Rajasthani countryside on highways was not only exhausting, but also captivating. One of the most prominent things about India is the idea that you see so many things at once and often have trouble processing it all. We rolled into Jaipur just as the sun was setting passing elephants, monkeys, parrots, and camels.
• The program center in Jaipur is absolutely amazing and an oasis in the dusty city. The whole place is marble. When we walked in, we were given rose garlands that smelled unbelievable. Inside the program center are offices, a kitchen, a large lecture room, a library (with the comfiest floor couches), a meditation room, a rooftop terrace, a beautiful front lawn, and a computer room. The whole place is quaint and grand all at the same time.
• On Sunday we traveled to Diggi Village, approximately 80 km outside of Jaipur. I was shocked and amazed to find out (today of course) that one of our academic directors Mia-ji or Maria Stallone is married to a Rajput or one of the old royal family members of the kings in Rajasthan. His family owns Diggi Fort, the village, and everything around it. SO COOL. Ms. Stallone arranged for a private visit to the Fort and the Temple of the Village and organized a scavenger hunt throughout the town. My friend Jason and I were paired up together and we went walking around the town. Two women approached us with their infants and toddlers asking in Hindi what we were up to. We asked for directions to the market and followed them, but instead they led us to a polio vaccination clinic for their children. We had gathered a pretty large crow d by then so as we entered the clinic, the mother placed a baby in my arms and I held her as she got her treatment. Jason was surrounded by many of the men in the village and they kept handing him carrots (which by the way are a bright pink color here). It was absolutely amazing.
• That same afternoon, Mr. Aadhar, our program coordinator and Mr. Sain, the assistant program coordinator, organized a game of cricket with all the students. The majority of the group including our Hindi teachers, Goutam-ji, Mrs. Mehr, and Ms. Singh played along. It was so much fun and absolutely hilarious as the whole village sat on the wall watching us like a peanut gallery.
Several nights ago we all went to a Rajasthani themed village restaurant. It was literally like Disney world meets India. We ate a traditional meal, wore turbans, it was totally ridiculous and hokey, but very fun. After, we walked around the village seeing snake charmers, dancers, and magicians. I RODE AN ELEPHANT! It was so much fun.
I'm about to go to the mall with a couple friends to buy a cell phone charger, hang out and get coffee.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Arrival in India
This is my first official posting from India! Right now I'm sitting lobby of my hotel in Delhi, two days into our stay. We got in very late Wednesday night,checked into the hotel and got some sleep. We are staying in a posh neighborhood of Delhi, the south side. On Thursday we got up, had breakfast, did an orientation introduction, and then played a name game. Everybody had already got acquainted with one another on the plane and in the airports so it was slightly repetitive, but fun. Then we had a burning questions section--everyone was super paranoid about malaria. Then we went to Humayan's Tomb, a former Mughal emperor who had a massive tomb built in the center of Delhi. It was absolutely stunning. As we were walking around a bunch of school boys probably 12 or 13 years old were following us around asking to take our picture and be our boyfriends. It was hilarious. Then, we got in our vans, took them to a famous Vegetarian Thali Restaurant where essentially you get all you can eat fixins and rice (lentils, coconut chutney, the yummy stuff). It was amazing and apparently there was a Delhi political having lunch in the restaurant at the same time as us! After lunch we went to a East-West clinic to speak with a doctor about culture shock and illness in India. It was pretty repetitive for me, but I still enjoyed it. At night we went to an arts bazaar and food court for dinner. Then we came back and crashed! My roommate for these two nights has been fine. I think she is just really freaked out about the whole experience and is superrrrr shy. However, everyone else is AWESOME. The group is really diverse and fun and have made a bunch of friends so far. But I must go to breakfast and then in the bus for 6 hours to Jaipur.
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