Once again, it's been a long time between entries, and I apologize for that. During May, my family visited for two and a half weeks, and immediately after, my students asked me to switch the English course from a three-month three days a week course to a two month five days a week course. That has kept me plenty busy and exhausted for the last month or so.
Having my family here, my parents, my brother, and my cousin, was really wonderful. We took long walks, ate lovely dinners, played everything from Clue to charades, went shopping, and saw some local sites that even I haven't had a chance to explore yet. The longer they were here, I could see my parents grow more and more comfortable with the idea of me living and working where I am.
At the end of their time here, we left Himachal Pradesh for Delhi, then hired a car to drive us straight down to Agra. We happened to time our trip down onto the plains during the hottest week of the year. Temperatures in Delhi were reaching 48 C, which is about 120 F. Staying in that air conditioned car and immediately hopping into air conditioned restaurants and our air conditioned bead and breakfast made it bearable. We got up early the next morning, 5:00 AM in fact, so that we could be at the Taj Mahal by 6:00 AM. Even that early in the morning, it was undeniably hot. The Taj itself was gorgeous in the early morning light. Only a few other tourists were around, so we even managed to get a few photos of the Taj Mahal without other people in them. Pretty impressive for one of the most famous landmarks in the world.
After breakfast, we hopped back into our air conditioned car and drove straight back up to Delhi. In Delhi, we did a bit of shopping and quite a lot of eating. Only a day and a half later, my family got back on a plane for the US and I for Himachal Pradesh.
Shortly thereafter, Anya's two year term was up and it was time for her to travel her way back to the United States. The night she took a bus down to Delhi, a handful of us saw her off at the Dharmshala bus stand, waving until we couldn't see her any more, and crying even a little longer. I admit, being here without Anya now has been tough on me, but it's been three weeks now, and I'm recovering. It's time for me to find out how to stand on my own two feet here.
So, I threw myself into teaching. This session consists of two classes, one right after the other. My first class has three girls who completed only 10 or 12 years of education. My second class is four college girls and one older assistant who works for Kamla. They're all very hard working, when the do show up to class. The difference in the levels of education between the two classes is really apparent in how they take to my activities and lessons. I had wanted to combine the two classes, as teaching a group of under 10 people is very tough. However, a number of my students in both classes were also in a computer class at the Knowledge Center at the same time as the other class, it couldn't be done. I have made the mobilizers promise to get me bigger classes next time.
Despite being busy and mildly overworked, I still have managed to experience life around me. In just the last week, I have been to a wedding, a funeral, and three birthday parties, plus trekking to a temple high in the mountains.
Last Sunday, the last day off I had before the 10-day teaching marathon I'm currently in the middle of, Devika invited me to go hiking with her and five local children. Recently, she befriended the nieces and nephews of one of our co-workers Ravina, and promised to spend a day with them. So Devika, another short-term volunteer from Delhi, and I spent a morning and afternoon hiking up a mountain with four little boys and one girl. They ranged from third grade up to tenth grade, the girl being the oldest. Although the road to Indru Nag Temple was paved, the children often got impatient and wanted to climb up the slopes on short-cuts between the long switch-backs. This gave Devika and the other volunteer some trouble, but my upbringing with lots of hiking, bouldering, and generally scampering around in nature came in handy. I was able to keep up even with the eight-year-old as he scurried up the slopes, then climb back down to give Devika an extra hand. It was refreshing. After they did their worship and offerings at the temple, we sat in the shade of a tree and ate our lunch. That consisted of one little tin of food they had brought with them to share, along with some roti. We supplemented it with bags of chips and cookies. Now that's one nutritious end to a long hike, if you ask me. The way back down was, if anything, harder than the hike up. We took yet another short cut. It was steeper and frequently dusted with dirt or pine needles, which made for slippery footing. We briefly stopped at a smaller temple where a baba, holy man, stayed who reportedly revered Michael Jackson. The children couldn't get much conversation out of him, much to their disappointment.
On Monday morning, I went to a commemorative feast for Dr. Kusum's mother. In local customs, after a death, people close to the deceased mourn for a set period of time. In this case, it was thirteen days. While mourning, they don't work and they don't eat any salted foods. On the thirteenth day, they invite their friends to a prayer service and feast. After eating prashad, a ritual offering to the Gods, I ate some delicious curries and subzis, paying respects to Dr. Kusum and her family. This sort of feast is a marker of the end of mourning, when everyone can eat salted foods again, and that they will now go on with their lives again.
On Tuesday morning, I went to the wedding of my Hindi tutor, Indu's, older sister. The invited me to come only to the last morning of the wedding, when her sister Meena was being shown off. The actual wedding ceremony happened the night before. When arrived, Meena was already deep in the ritual crying of a bride being taken away to her new home. She was sobbing so violently that she couldn't stand while her family stood around tearfully. Eventually, when it became clear that she couldn't make her way to the car herself, her new father-in-law picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her to the car himself. Meanwhile, her husband followed awkwardly behind. Both were still draped heavily in the tinsel trappings of wedding attire. Meena was put in the car with her new husband and some members of his family and her brother, as per tradition. Indu went along as well, for support.
Following the send-off was an all-day feast. People would be coming all day from around the village to congratulate the family and eat. Like the other wedding feasts I have been to, it consisted of seven courses, starting with more yellow foods, ending in darker brown ones, finishing in a sweet rice. I ate with Didi and Maya, who were both there as well, then rode back down the mountain in their car as we dodged the rain. Although we ate early in the day, the feast would last well into the afternoon.
Wednesay was one of my co-worker's birthday parties. Ashish is the Jagori librarian, and I didn't realize until we all went to his house that night that he had an identical twin brother. If they hadn't been wearing different colored shirts, I wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. A good number of Jagori staff turned out for the party. There was another seven course feast. Instead of the usual leaf plates, they had paper plates, which had clearly been printed as advertisement for an electronics company. They all bore a picture of a snazzy looking DVD player. Very clever advertisement.
After the feast, there was some singing and dancing. Get a bunch of Jagori women together in one place without an agenda, and that will happen. Then the brought out a cake. We sang happy birthday, then Ashish's family fed him and his brother the cake, smearing it liberally all over their faces. Then it was Ashish and his twin's turn to feed everyone else little bits of cake, starting with their family. It certainly was a more exciting way to eat cake than what I'm used it. Of course, once the smearing and feeding was done, everyone got a little plate with their own piece of cake on it.
After the birthday celebration, there was to be an all-night worship to one of the gods with singing, dancing, and praying. I had to teach the next day, so I politely excused myself and headed home. For most of the rest of the Jagori team, Thursday was a holiday, so that was less of a worry for them.
My second birthday party of the week was for the Karmapa Lama, the head of an older sect of Tibetan Buddhism than that of the Dalai Lama. He is in his mid to late twenties and views the Dalai Lama as his teacher, a relationship that has not happened between the two Lamas in previous incarnations. His temple is in Sidhbari itself, about a fifteen minute walk from my house. I had never been to see him or his temple before, so when I heard about the celebration, I jumped at the chance, and asked Maya if I could go along with her.
We got up early in the morning and walked down together. Even despite being a half hour early, we found that the temple itself was already packed. We waited in a line to get inside that moved nowhere. As we waited, a friend of Maya's, a Tibetan nun who had come early with a delegation of Taiwanese Buddhists, spotted her. The nun took hold of us both and pulled us confidently past security at a side door and found us a cushion to sit on. We were very lucky. I'm sure we wouldn't have gotten inside otherwise.
The morning service was long, but fascinating. When it came time for the Karmapa to come in, he was accompanied by triumphant reedy trumpets that announced his arrival. He came in and paid homage to the Dalai Lama, a cardboard cut-out sat on a throne above his own, before he sat on his own throne. Amid chanting and throat singing from the multitude of monks and nuns present, people walked in a long line past his throne, presenting him with symbolic gifts. The first of which was rice poured over a basin, to represent the creation of the world, the heavens, and the four cardinal directions. Other gifts included small representations of scriptures, Buddha statues, and scarves. This went on for quite some time. Then the head of the monastery, a member of the Dalai Lama's sect, chanted explanations of gifts he and the monastery were giving. This was all in Tibetan and lost on me.
After that, it was time for the guests to all be blessed. Monks passed out cups and poured butter tea for everyone who was inside, then passed out little leaf bowls of sweet rice. After the food and drink were blessed by the Karmapa, everyone ate. Meanwhile, other monks passed out gifts of money to all of the monks and nuns there. Gifts from the Karmapa.
Then people began to file by the Karmapa's throne as fast as they could be ushered by. Everyone carried a scarf with them. First, another monk would drape the scarf over each person's shoulders in blessing, then the Karmapa would touch their head as they passed by, and finally another monk would hand them a red string with a protection knot in it to tie onto yourself. Usually the tying of the string or the draping would be done with by the Karmapa Lama himself, but there were too many people to do that on this occasion. First people who had been waiting outside filed through. Then came the monks and nuns from inside, and lastly ordinary people like us. By this time, we were rushed so much that I had to drape my own scarf around me, but the Karmapa did touch my head as I passed.
We returned to our seats with the Taiwanese group and saw the end of the ceremony. Chanting and throat singing resumed again. I saw older monks passing out what looked like song sheets to the young boys, so that they could join in too. With a fanfare from the reedy horns, about half of the monks put on their huge yellow hats. Fringed with yarn in long crests, they remind me a bit of Roman centurion plumes. They finished their chant and the Karmapa Lama retreated with the trumpets back into his apartments.
The festivities would go on all day, but we only stayed long enough for lunch. Somehow, they managed to feed the hundreds of people that had gathered there for the Karmapa's birthday. It was an auspicious day, with a full moon and a number of celestial objects in alignment. After freshening up, Maya went back for his teaching and cake cutting in the afternoon, but I had a class to teach. Again, she got lucky by seeing another friend in the doorway who let her inside.
The third and final birthday party for the week was for the husband of a woman who was helping Didi with some of her architecture work. Their whole family was staying in the village this summer though they were from outside of Delhi themselves. Maya and Didi invited Sneha, Didi's current intern from Pune, and I to join in. I was to be assist pizza cook and bringer of the entertainment: “The Lord of the Rings” movies.
Making pizza together is something that my family has done together for as long as I can remember, and probably about as often as once a month by the time I was in high school. I love making home made pizza. Not only is it delicious and fun, it brings back many warm fuzzy feelings from home. I didn't mention that to Maya when invited, I just enthusiastically accepted her invitation. I was right in the middle of things, spreading the dough onto the pans, and putting on the sauce and toppings. Maya was so impressed by how nicely I got the dough to spread out and how lovely all the pizzas looked that I am now hired as her pizza cook. I look forward to making more pizza later on. It was a blast, especially with the two young kids hanging around and helping. It turned out that “The Fellowship of the Ring” was a little too intense and detailed for their young son to deal with. We frequently had to pause for breathers and questions. Eventually, their whole family got tired, so they went home. Maya, Sneha, and I did see the movie through to the end though. It was an enjoyable evening, to be sure.
Although the monsoon season is scheduled to start on July 15th here, we have been getting daily rain for some time now. And lately, it's been growing in intensity. Though we still haven't had an all-day rain yet, I think it's safe to say that the monsoons have already started. Although I may leave my home on a sunny afternoon, I can never leave my umbrella behind. Clouds build up quickly in the mountains, and just as quickly descend into the valley.
So, with my umbrella in hand, I soldier on through my last three days of class, a review session, and a test. Then there's that web site to finish and launch. After that, I'm taking a much-needed break.
