15 Minutes of (Indian) Fame

Although Ive said this before, probably many times, Ive had an unbelievable week! India has been one wild adventure after another and even now, when I am trying to 'take a break' from the rush and absorb, India still manages to drench me in crimson and saffron and indigo and more than a dash of masala spice.

Bundi is such a lovely town with murals on almost every wall and elaborately painted doorways beckoning you to find out what they hide within. Occasionally Im lucky enough to catch one open and Ive seen beautiful family scenes, barefoot kids running around charming courtyards, any number of pots and mismatched bottles of spices hanging from every open nook, even monkeys hopping to and fro. Even just today, several of us sat around the main table and suddenly a stream of liquid came from the roof. The liquid we quickly realized was one monkey's idea of a joke as he had snuck in through a hole in the skylight!

A massive palace and fort complex watch over the town and there are more than 200 temples and step wells from the Raj era in the area. Everyone is so friendly, Ive already made several local friends that want to show me the waterfalls and sites and offer me yummy chai every time I pass. If I had a rupee for everytime I heard "hallo!" or "Namaste!" during the day... I swear the kids learn hallo before they learn hindi! Groups stroll through town all day coming from and going to I-know-where-not waving multicolored flags and cheering themselves on...

Emma and I have practically been adopted into the family that runs our guesthouse, Haveli Prince and the mother, who has no daughters of her own called us upstairs to dress us up in her finest, gorgeously embroidered and intricately beaded Rajasthani outfits including a bit too much makeup by our standards and a wedding pot that we were made to take pictures in many different poses. Im not sure who had more fun! She hung out with us one night chatting about everything from arranged marriage (her 20yr old son will be meeting with his bride-to-be's father this week and I get to help cook as well as pass judgement on the photo! :) to Indian cooking and life in Bundi - it was great! She shared with us one of her favorite treats which I mumbled to Emma that it tasted like a spiced chunk of wood - only to find out thats exactly what it was and the package warned "Chewing of Supari may be injurous to health", nice. Ive also been privileged enough to also try fantastic street foods served in leaves (for once no trash!), something called 'Betel Bung'? thats a most interesting concoction of brightly colored sauces, spices, powders, crushed plants, red candied fruits and seeds all wrapped in a thick leaf and eaten whole (much to the amusement of the local men who said they had never served on to a foreigner before!) and a "Sathi Lassi" (A creamy lassi served with a spoon not a straw made with 3-4 kinds of nuts, several scrumptious spices, creme, yoghurt, saffron and some secret ingredients :) which just may be my favorite sweet in India! The other day we even joined our friend in the old elephant stables, for a lesson on making the perfect cup of chai and before we began he brought out darling baby turtles, each with their own tika on their nose and then a bebe gun that we had target practice (at a bottle, not the turtles ;).

The cherry on the top of this fabulous week was being featured on the Indian news station for taking part in Raki, brother/sister day, one of the biggest holidays in the area. We honored our newly adopted brothers with a tray of coconut, money and a candle and gave them each a traditional bracelet gift which they wear until it falls off and they gave us gifts as well as dotting us with a tika and rice grains and feeding us sweets. It was truly a special honor to be a part of this important family celebration and one of my favorite experiences thus far. I send a big hug and a virtual tika to my own brother back home and a big hug to all my friends just for fun!

Harried Haridwar

Bundi, a beautiful little town of Brahmin blue that I’ve chosen as my first place of rest. I have no specific plan for the next month and a half, so I intend on slowing the pace and studying Hindi around Rajasthan while exploring the nooks and crannies. Unfortunately, I already had most of this entry about Haridwar typed up and for some reason, it has simply disappeared from my hard drive… hmm.

Where to begin… the internet is down right now so I’m typing this in Word and the friendly owner has just brought me a gin (pronounced zin here) and tonic on the house. (“First time drink in cyber? He asked with a proud smile and a head wobble) Ha, some offer chai, others apparently have another drink of choice.

Hardwar was everything I imagined from “real” India which is getting more and more difficult to define. Emma and I arrived in the early morning as we’ve taken to taking night busses to save on accommodation. Although we had heard that it was Yatra season and that there was a pilgrimage going on but what that really entailed we had no way to know until the moment we stepped off the bus.

Despite the fact that it was 7am, there were hundreds of orange clad people streaming up and down the main road. We were instantly intrigued with much anticipation of pilgrim-watching but the downside we discovered was that the guesthouses within our budget were full. Dropping our bags at a chai house, one of us ran around finally locating a room in the basement for 200rupees/night ($5).

Taking turns bucket-showering and lying supine on the bed, the many long trips were beginning to take a toll. It wasn’t long though before we struck out into the throng and joined the now thousands of people on the main road. On either side of us, stalls teemed with a plethora of pilgrimage necessities, bottles to collect water from the Ganges, bunches of brightly colored bracelets hanging like tassels from plastic tarp awnings, various trinkets in the shape of one of the gaggle of Hindu Gods and every possible product in as many shades of orange.

The only foreigners in sight and two girls without male ‘escorts’ at that, we definitely got more than our fair share of attention, but we felt as though we were observing them just as much so we didn’t mind. We reached the Har ki Pairi Ghat (footstep of the God) where Vishnu is said to have let a drop of nectar fall from which the mighty Ganges sprung forth as well his footprint. The scene that revealed itself to us was like nothing Ive seen before and I don’t think it is possible to verbalize the tangible energy that hit us as we rounded that corner. Masses of people, shoulder to shoulder were vigorously splashing away as if in the fountain of youth. We found out that most people had walked barefoot from their home towns, sometimes taking more than a months time, some even prostrating themselves the entire way marking their finger-falls each time. Large groups of men dressed in the exact same thing from head to toe with bottles strung around their necks and poles balanced over their shoulders decorated like Christmas trees with tinsel and mini houses on either end, running and shouting indecipherable hindi… my skin prickled with something of an ancient mix of human and earthly electricity.

We found a spot on the main bridge and snapped a few photos but it only took minutes to have a huge half moon of men around us, hemming us to the banister. They crowded around us so tightly, some asking for a snap, some watching shyly and others even touching us as if testing that we felt, I don’t know, like them? The feeling is half celebrity, half alien and its profoundly interesting. They would now part to let us through though and we were only saved by a policeman that forced his way through and began beating them back with his bamboo rod like hacking his way through the jungle with a machete! Crossing the bridge, we stopped at the end that resembled a balcony overlooking the river and promenade below. Groups of boys noticed us and began waving and even blowing kisses. I was quite amused for some time until they began racing up the stairs to snap photos with us and once again we found ourselves trapped until a policeman came by. At this point, we decided it was best to avoid this main ghat and spotted an area of the river in the distance that looked a bit more secluded. We had to go through the thicket of bathers though and trust, it was not an easy task. Men and more men joined the group that trailed behind us, drawn like magnets, like it was a parade, laughing and jumping on eachother. We had to stop once at a food stall where another boy with a stick hit them back like dogs I tell you, and then again on another bridge where after one boy touched both Emma’s and my behind (and received a derisive blow each time), I wheeled around and asked Kya?! What?! They jumped back but stared at me with curious and excited grins until one guy asked “What problem you?” to which I responded in my most simple and hopefully understandable English “You are BAD men!”

We finally reached the corner and passed a group of policewomen, but a thought occurred to me and I went back to them. “Where can I buy one of those? And what is it called?” I asked pointing to her stick. She clearly understood why I was asking and directed me to a market. I was now a girl on a mission. It was a hunt to find a stick but I was determined and eventually I tracked down a nice solid cane and we found a rod for Emma. Now, I just prayed to Vishnu that some stupid boy would hassle me! Bring it :). The sticks did the trick and although we still attracted a halo of bodies around us, they gave us more room and one firm tap of the cane in their direction delivered the message that none of my limited Hindi or basic English could.

We spent another day in Haridwar, mostly away from the main area and while there were some funny instances, no incidents. I still cannot believe that I had to buy a stick to keep them back, but it makes me laugh nonetheless.

I left with Emma to Rishikesh, staying just the afternoon and then continued on to Delhi to meet my Austrian friends. This week, I met up with two of the Rustic girl for a reunion/goodbye trip to Jaipur which was a lot of fun and it was sad to see them off. I ended up buying a Sari which I had not planned on but now I think I will wear for the upcoming Independence day celebration! Ill let you know how this week of festivals turns out :)!

From an Austrian Oasis:

I write to you now, for a change, from my bed on a laptop borrowed from a 10yr old friend of mine. In lieu of the incessant honking outside and bollywood hits playing in the background of a tiny internetcafe, I have birds chirping and the - ever so rare in India - peace and quiet. I am visiting an Austrian family that I knew in Greece that are now stationed in New Delhi and it really feel as though I have left India and been teleported to Europe. They have a yard the size of a small park with a swimming pool and one chubby, hyper dog. I have my own room and bathroom and they have several servants to "attend to my needs" including a cook, driver and maid. I am even salluted every time I come in and out of the gate! Ha, most of the time Ive been hiking to and from stations and guesthouses with my elephant of a backpack whether 100/40 degree heat or monsoon rains and now I am picked up with the cleanest car Ive seen in India with my name printed neatly on a plackard... India remains the land of contrast!

On one hand, I feel a little too posh staying in this beautiful hideaway, but on the other hand it has been the perfect recharging station after my frenzied travels south. I actually feel clean which unfortunately is something that has eluded me lately what with squatter toilets and bucket showers and dusty 24 hour bus rides. A very heartfelt thanks once again for friends!

That being said, do I have one crazy story for you! Even as it unfolded and I had a chance to think about recounting what had happened, I believe it will be nigh on impossible to fit the scene into words - just read on and multiply the ridiculousness and chaos and voices and dizzying, colourful presence of human beings by a naan bakers dozen.

So... after that epic 24hr bus ride, two days in the beautiful hill retreat of Manali and a night bus to Shimla, a charming little town with very clear remnants of the previous summer capital of the British Raj, we decided after a less than appetizing omelet sandwich breakfast to leave the same day to Chandigar on one of the remaining "Toy Trains" or single gauge trains that ran through splenid scenery and 103 tunnels over the 110k trip (through each and every one, the passengers hung out the windows and open doors and whooped and cheered :).

We spent just 24 hours in Chandigar and had no idea how the days events were to be a mere tickle of the following days onslaught in haridwar. In the bright sun, Emma and I, made our way to the bus station to inquire about onward travel. We also wanted to see the famed rock gardens, a bus cost 5rupees but a rickshaw driver offered to take us there for the same price so we hopped aboard. Several times he asserted that "I no english" and we decided he either wanted to change the price when we arived claiming to have misunderstood our english or he thought our own conversation was directed at him so in my broken hindi I reaffirmed the price and that his lack of english was fine and then to our very little surprise we were brought to the rose gardens, not the rock gardens. The rock gardens were another 60rupees away. No, its a nice day, we'll walk. In our guide book they didnt look too far away and a nice walk through various gardens at that.

The roses, though not in full bloom, made for a nice stroll and we spotted some swings which called to Emma. In a large opening with a few sleeping men we dropped our bags and picked up our inner-child. Soon though, those few men perked up and began watching us and were subsequently joined by several more and at one point we counted 20 of them, not including the one still sleeping that had formed our circumfrence - I wish I had an aerial shot! We, although ammused that they found two girls swinging so very interesting, had had enough and jumped down to find a shady secluded spot to read for a while. We did, but that seclusion never lasts for long and a couple groups of ever-so-subtle boys sat near us, taking turns sneaking glances and cajoling each other to come over and ask for "One snap?" first.

And so it began, a series of pictures taken with each of the boys and then as a group and then the regular questioning. I had 8 or so boys in a half circle around me making conversation about studies and life in our respective countries even after having found out that I have a husband. A couple more men joined us and I asked if they were all friends to which one responded, "*head wobble*We Indians are all friends!*big smile*" Good answer! They were really quite polite but apparently Emma, who was sitting slightly in front of me, was not so lucky and the older man that sat with her had a more risqué conversation in mind and I got the "help!" look so it was time for us to move on. One of the boys insisted I take a crackerjack ring that he produced from who knows where as a memory of India - sweet.

Flash forward after a very long walk, the interesting rock gardens dedicated to creativity and the imagination, the evening spent in a swanky restaurant/bar soaking up the AC and catching up on some journal writing, we finally end up at the bus station waiting for our midnight departure. More men. Some polite, some silent and one in particular sitting 2ft away from me with a frozen, unblinking stare accompanied by a subsonic mumble. The time arrives, we heft our bags over to the bus and Emma is asked if she needs any help by yet another 20 something boy. No thanks, but we board the bus he reappears with a pink carnation for her. "Where is one for my friend?" she jokes but he scurries off and comes back with one for me as well. All the while every passenger has their gaze fixed on us and I swear a couple of them have bags of popcorn for the show. Emma left to grab a snack for the journey and Pasha, our dear new friend, climbs aboard with an entire wicker basket of flowers this time. "Where are you getting these??" I ask quite ammused. "I bought them for someone who broke my heart so now I would like to give them to you". Emma returns, we are both laughing and I tell the poor heartbroken Pasha that the gesture will bring him luck in love in the near future. Somehow he finds the time to leave and return once more with one final flower that I insist he must keep for himself for the luck to be complete and he thanks us very much and wishes he could do a rap for us as he is a very good rapper. He wanted us to get off the bus to hear it because the other passengers would think he was crazy, imagine tht, but with our gentle prodding he broke into an impressive rendition of an eminem piece mixed with a dash of hindi, right there in the front of the bus until he was shooed away by the driver... I love this place!

This entry has gone on long enough - sorry to take so much of your time. I will save the Harried Haridwar story for tomorrow!