These memoirs are from a college experience in January 2007.
Cultural Dance:
This was one of the first things we were able to observe in Chennai and it was such a good introduction to the colors and sounds of India. The dancers were captivating and talented. I remember their motions being expressive: from the tips of their toes to the points of each finger, their eyes wide: enchanting, alluring, drawing in their audience with each widening gesture and bat of the lash. At the side of the stage the men sat on a mat with their instruments playing an eerily urgent tune. Each beat of the drum was accompanied by a simultaneous stomp of the dancers foot, jingling the anklets and adding to the song. The colors were bold, exotic, stunning: Red, Purple, Blue, Orange. And seeing the people in the crowd was just as educational, looking at all of the different saris for the first time and seeing the different styles of attire. It was exciting to be out in India, experiencing the culture.
Kolam Festival:
The Kolam Festival was one of my favorite events. It was thrilling to be out among families of people who were all equally excited for the event. I didn’t realize it was a once-a-year celebration. It was interesting to hear the history behind it from the perspective of being a liberating exercise for women. Coming from a western perspective and an especially woman-empowering environment and family, I was skeptical of the reasoning I heard. It was described as a sport women could be capable of exercising their body.
I loved seeing how people interacted with one another. I watched the women creating these beautiful designs with ease, barefoot and hunched over the pavement making the process look effortless and only able to guess how terrible my unsteady hand would be at such a task. I began to recognize the more experienced artists by the thickness of their line, the complexity of their pattern. Over in the youth section it was fun to watch 6, 7, 10 year old children full of excitement and eager to participate in such a grand tradition, some for their very first time. I found the mothers and grandmothers comical, calling out instructions and words of advice and Kolam-wisdom illegally from the sidelines, and eventually being scolded by young officials in charge of the event. I wondered over to another patch of the crowd to watch the older grandmothers of the tradition and was welcomed by two women who were kind enough to endure my questions. I asked them if they knew how to do Kolam art and who had taught them. Of course they knew how, everyone knew how to do the art—it was a silly question in hindsight, now having seen Kolam everywhere out on the sidewalks in front of houses. They were taught by their mothers, who were taught by their mothers, who were taught by the mothers before them. The one who was answering my question said, “Oh, I do Kolam, but she is much better,” as her companion and friend blushed with pride and pushed away the compliment modestly. It was so endearing to witness that exchange between the two elder women, and to see the honor they placed in the traditional art. I can’t even explain it. But it was seeing people in some of their greatest character: the qualities of humility and friendship and pride… I loved going to the Kolam Festival: I loved the noise, the clutter, the crowd, the smell, the color, the history—the culture. It was a privilege to take part in the festivities.
Knit India Interview:
Knit India is a collection of stories written from the various provinces in India meant to bond Indians to one another through literature. These books were written by Madam Sivankari Civacankari.
Madam Sivasankari was an amazing woman to listen to speak. It was exciting to hear someone speak so passionately about people and to see her put that love for others into a national campaign for understanding. It was amazing to hear some of the controversial issues she has been able to address through her literature, and to be reintroduced to the power literature wields (something I think we easily forget). I love how she, like many Indians, spoke and made her point with analogies and stories. For instance, she said, empty your mind, “if you want to have a hot cup of coffee, make sure the cup is empty,” and, never be judgmental, “if you are a diabetic, you can’t eat sugar, it’s not good for you, but for another person the sugar is alright.” I grew up around a lot of story telling, so I really learn a lot through words that paint a picture in my mind. As I am sitting here I keep remembering different sayings that she used in different ways to give some piece of advice and I am restraining myself from repeating each one of them. I loved this interview and many of us were able to learn different things that were important to us. Writing and people are two topics I love, so it was inspiring to listen to someone who has so wonderfully brought those two passions together. Some of the other people in our group are fascinated with controversial issues that are a part of India (and the United States) and felt empowered hearing about Madam Sivasankari’s fight to make her country aware of injustices and sufferings. It is encouraging to see someone “fight the good fight” successfully. One member of our group asked Madam Sivasankari how she copes with the sadness she sees in her research, a question burning on the listener’s heart with so many heartbreaking memories fresh on her mind from new experiences in India as well as from, I’m certain, her own past. How do we cope with surrounding sadness? We have to take each day as it comes. We have to try to make even a small impact on a small moment. Each small impact is like a drip of water eroding a solid surface. Think how powerful is the force of water when a combination of many droplets! Powerful enough to shape mountains and move moraines, carve out canyons and sustain life. Water is always moving forward.
We were all able to learn so much from Madam Sivasankari, and about so many things that were near to our hearts and part of our life desires.
Pondicherry:
Our jaunt over to Pondicherry was a nice break and change of pace. It came at a perfect time in the trip. The realties of life in India were shocking our senses and Pondicherry felt like an oasis from that reality. I thought Pondicherry was an interesting district; the French influence was still evident and present—I was eager to use the little bit of the French I learned in high school and experienced successful, simple, conversations. While we were there we visited a place called Auraville that was very interesting, and unsettling. I remember sitting before the golden globe thinking this is the strangest thing I have seen in India—it was not something I expected to see in a million years. It was strange to be around so many other white people at the visitor’s center; it all felt very touristy and surreal compared to the India we had been living in for the past two weeks. As I write this, I am sure this comment is parallel to the vast difference between the India we experienced living at Niketana (our very nice hotel) and the India people experience living on the street. The concept behind the site was very interesting, the idea of rebuking all religions and instead focusing on the morals and values behind them. I wonder if people from that ideology, then, find their hope in other people, since they don’t place their hope in an entity or god(s), as is practiced in Hinduism.
I appreciated being able to spend time out in the city away from the majority of the group in Pondicherry. It was nice to go a little more at our own pace and wonder around aimlessly. I loved being by the ocean (a place that will always remind me of home): being able to smell the water and feel the cool breeze on my face along with the ocean spray. It was truly tragic to me that I slept through my morning alarm and missed the sunrise the next morning—probably one of my biggest regrets while in India—that, and not getting to hug an elephant’s trunk. It was also exciting to go to a restaurant on our own and attempt to pick out our own meal for the first time, and finding that we recognized names on the menu! Nun, I know that! Roti? That too! Agoo Gobi! Perfect! It was glorious. Then, the night was capped off with an extremely daring, thrill-seeking adventure on the rust-splattered ferris wheel. The whole endeavor was simply wonderful and refreshing.
Temples and Churches:
One of the first things that caught my attention was the amount of detail that was put into each temple: how elaborate the colors and shapes and characters were. It was incredible. I realized quickly how significant the role temples play in India’s culture. Not only were there many large temples to go to and visit, but there were frequent smaller, more accessible temples at the ends of streets for people to visit as well. At every temple we visited, there were always other people there, paying respect daily. I ask myself, what would my relationship with Christ be like if I showed that much devotion?
Another aspect that I observed of Indian culture is this strong tradition of paying respect to shrines and statues. From my experience, I have gathered that this is a very visual culture. Even the Christian churches I attended here had a strong visual influence of the culture, providing large statues of Jesus baring the brutal scars from the cross and The Virgin Mary draped in robes looking gentle and motherly.
Mamallapuram was a specific stone carved temple that we were able to visit. The stone coloring blended in with the gravel and sand that blanketed the ground on which it stood. There were a lot of people there the day we went, celebrating Pongal. It was less flashy than the typical temple site, but I appreciated it even more for how bold it seemed standing there brazenly, as if that land was created for it’s purposes. It is amazing to see what people can create. And of course it was exciting to see the monkeys running all over the place completely at ease with the men, women, and children stampeding through their territory.
The Wedding:
I woke early to the sound of our alarm (I was designated “rouser of the troops” being the only one who woke to alarms in our room of three) and stumbled through the darkness to cease the seemingly blaring noise. It was the day of the wedding and we were already running late! I rushed through a cold shower, woke Alicia and Whitney, and slipped into my petty coat and saris blouse, as prepared as possible to be folded (by Vidya) into my new emerald green saris. Vidya, so patiently, put each of us together, lining up our five folds precisely and pinning the material in strategic locations at our waist and clothe draped over our shoulder. We each wore our new bangles, earrings, and necklaces: exquisite.
Staying true to Indian hospitality, we were fed two meals at the wedding. Many of us weren’t hungry, but to decline would be disrespectful. The family was very kind to invite us (they were relatives of Vidya and Myles). The meals were placed before each of us on a large, placemat-sized banana leaf. Wedding ceremonies in India are drastically different from the wedding ceremonies I have seen at home. There is a lot of ritual here in India, with very significant purposes and meanings. One big difference I found is that it seems like weddings in the United States are preformed in such a way that the bride and groom are meant to be watched with full attention by the guests, and positioned for all to see. Here the rituals are very specific and important, but the ceremony is also an opportunity for the guests to socialize during these rituals. Complete attention isn’t really given to the bride and groom.
Something that has been awkward for our group throughout the duration of the course is the amount of attention that we have been receiving. The color of our skin stands out like headlights through a dark forest. This unwanted attention increased tenfold at the wedding. We were filmed and asked to be in pictures with the couple. I was embarrassed, and felt terrible for taking the attention away from the new couple. Another thing that left a bitter taste in my mouth was the energy given off by the bride and groom. I know these feelings come from my own misunderstanding, but it is easy for me to want to assess a person’s happiness of a situation by their demeanor—which is not always an accurate assessment of the situation, especially when visiting a different country where communication and body language are spoken differently. That being said, our entire group left with the impression that the bride didn’t look very happy, or as happy as we felt a woman should look on her wedding day. Her marriage was called a “love” marriage which means that unlike many traditional marriages that are arranged by the parents, she and her groom chose each other, which from our culture we found this to be encouraging. Of course in America divorce rate is at around 50% whereas in India divorce rates are at 1.1%.
Jeanese and I were sitting beside one another at one point during the ceremony. Jeanese was sketching in her small notebook and said suddenly and with surprise, “I keep thinking that my hands are really dirty, but they’re beautiful,” commenting on the henna we had done the night before as body decoration for the wedding. Her statement was so simple and true. It made me think that it is like life. At a first glance things may look really dirty or ugly, when they really are beautiful. It’s like India, it’s like America, it’s like people. Dirty at a glance, beautiful to the keen eye. There is beauty to fine in any circumstance, I want to believe: a small token of hope.
This leads me to another part of culture that presents itself during such celebrations. In preparation for the wedding we went to a beauty parlor and were decorated with henna tattoos all over our fingers and palms to the wrist and in one narrow vine of flowers on the back of each hand from the wrist to the tip of each pointer finger. Each person’s hands were so unique and different. The woman drew steady lines with such precision without any sort of guide to follow; it was amazing, much like the expertise exhibited in Kolam art. She was an artist. I believe people appreciated that we were following Indian tradition when attending the ceremony. It was received as a sign of respect to the people and their culture, an important and essential act to be attempted by travelers.
On The Road:
The traffic is really quite amazing, probably one of the most impressive acts of organized chaos I have ever seen. Cars, trucks, mopeds, bicycles, motorcycles, cows pulling carts, and walkers crowd the street with no set number of lanes. Everyone weaves through one another so fluidly and quickly, even utilizing the oncoming traffic lane for casual driving. There is a constant stream of honking, however it is not like the angry press of a button we see back home. Here it is a form of driving communication: “Here I come, on your right!” or to warn people around the corner that we’re coming through. Also, it is so common to see an entire family riding on one motorcycle or bicycle. I definitely witnessed a family of five on one motorcycle speed by without helmets. Quite impressive, really.
Additional Thoughts:
One boy in particular stands out to me from the Andhra Mahila Sabha School. When I entered my first classroom for observation I immediately walked over and crouched down by the first low table, which supported various alphabet puzzles and number games. One girl captured my attention to begin with, showing me how she could count to ten by sliding colorful wooden spheres across a metal rod. He, the young boy, sat at the edge of the table simply watching. After a few moments, I turned my attention to him, offering my hand, a smile, and hello. He, almost hesitantly, took my hand with one, and then quickly with both hands, positively beaming. His dark eyes sparkled beneath lengthy lashes.
More than a twinkle of the eye, it was a spark of friendship, if only for a brief moment in time; this is the bond a physical touch can create. I was thinking later of the value in touch. Through simple gestures like a handshake or resting of the palm on a shoulder people—students—gain a sense of acceptance, support, encouragement, respect, and love. Touch between a student and teacher is such a taboo action in the United States. There is such a fear of gestures being misconstrued and depicted as inappropriate. That is a tragic fear to allow to dictate the building of healthy relationships between students and teachers. We read an article in Hub 1 (one of our required courses in the School of Ed) about the importance of having a strong relationship with each student. If a student feels comfortable with and trusts his or her teacher, and that teacher is fostering a welcoming and supportive environment, then that student is more likely to feel comfortable asking questions, asking for help, more confident in herself or himself, etc.
