1.14.2007

01.15 worlds apart

i have neglected my ipod in india.

there were so many fascinating sounds that kept me alert, alive, aware.. i didn't need the ipod. actually i didn't want it.

coming back to toronto was not easy. i should mention that my father, in tarzan style, sprained his knee jumping from a wall a couple of days ago. i know: he's almost sixty; what is he doing jumping. i know. i know. but boys will be boys. so he jumps. sprains his knee and because of an old soccer injury the thing is now the size of my head. seriously.

does he go to a clinic? a doctor? a healer? um. no. would tarzan go to a healer? no. this is the thing about boys. i know they say that women are irrational (they even coined the word "hysterical") , but when it comes to ego, men's ability to think logically evaporates. and they are left with a cantaloupe for a knee, hobbling in and out of cabs to get last minute stuff done...

at the mumbai airport, i order him a wheelchair. he doesn't realise it but that wheelchair man is coming for him. that's his wheelchair. he scowls. looks at me. i grab his camera bag and lead him into the chair by the elbow. once seated, he shrinks to the size of me. i suddenly feel a pang of empathy for him. he's getting old. my mom, on the other hand is radiant.

i order a roomy seat for my father. the flight is long. and delayed. at heathrow, there is no wheelchair ready and we have 1 hour to connect. near-impossible with security checks. somehow, we and our luggage make the connection. once in the plane i finally pull out my ipod and float into sweet oblivion.

reality check comes at toronto pearson international arrivals. it's 1am. after collecting our immense baggages, i head over to my father and his wheelchair attendant is in a heated discussion with her coworker about a third coworker. i hear the words "fuck" and "bitch" and think to myself... so this is what reverse culture shock is all about. after waiting for about a minute while the two gossip like teenagers i ask the woman if i can take my father. her eyes bulge in reaction, as though i grabbed her boob on a packed mumbai train or something.

i smile.

...it is possible to recognize anger in this world, to understand its sources, without getting angered yourself...

still smiling i pull an ipod bud from my pocket and put it in my left ear.
i pat her on the shoulder and with a little indian head wiggle turn toward the exit, "chalo!".

and of course she follows.

1.13.2007

01.14 poverty


poverty taught me a lot in india. i have not experienced ultra-poverty first-hand but before leaving for india i heard a lot about it. i was actually afraid of how it would affect me. i was constantly warned about beggars and touts. people complained about them nonstop, saying how they are everywhere, persistent, annoying. bad for your peace of mind.

question: if you were utterly broke, hungry, with only the clothes on your back and no one to turn to, would you ask for help, or would you curl up into a ball and die from pride?

hmmm?

exactly. that's the spirit that makes me love india so much.

a quick word on dukaans...

i've been to indian shopping malls and large westernised department stores. miserable places. nobody cares whether you buy something or not. there are too many staff and if you ask for something, they might pause to look at you. and then continue talking among themselves. juxtapose this with the man whose family depends on what he sells that day. if he sells nothing, his kids go hungry.

i'd support him over a department store. any day.

we should stop judging. people end up in situations. some enter into poverty. so many are born into it. i'm just gonna say this: in india you will get asked for stuff. you may even get tricked. you will use your common sense. buy stuff if you want it. don't buy stuff if you don't want it. look at what's going on around you. but do not complain about how annoying people are because i will have no sympathy for your privileged ass!

try giving away your last rupee to the lady who lives on the sidewalk. it's a great feeling. and it will mean more to her than it does to you.

ok enough rant. check out these kids. we gave them a bag of pakoras and money to buy milk. of course, they kept asking for more:) whether or not they "scored", it really doesn't matter...

1.12.2007

01.12 love

pyaar, mohabbat, ishq... all mean the same thing. love.

i was just thinking about the man of my dreams.. and must comment on expressions of love in india.

in pondicherry, over lunch with three friends, vik, hari and patrick, this topic came up. they were annoyed at the "hassles" that single female travellers (sfts) in india inevitably had to deal with. it wasn't obvious any time i was hanging with my parents or inside hotels or going around with drivers. i've been pretty lucky. but there were moments...

tibetan bowl massage, my lady?

i had asked raja, a lousy squat pondi shopkeeper, about some tibetan bowls i saw in his shop... a trained healer, raja decided to "show and tell" me their powers with an impromptu tibetan vibrating bowl massage in the store. cool. at first. but in minutes, good vibrations turned into a pervy groping session à la pepe le pew. just to be clear: he was groping me, not the other way around.

the risky business of mumbai trains...

rather than a nice, neat "grope and run" on the street, today i was full-up fondled in a man-packed mumbai train. i felt fingers mashing up my left boob, and noticed a dude's left hand, which he had snuck across his chest, peeking from behind his right bicep, rubbing me up. sensing the laser rays from my pupils burning a hole in his knuckle, he quickly removed his hand.

excuse me, i say to the guy standing on my left
silence.
EXCUSE ME - my face right in his. everyone is looking at me. silence.
PLEASE LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU. I SAW YOU TOUCHING ME.
his guilty eyes still avoid me. two other dudes claim his innocence: he can't touch you with that bag in his right hand. they continue campaigning after i explain he's got two haath and one was just on me. some old man is now yelling at the dude. bingo. yes. now i get it. sad. but true: this is what women-only sections are for. swelling with anger at this fact, and this guy's cowardice, i finally boom in his ear:
DON'T. TOUCH. ME. i consider snapping his photo right there but suddenly feel sorry for him. probably never seen a girl like me this close up in his life.

wheel you maarrry me?
in india you will get asked for your hand. that's just how it goes. even lovely old aruna from the school for perfect eyesight had been chatting to me all week, and finally asked me my last day whether i was single, would i marry a man in india, and was i ready to get married... but by far the funniest marriage proposal was on the street yesterday in bandra: "maadaam... yoo soo beoootifool, moowie shtaaar! are yoo maaaried? i will like to maaarry yoo!" he skipped alongside me as i walked, telling me he'd do anything i ask, but didn't leave me alone when i asked him to.

it's a bit of a shame, because i write all of this off, but i can see how an sft - especially western women - would get really mad. it's an adjustment coming from a society where people don't even look at each other walking down the street to a place where everyone and everything is out there, on display, and up for grabs. boobs included.

ranjith, a really decent, stand-up guy in pondi had warned me about mumbai. i remember him shaking his head, and telling me how embarrased he was. that this kind of behaviour from some indian men gives all indian men a bad reputation. sadly, he's right.

but that's india for you. wherever you turn, in a park, train, museum, peeking at you like in a bollywood flick from behind a tree, eyes burning through your salwaar, there it is: love...

01.12 floating friday


this evening we saw the floating wonder... the ali haji durga.

the mosque was built in honour of the sufi saint haji ali, a big-time merchant. he had renounced his wealth and material life in favour of his devotion to god and his meditation. the legend says that he died during a pilgrimmage to mecca and that his casket somehow floated back to this shore, at the spot where the durga is today.

the durga includes his tomb and a mosque. the whole complex is built 500 metres from the shore so you have to walk along a narrow path to reach it. today it's fine to cross because it's low tide, but during monsoon season, and high tide the walkway is completely submerged, so the durga appears to be floating away.

01.12 mmm... leafy greens


so i have a slight addiction.


i've been sneaking to the paan-wallas every day (sometimes more than once a day). i only do it when no one's looking... i guess that's a bad sign, huh?

i don't know what it is. they are just so good and so fun to eat. traditionally eaten by high-society, paan are the things that everyone can eat when out at night, after dinner at the paan-wallas. i've tried to give them to friends back in toronto and all have had the same response... they couldn't handle it! some people described it to chewing a mouthful of candied insense. yes it's true, when you eat the stuff you can feel the aroma of it swirling in your mouth and out through your nostrils. very much an acquired taste. they taste the exact same here as they do back in toronto's little india. but back in toronto i didn't have a paan habit.

paan is the indian after dinner mint... it's chewed to give you an aromatic, refreshing taste, to sweeten your mouth and breath. it's made from the betel leaf, onto which the paan-wallah spreads some syruppy lime paste, then covers with coconut shavings, dollops of sweet cherry paste, rose paste and sprinkles with little fennel seeds, anise seeds, tiny little red candies and some other miscellaneous spices and stuff. i love watching as the paan-walla's dextrous fingers wrap the leaf with all this inside into a little triangle and bam! you got paan.

my mouth is watering just thinking about them... and i've already had one today.

the thing that makes paan more illicit is the traditional method - most people have paan with betel nut shavings. some say it's not betel nut but another related seed. both are really hard rock-like things. some, like my great-grandmother, also take their paan with chewing tobacco, which they spit out. actually i think she opted for just the chewing tobacco alone, without the paan! but that dark, lovely, sweet and heavy aroma....mmmmm!

personally i prefer 'virgin' or sweet paan - what is called 'mitha' paan. it's supposed to provide good digestion and clear the blood, the betel nut has been banned back in canada because it's been linked with mouth cancer. i think it's mostly the chewing tobacco that does that, but that's just my guess. i hope a few mitha paan won't kill me!

1.11.2007

01.11 mirror mirror on the ceiling....










today's mumbai cab had drrrrty mirrors.

on the ceiling.

01.11 mystery fruit


mumbai market. this fruit was coal-like on the outsite (even left black smears on stuff like coal), but pear-like and yummy inside. he told what they were but in my haste i didn't write it down. mystery fruit!!

01.11 bolly

being in mumbai - aka bollywood, home of the world's biggest film industry, i just had hit the cinemas satisfy my flick-fix. here's what i found...

get off the kabul express...
ok. how can any self respecting director, producer, actor, actress, hell - set designer, makeup artist, key grip, gaffer, extra - put their name to this and let this dribble make it out the editing studio, out here into the real world?? john abraham, i was expecting more from you! to think this film made it to the festival circuit. there must have been a shortfall of made-for-the-foreign-market desi flix last year. basically three journalists travel to the afghanistan border and find what they are looking for: a taliban. they realise he's a human being - how poignant. but the movie is so predictable and the acting is so brutally bad that i can't say it's worth it. not even a good ole dance sequence to mix it up.
my rating: skip it


om for omkara
another retake of shakespeare's othello but omkara is a dark jewel. gorgeous sets. good music. well conceived characters. of course excellent plot (thanks william!), on-point acting. ajay, vivek, salif, kareena and the gorgeous bipasha - each one of the actors give it - and that makes this film what it is. a masterpiece and true to shakespeare's vision. inherent caste divisions are a perfect replacement for omkara's "moorishness", because he's mixed, which makes him "different". a totally engaging tragedy.
my rating: do it

gandhism in lage raho munna bhai
and on the lighter side.... the second comedy about munna the thug. gandhi is the coolest dude in the film. it won awards for promoting gandhism and still stays true to bolly convention: boy chases girl, boy gets girl, singing and dancing scenes ensue, when along comes big fat problem, boy loses girl, gandhism takes root, a showdown goesdown, boy gets girl back. no... gandhi is not gettin with any women in the film, in case that's what you thought...
my rating: do it

still gotta catch canadian director deepa mehta's water. it's been shortlisted for the academy awards. i'm not surprised, since the other two in her trilogy, earth and fire are solid.

all in all my film foray was pretty satisfying. i haven't seen anything up to par with lagaan, but i'd put omkara and munna bhai up there with monsoon wedding and taal...

1.10.2007

01.10 hindi 101

i had to pick up some hindi while in hindustan.

i'm not 100% courageous in using what i've learned, but i'm working at it. it's been funny being with my folks because they didn't grow up speaking hindi, only hearing some other people use it, and in east africa no less... but immersed in it now, they sound like true hindiphiles.

if anyone's up for a little hindi lesson, i'm laying down some key phrases here...

hello = NAMASKAR
hello (in a rajasthani village) = RAM-RAM (hands in prayer pose)
ok = ACHHA (best with the ihw)
please = KRIPYA
thank you = DHANYAVAD / SHUKRIYA
how are you = KYA HAAL HAIN
my name is.... = MERA NAAM HAI....
your name is? = AAPNA NAAM KYA HAI?
no problem / my pleasure = KOI BAAT NAHI (best with the ihw)
i like it a lot = MUJHKO BOHOT PASAN HAI
where is the bathroom? = MEN'S /LADIES NA TOILET KAHAAN HAI?
it is nice to meet you = AAP SE MIL KE KHU-SHI HUI
take me to my hotel = KRIPYA MUJHE HOTAL LE CHLIYE
how much does this cost? = YEH KITNE KA HAI?
it's expensive = YEH BOHOT MEHENGA HAI
this = YEH
to make a phone call = PHONE KARNAA
where's the phone? = PHONE KAHAAN HAIN?
what time is it? = KYA SAMAY HAI?
help = MADAD
doctor = DOCTOR
police = PULIS
taxi = TAXI
tea = CHAI
water = PAANEE
do you speak English? = KYA AAP ANGREZI AATEH HAI?
i don't understand = MERI SAMAJ MEI NAHIN AAYA
one, two, three, four, five = EK, DO, THEEN, CHAR, PANCH
six, seven, eight, nine, ten = CHEH, SAAT, AAT, NAU, DAS
come here = IDHAR AAO
don't touch me = DON'T TOUCH ME

when in doubt, use your hands and gesticulate wildly....

1.09.2007

01.09 beautiful people


today i meet up with abbas, another torontonian in the 'bai.

at india gate, he appears with his sister. he's in head-to-toe electric "talk-to-me" blue, a massive camera dangling from his neck. with the tou-rist 'tude, we head for lunch.

after, we walk down what must be "madaaam" street for a session of nodding and smiling and politely waving "no thenkyoo" followed by the ihw. at the keychain-walla, abbas orders 40 keychains engraved with the names of all his staff, and one for me, my folks, and my sister. i get mine in arabic, curious to see how it looks. it's kinda pretty...

at jehangir art gallery, painter gautam vaghela's exhibition knocks me out. his ancient fortresses and monumental mughal architecture along with such ferocious, vivid colour and dreamlike mystical creatures floating high above in bright reds, greens, oranges and yellows are pure genius. the old dude at the desk yells over and tells us to stop taking pictures. dude. it's gautam vaghela himself. abbas chats him up and snap snap snap takes his picture. i'm floored. the two other galleries inside are equally as impressive, but gautam's visual style is unmatched.

next off to the market for abbas-style charity work, also what i secretly call "robin hood" action. he buys twenty bags of rice from two shopkeepers, who load them into cabs. off we go, shopkeepers and all, to pick up crates of chai and then finally reach the mother theresa home for the disabled. 400 people live there. they have no families, no supports except for tireless sisters who run this place. amazing to hear three blind girls with facial disfigurations sing so beautifully. one girl, komal, makes purses and greeting cards to sell and make enough money for nursing school. i "buy" a card from her before we go. another girl follows me, trying to tell me something and pointing to her cheek all the time. i stop and give her a kiss but she keeps following me finger pointing at her cheek. i say, "ok - you give me a kiss now!". uproarious laughter. i didn't realise then that she was asking for help. she has a really bad toothache and was in a lot of pain.

i'm really moved. there are so many people in mumbai but none of them appear to be jaded, cynical and negative like so many people back home. on the contrary. so many indians, the poor, the homeless, even the disabled - may not have a shot at any rosy future, but they do what they have to do, what they can, to survive. and that's simply beautiful.

1.08.2007

01.08 santa cruz sandwich-walla

some people think "mumbai" is the reclaimed name of the city that was once dubbed "bombay" by the brits. they are wrong.

"mumbai" apparently, is the hindi word for "shopping".

while i am very interested to spend my first day here sight seeing, the folks kidnap me to spend the day dressing me up like a desi doll.

santa cruz: shopping capital of mumbai-burbia. every form of life is bustling down the narrow road, flanked on either side by street vendors selling saris, dresses, dress material, salwar-khameez, kurtas, purses, shoes and yes, suitcases. just in case you can't help yourself buy up the whole 'hood.

i dart out of a sari shop where bright saris are being tossed at my folks from every direction. i am hungry. shopping is serious sport - you work up an appetite.

there is one lonely street stall - and it's swarmed. it's the famed sandwich-walla. radhika told me about this legendary place but i never thought i'd find it in a city of 25 million people. yet, fate brought me here. at the counter, i order three hot masala sandwiches, two juices and a soda. the kid butters the bread, puts masala and aloo inside and puts everything to toast in a sandwich maker. i don't wait. i swallow down my sandwich and contemplate eating the other two in the bag meant for my folks. seeing as my plan of losing a coupla inches in india hasn't worked out, i decide to head back to the shop.

of course, first day we get a bit swindled. but it's ok. my mom got some nice stuff to satisfy her sequin craving. and i got my sandwich from the sandwich-walla.

1.06.2007

01.07 bright lights, mumbai city

chennai-mumbai. not so hot flight. no, not turbulence. i sat next to an insanely egotistical tennis 'star'. he wants to see his name in my blog - after i explicitly said i don't write about people. well chirag - this is your moment of fame.

[btw, air deccan has no reserved seating! it's chaos. a total khichro!]

ok - my folks. the sweet people that they are, meet me at the airport. we hop in a cab for south-central mumbai. looking out the window, mumbai is slick. dark. damp.

which makes me realise i have not seen rain in my 4 weeks.

mumbai is polar oppostite to pondi. so many people about, wide and well paved streets, loads of tourists, old colonial buildings decked regal flags, so many curious places and faces.

i'm a bit sad - i miss pondi. i've only got one more week here. i'm gonna relish it. as we pass by cinema with thousands of people swarmed outside, i get that excited feeling of being someplace that throbs. the "oonch-oonch-oonch" of the underground club that you stumble upon by mistake in a back alleyway and go in to this whole new world have the time of your life. well it's been a while for me. bring it on.

i'm up for anything. i'm in the 'bai. mumbai baby!

01.06 what's your dosha?

i begin my day with a swig from the bottle of good ole safi syrup.

also known as liquid hell.

safi is a blood purifier made with 24 natural essences, and the most vile tasting concotion ever. i've been instructed take it every morning by the doc at the ayurvedic centre to help fix the trouble he found in my solar plexus during my reflexology treatment...

according to the label, safi cures skin blemishes, rashes, nose bleeding, eruptions, measles, burning fiery pee (the label says micturition!!), and general lassitude (also known aas a state of comatose stupor). yes, that's right! safi to the rescue!

the label omits any mention of my poor solar plexus. but i'll forge ahead. aside from tasting like tar and gasoline, i'm sure it can't do much harm.

the dosha
i found an interesting introduction to the three main categories of body type according to the ayurveda. ayurveda, the science of life, focuses on mainatining a healthy spirit, body and mind. the categories are called doshas - there's vata, pitta and kapha. each one represents a combination of two elements, from air, fire and water. most people have one or two dominant doshas and one or two 'recessive' ones.

i'm mainly vata (air and space), with some pitta and less kapha, so i'm vatta-pitta-kapha. according to the most revered ayurvedic text, the Charaka Samhita, the characteristics of vata dosha are:

:dry and rough (rookshaha); cool (sheetoha); light--lacking weight (laghuhu); very tiny, penetrating molecules (sookhshmaha); always moving (chalota); broad, unlimited, unbounded--akash means unbounded space (vishadaha); and rough (kharaha).

....vata tend to be thin, with a slender frame and prominent joints, delicate skin that is naturally dry, and dry voluminous hair. They are quick and lively in thought, speech and action, and make friends easily. There is an element of airiness to their step, a quality of lightness in their laughter. Change is usually their second name. They are light sleepers and gravitate towards warm environments. Creativity and enthusiasm are hallmarks of balanced Vata.


it goes on to describe the lifestyles and the diets preferred by my fellow "vatans". normally i would pooh-pooh all this but as i read more, i'm agreeing with a lot of what it says. i'm like a kid learning about electricity and conductivity for the very first time. shabash!! no more the ayurvedic virgin. i'm hooked.

to find out your dosha or your natural state of "prakruti", use this great online test.

the dosha descritptions, lifestyle and balancing diets are also interesting.

there is a separate "vakruti" or imbalance test and lifestyle, exercise and diet on how to get you back to your optimal state.

amazing stuff... just no mention of the magical safi syrup...

1.05.2007

01.05 desi thriller

bollywood has nuthin on this.
telugu version of mj's "thriller" - the indian thriller.
be very afraid.




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01.05 wiggle it - the ihw

it's taking time but i'm finally decoding the indian head wiggle (ihw).

no matter where in the world you go, you will always know someone who grew up in india by this telltale movement of the head. it's like a bellydancing head, only it's from india, with love.

i found a useful article called Tilt Your Head Like an Indian, that comes as close to anything i've found to not only descipher, but to master, this gesture that has puzzled so many .

but why would i need to learn the ihw, you ask?
elementary my dear. it's a catch-all for so many things. just think, with an easy wiggle of the head you can convey "yes", "no", "you gotta be crazy", "vah!!" (or "this is utter bliss, don't stop") , "you are so right", "mmmm", or "how the hell should i know?!". it's an entire language unto itself.

learn it. incorporate it regularly when you are in india. only then will you be able to understand it when it's wiggling in your face.

and you will be an instant hit...
kinda like this;

1.04.2007

01.04 oro in auroville

yesterday i went to auroville, a town which lies 12 km north of pondicherry. ranjith gave me a lift there on the back of his motorcycle. now i want a bike for myself!

back to reality. auroville is a manufactured town, designed in the vision of "the mother". the goal or purpose is to realise human unity in diversity. of the 1,700 people who live in auroville, 1/3 are from india, the rest from all over the world. i had envisioned auroville to be a massive hippie commune, even though its endorsed and backed by UNESCO. my perceptions were bang on.

the layout of the town is a microcosmic representation of a galaxy, the matrimandir - or the soul of the city - at the centre. the path to the matrimandir begins at a humungous banyan tree, which has many pillar-like branches that have grown back down to the ground. the tree will eventually be one solid mass of wood.

emerging from the path of plants from all over the world is a giant amphitheatre, with a cement urn podium containing soil from 124 countries (ah diversity). what looks like a giant golden golf ball, the matrimandir itself, floats up, seemingly held in place by the red stone beneath.

the matrimandir is closed so off for the beach! back on the bike for a trecherous ride. ranjith slowed to a snail's pace to negotiate the bike over and around giant rocks and got caught in mud fields. thoughts of cracking my skull on the rocks or being swallowed up in quicksand floated through my head. but ranjith is an accomplished motorcyclist. we made it to aurobeach totally intact.

here is where i decided to skip my afternoon at the school for perfect eyesight. having raided nehru street in pondi earlier in the day, i came prepared with my boy-shorts and tank. any woman in the ocean will get ogled like crazy. blind bat that i am doesn't really care, but i had been chastized by some rude indian women at the ashram guest house for wearing a knee-length skirt (they talked about me out loud as they stood right next to me, so obviously bending to give my skirted ass some old fashioned cut-eye). now that's what i call shameless!

but i wasn't going to give up the salt water for some old hags. the water was divine. the waves, kind. i stayed until the sun started to come down and hunger set in. i swear my eyesight improved that afternoon in leaps and bounds!

01.03 q and a...

even though i have decided not to write about specific people, today i got the funniest e-mail from taz, my sister. it was a series of questions that had me laughing like a madwoman in the icafe a few seconds ago... probably because i can practically hear her voice as i read them. i've decided to post it here with answers...

just when i think she's a regular girl, she surprises me with the most imaginative lingo... this post is dedicated to you babes!! miss you tonnes!

arent u glad ur chillin in the motherland?
arrrey! batchhi, you don't know how good we have it at home. food to eat, hot water on tap and none of these ridiculous macchars - no need for mosquito spray! ok ta admit, i'm loving it.

how are the eye workshops?
all's well on the eye front. day 4 or 5, and i've been retested, successfully reading the next smaller line on the eye chart! woohoo! took the cam in today to snap still photos and record video. they love me. but then again, who doesn't??

how are the men in their dhotti pants?
i know you love those natural, cultured types.
dahhhling. they are more cultured than you think! and they are called "luuungis". pretty much full length sarongs, and when they get to be a pain around the ankles, they are folded halfway up and tucked in, exposing the knees a la miniskirt! mmmm. verrrry sexxxy!!

don't you love your week of freedom from peeeps asking about your sanas and loud snoring at night?
'peeps' is referring to my parents. 'sanas' refers to regular bowel movements, and the loud snoring. well, that's my mom to be exact... sharing a room with her was so painful! yes i'm thoroughly enjoying my new found freedom. but the first day it was very noticeable that there was no one checking up with me on my 'sanas' status!!

have you met any cool people?
yes. a few really cool ones. it's like anywhere else in the world. there are some very cool people. there are some that like to dress like very cool people, but are not cool. and then there are some that are cool until they become uncool, often just when you get up close to them. i've been lucky and been mainly hanging out by myself! and i'm seriously cool. i even dress the part!

do you have the indian head wiggle when you speak?
omg yes i noticed i was doing that today! on my daily walk to the vision centre, i always get approached by the autorickshaw drivers asking me if i want a ride. today i think i did it. i didn't even know i was doing it. but afterward, i had this weird feeling because they were not persisting as per usual. i think the indian head wiggle (IHW) sealed my firm, "no thank you" with an extra bit of "and don't ask me again"!

gotta say that i love the indian head wiggle. more on that in another post...

do you say 'HAI?' with a loud, nasal, high pitchedsound if you dont hear or understand what somebody said?
(giggle) yes.

are you wiping the sweat of your brow with your dupatta?
i don't wear a dupatta!!!

are you dhasering your champals around in the dirt?
'dhasering' is dragging, 'champals are sandals, or flips... and yes. although i didn't bring any with me, i succame to the heat and picked up a pair at the fashionable store in the market. they set me back $8 and are good enough to wear home. although today they came in handy at the beach...

are you sneeking out and eating pappadams and gulabjambu from street vendors at night?
i try not to. pappadams are not readily available at night. gulabjambus either. i have taken a strong liking to the ginger and coconut cookies. the street vendor i like the best is an old lady near the vision center. she sells me banana and oranges, which are deeeeelish and cost roughly 2 cents!!
[update: i did find hot and fresh gulabjammus at a sweet shop one night and they were pure heaven and covered in sweet syruppy bliss......]

are you having a passionate love affair with a hotbodied, smelly rickshaw driver?
awwww! wouldn't that be fun!!

do you spit the paan juice as you cruise down the streets?
did you read the blog on spitting? it's requisite, babes.

have you seen hanuman?
i visited his tomb, does that count? i think he came to me in a dream one night after i parted with the parents. not for a love affair, more as a fatherly figure to remind me to be regular with my sanas...

1.02.2007

01.02 la gastronomie

a few words on food.

i've been in pondicherry a few days now and i am beginning to see an indian-french food connection. allow me to explain.

a typical pondi breakfast is masala dosa and chai.

a dosa is made of rice, but essentially, it's what the french would call a crèpe!

a masala dosa is filled with, well, masala (curried and spiced potatoes), so that's a lunch crèpe, rather than a sweet crèpe.

add a cup of masala chai from the nescafé machine (i want to get one of these machines for home - it makes a sound like an espresso machine and then bam! you've got yourself an espresso-size shot of amazing deeelish spiced chai) - so add a cup of masala chai and you've got crèpes with cafe au lait... or thé au lait to be exact!

just as the french like their pastries, indians like their sweets.
i've encountered in pondicherry on my forages west of the canal, around nehru street and goubert market, dozens of little and big "sweet shops", where i make almost a daily pilgrimmage now. the one on the corner of nehru street and canteen street is my usual spot.

it reminds me of the little pastry shops in europe - people lined up to buy all sorts of fattening foods! i purchase a salty snack mix, sesame balls (kind of like sesame snaps but in ball shape and less sweet), ginger and coconut cookies and two gulabjammus, hot and sweet, which i devour in seconds, before even leaving the premises.

mmm. in the course of the day, especially when you're in the maddening crowd and in the market, this little pit stop hits the spot! vive la gastronimie!!

1.01.2007

01.01 meditation with the masses

the first thing i do this year is meditate.

i have been invited to bring in the new year at the global meditation at the ashram - at 6 am. at a regular new years, i'd usually be in bed or just be getting to bed at this time. so i wake up super duper early and walk 15 blocks to the ashram, eager to see what the global meditation will be like.

this is not a strange concept, though, i must explain. i am ismaili. it's ritual to meditate from 4-5am each morning. i have to admit, i haven't been to the mosque in the morning since forever. when i used to go regularly, it was great. when you meditate in the morning you bring in your day with such peace. and your days seem to go by with little conflict and trauma. there is something about meditation that i haven't fully explored yet but i will.

the ashram is full up. tonnes of people cross the street to meditate inside the educational centre. i decide i don't want to remove my shoes so i install myself with the throngs meditating in the street between the two buildings.

quick note: it's quite a strange sight to see for the first time, but indians sit everywhere on the ground. you go to the train station or the airport even and there everyone is, en masse, sitting on the ground having a snack. same thing with the sidewalk. or the street, or just behind a parked truck, exhaust pipes overhead. this is my first time sitting like that. i gotta be honest. it's really a yucky feeling.

then, organ music floods the street from the ashram and i wonder - how can you mediate to this?! for as far back as i can remember, i have somehow associated organ music with horror movies and sinister moods. my attempt at embracing the ashram is not proceeding well!

latecomers are now relegated, due to the increasing lack of space, to the periphery of my visual and hearing boundaries, therefore my consciousness. i close my eyes and attempt to center myself. the organ music continues, and then a lady's voice starts talking. it's the mother! but she's dead! wait - she's talking in french. she's telling me to relax, clear my mind and feel calm. i suddenly wish i was in my bed, but ok.

after 10 minutes, i get over the amplified organ music, the voice, and the dude sitting next to me craning his head to look at me. i begin to feel very calm.

after a half hour the music stops and people start to come back to life. i feel jipped. half an hour!! i have to admit, i did feel good after the meditation. i am used to the full hour at the mosque. half an hour is not bad, but the organ music has to go! as people begin to get up and dust themselves, a feeling of warmth comes over the crowd. its my first smile of the year - all sorts of people are wishing me and each other a happy new year. i walk to the far end of the ville blanche and come back to the guest house via the beach.

it is a magical morning. i spend the first hours of 2007 watching the bright red sun come up over the bay of bengal. there are dozens of people on the beach welcoming the new year with me this way, but i am happy to be alone with my thoughts. as i walk over to park guest house to get a cup of tea and ginger cookies (!), i notice a few old men doing yoga in the park. they smile at me and wish me a happy new year.

today is going to be a beautiful day.

12.31 new years

tamils know how to celebrate! there is a nightly carnival / fair set up near the beach road since christmas, which i'm told and won't close down until january 14th, the day that the tamils celebrate their new year.

for me, new year's is today and my wish is to bring in the new year peacefully. after a scrumptious dinner at the guest house (they make thaali especially for me!), i check out the bands playing along the beach. i cannot understand anything they are doing but it is a pretty funny spectacle: a bunch of guys up on the stage singing in a very animated way to the crowd. i suddenly wish that i could understand what they were saying. after the show, i head to the beach to hang with a bunch of really cool guys from kashmir. the beach is gorgeous and there are so many people out, some hanging with thier families, others causing a drunken ruckus, and others still, chilling and looking out to the sea with friends.

we talk about everything - one of those types of conversations - just loose and go with the flow... at some point i luckily ask them the time. it's 10:20 pm. i'm in a panic - gotta be back at the ashram in 10 minutes!! i "happy new year" the kashmir crew and run down the street (quite a spectacle for the pondi crowd - more on this later). a zippy autorickshaw driver gets me back just as the guard is closing the front gates...

i spend midnight sitting on my candle-lit balcony and taking in the sounds of fireworks, the pondi locals and the waves crashing on the beach. my first "new years midnight" ever that i spend alone... but i accomplish my goal of a peaceful new years. there is something very special about this new years. something calm, unreheased, unhurried and above all, healthy. i feel very blessed to be here, grateful to see what i am seeing and to have all the things i have, that so many people, in their quest for more more more, seem to take for granted. i am happy to have my health, my crazy family (i mean this in the best possible way), my brain and my friends. it's a good feeling to bring in the new year utterly humbled and happy. i like it.