life: in progress

He was charming.   I wanted a picture of the trees and he happened to be walking and saw me take it and stopped to tease me about how he also needed a picture of me, since I now had one of him.   I smiled; he got his picture.   He was the first person I communicated with on my own in India.  We talked for a while about the basics…family, where we’re from, why we’re in Bangalore, etc.   He’s from Tamil Nadu.   Then, he said to me, “But I am not an Indian."   Alright...I’ve only been here a few days, but you sure look like an Indian, and Tamil Nadu is definitely an Indian state...   He read the puzzled look on my face.   “You see, I am a Dalit.   I was taught to not even consider myself a citizen of India.”   You’re kidding.  Is this real?  What is he saying to me?     (sorry it’s backwards) “Let me tell you how the caste system works.   Picture a ll of India as a man.   His head is the h...

  Chai is the Hindi word for tea.   I planned my days around chai, not only for the time it took to drink it, but also for the inevitable response of my digestive system to caffeine. I loved tea, both for the actual tea itself, and also for the idea of it.   Time taken out of the day to just slow down and enjoy each other’s company, ah what a concept for an uptight Westerner like me who plans my days in 30-minute increments!   At Visthar, we began the day at 7:00am with self-serve chai in a gazebo type area.   There was a roof, but no walls.   I loved the symbolism of that place because I think it captured the atmosphere of Visthar: a canopy of love and justice and equality, but no walls to keep anyone in or out.   Morning tea was often one of my favorite times of the day.   It meant not just waking up in the cool, crisp air, but also the start (or continuation) of enriching discussions with R and M.   After a few intense hou...

           My memory of BIRDS, Bharati Integrated Rural Development Society, sometimes is overshadowed by such dramatic experiences at Visthar and the children’s home.  But the very fact that made it blend in so well was also the reason I loved it so much.  It was India, in real life.  Well, except for our air-conditioned rooms, which were much appreciated in the transition from Bangalore (70 degrees F) to Nandyal (105 degrees F).  In the mornings at BIRDS, when I wasn’t in the bathroom trying to manually flush the toilet with a bucket of water, sometimes I would think about going up on the roof to do my  surya namaskar (sun salutation) that I learned from a crazy Indian martial arts fighter at Visthar.  When I got home I had to youtube it to make sure I was doing it right because at the time I was pretty distracted by his bare upper body and loosely fashioned dhoti.  But I do remember that after he taught us the exercis...

There’s a monkey in this picture somewhere, but I haven’t found it yet.   ...we all have diarrhea... I took this picture while we were driving at 80mph.  I thought I was just getting the temple until I looked again later and found these two Bollywood stars.  We got tired of smiling after the thousandth “ready to photo, sister?" Putting our heads together to stop the army of ants pouring out of a hole in the floor.  Our solution: a flood of 100% deet, Elmer’s glue, and q-tips “i wanna be in the picture toooooo!"

Before I left, the doctor told me to stay away from crowded places like train stations to avoid coming in contact with TB or any other crazy diseases.   I laughed and thought, “Obviously you haven’t been to India because everywhere you go is crowded!”   But the train really was crowded, and if I was a TB viral cell, it’s exactly where I would go to find a perfect host body.   Let me introduce you to some of the people on the train.   *The man sitting across from me: Tall and thin, roughly 30 years old, told me he was the manager of the Bank of America in Bangalore, traveling on business.   He continually teased me about falling asleep every time I picked up my book and started to read and didn’t mind me putting my feet on his seat. We shared stories of playing with our little nieces, giving me a glimpse of his desire to start a family.   He asked for my email.   He sat across from me all day and into the night, until the...

After noisily and awkwardly hoisting my embarrassingly large bag onto a shelf about 5 feet above my head, I sat down to look around.  Each “compartment” had two benches, facing each other, long enough to hold 3 people each.  R pulled me aside and took me to the space between the train cars.  Grinning, he said, “I want to show you something…just so you  know.”   He brought me into the bathroom and graciously explained how to properly lock the door, which I’m sure saved me from much embarrassment later on.  I took a quick look around.  It consisted of a hole in the floor of the train, and a bar to hold on to for dear life.  The floor was wet. I forced myself to think it was because they had just hosed it down in preparation for the next trip.  I was a little nervous about the lack of toilet paper, but later I realized that it wasn’t necessary.  The draft created by a moving train evaporates any ...

It’s easy for me to talk about poverty from the comfort of my bedroom, propped up with a few pillows, typing on my laptop, and trying to decide whether I should play music with my phone, computer, or ipod.    It’s much harder to talk about poverty when it’s staring you directly in the face. If you’ve never experienced this, take a ride on any passenger train in India. The train station in Bangalore was about 1 hour by bus from Visthar, through the most crowded streets I have ever encountered, and I’ve been in some pretty serious traffic.   The difference is that in America, we categorize.   “Trucks only” “Cars only” “Bus lane” “HOV lane.”   But in India there are no such laws.   “Truck? Rickshaw? Camel? Bike? Feet? Whatever your mode of transportation, you are welcome here!”   One thing that you will never be in a car in India is bored, even without a built in DVD player.   On the ride M, R, and I were having a casual conversat...