Goodbye Mothballs, Goodbye India

To be continued... There's no time to write about my last night in India, rooming with the cockroaches... Will write blurb in 48 hours... :0) hehehe

8 Ceremonies = 1 Wedding

As if five ceremonies in New Delhi weren’t enough, Nitya and Sharath’s friend, family, and I embarked on planes to go to Chennai and Bangalore to attend three more ceremonies for their wedding! During the days I visited the cities’ monuments, markets, and beaches and during the evenings I attended their events.
To be continued...

Tuesday - Sangeet

Sangeet was geared towards Nitya’s female friends and family to dance and celebrate her wedding. Nitya entered the room looking gorgeous in red. While she entered the room her brothers carried the “Sitaroon ki chaow mein” over her head. It means “under the shadow of the stars” which was composed of strung flowers and hanging medallions.
Sukhbir, a Bhangra singer, sang the night away. Sukhbir is based out of Dubai and is a fusion of Bhangra with rap, techno and reggae. I REALLY enjoyed his performance – and I could not believe he came all the way from Dubai to perform at Nitya’s wedding!!!

I also performed an Indian dance number with two other bridesmaids in front of EVERYONE during the ceremony. Fortunately, it was choreographed by two very talented Bollywood choreographers so it was pretty good! Toot toot! I’m tooting my own horn! Our dance, along with all of the other ceremonies was recorded by CBC, Canadian Broadcasting Corporations. CBC has been following us with their cameras all week, apparently they will be airing an episode on “the effects of Bollywood” on Canadian televisions in February 2008. What a small world!! What are the chances of a Canadian film group being involved in the wedding I am attending??!

Monday - Ring Ceremony

Every event seems to be getting better and better, and everyday Nitya seems to be getting more and more beautiful. Today, Nitya and Sharath exchanged engagement bands at Lutyens Hall. The ceremony was decorated Geisha/Japanese theme.
After the bride and groom exchanged diamond rings, Euphoria hit the stage. Euphoria is one of the most famous and successful bands in India. They were one of the first bands to bring rock culture to India. They mixed electric guitar with traditional instruments like the tabla, dholak and sitar which created a mesemerising effect. http://www.dhoom.com/

Sunday - Mehndi

At 10 a.m. Nitya’s close female friends and family members applied yellow Haldi onto her skin. We applied the paste from her feet upwards onto the rest of her body. Haldi is composed of turmeric powder; Indians believe it gives the bride a vibrant glow for their wedding events.
By noon, the mehndi artists began applying henna to Nitya’s hands and feet. Henna is drawn onto the hands and feet of the bride because that is where the color will be darkest since that skin contains higher levels of keratin which binds well with the henna. We all took turns feeding Nitya and keeping her company while the mehndi artists completed their elaborate work – it took them 3 hours to complete.
The entire evening was filled with a LARGE variety of wonderful foods and entertainment. The guests and I enjoyed Delhi’s famous singer, Anamika, along with astrologers, taro card readers, henna artists, airbrush tattoo artists, and free bangles to match our outfits.
Here’s a picture of Muskan and I at the party. She’s been the key to my heart since I have arrived. :0)

Saturday - Pakeezah

Pakeezah night was a bachelorette party for Nitya. Her basement and backyard was decorated magnificently like an episode from the hit MTV show “Sweet Sixteen”. We had a blast drinking shots, smoking Hookah, and watching the belly dancers. I danced the night away shaking my hips and twisting my hands in the air like an Indian.

Friday - Chowki

The first wedding ceremony had finally arrived! Amrish, the wedding planner, and his crew of 30 men set up a large tent and decorated the house for the Chowki ceremony. Chowki is a religious start for the entire 10 day event we’re embarking upon. We first chanted along with the priests and gave Nitya our blessings than sat on beautiful colored pillows, ate delicious foods, and enjoyed the fireworks. The entire event was beautiful - millions of flowers covered paths, trees, walls, gates, and banisters. The scent of fresh jasmine and orchid flowers filled the air.
The Bride and I :0)
Amrish, the wedding planner, and his beautiful floral decorations.

Arranged Marriage??!

I was taking a nap when Manoj, one of the servants, knocked on my door to tell me that Dr. Jain was outside waiting to speak to me. “Oh wonderful!” I thought. “I always look forward to speaking to Dr. Jain”. You see, everyday when I take my morning walk I see him and I stop to say hello and we chitchat since he is a kind neighbor. He is a very intelligent man, and I always enjoy speaking to him. When I ran outside to see him I found him and another man sitting side by side. “Nameste Dr. Jain! I haven’t seen you in quite some time. How have you been?” We conversed in small talk and he introduced me to his friend when shortly after he asked me if I would be interested in marrying his son. Trying to maintain my cool and a straight face I said, “But Sir, I’m not a Hindu. Wouldn’t that be a problem?” “Usually it would be, but you’re a very kind and smart girl so it would be okay.” I did my very best to think of another tactic that would get me out of this sticky situation, “But Sir I don’t speak Hindi”. “It’s okay you are intelligent and you’ll learn quickly.” “Would you like to see his picture and read his bio? Also, write your address on this piece of paper and he can come visit you and meet you at your home in Canada. He lives in Mumbai and you would both be very happy there.” Panicked and trying to find the very best solution to this problem I told them, “You see… My parents are both VERY strict and VERY religious. They are VERY particular about me marrying a Canadian Catholic boy” The Indian man responded, “But times are changing, you never know what’s going to happen?!” It wasn’t the response I had anticipated from what I thought a conservative Indian, but I informed them I had to leave to get ready for Nitya’s wedding ceremony. Without giving them my address, or agreeing to an arranged marriage, I quickly said “goodbye” and ran into the house giggling to myself.

Atithi Devo Bhavha

I arrived at Rao travel agency at 6a.m. in New Delhi to depart by mini van to the town of Agra. There, I embarked on a four hour journey to the Taj Mahal, Agra Fort, and Lord Krishna Temple along with four complete strangers. While driving we passed auto rickshaws crammed with people and camels pulling carts. At a truck stop an old man stopped by my window to entertain me with his music and dancing cobra.Once we arrived we visited the Agra Fort, a walled palatial city. The great Mughals Babur, Humayun, Akbar, Jehangir, Shah Jahan and Aurangzeb lived here, and the country was governed from the Fort. It once contained the largest state treasury and mint. It was visited by foreign ambassadors, travellers and the highest dignitaries who participated in making the history of India.
After visiting the Fort, the group and I were carried by camels to the Taj Mahal. My first reaction when I saw the famous World Heritage Site was, "Huh... It's not that big... But it sure is beautiful, peaceful, and serene!" The Taj Mahal was built under Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan in memory of his favourite wife, Mumtaz Mahal. The Taj is considered as the finest example of Mughal architecture, a style that combines elements from Persian, Turkish, Indian, and Islamic architectural styles. It took 20,000 workers and 22 years to build. Once the building was completed in 1643, the workers had their hands cut off so they could never again replicate its beauty.

Here's a pic of me kissing the Taj :0)Throughout the day the group of four strangers and I became the very best of friends. They treated me like a “Rani”, a princess. They made sure I was always accompanied to the bathroom, meals, and the monuments and translated everything to English. It was important to them that I was cared for since I was a foreigner and alone. When I came home I told Nandini, my Indian friend, about my tour group and their warm hospitality. She said, “You see Heidi; Indians believe in atithi devo bhavha. Guests who come to visit us are given the status of God. They may come at the most inconvenient hour, or show up without prior notice, yet they are given due respect and honor. They will be served in a manner that makes them feel immensely special”. I couldn’t believe how well the members of the tour group treated me, I felt special indeed.

Holy Shit!!!

I was 100 meters away from my car when my left barefoot landed in a large heap of cow poop. I looked down at the warm greenish mound and refrained myself from screaming like a young Western Girl. I told my friends that I would turn back to the car to clean my foot and sandal with my antiseptic cleaning wipes. “No, no, no, we’ll just continue walking to the Temple. There you will find running water.” I agreed in disbelief and convinced myself to stay calm. I walked for one kilometer with Holy poop on my foot before I arrived to the Temple. For those of you who do not know, cow dung is a source of fuel and fertiliser here and is often dried and used as coals to cook food. Cow dung is considered sacred among Hindus. I rushed to the bathroom to rinse my foot and sandle. The holy poop, would not come off of my NOW holy left foot; therefore, I had to scrape the holy poop off with my left hand. “Great! Now I have a holy left hand too!” After cleaning the poop off I walked towards my friends holding my left hand and foot as far away from my nose as possible.

Fit to be an Indian...

I’ve already crammed myself into one SUV with 16 other people like a true Indian, BUT it was confirmed by Nitya’s Uncle that I truly fit the Indian profile. After Nitya’s Uncle observed me negotiating, bargaining, and buying at several markets he sealed the deal and said, “You’re just like one of us now! In fact, you bargain better than most Indians!” His flattery made me feel good. BUT now looking at my cheap purchases I feel even better! Pants for 3$. Bangles for 1$. Purses for 2$. For those of you who would like my bargaining advice, I recommend offering the lowest price you are willing to pay and walking away. It works like a charm. Also, do not seem interested in the merchandise – be willing and able to walk away if they don’t accept your price :0)
I also visited the Lotus Temple. In brief, the lotus represents the Manifestation of God, and is also a symbol of purity and tenderness. Its significance is deeply rooted in the minds and hearts of Indians. In the epic poem Mahabharata, the Creator Brahma is described as having sprung from the lotus that grew out of Lord Vishnu's navel when that deity lay absorbed in meditation. There is a deep and universal reverence for the lotus, which is regarded as a sacred flower associated with worship throughout many centuries. The temple was built in 1986. On average of 3 1/2 million people visit the Lotus Temple in New Delhi every year.

Give thanks...

Here's an example of an Indian shower. Every morning male construction workers get up early to scrub themsleves with soap and rinse off with a hose. Usually they shower as a group. This is their time to socialize and laugh at passer byes - me!
Mothers of babies frequently cannot afford diapers. Here's a baby sitting in his own urine. We are SO BLESSED in North America. Let's all be a little more grateful of what we do have.

Peculiar Moments...

To forewarn you future Indian tourists: expect the unexpected in overwhelming India. Expect to see toddlers and children at intersections tapping on car windows for money. Expect to see lepers in markets asking for food or water. Expect to see cockroaches, mice, and grown adults rummaging through piles of garbage. Expect to see more men working and walking about on the streets since women are staying at home; cooking, cleaning, and caring for their children. Expect to see index fingers knuckle deep in nostrils and people openly burping and farting: lacking an “excuse me”.

The other day I saw two men and a calf riding on a motorcycle. The baby cow was sandwiched between them. I also saw Indians climbing on roofs of moving buses and people hanging onto the exteriors of cars to commute home.

Also, expect to see men frequently holding hands, hugging, and affectionately touching each other. For those of you who do not know, there is no public display of affection between a man and a woman in India. BUT - affection between two men IS sociably acceptable. And NO, they’re not gay. My theory is they lack the touch of a woman, therefore; they touch each other (their friends). I must admit, I still giggle when I see male construction workers and police officers with riffles holding hands! It’s so peculiar!!!

Beautiful desert??!

“On Friday, I have a photo shoot I have to attend too. The photographer will take pictures of Sharath and I. We’ll be driving on the Jaipur highway in my blue antique car and we’ll stop to take pictures as soon as we find a desert setting. Would you like to come?” Nitya asked. “Of course – I’ve never been to the desert” I replied.
Friday arrived and we all prepared ourselves for the photo shoot. Nitya and Sharath dressed in white; they both looked gorgeous. The Wedding Planner, Makeup Artist, Photographer, Nitya, her Mother, Sharath, and I got into 3 separate cars when it suddenly began to rain. “What are we going to do now?” I asked the Photographer. Nitya began pacing back in forth in a panic. “Don’t worry about it” replied the Wedding Planner “It’s my problem, I should have verified the weather before organizing this event”. The Photographer began to giggle, “You are the Monsoon Wedding Planner, this was bound to happen”. We all began to laugh since Amrish, the Wedding Planner, designed the sets for Bollywood’s popular movie “Monsoon Wedding”. The Wedding Planner and the Photographer decided to move forward with the photo shoot, they crossed their fingers for better weather and sunshine.
The beautiful desert scene wasn’t what I had anticipated. We pulled over at a dodgy truck stop with hills and sand in the background. I stepped out of the car almost landing my foot in a heap of cow poop. I held my breathe in result of the foul smells and roadside garbage. I stood back as Nitya and her fiancé posed for pictures. Cars began pulling over in curiosity. “What’s going on?” they must have thought. “They must be famous! Maybe they’re posing for an upcoming commercial, or better yet a Bollywood movie!” I began panicking as I realized that I had to go pee. Unfortunately, there were no bathrooms nearby. I saw a farm across the highway and decided that would be the ideal location. Nitya came with me to be my guard. As I began pulling down my pants, a curious mother and her children came out of the bushes. “Go pee over there” she recommended in Hindi. I took her advice as I stepped over mounds of millions of ants – YUCK! I tried three times to pee, but I couldn’t – I was bladder shy. It wasn’t helping that the Indian woman and her children were starring at me. “Nitya, please tell her to stop looking at me! What does she want to see? A White bum?” Finally, Nitya shooed them away and I peed in relief.
On the way home, I decided that I wanted to ride in the blue antique car with Nitya, Sharath, and her friend Jitin. We sang songs to our songless radio and ignored the Indian stares. Our car halted to traffic. We sat patiently in fumes while we crawled closer to a blocked intersection. As I looked up I saw police officers waving traffic forward and side to side. As soon as I made eye contact with the police officer he specifically waved our car to the side of the road. “Crap” I thought. “I should have kept my eyes down”. He walked towards our parked car. “Can I see your registration papers?” he asked. “Phew… He didn’t ask for my passport or ID” I thought. Jitin and Sharath explained that we didn’t have registration papers since it was an antique car. The police officer smirked while looking down Nitya’s top. Jitin handed over 500 rupees (12$) and the police officer waved us through. I couldn’t believe he pulled us over: A.) Because there was a White passenger in the car (Me!) and B.) Because we were driving a nice antique car – He assumed that we had money. Police Officers are corrupt in India, they take people’s money when they can, and pocket it for their own benefit.

Shanti

At the beginning and end of every Yoga session, Mr. Yogi chants “Shanti, Shanti, Shanti”. It means “Peace, Peace, Peace” in Sanskrit. As cool, calm, and peaceful Indians can be they can also be extremely violent. Since I have been here I have seen employers beating their employees, and children beating other children in frustration. I frequently ask myself, “Where are the human rights in this country?” In Canada, their behavior would be intolerable – and they would most likely be penalized. After observing Indians’ aggressive behavior, and not accepting it, I implemented a “No hitting policy at school”. In front of the other teacher, I explained there is NEVER any hitting in our classrooms. Finally, so I thought, the children stopped hitting each other. Then one day I entered another classroom, and I saw the other teacher beating one of the students on her back with his hand. My heart dropped and I said, “What are you doing??? Why are you hitting her?” I looked at the girl; her lips and chin formed a frown. Rakesh responded, “She hit someone!” I quickly replied, “Oh no… You cannot hit her back, otherwise you are condoning hitting and you are leading by poor example!” At that very moment I oozed frustration out of every pore of my body. Things sometimes seem backwards here, and it is extremely difficult to accept.
Here's a picture of the masks the children molded and painted.

Never a dull moment...

Every Saturday the students come to school and participate in the dance and drawing program. To jazz things up this past Saturday I thought we would do a craft. Unfortunately, we don’t have classroom scissors, glue, paint, loose leaf paper, or markers, therefore; my crafting options are limited. “Hum” I thought. “How about paper mache masks? All I need is balloons, newspapers, water, flour, and paints”. On Saturday I woke up early to prepare for the lesson. I asked Manoj, one of the servants, if I could have a bowl of white cooking flour. A few minutes later, I found him outside picking white flowers off of a tree. “No, no, no, Manoj, not that kind of flower – I need cooking flour.” Prior to Saturday, I asked the other teacher, Rakesh, if we had balloons, “Yes, yes, yes” he responded. To my dismay, we didn’t have any balloons. As time progresses, I am realizing that Indians will frequently say “yes” to a question, with the intention of not wanting to disappoint by saying “no”. My blood pressure rose and I tried to stay calm. While gathering newspapers together, I began cutting them into pieces. By accident, I cut the first section of the Saturday’s newspaper. Once Nitya’s 75 year old grandfather realized what I had done, he began frantically pacing back and forth. I apologized profusely, but it was too late, I broke the man’s daily routine – he was extremely disappointed. Fortunately, once I bought the balloons, arrived at school, and the kids completed their craft - I sat down, and took a breathe. Phewww... It was a success.
After the lesson, I asked the teacher could you please buy some paint and paintbrushes for Monday’s class, “Yes, yes, yes” he responded. Monday, I went to school to find that he bought paints – which expired 4 years ago - and ONE paintbrush. “Rakesh, we have 27 students, one paint brush is not enough.” Luckily, there are shops beside the school and one of the students ran downstairs to buy 5 more paintbrushes. The students took turns carefully painting their masks, and the day quickly came to an end. Ironically, when it did come time to leave, I couldn’t leave the building since two bulls were fighting head to head outside of the doorway. Dust flew into the air, the bulls grunted, while I tapped my foot waiting patiently for them to finish.
The school is located in a very poor area of town. Here's a picture of the neighborhood. The streets are full of garbage and foul smells.
Here's a picture of the school's toilet. Unfortunately, we rarely have running water and have an issue with plumbing. This toilet is right outside of the classroom, consequently, the classroom frequently smells like feesses. Trust me when I say, the sent is not pleasant when it is 35°C in the classroom.

Punjabi Wedding

Nitya and her family were invited to a wedding this week – fortunately I was able to tag along. The family who invited us was from Punjab. Punjab is a region straddling the border between India and Pakistan. The Punjabis, known for their zest for life, vivaciousness and of course, the bhangra, know how to pull all stops when it comes to celebrating. And what better occasion to celebrate than a wedding in the family? Fortunately for us, we were invited to three ceremonies. Firstly, the Sagai, held a few days before the wedding in which the family of the girl visits that of the boy's carrying beautifully wrapped gifts and the tikka material. This particular event was held at the finest hotel in New Delhi, The Imperial http://www.theimperialindia.com/home.htm Secondly, we attended the Mehendi, where they applied mehendi to the palms of the female members, and the hands and feet of the bride. A basket containing bindis and bangles was handed around so girls could choose those that matched the outfit they wore for the wedding. Thirdly, tonight, we attended the wedding ceremony. The groom arrived on a chariot pulled by white horses surrounded by elephants. The venue was decorated by millions of flowers and lights. They served a large variety of over a hundred different types of foods. I’m positive that this ONE event cost over one million dollars. This particular ceremony felt like a dream.

Weekend Roadie Part 2

The following day Mrs. Vizwaneth, Nitya, and I went to Rishikesh, a grand centre of pilgrims, and travelers, on the banks of the Ganges Rivers, between the Himalayan Mountains. This is a residential headquarters for Saints and Sages. Indian tourists and foreign tourists come from around the world to visit Rishikesh to take lessons in yoga and meditation. Rishikesh is a very spiritual majestic location - I highly recommend visiting.
We crossed the Laxman Jhoola, hanging bridge, over the Ganges River.
I even took a dip in the Ganges! The Ganges is a major river in the Indian subcontinent flowing east through the eponymous plains of northern India into Bangladesh. The 2,510 km long river begins at the Gangotri Glacier in the Indian state of Uttarakhand in the central Himalayas and drains into the Bay of Bengal through its vast delta in the Sunderbans. It is held sacred by Hindus and is worshipped in its personified form as the goddess Ganga. Millions of Hindus dip in the Ganges everyday - I was just one of them.
Here's a picture of Tibetans at their Buddhist Temple.

The soul purpose of my next trip to India will be to visit Rishikesh to take lessons on Yoga and meditation, go white water rafting on the Ganges River, and dedicate weeks to trekking the Himalayan Mountains.

Weekend Roadie Part One

On Friday morning, Mrs. Vizwaneth, Nitya, and I departed at 4a.m. for the mountains. We left New Delhi in the pitch black, no street lamps or accurate road signs to guide us. In India there is no civic sense, and Indians stick advertisements on road signs – in consequence getting from place to place is very difficult. Our driver continually asked locals for directions. My throat ached while driving through the polluted Capital. Soot covered our car. Black emissions filled the air. I imagined my lungs blackening with every breathe. While driving I watched the cows, pigs, donkeys, monkeys, and stray dogs eating garbage. I watched in awe as families of four crammed onto one motorcycle. Cars meant for five held twelve, three people in the font passenger seat, men sitting one on top of each other. We drove by villages, and fields and fields of sugar cane. Hundreds of monkeys waiting patiently along roadsides hoping drivers would throw food scraps outside of their car windows.
As we began getting closer to the town of Mussoorie tears began streaming down my face. I never imagined visiting the Himalayas this early in my life time. The scenery looked SO beautiful. Houses, schools, and markets built on mountain tops. Tibetans roaming free praying at their Buddhist Temples – something they are no longer allowed to do in their previous country, Tibet – because of the Chinese occupation. While staying in Mussoorie, I visited Christ Church established in 1836, the oldest church in the Himalayas, a Buddhist Temple, markets, and I went on long steep walks.
At night, Nitya and her mother barely slepped because monkeys played ontop of our hotel's roof.

My Environment

Nitya's house is located in Gurgaon, a beautiful residential area. The neighborhood has multiple American Call Centers, hotels, malls, and schools.Eventhough Nitya lives in an affluent neighborhood poverty can be found right next door. Here is an example of where the construction workers live for approximately nine months while they build. They bath with a hose and go to the bathroom outside. Women shower and defecate after 8p.m., when it is dark. Here's a picture of the street kids. Most do not attend school, have shoes, or eat more then one large meal per day. I have been here approximately 2 weeks now, and I have realized that they each have one outfit, since I have seen them wear the same thing everyday.
Women work hard doing construction while wearing saris and balancing sand and bricks on their heads.

BOTOX!

Today, I went to the Kaya Skin Clinic to get my skin assessed by a Dermatologist. She told me that my skin looked older then 24, and she recommended Botox and two salicylic peals. “Botox, huh. You mean the cream, right?!” “No, you need the injections – about 54 units under your eyes and on your forehead.” “How much is this going to cost?” “About 400$ - and it will last approximately 6 months” “Ummm… Thank you, but no thank you – I will refrain myself from smiling and laughing so much. It’s cheaper.” After I discussed my skin type with the Dermatologist, I spoke to the Sales Manager about different packages. Funny, sales pitches are the same in India as they are in Canada. The big difference in India is you can bargain EVERYWHERE – even in stores and spas - and bargain I did. Toot toot… I’m tooting my own horn. I got 50% off several of the creams and two salicylic peals. I went from 200$ to about 90$.

Tomorrow, morning Nitya, her mother, and I are going to Mussoorie, India. http://www.livingpictures.org/Mussoorie.htm We will be leaving our house in New Delhi at 4a.m. and should arrive 5 hours later. Mussoorie is a hill station in the foothills of the Himalayan Mountains. I am terribly excited. I will be staying at the Claridges Nabha Hotel http://www.heritagehotelsofindia.com/india/uttaranchal/mussoorie/the-claridges-nabha.html While I am there my goals are to relax, breath fresh mountain air, hike, and buy Tibetan prayer flags. We will be returning on Monday.

Four temples and one school

After my morning’s yoga session, I felt as though I was on a floating cloud. It lasted a few hours and it carried me through the school day. Since I have arrived I have felt great as a result of daily yoga, walking, and eating healthy foods. The students were wonderful today – and have been acting sillier as the days progress. They beg for more songs and active movement in the classroom, maybe I’ve been too silly? Nah… Who said learning can’t be fun? After school, Nitya took me to four different temples around New Delhi. She dressed in a sari. I wore my new embroidered Indian top (120 rupees – 3$) and my new camel leather shoes (310 rupees – 8$). So far I have spent 34$ in India. The temples we visited were beautiful and majestic. I felt the pull from the different Gods when I walked before them – maybe because they were made of gold and silver? Who knows? The statues were impressive. Nitya and I cracked coconuts and smeared its juices on the Gods. We ran our hands through flames and placed our palms on our eyes. Nitya’s head bowed down to the floor while I twiddled my thumbs not knowing what to do. India has been WONDERFUL so far. My only qualms that I have encountered so far is the poverty; lack of toilet paper; my inability to digest heavy spices; the way Indian’s continually try to over charge me because of the colour of my skin; the stares I receive from strangers; and Indian’s verbal and physical aggressiveness (I have seen house security guards beat construction workers, parents yelling inappropriately at their children, and children pushing and screaming at one another). Even though India is SO DIFFERENT from Canada, I feel right at home. There is such a pull here – and it is truly such a special place. Don’t worry mom, I’m not going to move to Asia.

Most popular street kid...

It is close to midnight here in Bharat, and the construction workers next door are still working away. Other then the beggars that knock on car windows, construction workers are the poorest of the poor. Mamas and Papas work from morning to night, while their babies sleep on dirty tarps under trees, and their older barefooted children run around the neighborhood looking for entertainment. Unfortunately, they do not go to school. The workers make EVERYTHING by hand, including bricks, with limited tools. Women wear saris while balancing bowls of sand, and bricks on their heads. Their agility breathe taking. Their strength unfathomable. Yesterday, I took pictures and filmed the women at work. I showed them their pictures and they shrieked in disbelief. They pointed at themselves, while other untouchables came up to me with their children in their arms asking me if I could take their picture. The women and I tried our best to have a conversation. They laughed and pointed at my clothes and said, “No sari?” I explained to them that in Canada women don’t wear saris; they roared of laughter and accused me of wearing the same clothes as their children. A pair of pants and a t-shirt. I asked them how many rupees they made a day, and they informed me 18. For those of you who are unaware of the dollar rupee conversion that is 45 cents A DAY! They make 45 cents a day!!! After talking for a few minutes, the women pointed to my house and encouraged me to go home. “Sun hot. Not good for your skin.” Probably because I am White. I said good-bye, entered my house, and visited Nitya. Nitya and I needed some clothes to be ironed so I ran back outside to get them pressed. In India, there are tin shacks in wealthy neighborhoods where men iron the neighborhoods’ clothes (the workers use big metal irons full of hot coals to press). As I walked across the street to deliver our items, my house’s servants ran after me in disbelief. Normally, I wouldn’t dare hand deliver items – because it’s below me – but obviously I do not follow India’s rules and fend for myself. Fortunately, one of the ironers spoke English and he was able to introduce me to his daughter. As I waited for him to press my clothes, the construction workers kids, the street kids, peered around the corner to look at me. For the past couple of days, I have been a hot commodity on the block since I am White, I take their picture, smile, and wave. This time I thought it would be even better if I took it a step further and chased them. Shocked, they ran away screaming and laughing. I tickled their skinny bellies – and they ran away for more. They loved it – their parents more. After playing, I returned to the ironing shack. I thanked the gentleman, and he said “you are welcome sister”. Sister I am. We are ALL equal.

Children are children

This morning I did my usual 3 kilometer walk with Monoj. Monoj cooks and cleans for the family. He only knows a few words in English and I only know a few words in Hindi. Fortunately for us, smiles, pointing, and drawings are universal. Walking at 7a.m. is bearable since it is only 25°C – by 1p.m. it is 40°C. At 9a.m. I began my yoga session with Mr. Yogi. He has taught me that I should conserve energy while doing Yoga, and I “should feel calm, comfortable, happiness, and bliss”. My views on Yoga have completely changed – my old mentality was “no pain, no gain”. Mr. Yogi is extremely therapeutic and I am very lucky to have him as my Shikshak (teacher). By 10:30a.m. I arrived at school. I don’t even bother showering before I go to school since I sit on the dusty buggy floor with the students. By the end of the academic day, 2p.m., I am covered in sweat, dirt, and kiddy germs. The children are SO wonderful and things are going extremely well. During the last three days, they have adapted to my teaching style and no longer write/read their ONE book. They finally feel comfortable actively participating! “The Hokey Pokey”, “Itsy Bitsy Spider”, and “Head and Shoulders knees and toes” was a complete hit. They left the classroom smiling and singing away – my ultimate goal. When I got home from school, the poor bare footed children were running around in front of Nitya’s home. I asked them “photo (picture), Thikhai (alright)?” The children quickly rocked their heads to one side (meaning yes). As soon as other kids realized that I was taking their friends’ picture they ran forward. I took their picture and they were SO happy! It was probably one of the few times, if ever, that someone took their picture. I showed them the picture on the back of the digital camera and they jumped up and down pointing to their picture. They couldn’t believe it.

India's Severe Extremes

Eventhough the majority of India's population is extremely poor, the country is also very wealthy. Here are the hyperlinks to:

Nitya's country club (where we go swimming and out for dinner)http://www.thepalms.in/index.asp

Nitya's parents country club http://www.dlfgolfresort.com/

Make the body healthy, & the soul will follow

At 4a.m. this morning I woke up with the sun. I could hardly refrain myself from opening the blinds to sneak a peak at sleeping India. India’s landscape, houses, and people are so different – and I just want to observe and take it all in with every breath I take. At 7a.m. I could not twiddle my thumbs any longer so I went downstairs and asked Nitya’s mom if she wanted to go for a walk with me. Off we went. We walked by mansions, that resembled homes in L.A. and Palm Beach, as well as huts that were made of tarps, ropes, card board, and bricks. We also walked by bare footed children wearing ripped underwear and stained t-shirts. Their hair and bodies were filthy from sleeping on dirt floors. They spend their days shifting garbage and talking amongst one another. For the first time in my life, I feel like I am beside the children I used to watch in the “World Vision” commercials. I look at them and smile, but they don’t smile back. Their souls seem empty. And their thoughts dark. I want to take pictures of the sleeping babies on the dirt ground. But I don’t want to insult their parents. After my walk, I met Mr. Yogi, my new Yoga instructor. Mr. Yogi will be coming to the house to teach me Yoga, everyday for one hour, for the next month. The cost: 1,200 rupees. Approximately 40$. Our first session was incredible and we went over theories and positions. My focus on this trip is improving my health and expanding my mind – and I know Mr. Yogi will be a wonderful guide. Today is “Teacher Day”, a Hindu holiday. Ironically enough, it was my first day teaching at the Amar Kirti School. I stepped into the classroom and asked the teacher (who’s 25, speaks little English, and has no prior teaching experience or certifications) “What have you been teaching them? Where should I take off? What exactly should I teach?” He responded “You teach”. “Pardon me sir, what do you want me to teach?” “You teach”. At this point, I realized that I was on my own. And did my best to teach 27 pairs of staring brown eyes. At the end of the school day, we played “Simon Says”. They loved it. Afterward, we served lunch. One glass of warm milk and two slices of white bread. There are no books in the classroom. No chalkboards. No large writing paper I can write on. I don’t even know where I should begin. Teachers out there that are reading this – HELP! boulangerh@mville.edu

HOLY COW!!!!

When I first stepped off of the airplane I couldn’t help but flair my nostrils at the smell. I’m not sure if it was Delhi’s smog or the 10 sweaty men unloading the suitcases off of the airplane. Customs was a breeze. Baggage claim was crazy – another passenger grabbed my suitcase on the other side of the conveyer belt when I yelled, “Hey! That’s MINE!” Lucky for him, I didn’t bring my hockey stick or he would have been hooked. Nitya welcomed me with open arms, a flower, and a beautiful smile. I was SO happy to see her! Her driver, Pankej, got the car while Nitya and I waited outside. This gave me my first taste of India. Zooming rickshaws! Stray dogs! Families on motorcycles! Men staring! I couldn’t believe it; I had finally arrived to Bharat. Pankej pulled up the car and off we went. Nitya and I slid back and forth into each other in the back seat – and she assured me that we didn’t need to wear seatbelts – because there weren’t any. Pankej weaved in and out of the traffic like a pro. One finger on the horn. The highway soundtrack was a chaotic symphony of deep blasts. It was as if the other drivers were blind and they were driving by sounds of honks. The only thing that stopped these crazy drivers were the holy cows! Did I mention that cows are top dogs here? They’ll never become steak or Gucci purses in India, since Hindus believe they are the mothers of all species. They are everywhere! While we were driving the humpbacked bovines stepped off median strips just as we approached, we stopped the car, they stared back at us – and I’m sure they were laughing in the inside. Clearly, the cows enjoyed themselves vs. their new Canadian companion.

Hyperlinks

http://www.nityaandsharath.com Here is the hyperlink of the wedding I am attending in India. Nitya is getting married to Sharath in New Delhi and Chennai. The wedding will be a traditional 10 day Hindu service. Nitya, was one of my roomates at Manhattanville College. I will be one of her bride's maids.

http://www.amarkirti.com/ Here is the hyperlink of the school that I will be teaching for 2 months. To see pictures of the school click on "pictures" on the bottom right of the page.

Home in Barrhaven

Here's a picture of my home in Barrhaven. This will give you a taste of the comfort I am used to - and leaving behind.