Silk, Sun, and Sleepless Nights

Last Thursday night, Paula, Reema and I hopped on a bus headed for Udaipur. After some confusion about where the bus actually stopped, that is. We ended up at the edge of the city limits running towards a gas station with a dog chasing us as we hurried to catch the bus. We caught the right bus, though, and began our adventure driving through the spot-lit suburb of Gurgaon, past all the glitzy hotels, construction sites, and Air Force complex.

Thirteen hours later, we arrived in Udaipur. The night on the bus was interesting. We had sleeper seats, which meant we were in little boxes with cushioned floors above the rows of seats. Each compartment had a television hooked up to a DVD player in the front of the bus, so we were entertained by the Hindi version of the film Memento. It was terrible cinema. I fell asleep halfway through it. Sleep, however, is not part of the package on these buses, as I discovered in the middle of the night when there were heated arguments occurring below me, one of the bus crew shouting out the stops quite loudly (fast and in Hindi), and the driver careening around bends and flying over potholes like he thought he was driving the Batmobile.

Our bus, though it left Delhi on time (ish), pulled into Udaipur an hour and a half behind schedule. This meant that I was awake for the last two hours of the ride, though the sun hadn't risen when my alarm went off. That turned out to work in my favor; I saw the most beautiful sunrise at the edge of the Aravalli hills and through stretches of rolling plains and tiny towns. It was worth losing sleep. The sun rises bigger, brighter, and more fiery than at home.

We finally got to Udaipur and got an autorickshaw to take us to our hotel on Hanuman Ghat. Since check-out time wasn't until 10 a.m., our room wasn't empty - which also worked out in our favor. We went up to the rooftop restaurant overlooking the water and City Palace on the opposite bank, and we ate a delectable breakfast. And drank the most delicious masala chai I've ever consumed.

Once our room was ready and we deposited our belongings, we headed off to City Palace. It was big and beautiful and close to where we were staying, so it seemed like a logical starting point. On the way, we stumbled upon the Jagdish temple, which was really pretty. We also walked in while a special puja was occurring, so there were extra bells and singing and incense. 

The City Palace was very cool. It's actual a series of palaces all kind of built next to and on top of each other, but you can't really tell by looking. The oldest part of the palace is from the mid 1500s - young, by Indian standards. The neat thing about it is that it has a lot of furniture and decorations still; it was lived-in until the 1960s or 1970s, I believe. The interior walls are also very colorful, which is not a common feature or any Indian building, even palaces. (Not old palaces, anyway.)

We spent much of the rest of the day shopping. We're very good at that. Rajasthani art is very distinct, so we visited some of the art shops by the art schools in Udaipur...very cool stuff. We ate lunch and dinner that day on two other rooftop restaurants (again, one of my favorite features of Indian architecture: useable roofs). The restaurant where we ate dinner was one of the very many restaurants who had nightly showings of the James Bond movie Octopussy. I had completely forgotten that that one had scenes in India - most of those scenes were filmed in Udaipur. It's just really crazy to be walking around a small city in India seeing all these signs advertising screenings of Octopussy.

Also, Udaipur has an incredible number of French tourists. They were everywhere.

On Saturday we went out to Moti Magri (Pearl Hill) to walk around the park. We wanted to ride out to the gardens in the middle of the lake at the bottom of the hill, but the boat people were charging crazy amounts for foreign visitors and wouldn't give us a discount for being students in India, so we went just outside the city to see a village several people had recommended to us. It turned out not to be what we expected, but it was still kind of charming in its own right. It was similar to a place called Dilli Haat here in Delhi, only in a village setting. Every two weeks, the dancers, musicians, artists, and vendors in the village change; they come from real villages all over Rajasthan to sell their wares and entertain tourists. When we were done there, we headed back to downtown Udaipur, where we did more wandering and more shopping.  Then it was back on the bus for the 13-hour ride back to Delhi.

This week has been extremely busy, with a microeconomics presentation, Cities of Delhi midterm, abstract and beginning research for Cultural Diversity, and winding up actual classes at Ramjas. I haven't slept much this week, but I got everything done, and I'm here in Delhi this weekend, so I can catch up on my sleep and get ahead on my work.

Lonely Planet's Number One Highlight in India

Udaipur. Photos up on Flickr from my trip this weekend, blog post to follow in the near future.

Holi: Rites of Spring

Today was the festival of Holi here in India. It's the festival of colors, which marks the beginning of spring, and it's celebrated with a special kind of vigor in Northern India. Let me try to capture the vividness of the last twenty-four hours in words (and a few pictures).

Yesterday was Chhoti Holi ("Little" Holi), which is just a prelude to the celebration. Society still functions as usual, with perhaps a water balloon thrown here and there or some school children running by with colorful faces. In the evening, neighborhoods or families perform a small puja, or offering. All of us in the residence (as well as three homestay students) went to the Chhoti Holi ceremony for Neeti Bagh in our park. There was a giant bonfire fueled by tree

 trunks and cow dung patties that shot flames about twelve feet in the air when it was first lit. It looked like this once it calmed down a bit:

It was still a very large far - note the people standing a good ten to fifteen feet away because it's so hot.

So after the bonfire was lit, people began to circumambulate the fire, praying, asking for forgiveness of sins, and making wishes for the coming year. The neighborhood association provided grains for tossing into the fire as part of this process (typically, fire offerings consist of things like popcorn, peanuts, sesame seeds, and puffed rice). It's a very simple ceremony, but I found it rather moving. It's a very intimate setting, and it consists of two fundamental aspects of life: fire and food. When you toss your handful of food into the fire, it's symbolic of burning away the evil parts of life. Regardless of culture or religion, I think that's something everyone can relate to.

After making our way around the fire a few times, we mingled with the neighbors and drank some chai (because what would be an Indian gathering without chai?). A short time later, we made our way back home and went on with our evenings. A quiet but very nice way to set up for the festival.

Today, on the other hand, was anything but quiet. Holi is a holiday for everyone, meaning no one goes to work, public transportation is closed until 2 p.m., and no one has classes. I woke up early to do some studying on the terrace (for the brilliantly scheduled midterm I have tomorrow), and around 10 a.m. I went downstairs to get dressed. Katrina, one of the homestay girls, was in the dining room armed with bags of colored powder, spare clothes, and water balloons. She and Kashika, one of the other girls from the University of Rochester, were talking about going to JNU. Since I had just applied my coconut oil to keep the colors from sticking too much and didn't have anything else to do before lunch,  I decided to go with them. On our way out of the neighborhood, we stopped to exchange Holi greetings and colors with all of the guards sitting by the road. They seemed to enjoy that a bunch of Americans were so enthusiastic about the holiday.

Unfortunately, I do not have any pictures from out and about at the university, since I had great fear about my beautiful camera's wellbeing in such lively and messy festivities. JNU was crowded and friendly, but far less scary than I thought it would be. The paper has had stories about various Holi celebrations for the past week or so, and they inevitably involve horror stories about people being tossed in sewers, having clothes torn off, unknowingly consuming bhang lassis or pakoras, or generally being mistreated. The JNU crowd, however, was all respect and happiness. No colors were flung in our eyes, no clothes were torn off (I was wearing two shirts just in case), and there was no pushing or shoving or harassment of foreigners. We experienced lots of well-wishing and "Happy Holi!"s and color-smearing from strangers, but it was all in a spirit of genuine fun. We posed for pictures, got covered in colors, made some new friends, danced a little, watched people turn trash into percussion instruments, and generally had a good time. We decided to leave before the party was over so that we could make it back to Neeti Bagh for the neighborhood celebration and lunch at the Neeti Bagh Club. We promptly threw more colors, ate delicious deep-fried food, had chai, and mingled a little more.

The weird thing about Holi is that it's generally over by 2 or 3 p.m. We went back to the house and I took photos of everyone, which will soon be up on Flickr. Here's an idea of how I looked for most of the day:

Imagine a city full of people who look like this, and you'll have a pretty good idea of the visual overload that is Holi. 

My roommate Rachel and I after returning home from the outside world this afternoon.

A half-hour shower, lots of scrubbing, and two shampoos later, I emerged mostly clean, refreshed, renewed, and looking forward to new beginnings. The simple symbolic acts of this festival are awesome - the burning and the washing away of colors are so simple but so powerful, and I think the fact that they are such basic actions is a large part of why they had such an effect on me. The whole festival is an amazing experience; it's one day when India is united despite caste, class, educational, religious, or cultural differences, and it's purely celebratory. Friends mark each other with color as a sign of forgiveness, and people often wear white so that these marks are more visible. The day was made even more fantastic by the fact that once everyone was multi-colored, it was hard for people to tell that I was American, so I felt much more like an insider than I do on a daily basis. The whole experience was refreshing.

I wish upstate New York wasn't so cold in March so that I could get this tradition started on campus next year. I plan to buy some colors and bring them home with me, just in case. :)

Tomorrow it's back to classes and my regular routine (or as close to routine as one can get in this city), then in the evening I'm heading off on an overnight bus to Udaipur with Reema and Paula. Updates towards the end of the weekend/beginning of next week.

Namaste.

Fruit Basket.

I bought my first mango of the season yesterday from the phal-wallah who wanders around Neeti Bagh. It was the most delicious mango I've ever eaten, and they're only going to get better between now and May!

I love being able to eat fresh fruit here. Pomegranate season is coming to an end, but up until now there have been pomegranates in every market and on every fruit cart on the side of the road. (I'm eating some pomegranate seeds as I'm writing this, which is kind of what inspired the post to begin with.) I eat papaya and melon every day in fruit salad at breakfast or dinner, and there have even been strawberries floating around recently. On the trip to Ajanta and Ellora I bought guavas, three for rs. 10. That's approximately twenty cents for three pieces of fruit. Which makes me really happy. I can't imagine what it must be like living in southern India around now...I'm here in the north and we have all these different kinds of awesome fruit.

End ramblings about fruit. Just wanted to share my excitement. :)

Punch, Thug, Loot, Pajama...

...all were stolen from Hindi. Your trivia for the day.

But to make it more relevant, I am currently sitting in my pajamas working on a paper for microeconomics, thinking about becoming a thug and doing some looting this summer to finance further world travels, and I drank some punch this morning at breakfast. (That last bit isn't quite true - I drank a juice of mixed fruit, but it was pre-made by Tropicana, not called punch, and probably didn't have the traditional panch [five] ingredients of the original punch. But it almost works.)

In other news, today three of my friends and I were chased by a snaggle-toothed, gray-haired, bent-backed auto-wallah who was angry we didn't give him more money. We got in after him agreeing to the price by meter plus rs. 10 for the extra person (for more than three people, 10 extra is standard, though some try to convince us to pay more). Upon arrival in Nizamuddin, however, he wanted an additional thirty (which is outrageous, since the distance only cost rs. 35). He got out of the auto and was yelling at us, but I just gave him what we owed as per our agreement, and we walked across the street to the Centre. He jumped back in his auto, drove into the parking lot, then chased us inside the building. We ran up the stairs to enlist the help of Reeta or Pramod (the office assistant who doubles as our bodyguard), and I guess he either gave up or someone yelled at him before he got up the stairs. He looked like a cartoon villain, though, which made the whole thing hilarious.

That is all. Back to my paper.

Midway Thoughts: The Universe Sings

Yesterday marked the halfway point of my time in India. These are all-the-way thoughts about the midpoint of my stay. 

[Disclaimer: The following paragraphs contain feelings and reflections. If you want adventure stories, skip this post and read the other ones about Jaipur, Aurangabad, Abheypur, or Agra.]

Yesterday evening was the first time I felt positively in love with Delhi. Ravi Shankar performed a free concert in Nehru Park near Chanayakapuri at dusk, and nothing could taint it, not even the rude guy sitting next to me who kept staring at me even though the gorgeous Anoushka Shankar's live image was being projected on the screen on the other side of him. At the time, these were my thoughts:

It reminds me of that time in Rochester that we stood on the footbridge to watch the sunrise.

A sliver of crescent moon clean and bright, with the sun melting behind the palm trees. I can't speak or I'll ruin the magic. The most exquisite moment, the moment I saw clearly spirit of Bharat. A lone hawk kettling low in the dying sky, singing the sitar melody that floats above the lawn. The air is so still, yet simultaneously it swirls and fills itself with music. A rustling crowd settles down and never here have I seen the masses so quiet. The audience listens with rapt attention to the maestro bent and ailing but spry and caring. 'Namaskar, Delhi-friends,' and he begins. He ends, 'Everywhere I play - Paris, London, Brussels - people ask me if this is my final performance. I do not know. I say it is only semifinal.' The whole while, there's the smile of spending half a life playing, a quarter of life tuning, and a whole life learning which the sentiment of the evening. India opens her arms to me in a cool and colorful embrace. A silver plane trailing pink smoke shoots the moon, and I feel it will reach that place. The ballet-dancing hawks are replaced by waltzing bats, and the moon overtakes the sun. The stars bashfully reveal their positions behind azure curtains thickly blanketing this sacred space. There is no room here for anything but beauty.

After living in Delhi for two months, I feel I can step back and realize how much I've learned.

I adore India and all of the sensory input that overwhelms me every day: the landscape, the ruins, the colors, the cooking, the weather, and even the dirt and mosquitoes. However, I still I feel like an outsider most of the time, and this is clearest to me when I'm walking in and around Ramjas. Students that I know speak at least some English stare at me but don't speak to me, or say hello and quickly return to conversations in Hindi. I inherently distrust all men here, which is a sad feeling, but one that has seemed necessary for me to continue my life as uninterrupted as possible. I don't make eye contact in public with any male I don't know (the ones who stare a lot tend to be the creepers, whereas the nice people keep to themselves for the most part), and most of the females are too shy or too well-trained or too...something to initiate conversations with strangers. At times, it's incredibly lonely, and I feel like there's a barrier between me and the real, complete India. There are things I feel I simply cannot access because I'm not from here. Yet, unlike at home, I cannot hide in anonymity and content myself with absorbing all of my surroundings, observing everyone and everything but remaining unobserved. Even dressed in salwar kameez and head covered in dupatta, I feel that there are always eyes on me, always people watching my every movement. And it's true. Someone is always watching, but it's more like a stage performance or a zoo exhibit than normal, friendly people-watching. Every now and then I wish I could experience India as a twenty-one-year-old male instead of as a young woman. The university students my age seem to be by and large intimidated by members of the female sex, particularly if they are American. The boys in the program have much more frequent and much more meaningful interaction with our peers because for some reason, they are less threatening. Or something. I don't really know what it is.

EDIT: As I was sitting on the grass at Ramjas this morning typing this post, two Indian boys came up and started talking to me. We went to the canteen for coffee, they showed me some parts of campus I hadn't seen before, and then we talked to a few more of their friends for a while. They were very excited to have an American friend they could use to practice and improve their English; the two boys are from Haryana, the state where our rural excursion took place, and I got the impression they're also more village boys than urban kids. They don't even speak much Hindi, so trying to hold a conversation was very funny. Neither Hindi nor English was quite sufficient, but it was a lot of fun. Exhausting, but fun. I hung out with them for about two hours. I discovered the secret to making friends on campus: pull out a laptop when you're sitting by yourself. It's like a magnet; that, or it's a big banner that says "Interesting, friendly American student!" That's how Mark Iscoe, the most popular of the boys in our group, seems to have made all his Ramjas friends. I can't believe it took me this long to discover it.

Despite feeling like I will mostly remain an outsider in India, I firmly believe that there is no other place in the world like it, and I do not for a moment regret my decision to come here. In fact, it is one of the best things (if not the best) that I've done for myself. I feel more grounded in myself, more confident and independent, more capable of finding my way through chaos, more sure of what's important to me, and better able to unravel mysteries I find around me. I'm refining my definitions of beauty, peace, and happiness, and I've seen people living in a manner that's not quite real until you experience it firsthand. I've seen both sides of the opulence-destitution continuum, and I've discovered the cultural complexities involved in so simple an act as waving to street kids or playing with them for a minute before moving on. I'm learning how to cross language barriers and built makeshift bridges across cultural gaps, even if they're only temporary. I've traveled by all means of transportation and engaged in conversation with all types of people. I'm learning new communication and language skills, realizing the value of the ones I had, and resurrecting a talent I thought I'd lost. I'm cataloguing images and sensations and collecting memories. I'm maintaining relationships that I thought slowly evaporate and letting go of things I thought would stay with me for far longer than they should.

Delhi is full of surprises, and every day is a new adventure. I feel like I could live here for a year, go to a different neighborhood every day, and still be surprised by what I find. I've also realized that I would love to come back and live in India when I'm no longer a student. The education system is sub-par compared to what I'm used to and want, and the academic side of this trip has been disappointing. I had very high expectations for my classes, and perhaps that's my fault, but I also quite simply do not jive well with the Indian teaching system and rarely feel challenged by my courses. It's frustrating to spend time commuting to classes that don't happen when there's so much I want to see and do before I leave. So my solution is to come back at some point after I graduate and find someone who will pay me to do all that exploring. :)

In summary, I am all love for India. I even love the parts that are terrible. I don't think I can ever explain properly.

I'm happy that you all have been reading my blog and looking at my pictures, and that you've been commenting, emailing, skyping, and IMing me. I've had a lot more contact with home than I thought I was going to, and I think that's made a huge difference in the way I deal with everything going on here. Thank you. :)

Namaste, good night, and happy March.

Ellora.

A little late, but....

Last Monday was part 2 of the field trip, a journey out to the rock temples at Ellora. The sculptures there were amazing. Kailash Temple in particular drew everyone's attention. Our tour guide told us that it's the largest monolithic structure in the world, and even if that's not true, it is seriously impressive. I was amazed at how different all of the caves were; each one evoked a completely different feeling, but all of them left me in awe. Part of why I liked Ellora better than Ajanta may have been that there were fewer people, but the statues are also more impressive than paintings you can barely see because they've deteriorated and there's virtually no light in the cave. The scale of the temples in Ellora was much grander than the ones at Ellora, which probably has something to do with religious differences, too. Ellora is primarily Hindu, and Ajanta is mostly Buddhist.

I was a little disappointed in the trip because there was so much to see, but it's a generous estimate to say we saw a quarter of it. People were complaining about the heat and being hungry on the first day (we were in the middle of nowhere), and on the second day, the tour guide and the IES teacher decided which temples were "important" to see and skipped the rest. That was frustrating; they live here and can come back whenever they have a free weekend, but I don't know when or if I'll get to go back. We saw some pretty cool stuff, though. I'm happy I went.

On our way back to Aurangabad from Ellora, we stopped at the tiny Taj! It's another tomb for a woman, but this one was made by the woman's son because her husband the emperor was a cheap jerk. (I don't actually know why he didn't want to give his wife a nice tomb, but compared to the story for the real Taj Mahal, this one is sad.) It's very strange going there. They copied almost every detail of the Taj, but poorly. The architecture is imperfect and not at all elegant, and it's completely disproportionate. The minarets are taller than the dome, and the main body of the tomb looks squished compared to how tall it is. However, like in Agra, the Indian tourists there wanted to take our pictures. We said no. We made friends with an Indian schoolgirl, though, who was adorable and shy and kept waving and smiling and looking like she wanted to talk to us but was afraid to. It was pretty cute.

The train ride home to Delhi was less than stellar. Though we had eaten dinner on Monday night and breakfast Tuesday morning in the hotel to avoid anyone getting food poisoning, about half of us (myself included) were sick on the train ride back. I didn't want to have to throw up in the train bathroom, so I took some medicine and slept. Surprisingly, it worked. I slept much of the way back, which I'm very thankful for because it would have been utterly miserable otherwise.

Pictures on Flickr of the pretty Buddhist and Hindu rock art. :)