Blogging in Boston

I am blogging, although I am currently in Boston.  Interesting considering I have never blogged while being in classes but, I am currently enrolled in an Advanced Writing in the Disciplines course at school (Northeastern University) which has me thinking all the time.  It has me relating ideas and readings we discuss in class to almost every action in my life.  I have a friend who once told me, "Abby, you are always relating your life to something, whether it be song lyrics, books, stories, why?"  She advised me to just allow life to happen and let it be your own.  I would do that but I believe every event in life occurs because of some other force or current, which has probably happened before or to someone else.

For instance, last week in class we read a few chapters written by a woman named Deborah Brandt.  I love the way she writes and how she took the time to analyze literature and reading.  She conducted interviews on people ranging from all walks of life and asked them to think about when they first began to read and write.  She had them think about times in life when literacy affected them and about their parents and their literacy growth experiences.  It was fascinating to me.  

Looking back at my own childhood, I had a hard time remembering the first time I learned to read or write.  It may have been because it was always easy for me or because we never talked about it in my house but whatever it was there had to be some event that sparked literacy desires. I was read to every night, my favorite book of course, Goodnight Moon, but I was never asked to read out-loud perhaps because I was just expected to know how to do it.  First born child syndrome?  Who knows, but whatever happened it leads to a lot of unanswered questions now about how I process literature, the types of books I choose to read or even how I write. 

Back to blogging and back in Boston.  It's going to be a refreshing summer.

A few of the many reasons I LOVE India.

While at times I am angry at myself for not blogging more I realize I am also very happy with the experiences I have allowed myself to have and the amazing people I have had the opportunity of meeting, these last four weeks.  So while, I am disappointed in myself, there are no words to explain the love I have for this country, this city and these people right now.  I am so happy.  It’s a happiness I have never felt before.  I am so grateful. So grateful for this experience and my family and friends and Beth.  I am so thankful for the support.  I am so content with life and it’s possibilities and opportunities.

Here in Hubli, my mind is always flowing; changing directions, whirling thoughts ring through my head and my smile and eyes keeps opening larger.  I am having the time of my life.  I am learning Kannada, I am rocking the kurtas, I am devouring the food and I cannot get enough of the chai, children, puppies and conversation both here in India as well as from my friends and family at home!

I am going to highlight a few of these amazing experiences and incredible people, briefly below.  While my thoughts may be very scattered glimpses of the experiences, I hope you enjoy and have a chance to see how outstanding and unique this country is. 

Babu

Babu, our auto rickshaw driver picks us up every morning from our hotel and brings us to our room at BVB College.  He is the man!  He toots his horn, smiles from ear to ear, and wipes off our seat with his dirt-dyed rag as we begin to pile in.  Every morning he begins with “Good day madam, how are you?”  And we drive off, chitter-chattering along the way.  It is a lovely way to begin our day.

On one particular Friday, Babu picked us up, as we had to complete some errands, and had other plans in mind for us.  He was going to show us his home.  His simple, quant, modest home, filled with joy and love.  As we made the unfamiliar left hand turn Yasmine and I looked at each other with curiosity in our eyes.  Where are we going? About a minute later Babu’s beautiful wife greeted us.  A tall, elegant, hardworking woman, you could tell.  She greeted us with Chai, blessed us with the third eye and insisted that we have a seat inside.  The enclosed space was small yet very clean.  There was a picture of Ganesh hanging on the wall, pictures of their deceased family members, piles of clothes, waiting to be stitched and buckets of fresh vegetables sitting in the next room waiting to be prepared for dinner. The 6’ x 8’ space had a peaceful, yet busy aura to it.  As we took off our sandals to enter the home, Babu’s mother-in-law stepped in the small space and grabbed both our arms as if she was never going to let go.  Her squeeze was tight and welcoming. It was lovely.  As she smiled her half-missing mouth of teeth shined brightly in the sunlight.  She welcomed us in and sat on the floor, making sure we both had a chair.  It was an amazing moment.  Sitting, almost silent, just smiling and giggling and gesturing at this family and sipping our chai, imagining what life must be like every day in this house.  The living space floor doubling as a bedroom floor at night.  The kitchen doubling as a washroom. This family that has so little, yet giving so much.  It was such a different experience or feeling than I have ever felt in the U.S. A family so grateful for just having each other and the company of others to bless their lives with.

Leaving Babu’s house that day we learned that he is saving up to begin construction on a new home in 2012.  After hearing of his goal, we felt warmth and happiness because although we are paying him 50 rupees every morning ($1usd) for a ride that should cost 20 rupees, we now realize that we are helping him towards his goal.  And that little dollar we spend is nothing compared to what we already have.

Roopa, hotel greeter, friend, and yoga assistant

Roopa is one of the many incredible people who work at our hotel, Hotel Naveen.  She is genuine, helpful and an all around wonderful person to encounter every morning on our way back from breakfast.  Her smile, her dress, her curiosity and her opinions.  Her advice, her stories and her positive attitude. Every thing about Roopa keeps me coming back for more.

This week Roopa introduced us to her friend, the yoga teacher, Vasuda.  One of my goals this time in India was to become more educated on the history of yoga as well as more intimate with the yoga postures.  I mean this is India, origin of yoga, and home of the wise and spiritual.  Why not become a yogi? 

Before our yoga lesson began we met up with Roopa at her gorgeous home.  Why not become a yogi, but why not become a part of Roopa’s family first?  Yasmine, I, along with two other students all arrived not knowing what to expect.  We were motioned up to the second floor of a beautiful apartment complex and greeted outside the elevator by Roopa herself.  She was dressed in a beautiful red kurta and had her hair in an elegant pony tail.  It was the first time I had seen Roopa outside of her hotel uniform and with her hair not in a bun.  Her husband stood by her side, along with their thirteen-year-old daughter, who wore a short mini jean skirt and rocked a black button up.  I already loved this family and I had only laid eyes on them 10 seconds prior. 

After the four of us made ourselves comfortable on their modern furniture, her husband offered us a cup of chai.  He claimed he was the best chai maker in all of Hubli. He was correct.  The first sip sent my mind a cheerful glimpse of happiness.  Yum, just the right amount of sugar.  We all sat, sipping on chai, a common yet soothing experience in India, discussing life, our purpose, a potential dinner date, shopping and the typical question that always comes up, what are we doing in Hubli?  It was a funny conversation.  We laughed, giggled, and received some really great advice about where to buy a nice mask in Hubli.  Roopa’s husband is apparently the shopper, interior designer if you will, and he had the house pimped out.  They had tan, leather couches, with beautiful artwork to accompany.  There were hanging masks and tropical plants warming the kitchen and lighting that reminded me of my home in the U.S.  Mom would have loved it! The apartment was beautiful.  The company was even better.  After our short one-hour detour to Roopa’s on the way to yoga, we set off in search of our next memorable experience in India.  YOGA.  Because, obviously I am going to become a yogi by the end of this month with Roopa downward-dogging right next to me.

Inside Roopa's beautiful home with her lovely daughter.

KSV- The coolest school of music

I have never seen a school quite like Kalkeri Sangeet Vidyalaya, until today of course.  It may just be my next home, my next adventure because I fell in love. 

With its mission being to use music to empower children from socially marginalized and economically disadvantaged backgrounds, help them realize their full potential, the school is filled with beautiful voices and a lively harmony.

Upon arriving and receiving a brief introduction from Adam, a man who has now lived in Kalkeri -a rural village comprised of 2000 inhabitants- for seven years after beginning as a volunteer, we made our way around the campus.  We met Matthew and Agathe-the two founders from Quebec- and their four beautiful daughters, we met the 161 children who are forutunate enough to receive such a well rounded education.  We heard a famous Japanese Koto player perform and had the opportunity to hear the eldest students play their local music.  I was captivated the entire day.  In love with the music. In love with the children. In love with the wilderness that surrounded the song.  In love with the staff and their generosity.  KSV may just be my next volunteer adventure!

A glimpse of the campus.  The classrooms, the wilderness.  It was very peaceful, quite and serene.

A classroom!

Inside the classroom, the students were partaking in a math class.

Adam's home.  Built out of eco-friendly material.

Sabia and I!  A little rockstar!

The eldest students playing the local classical music.

My girls!

Photo compliments of little Laxmi :)

So although, there have been those moments that keeping me guessing and wondering, what the hell am I doing here?  It’s the moments and the people that I have mentioned above that help me to understand my place in this foreign society.  I have grown so much in the last month.  I have realized and am beginning to accept and give meaning to many of the obstacles I have encountered in life.  And I am comfortable saying I am falling in love with a place that 30 days ago seemed so distant and unrelateable to me.

“India, I love you!”  I repeat every night before splashing my clustered mind on the hotel pillow and falling fast asleep in my ‘home’ away from home!

No time for the minus sign.

I want to first get the negatives out of the way...

Last week I stepped in cow dung, a pile of it, nice and wet, on our walk back to the hotel.  I heard the squish with every step for the entire 15 minutes after that it took us to get back.  I felt the disgusting yet collected look on my face.  In the end all I got was an ugly rash on my feet and a pretty good story to tell. Not too bad!

This ugly rash on my feet.  Itchy, ugly rash.  A minor downer in my week but with a little Extra Strength Benedryl and a daily foot affirmation, all is well.

This morning.  Not entirely negative but rather a strange annoying encounter involving a group of men.  I would call them gentlemen but I'm not exactly sure they were gentle.  They didn't look it.  I arrived back from breakfast, eager to see the wedding that was about to take place at our hotel.  The bride was Slovakian and beautiful and the groom was a local man from Hubli and handsome.  It's a rare occurrence in Hubli to see a wedding involving a foreigner.  I opened my window shade to get a glimpse of the wedding scene only to find a group of about seven men standing outside my room, loitering.  The good thing about our windows is you can see out but nobody can see in.  Thank goodness as I was standing in  a tank top kurta.  As I sat with Yasmine, in the next room over, observing the men and their actions we became more and more entranced and at times violated.  Even though they could not see in our windows, it's pretty evident they knew there were two, white foreign, women in the room.  One of the men even had the nerve to open Yasmine's  door and peek his head inside.  "Hello!" she yelled.  And then another man grabbed the Do Not Disturb (DND) sign off my door and ripped it in half.  I was thinking hello, I saw that! As I walked over to my door to lock the dead bolt.  He put one half in his jacket pocket and through the other half over the balcony.  I still don't understand the point of that. Respect, sometimes Indian men really know how to violate it.  After several minutes of watching, and ragging back and forth Yasmine and I decided to move to Denise's room.  The men were now huddled outside her window and we wanted the latest dirt.  We climbed outside on the back balcony and crossed that way, holding on for dear life.  There was no way I was going out the front door so walking the back plank was the only other option. Three women trapped in three small rooms, only mobile over a balcony.  We discussed it, laughed a bit and soon after the men left.  Strange.  It was a strange experience.  And the thing that put the cherry on top... they were not even invited to the wedding.  They were government officials from Hubli/Dharwad that apparently think they can just drop in on weddings whenever they very well please!

I just shook my head as I looked over the front balcony and watched them drive away, one half of my DND sign in the exiting vehicle and the other sitting lonely by itself on the dirt floor below. It was an odd morning.  Definitely one of those mornings, weeks rather when I ask myself, what the hell?

I am back ... in Hubli!

I am in Hubli.  It is still surreal and we have been here for longer than a week.  I did not do any mental preparing this time before leaving.  Usually, it is a process, I must think about it, imagine myself plopped in the particular culture, think about all the positive encounters I am about to have but also be realistic about a few of the challenges I may face. This time, I decided to not over think anything though.  It was my first time traveling on a dialogue, not playing the role of student. It was the first time I couldn’t just dive in and try to be close friends with a particular group of students.  It has been a bit challenging for me at times. Then, I stop trying to sort through all the thoughts in my head, that can sometimes feel destructive, am I doing a good job, am I balancing my priorities, and I stop, take a look around and begin observing. I am here because I am here but why?

I am in India. It will occur to me, as I am jammed in the rickshaw trying to keep the massive amounts of dust out of my mouth and eyes.  It will occur to me as I am bobbling my head trying to get half off the inflated, foreigner rate.  One hundred village children will be running after me, speaking in their native tongue and I will reply, “Nanage Kannada BarOdilla” because I can not speak Kannada well and I am in Karnataka.

India is a fascinating place and being it is my second time here, for an extended period of time, I am trying to soak everything up.  I want to meet locals, go to bollywood shows, become a yogi, dress the dress, test my limits and devour as much of this amazing food as possible.  It has only been a week and so far I can really say, I have fallen in love.  Last time I left, thinking “I like this place but there is no way I can say I love it.”  And now, yesterday in particular, I was sitting on a jam-packed bus, thankful I had a seat, next to a woman wrapped in a beautiful, green, sparkly sari.  She had her nose pierced and decorated with gold jewelry, her ears encircled with gold chain and jewels, looking immaculate.  She was absolutely gorgeous.  Although, we had severe communication issues, I enjoyed her company.  She looked a young 68, stunning and so interested in my culture.  I had my camera out perusing though pictures of family and friends, replaying old memories in my head, in my own little world. She sat, so observant, and silent.  When she saw something she thought looked scandalous, for Indian status, she would lightly tap my right arm with the back of her hand and point as if I was being scolded by my grandmother for being out of line.  Then she would smile and show off her crooked, off-colored teeth and we would both laugh. Not a word was spoken but the interconnectedness was felt between the two of us, generations apart, from opposite sides of the world, yet sitting in that moment side by side. It are those little encounters that happen every day in this vast country of contrast and rich culture, with such a diverse array of individuals, that keeps me proclaiming, I LOVE THIS COUNTRY.

So although, I am taking in the India, as a whole; the food, the clothing, the dress, the customs, the religions, the dialects, all the people, the random foreigners scavenging through Hubli, the lack of internet, not having a phone, the smells, the dirt, the smog, the hand shakes, the questions, the list could go on forever, I am still at a crossroads as to what I am doing here.