My Neighbor's Wedding

When we were invited to my neighbor’s wedding, I don’t think we really knew what we were getting ourselves into. I mean, we knew that Indian weddings were supposed to be very large and elaborate but I guess to see really is to believe…

After a while of blessings and giving money in the courtyard behind our house, as well s a lot of photos, the wedding procession began. They all moved from the courtyard to the alleyway which led to the street. Maybe 200 people were packed into this alleyway. Nittin mounted the horses and all three bands began to play simultaneously. It was so loud but so exciting. There were porters carrying these electric chandeliers during the entire procession. We slowly made our way out into the street and then the real fun began. We took a whole lane for our procession. The traffic behind us was backed up and busses and rickshaws slowly passed us as all the people in the cars turned their heads to see this huge procession. Fireworks were lit, the bands played, and people started dancing.

Now I need to devote a paragraph to Indian dancing. It is so wonderful. The bands play these fantastic songs where a single musical line cannot be followed. But it isn’t the trumpets that really matter anyway, it is the drums. The beats just resonate throughout your body and have a wonderful rhythm in them. You are so close to the drums (like a foot away) that when they you feel it in your stomach, your head, your bones. But the best part about the beat is that it is perfect to dance to. But don’t think of dancing in like dancing in the USA. Instead imagine full grown men throwing their arms in the air, twisting their hands to the beat, and their whole bodies bobbing with the music. Never before have I seen the phrase, “Dance like you just don’t care” so religiously followed. Men would literally just shake. They would throw their fists in the air and pound the air. But the best part about it? The crowd loved it. They would cheer for more. Young women would dance with old men, old women would dance with young men. The dancing is a kind of style (called bhangra), but I knew very little about it and it didn’t seem to have any rules other than have a good time and bounce with the music. Now with that in mind let us continue…

We went in this procession down the street until a short ways (even though it probably took us and hour and a half to get down 400 feet of the street) and then all got in cars to go to the actual wedding area.

Then it all started again. But this time it was like the first procession on crack. This time Nittin was not on a horse but rather a full fledged horse-drawn carriage elaborately dressed in flowers. More of those chandeliers had arrives. And one more band joined the three already playing. Instead of half of the crowd dancing, the whole crowd danced. I can’t wait to show you some video of this… the whole procession is just bounding with the music, hands thrown up twisting with the beat. I called Dad and Jane Marie during this period. It was so bizarre. I had never been part of something like this. Imagine Carnival in Rio de Jainero or Marti Gras in New Orleans except they weren’t crazy because they were drunk, they were just genuinely enjoying themselves. It was utterly amazing, albeit entirely exhausting. Men and women were sweating because they had been dancing for so long. The procession only covered 300 feet but it lasted over 2 and a half hours. Men would have money in their hand, do a dance move, and then circle the money around one of their friends or one of the women, and then give the money to the musicians (I think this was a blessing on the person and the wedding). It was so cool.

I must admit, after 4 and a half hours of loud drums, dancing in a manner I totally didn’t understand, and being just utterly confused by everything, I was relieved that we finally got into the tent complex. But I am so glad I finally made it…

It was like and Indian paradise. In a square tent that was 300 ft by 300 ft, maybe more, there was every kind of Indian food you could imagine. The entrance was lined with servants (maybe 20 in all) that had plates of appetizers and drinks. And all of it was for the guests (about 2,000 once they had all arrived). We got in there before Nittin’s wedding party, who were still dancing in the streets. You know what it was like? If you have ever seen “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” when they arrive into the garden where everything is edible and are let free, that was what it was like. Row upon row of sweets, table upon table stacked with food, fruit, big vats of rice pudding, huge tables stacked with drinks, servants bringing you snacks, coffee huts, pizza, pasta, all the naan you could imagine. There was even a band playing music. I was literally gitty. I had never seen anything like it. We roamed the place getting all the food we could eat… really, really, good food… They actually called all of us up for a picture… it was bizarre because most of the photos were with family. Then we were asked to come up. Sometimes I love being white in this country…

The wedding wasn’t even over when we left at 2am. Three of my roommates stayed but I was beat and slowly starting to become grumpy so I decided to leave. They hadn’t even been married officially yet, that was at 4 in the morning! But all in all it was great experience.

Happy Thanksgivi....What IsThat!

I have only spent one Thanksgiving away from home and outside of the USA. That was in Thailand and honestly, I don't remember it at all. Probably because I was with a Thai host family, all the other foreigners I was with in Ratchaburi were Canadian, and there was no one to remind me that it was Thanksgiving (which is needed when there are no other clues around you!). But here in India we actually had a Thanksgiving.

A few of the roommates made a Thanksgiving dinner. It was great. We each contributed to the meal. There was stuffing, corn, soup, and I made a bunch of mashed potatoes. And for the main course (since it is almost impossible to find a turkey and we don't have an oven anyway): Dominos pizza.

But it was actually really quite a nice experience. There was all the roommates, Sam's sister who is in India, and a French girl that Sam's sister met and has sort of been adopted into our house (we all thought it great that he first 'American' holiday would be in India). The meal turned out well and we all went around saying things we were thankful for... very sappy but it was nice and made the holiday seem enjoyable rather than depressing as we were so far away from all of our families.

And then just as we had finished our meal and saying our thanks for things...

BANG-BA-DA-BANG-BA-BA!!!...

There was quintet of Indian drummers in the street playing an incredibly loud and incredibly energetic procession bit. The people below us are getting married this weekend and there have been things going on all week. This was just one of those events. But it was great. The rhythms were fantastic and it ended up like being a party in the street. We joined with the family in dancing in the street. The girls got intricate hena on their arms (and done in like 3 minutes!). We are all looking forward to the wedding (which we are all invited to) this tomorrow. It is going to be quite a wedding: a large procession on horseback down the street, 1,500 people coming to the ceremony, and lots of really good Indian food... it will likely go until late in the evening.

So I guess our Thanksgiving was sent off with a bang... I had to say it...

Dalit Seminar

Last night there was a seminar on the Dalit experience and it turned out really well. I had organized this seminar for those Delhi EAP students who wanted to come. About 15 (half of all the Delhi EAP students) showed up. For me, I wanted to share a little about what i have been learning through all my volunteering and talks with these friends of mine. I often feel like I live in two worlds here in Dlehi, one that is with my American EAP student friends and one that is with my church/Dalit friends doing volunteer stuff and discussing Dalit and other injustice issues. For this night, the two worlds collided and it was really good, although also quite strange. It was strange to see Evan or Dana or Rebbecca stand in the same room as Marang and Madhu.

Nonetheless, the conference went really well. There was a short movie on Dalits in India and their situation. That was followed by a speaker named Dr. John Bayal. He is an amazing man who is quite involved in Indian high politics, meeting with senators, chair people, and other Indian political figures on a fairly regular basis. He also has just an incredible depth of the subject and asked really interesting rhetorical questions; it was a very high-level conversation. We finished with some questions form the UC students and it worked out really well. They were engaging and interested. By the end of the conference, a few people were talking about what they could do when they get home. I passed Dana and said to her that she could now see what I mean when I say I feel like I live in two worlds here in India (I have talked about this with her before) and she responded with an excited yet overwhelmed face saying, "I can't see how you don't just explode with activism!" And that was the nest response I could get from an event like this: people caring about the situation of some truly oppressed people.

Overall, it was a huge success for me personally as well as for the event. It felt like a good closure to my experience in India with working with my Dalit friends and church members. It brought my Western friends and my Indian friends together. It let me begin to share what I have been doing here with people who, despite that fact that I live with them, have very little idea about these things. And since I will not be able to go to volunteer except maybe once more (because I need to finish papers... something I am far less interested in), it felt like a good wrap-up to my experience in the slums. All in all the seminar was as much about closure for me as I prepare to leave in India in two weeks as it was about a conference to spread the word about Dalit issues. Overall, I was very happy with it.

McLeod Ganj and Dharmasala

This blog is going to be a long one because this weekend trip to McLeod Ganj was just amazing. I have decided that it is by far my favorite place in India and maybe one of my favorite places in the world. So get a cup of chai and hopefully my entry will give some better insight into this wonderful weekend set in a wonderful place!

I went with two of my good friends, Evan and Dana, to Dharmasala and McLeod Ganj. These two towns are located in the mountainous state of Himachal Pradesh in north-western India. The region is known for it stunning Himalayan vistas, severe arid-mountain landscapes, and its unique Indo-Tibetan culture. McLeod Ganj is also the ‘temporary’ home of the Dali Lama while he is in exile and thus these two towns have become the Tibetan exile and refugee center in India. The towns are more Tibetan communities than Indian at this point.

We arrived via sleeper bus. However, the name of such a vehicle betrays its true nature. While one may be able to lay down, the bus hardly has the capacity to give a restful nights sleep. The roads in India, especially in the northern states and mountainous regions, are notoriously bad. It was not uncommon to be thrown up into the air as we hit a bump just as one is about to fall asleep. I think I got maybe 2-4 hours of sleep.

Nonetheless, the journey was worth it. Arriving in the morning, we got off the bus and were engulfed in the crisp, clean, and slightly brisk mountain air. It was wonderful. While Delhi has finally started to cool down, being in the mountains made it truly feel like winter. The subtle dirt and alpine scent permeated the town and it made me feel incredibly alive.

We were able to see the Dali Lama speak. He gives teachings at the monastery every so often when he is in town and not around the world traveling. It was a fascinating sight. Monks dressed in robes crowded the upper terrace of the monastery. Old men and women occasionally got up with their palms touching and lifted them first to the sky, then to the direction of the Dali Lama (even if they could not see him except on a TV screen), and then bowed face down to the ground. Young Tibetan families were out in droves to come hear his teachings and young kids would play in the courtyard. Weird, long or dreadlock- haired foreigners would also be sitting cross legged trying for their own attempt at spiritual enlightenment, even though, honestly, it seemed like many were trying just too hard to ever reach a place of Buddhist bliss. While I listened to the Dali Lama teach on Buddhism, I must say that I was more interested in watching all these people then actually listening to the teachings.

Besides, my mind was on the evening to come…

You see, last Friday was Diwali (if you would like you can look at an earlier blog to learn a little more about it, see “Fireworks”). Evan and I had stockpiled a huge mass of fireworks from Delhi and then lugged them here where we would celebrate Diwali with a definite “BOOM!” Evan and I, like a five year-old on Christmas Eve, were gitty with anticipation as it slowly became night. We had already lit a few earlier during the day just because we were that excited. We even bought more fireworks at the local bizarre because, well, can one really have too many fireworks for Diwali?

After anxiously waiting for dark, the festivities began. It was great! Children in California have been deprived the joy of fireworks for too long! We went and joined with the hotel owners who were Hindu (as opposed to Tibetan Buddhists, it is a Hindu holiday) and light one after the next. There were bombs which exploded with a flash and an ear deafening “BOOM!” There were cones that lit from the top and then erupted a 20-foot fountain of sparks into the air. Here were tops that lit and spun while sparks flew out of the sides up it. There were singular rockets that shot up into the air and exploded. But what we were most excited about were the box sets…

The owners and us went to the roof were we brought our most expensive (and largest!) fireworks. We had two box sets that would collectively fire 80 rockets into the sky and put on a mini-show for us over the course of a few minutes. It was phenomenal. The box sets were amazing. They were like a professional show and I am not kidding! It was as good as some professional shows I have seen in the States. Rocket after rocket flew into the sky. Some sparkled, some were just big booms, some were multi-colored. They even had finales where 10-15 rockets were sent into the air. It was truly amazing. When it was done, the kids from around the neighborhood, and indeed around the entire valley (the town is perched on a crescent-shaped slope so everyone could see all the fireworks going on in the town) cheered with enthusiasm and approval when the show was done. I could have been one of the kids. I was just as entranced and looked up at the sky in a kind of half-bewildered wonder.

Diwali was great. The valley was filled with the sounds of explosions for the rest of the night. When we finally decided to call it quits after 3 hours of our own fireworks, we went to a bar to get a drink. The streets seemed like a war zone with fire-crackers, spinning tops, and so on. I mean you really had to watch your step. And all of this in a town that was a majority Tibetan Buddhist! I can only imagine what Delhi must have been like.

The next day, we hiked around the hills a bit but we mainly just cat-napped the day away. It was wonderfully relaxing. We wandered the bazaar where red-clad Tibetan monks mingled with store keepers and food vendors sold delicious steamed momos for 25 cents. We explored hole-in-the-wall restaurants and had great hot tea. It was relatively quite, no honking, no overly-aggressive vendors, just lots of smiling. It didn’t feel like the India I have known and come to love. It was just… peaceful.

The final day we went back to the monastery to see what it was like without the Dali Lama there. It was wonderful. Perched on a hill, it had amazing Himalayan views and a wonderfully peaceful feeling. In the cobble-stone courtyard, kids played tag, and monks talked on a bench under the trees which were just losing their last leaves. Candles were lit for prayers and the sight of hundreds of candles was truly beautiful. It was delightful.

We continued to wander around and walked into the valley a little. Pink blossoms were blooming on trees over a stepped farm on the side of the mountain. Prayer flags were strewn across the pine trees and flapped in the wind. The town buildings with their sheer building faces overlooked this crescent valley. The weather was just right, a slight chill to take the heat off of any hike in the hills. As the sun set and we watched the light shine through the blossoming trees onto a harvested farm, we could see the red garb of monks in the distance on the winding road. We felt like we had found a little piece of paradise.

But I think one of the best parts of the trip was the company. Evan and Dana are wonderful people to travel with because they are open for adventures and love to talk about anything and everything. They can be deep and intellectual at times with insightful observations on India, our experience, life, etc. Or they can be sentimental and poignant; over the course of one dinner we just shared stories about our families and good childhood memories. But they can also be total goofs where we play with our food or end up talking about how our boogers here in India are always black (Pollution? Dirt? The world will never know…). We went to a Korean restaurant two nights in a row. I think some of my best memories of India will be with them in that restaurant, laughing until our sides hurt at one moment and then consoling each other the next moment by the fire of the restaurant because we all thought it felt like Christmas time and felt that slight pang of homesickness.

Overall, it was an excellent weekend. Diwali was blast (literally!) but the rest of the weekend was like a rest for my soul. It was like a fairytale. In those mountains, where the horrors of Chinese occupation and Tibetan exile are ever present, where Tibetan culture is challenged by Bollywood films and Chinese pop songs, where despite the beauty of the mountains it is still not their homeland of Tibet, the idea and community of Tibet seemed to thrive nonetheless. It seemed like a utopian community, but a melancholy one. There seemed to be a deep sense of tradition, of prayer, and of compassion. But there also seemed the pain of a deep longing to return to Tibet. It made me want to travel to Tibet and see what kind of land would create such a kind of people. Why is it that an entire community here could be so kind and gentle? How could an entire people be so good? But then again, after enjoying the company of Evan and Dana, it also makes me think that maybe such ‘goodness’ in people is ever-present, it just takes a weekend in the hills, some fireworks, maybe a few pots of hot tea, and some good conversation.

Equations and My Personal Bubble

One thing about India is that there is a lot of people. I mean a LOT of people. Just think about this: California is the most populous state in the USA with roughly 37 million people. The metropolis of Delhi (meaning not just the city limits but also the surrounding suburbs) contains approximately 22 million. You do the math. One city = half of California’s population fit into about

Or how about his little equation: the population of Delhi city proper is about 24,000 people per square mile. For my Ojai cronies, just think, we could just about put all of Ojai into a square block a mile in width. You do the math. One square mile in Delhi = small town anywhere else in the civilized world.

So what does it all mean? Let me answer that with another equation:

Tyson taking a 12 hour ride from Darmasala to Delhi on a crowded state-operated bus (none of this fancy-shmancy ‘deluxe buses’ like the way we came to Darmasala) = Tyson shoulder being rubbed for extended amounts of time by an over-weight Sikh man’s buttocks. It… was… disgusting… It was like I was being engulfed in a gelatinous ameba that was simultaneously warm to the touch yet sent shivers down my spine. Oh, the horror…

The scene above, while more graphic than most, demonstrates something that I have learned to, dare I say, love about India. In America, our ‘personal bubble,’ that is personal space, seems to extend feet beyond our bodies. Maybe we can have the luxury to do that because there isn’t the density issues. Maybe it is just a cultural difference. Regardless, since coming to India, my personal bubble has severely shrunk, albeit most likely out of necessity. Now, when faced with the challenge of getting on the metro where both sides push and shove to get in or out of the metro and seem locked in eternal combat (or at least until the doors close), I non-chalantly put my elbows up and charge into the fold until I too get into the train. I can push my way to the front of a ticket counter like they are handing out gold. I can look straight back into the eyes of the people who stare at me where ever I go.

I really wonder what will happen when I go back to the USA. Will I push and shove my way to the metro doors in Washington DC? Will I cut in front of everyone in the coffee line? Will I awkwardly be staring at everyone as if it is normal? Who knows? Nontheless, my ‘bubble’ has definitely shrunk.

But I must say, when my ‘personal’ bubble was only separated by a few pieces of cloth from his ‘physical’ bubble, I maybe I still do need a certain amount of personal space…

Oh and one final equation. Tyson + a blubbery buttocks being rubbed against his shoulder = Tyson’ being totally grossed out.

Fireworks

This Friday is Diwali, a Hindu festival that celebrates the return of Ram from a victorious battle. The return represents the triumph of evil over good, light vs. darkness, etc. There are several parts of the Diwali season (which lasts 20 days or so) which include pujas (prayers), honoring ones brother, gifts (like Christmas in a sense), lighting candles, and, most importantly for me, FIREWORKS!

That is right, Diwali is also known, at least in Delhi, for its fireworks. Ever night as the day comes closer and closer, more loud booms echo throughout the city. When it first started happening, (about a week and a half ago) we wondered what was going on but now it is second nature to hear loud cracks and booms all around the neighborhood. Deciding that I couldn’t let this opportunity pass us by, Evan and I went to go get some fireworks...

We went to Sadar Bazaar a mere three days before Diwali, which is kind of the equvilant of going to Union Square in San Francisco on Black Friday after Thanksgiving. It was packed. It is tradition for people to buy something right before Diwali because it also marks the beginning of the new Indian fiscal year. So needless to say, the market was packed with carts and people and horse or cattle drawn carriages. But most importantly, it was also packed with firework booths…

Now let me tell you, children in California have led a deprived lifestyle. After buying a lot of fireworks and taking them home. I felt literally like a little kid. I even called Jane Marie (in the morning for her) and told her how excited I was and which fireworks I had bought. There are fireworks here that are so cool. One that we bought is a cylinder that is larger than a soda can and about as tall as up to my knee. It will be one big rocket. Another is a box of fifty rockets. You light the fuse once and then over a course of time 50 rockets are shot up into the air and explode. I couldn’t wait for it to become dark so I could go and light them. I had all the sudden turned into a five year old boy who couldn’t wait until Christmas Day.

We went out and lit some of the fireworks and it was great! I really mean it when I say that we were deprived. Seeing rockets fly into the air and explode was great. Some of the fireworks you placed on the ground, lit, and then a fountain of sparks flew into the air. The kids from around our neighborhood came out and watched as we lit them. They even helped and lit a few of their own. It was so cool. We are saving the best for tomorrow night. We will be in Darmasala, which is largely a Buddhist Tibetan population, but we imagine they might enjoy them too.

Dali Lama

This weekend (well actually for about five days) I am planning to go to Darmashala/ McLeod Ganj. It is a hill station in Himalch Pradesh, a mountainous state in India. It is also the home of thousands of Tibetan refugees and the seat for the Dali Lama for like 4-6 months of the year. Occasionally, the Dali Lama comes and speak to the people in Darmashala and this Friday he will be there speaking. We hope to take a night bus on Thursday night (17 hours!) and arrive on Friday to hear the conclusion of his talks.

But besides the Dali Lama, the towns of Darmashala and McLeod Ganj are supposed to beautiful! They are in a place similar to Mussorie but have a totally different atmosphere because of the Tibetan monks and refugees. Everyone I know who has gone there has said that it was one of their favorite places in India and I am looking forward to going.

Lunches at Madhu's

It has become somewhat of a tradition for me to go to my friend and pastors’ apartment after church. It is really always quite fun. I come over for lunch and talk until it is served. (Although it shows some more traditional gender roles in that the men sit around and talk while the women prepare the food... it can be so much easier being a man in this country at times.) This time it was particularly interesting.

I am possibly doing one of my papers for class on Caste and Conversion. One of the things I am going to do is interview several of my church members who are Dalit or from designated tribal zones (which in many ways is even more difficult than being a Dalit) about how they became Christian and what that is like. As kind of a test run, I did an informal questioning time with Madhu. He is very forgiving and open so he is a good person to start with.

We talked for maybe 3 hours about all kinds of issues about Christianity, concepts of caste, his conversion experience, and many other things like media portrayal, perceptions he has encountered (he is from a place considered somewhat backward, is a Dalit, and a Christian), and experiences he has had. It was so interesting. I love having lunch there because I always learn so much. He always tells me fascinating, albeit sometimes very sad, vignettes of the life of Christians, Dalits, tribals, etc. I think more than most things, I will miss his and Marang’s company (Marang being the man with whom I volunteer) when I leave India.

Mumbai and Elephanta Island

Fort Cochin and Old Goa

Backwaters of Kerala

Varkala

Kanyakumari

Mamallapuram, Crocodile Park, and Pondicherry