Significance of the unexpected

If you take an autorickshaw, the majority of people feel that driver is there to serve them and don't see any reason to give respect or even say thank you. In reality that auto rickshaw spends the days driving around a lawn mower type of vehicle just to earn a living to support his family. The psyche of that driver means daily battles with the reckless and dangers of Indian roads. Always you'll find an confidence that does nothing to diminish any fear i have of road rage or accidents. There is an ease about them. A control. They know all the routes and hot spots and if they desire they can help you out directionally when questioned. For all this they are not given respect. A customer will work hard to negotiate the lowest fare even if it means little or no profit when paying for petrol. They will bark directions or not know the exact place and like me I have passed my cell phone to the drivers to help me find the way. They will always give you respect for a tip or to lessen an argument, but a simple thank you is like talking in a foreign language. My friend was traveling in an auto last week as she usually does with some students who have been locally sponsored for their college education. She took that extra second to say thank you and to her shock it meant more than could have been expected. Everyone is in such a rush these days it is more meaningful just to give a sincere smile or say thanks in appreciation for a job. That smile or two words goes a long way in making a happy impact in your personal customer service efforts.

Life on a two wheeler in time with the hem of a pant

The disposable society. Without sustainability, without a future plan how much is the value of one life? Most people can obtain a two wheeler and most families can fit symbiotically on that bike. Most people drive recklessly at one instance or another. If they are not purposefully reckless then they are in a rush to attend to an ill relative or reach a marriage function. In that instance an entire family can be eliminated. If you are riding a bicycle and your pedal is an inch or two out into the road easily clipped by any car or two wheeler passing by that instance you maneuver that bike past the point of no return, your life is in the balance. The same rules that apply to the people and their value of life itself can be said for the quality of the objects that surround that life. In five minutes a tailor can hem your pants to the appropriate length for 10 or 20 rupees. If you don't have that amount then your pant will continually caress the ground you walk on until the dirty threads hang over the back of your ankle. That new pant which will most likely be some blend of cotton and polyester was not designed with climate in mind. For all the ways to reduce your bodies heat, by drinking rye seed water or not eating chicken people will go around wearing corduroy pants and polyester sarees. The quality of sandals here may be mediocre but for the lifestyle the wear and tear factor means that sandal should be durable. The sandals here come in so many colors and styles, but i can guarantee if you walk down any street you can count ordinary middle class people with completely broken or worn out sandals. If you ask someone about my sandal being held together by a safety pin they'll tell you no one would fashion that pin, rather they would throw out the sandal in lieu of a replacement, but i think the reality is they would just wear the broken sandal. At least more people are wearing shoes, whether it is because of fashion of health awareness only young village students seem to be lacking the education about the importance of sandals. Since there are very few organized landfills, and even sanitation works are barely functioning people have learned to burn their waste or just throw it out. If any road has aqueduct like water ways on either side, you can be sure of a green grey scum and trash items littering its path. If everything functions in a non permanent way then how can we create any change in social standing and customs? If any problem occurs in your house you can just move in with a relative. You can eat leaves from wild trees growing along the highway. Sometimes the country feels like a free for all. Take what you can get and don't care so much about the lives of others, but the important notion remains that while people remain selfish they are showing off and living for others. The gossip chain will continue to link itself to the people until they can feel there is something more important to give them fulfillment.

Hot walks in the afternoon

The ceiling fan swirls around my head and the red, yellow and green sticker with handwritten Jah! in black letters that some traveler before me has left as their mark of passage flashes as i close and open my eyes. If you turn off the light and let the muted sunshine in through the slats above my door it looks like a disco dream with the hypnotic flashes of the swirling contraption doing its own new age dance in the air. I want to get out of bed. It's too hot to move. Occasionally i get up to drink water or brush my teeth. If I ever wash my clothes or take a shower the bathroom becomes so warm from the concentrated moisture that I can't tell if I'm wet or sweating again. I turn on the TV, fashion TV is like my visual bible and I've seen all the programming for the past two weeks now it's on repeat. The sound sometimes doesn't work or the image goes to miniature wide screen for whatever reason. Sometimes I wish i didn't have that TV hanging over my bed with the dusty wires that loop over and around themselves in the dusty corner enticing me to waste the hours watching some government programming. I take a bath in my orange bucket as usual and dry myself under the fan with the pastel striped towel that was gifted to me on one of my better days. What should I do here? I can go to my favorite coffee shop that has the interior of a marble castle with random staircases, one of those incredible black and white patterned floors like a huge chess board, painted pillars that are supposed to be reminiscent of wood. The bar has modular stools that clash with the luxe renaissance feeling and the owner Pushpa always makes something overpriced and delicious. I could take me usual table and draw for hours drinking coffee and eating baguettes while dreaming up something fabulous. I could walk down my street and go to the main dried up canal just to entertain myself searching for two liter aquafina water bottles and walk and walk until my shirt is wet. If I go out I'll pass the government hospital, the foreigners will cruise by me on mopeds, a school will be letting out for the day and herds of students will take their bikes and stop traffic. I can drink some fresh juice, check my e-mails or go to the grocery store and try to find foreign products like peanut butter and pay way too much to drink soy milk. Or I can lie in my room and look at the ceiling fan roll over and press my face into a folded up Indian Air blanket and ignore all the missed calls and text messages that vibrate my phone on the table. If i go outside I guess sometime I already know what I have to deal with. Some sketch man following me around, getting so hot and gulping water down on the side of the road, auto drivers incessantly asking me if i want a rickshaw, and trying to just cross the road without walking into a motorcycle or small lorry. I know what will happen if i stay inside too. Voices murmur as they pass my open windows, glasses and silverware clang in the kitchen, I'll order an omelet or some toast, maybe if i feel like it I'll change my dress and wash my clothes in that same orange bucket. I'm not looking for excitement, i can get by living here with all the good and bad that come with the commitment I've made. It's a different world and some days i just don't want to get out of bed.

Show some disrespect

Another eventful adventure occurred two days prior. Not a good adventure to say the least, but something to be noted. I have to say Aquafina brand water is quite scarce in the white town of Pondicherry and in my many hot walks of torture I have come across that rare gem of a shop selling the most sought after two liter bottles, noted it as such and promised to return there when in need. Aquafina is possibly the cleanest water actually abiding by the ISI standards of water purification. Don't accept any imitation or your stomach will tell you something quite uncomfortable. One location having such resources in near the bus stand crossing the lovely wine and bazaar district of Anna Nagar, some high traffic areas, and the street stealing hindu temple, because literally when you cross the street there, the hindu temple takes up about half of the road and busses of course don't care if you or a pigeon are walking they'll hit you anyway. So i took a different route this evening expecting to happen upon a random Aquafina shop on the way, but no such luck, so off to the shop selling bad ice cream that will give you a cold that promises two liter bottles. Before the Hindu temple right after the treacherous road crossing and after passing two women and a white shrited man he likened his speed to mine and started talking some nonsense or trying to talk something to me. He said he was a driver and gave tours around Auroville and i should note his number, so since he had idly slid up next to me and was walking like we were dear friends (without the hand holding at this point) i typed his number into my phone. Unfortunately he gave the wrong number, hesitated, literally forgot his number and gave me some other number instructing me to save it. I walked along playing with my phone trying to ignore him as he kept talking some nonsense half tamil, a quarter english and a quarter mumble. He asked me if i was married and had a family both questions I answered with a yes. Then he proceeded to say he wasn't married and at this departure I began determining that he was mentally impaired, somehow deciphering the signs I was aware of this. He put his arm around my shoulders and i pushed it off. He walked a bit faster with me and grabbed my hip in an attempt to pull me toward him. My body froze and my hand raised in the air. By this point I was freaking out yelling at him in my correctional way with ideas about: what are you thinking, don't ever touch a woman, have some respect etc with mild obscenities mixed in. Then i slapped his upper arm as hard as my right hand could but in hindsight i should have went right for his face. He closed up, didn't look at me slowed down, was unresponsive. I scurried along and he disappeared into the background, or so i thought. I turned back shouting every few steps until his presence was absent. I made it to my shop shortly afterwards and didn't see my glorious two liter aquafina bottles. I hesitated walked past a couple shops to calm down as I was visibly tense and sweaty. I circled back for the water, made my request, so then the clerk went to another shop picked up my bottles and i paid him. When i turned around to check my bearings the white shirted character from before was passing some bikes just across from me. He looked at me and looked down. I flew after him with four liters of water in tow. "You are sick! you are a criminal! I should go to the police! Your shameful, what disrespect you have! See that man, he tried to touch me and i beat him! He's a disgrace!" I was yelling like anything surrounded by about 30 men watching, just watching. One skinny man with a blue checked lunghi had told the shop owner about the sleezy man he witnesses me berade and slowly followed the man until he passed me and i went in the other direction. I thought he was helping me by making sure no one was bothering me. I was irate, breathing deeply, talking to myself, sweating, heart beating and walking back to my place. After a few minutes i called my mother, my source of relaxation, therapy and soothing words. I turned around at a fruit stand and the bue checked lunghi was still following me. I stopped at another fruit stand still talking on the phone and he stopped too. At this point I was on guard and fierce. He started telling me his was a Christian and that he wanted to put a tally on my neck. This was beyond ridiculous at this point. He asked repeatedly, "Are you married?" "Yes!" I sad over and over. Still he said he had to take me to his house and put the tally, the Indian marriage string. I told him to get away from me, to walk, to go and stay away. He walked ahead, crossed the road, and hid behind an autorickshaw infront of a liquor shop. I walked until i was parallel to his hiding place waiting for his next move when one auto stopped and asked me if I wanted a ride. I thought for a second and realized it was time to make my escape. I jumped in and told him to take me toward the beach. The u-turn that followed took about a minute as the motorcycles zoomed passed and the cars rotated their wheels to curve around us. Finally we were free, turning toward the beach and toward the blue checked lunghi hiding behind the auto. As we approached he jumped out waving, with both arms, for the auto to stop. I said to my driver don't stop get away from him. As we approached the red light i said, we can't stop here, keep going... he veered into a clear lane and speedily made another u-turn down the main road to the beach. I escaped. I was thinking to myself, there is no way that skinny man has rupees for an auto, and there is no way he could catch up fast enough to get to me. But what was he going to do. Catch up with me and try to marry me? I had the auto drop me at the canal street and did some extreme negotiating for the one dollar ride that got me back to safety. I know i paid too much, but in the time of need jumping in an auto was the best solution. I walked the 5 minutes back to my hotel glad for the locked gate and boys who would watch out for me if something strange happened. I locked my door turned on the fan and took a bath with my orange bucket. I let the water drip through my matted hair and thought about the psychological state of so many I have met in this adventure. Those who are tossed out of society. Those who need some medical examination. Those who could be helped if someone took the time to care. But who is going to help them if they keep pursuing the stereotypes of other nationalities, if they keep following the myth of the white skin? Who will care for the poor minds and downtrodden?

Another Ashram another rupee

So, as an unofficial resident of Pondicherry, yes, that is the correct name for the year 2009, but previously it was officially known as Puducherry. This is no longer correct. I have been walking around, trying to find inspiration, whatever that means and enjoying the 'white town' as the locals call it. If you stray from the white town, there are dangers of the unknown that may make you sweaty, so beware whether venturing to the bus stand or Reddiarpalyam the unknown awaits you. Actually what awaits you is the Indian Pondicherry that isn't as infested as the one with foreigners looking for a bit of their own countries flair in developing India. Needless to say living here is not as great as touring here, but at least I have my own place... where I have to be respectful of other visitors whom I may disturb as I was informed of last night and retreated to my room instead of the passageway which is the hall on my second floor hideout. Then be sure to close your door as not to disturb those eating at the restaurant on the third floor, whom apparently I also disturbed last night too. So much for solitary freedom. At least my roof doesn't leak. So I've been doing a lot of walking, which I can say besides the rise in my body temperature I thoroughly enjoy this. Still my attempts to run on the beach at 6am have failed, for 6 days straight. There are some roads where you can even walk without any disturbances of motorcycles, beggars, or auto drivers asking to pick you up or play carrom. I have one great English speaking beggar on my street who continuously asks me for money and one shop owner whom I told I had a friend who was interested in pashmina shawls and every time I pass he asks when I'm coming in. I avoid both of these people using shortcuts on the route to the main road. I run into the same people over and over again and get annoyed by German girls explaining stereotypes to Jain guys at foreign hangouts and pretending to know about their religion. I am shocked by the foreign overpriced goods and hotels, but tend to enjoy baguettes and brownies that are no where close to the real thing on occasion. I get offered drugs when i look like a hippie and liquor from random people in cars whom I pass by walking. I get snubbed by Indian french speakers whom i obstruct their path when i cross theirs. I listen to rap music at the Internet shop, but at least it is still really hot and smelly. I'm glad there are some places I can just go and draw, drinking ice tea under a batik printed canopy with handmade wooden chairs. But for all the random street conversations I've had about how corrupt ashrams are, or how people here are genuinely interested to show hospitality without and sexual intentions i think I could do without them. To know a stranger will always sit with me to talk about an NGO or a party and to have some getting to know you talks, I'm definitely having a different kind of experience. Last night walking to buy some fruit the Hindu celebration of Vinayagar/Ganesh was still going on for the third or fourth day and every lorry full of kids that passed yelled something attention getting. I did my best not to look. Hope I'm not becoming jaded.

A directional traversal

Since it's been so long since I've had anything to say there is a some desire to explain myself. I could be that careless and just desert the idea of blogging at all, but somehow I tend to think in a few years when i am doing something entirely different I will randomly happen on the Lead Forward blog and just take a minute to remember. Since we last left off it was my 26th birthday, did i mention that my real age is 21, but you know how much more respect you get when you are older. If this doesn't explain anything we can deduce that I had a mild crisis as usual during birthday time. By this age I should be a multi-millionaire running a web design firm, I should have invented the new energy efficient time machine, or discovered the boat that sank the day after the titanic that no one knew about because it was lost in all the hype of the titanic. Since none of these things have happened at milestones like birthdays, departures from countries, or changes in life plans I tend to do some thinking. Regardless I hopped off to another continent for a work related purpose. I think everyone knows of my desire to join fashion design and social work in a humanitarian effort to change mankind and at this phase in the experimental life plan the ideas are just taking shape. So I embarked on the luxurious and affluent Indian Airlines journey to Frankfurt, Germany to design some awesome shizz. Which it was and as a reward, and a yearly ritual, i enjoyed a Greek Woostafarian family vacation, complete with ketchup chips and feta. Then back to India. I met one friend in Mumbai, enjoyed the tourism, taxi service, nightlife, falafel and walking. Plus on the return I got to take a 2 1/2 day train ride where I got awakened and questioned for possible drug possession and use. I proceeded to tell the conductor that drugs were bad. After returning to Chennai an aunties death led me to an excursion in Kerala, which was beyond my dreamy dreams! Needless to say I was in the company of my favorite inspirational activist Sherin and a talented fashion design student. We saw some natural places, ate some local herby foods, visited cardamon factories, drank tons of black coffee with masala spices and took so many photographs. After staying a couple day in Chennai I was back with Mathew in Chengelpattu trying to figure out the next plan for our program and my time here. I developed a speech for our college and graduate students meeting last week which was a success in terms of attendance and more motivational ideas. I only stayed to give the speech and greet everyone. A father turned advocated named Jose gave a nice lecture on how to plan for your future and achieve your dreams and then Mathew conducted some exercises with the LF members while I went on my way to Cuddalore on a government bus. I met with my friend Pastor Peter Paul Thomas who is doing well and as usual we discussed some life philosophies and I recruited him to help me find a new place to live in Pondicherry, the french colony with it's bistros, rues and other inspirational characteristics. I had accepted a job to develop a lead product for a top secret exciting new global brand making it's way in the fashion industry so I wanted to go into seclusion to do the best possible job. Thus I have moved, taken a break from social work and relish to give more details in the next post!

Suprise Party at Preem

Some Thoughts for Food

All the beautiful sarees and shawls the women wear caress the men as they unwrap them to wed or to bed like gifts on Christmas. To be passed by a sultry woman and have the train of her accordion folded saree tickle your arm hair as her figure diminishes while her feet carry her away. This is not incentive or innuendo, but it is as traditional as the cutting instruments the agriculture workers use to harvest paddy. To define culture by their way of dress is one thing, but to examine the modern day interpretations is entirely different.

You can have more than a family of Indian brothers and sisters, aunts and cousins, but they will never treat you like their family. They will never ask anything of you, you have to be forcefully persistent to share even minor expenses, cooking or cleaning means you are taking rest. But at the same time they accept you under any circumstances. If a family member is ill, they will still welcome you to stay with them. They will always offer you the best food even if you ask for kanji. There is a love and dependency, a connection with a foreigner, a desire to expand their familial relationships to include you. Yet there is also the burden of the third world, the lack of entertainment and sedentary lifestyle, and the obligations to their immediate and inclusive family. The acceptance I feel and the experiences I am gaining from are not only teaching me about the culture and people, but about their lives and history.

The men are sneaky only because they know the stereotypes the foreign women are attached to and stereotypes always relay some kind of truth. A drunkard or sober man who dares to touch a foreign girl or interact with them or be perverse toward them, would never dream of acting in that manner as openly with an Indian woman. The key word being as openly.

If you open your eyes you can see the light, but if you let the light shine on you, only then can you be enlightened. If this is in any way linked with the mind of Ambedkar I would be flattered. The idea of obtaining enlightenment, is it really possible to measure its attainability? How can you measure something like enlightenment or infinity and when it is mixed with religion, spirituality, and money? Which factors are really supporting the idea of enlightenment and who is going to publish a book of my blogs?

The road ahead is as dangerous as the curves the speedy Indian bus devours. Sometimes there are bumps and everyones body experiences a moment without gravity. Sometimes there are stops where everyone is either sleeping or making faces expressing their annoyance. Sometimes passengers change and get on or off going up and down the three or four steps to the road. All the while the driver is seated in his seat grinding the gears and giving diesel to the engine. All the while the conductor collects bus fare and monitors the passengers ensuring some amount of safety and order until reaching the final destination only to embark on another journey with completely different encounters.

water water everywhere but not a drop to drink

Last night was surely an adventure. For the past two weeks in Chengelpattu the motor bringing water from the well to the homes has not been working. A technician came 3 times to fix the motor unsuccessfully. For most of this time I was frolicking around Tamil Nadu, but I have returned to the comfortable apartment that Mathew resides in and with my return I automatically get enrolled in the water informational course in D2 of the Ranga Apartments. The first day I got back, somehow I managed to do all my washing with the water had been saved in three buckets. I had to fill one small bucket for proper rinsing so I went to the kitchen to because the water in the bathroom had been shut off. That water was spitting and spurting like usual, so I left the bucket to fill. Then the neighbors niece came to tell me more about the motor problem, so I hurried to turn off the water. She informed me that we can use one tap at a time so I finished the rinsing, filled the buckets, and hung the clothes to dry. The next evening her father came and said at 9:00 the water would be shut off so we should prepare for a day at least without any water. It was 8:45 and we had just finished eating so Mathew hurried to collect extra buckets we purchased for the LF students camp and began the water transportation to all buckets in the apartment. With the new buckets that was at least 12 buckets and containers. After filling the buckets we waited for the water to stop, but it kept coming, so Mathew washed the dishes and I took a bath. Good thing we collected all that water because the next day there was running water all day! No problems for cooking, washing, cleaning or rinsing. I kept waiting for the water to stop. In Mathew's apartment there are two types of water being used. One from the well, which is for drinking and one from the municipality which is for washing, cooking, or bathing. Usually around this time there is a great shortage of well water which everyone is depending on. The problem with the motor is only affecting the well water so at the time we were filling buckets every family in the apartments were also doing the same. The water shortage is really serious and not much is being done in terms of conservation. Many people are not aware or careful with the water and will leave taps on overflowing as this precious commodity trickles down the drain. We can be sure when people start dying from dehydration the government will be forced to do something, but will it be too little too late? For the sake of my friends, i sure hope not.

Some government assistance please!

The government of Tamil Nadu has many incentive programs and free products for poor families, but are they really helping to uplift them from poverty or are they just giving them a good dose of materialism and greed?

Extra! Extra! Read all about it. Free Televisions for the poor!
If a slum dweller in Chennai gets a free television from the government that's great! Here's the downside: That person potentially doesn't even have electricity, but it will make a great table for a shrine to Jesus or Shiva. If they have electricity they have to buy cable or a dish satellite. They have to pay a monthly fee, minus that from their huge bank account or wad of rupee bills stashed in a plastic jar. All the neighbors will come in the evening to enjoy programming, but individually owned and politically owned television channels will monopolize their time away from family discussion or study time. Finally if your neighbor gets a television you will have to one up them and buy a TV plus a DVD player. The grass is always greener on the other side.

Free low grade rice! 20 Kilos per month!
Thank goodness for free rice because the agriculture workers earning 30 rupees a day can't afford food for themselves let alone for their collection of children. Too bad their not giving free birth control, but wait! There was one village that was subject to free vasectomy's. One village. If a coolie worker is getting 30 rupees per day they may try to work 20-25 days a month depending on where they are living. If a coolie worker is getting a free 20 kilo bag of rice they may only work 10 days a month. There's no note attached to give the laboring class ideas about saving for their future, children's education, or medical emergencies, so that means they don't have to work as much. If a family eats rice and sambar or kanji once every day, they are not motivated by this 20 kilos of rice to eat rice and sambar with chicken, or a carrot side dish. There is not note attached giving them a lesson on nutrition either. I assume some people are not working less and maybe their meals improve, but the local perception is people are lazy and basically bad, so why would they even bother.

Other incentives:
+ 20,000 rupees from the government when you marry off your daughter... after paying the dowry which is supposed to be illegal
+ free gas stoves, then you can buy an expensive fuel tank instead of cooking outside with firewood... this is definitely good if it is raining outside, also the food will cook much faster with the gas stove and the women will have to spend less time cooking. If your daily work and toil is not appreciated then throwing together a fast rasam and sambar is more beneficial than squatting in the backyard over four stack of bricks and a bubbling pot.
+ free bicycles will get you to work more easily and the whole family can use the bike
+ in rare instances scholarships for better education are given, hopefully this will increase in the future

A dose of religion

After spending some time with my family visiting the place where Buddha conducted his first lecture, meeting one of our lead forward students and his family who practice Jainism, and having repeated discussions with my family friends about Jews, Jesus, and Christianity it is easy to perceive obvious similarities and differences. It is interesting to see the different personal opinions and practices in the varying sects of Christianity. There is a large Roman Catholic following in Pondicherry, the French coastal state that is surrounded by Tamil Nadu terrain. To experience a centennial celebration at the most notorious Pondicherry Roman Catholic church and see the flocks of Indian people mixed with foreigners, bikers, and children running about really shows how religion can give so much sanctity and feelings of togetherness for its followers. The Lutheran movement is strongest in Tamil Nadu especially in the vicinity of the Pondicherry and Cuddlore parish. There is also a following in Bangalore, but more missionary presence and strong devotees are said to be in Tamil Nadu. The Muslim belief in 'Allah' is very similar to Jewish prayer and worship for 'Adonai'. One television program on Prayer TV followed the speech of one doctor who was explaining the confusion of giving a male or female sex to Allah. This is the same for Adonai, the thought of an all knowing being or spirit that can't readily be explained or defined, just that it is ever present. If I tell my Christian friends that I don't believe in Jesus they are shocked and can't understand what Judaism is based on. Many Roman Catholics have pressured me to convert to Christianity giving me bibles or explaining the New Testament. This has also happened with one Protestant friend. They don't identify with Adonai, just how I don't identify with Jesus, but some are first generation converts from Hinduism and others have become accustomed to their religion since attending childhood religious school or cathecism class. Varying strength in belief or devotion can be seen between couples, but most times their children take on a strong religious belief. Is this due to the lifestyle where the chance and practice of a religion is give more time and respect from the culture. India can be stereotyped as a religious country, but that does not make it spiritual. I think some aspects of religious practice are very repetitive. I haven't seen any difference in RC weddings I have attended. There is one style present, in my experiences, full of tradition and ritual that is followed almost identically regardless of caste. At a village wedding in a poor rural place, you won't see all guests covered with gold and breathtaking sarees, but the same sense of tradition and customs are incorporated. The lack of spirituality might lead people to depend on religion as a crutch or as a way they can pray for better lives, but other incidents are completely ridiculous. This also applies to western practice (I'm sure you've read stories online or in the news). Last week I read an article where two frogs were married and fashioned in a red wedding suit (complete with cape) and a red dress for the bride. The village Hindus who married these two amphibians were giving them to a specific god for more rain during the monsoon season. The ceremony took place on a rock in the woods and afterwards the frogs were released. The village had been experiencing a very dry season and their harvest was minimal. Whatever your belief or however you are practicing I just want to state that the mind is a very powerful tool that can be used constructively or destructively and avidly affect a person, group or situation.

Tamil Music Television

Tonight I was fortunate enough to be completely appalled by one music video. If you think MTV and VH1 are negative affecting the minds of the youth then you have no idea what the Indian youths are being subjected to. I was doing my routine activities after cooking lunch with a couple students, drinking cool water, painting toe nails, talking about the hot weather when a music video began that was more obscene that I could have imagined. The video began showing a bus full of students going or coming to school. The girls were in pink plaid with braided pigtails tied up in white ribbons and the boys were wearing button down shirts in dusty blue. All the students were in uniform looking neat and clean. After the initial scene was represented the camera zoomed in on two students, one boy and one girl. The two people were staring into each others eyes more intensely that any boy and any girl have started at each other in history... except maybe Romeo and Juliet. The camera zoomed in on all eye twitches and lip quivers instigating the thought process that these two students were going through. They stared at each other while everyone else was concerned with their own business going about like normal students. Mind you this was supposed to be a group of high school kids. The girl, was definitely not a girl and was most likely a woman around 21 years old and the drooling boy was at least 35. It is typical here to marry a man much older in traditional arranged marriages, but these actors were supposed to be students. If someone bumped into either the boy or girl you could feel sexy thoughts pounding out of the tv. If the bus jerked or went over a pot hole or speed bump the girl fell into the boy strategically having her head go into the crevice of her neck. There were so many close ups, the boy would sneakily touch the girls shirt, the girl would brush up against him. Without even opening their mouths, only the lip quivers were apparent. I have to question why girls are becoming pregnant and their lovers are going off and killing them and their unborn children. Why are there newspaper articles where young people run off wanting to have a love marriage and their own parents go after them and kill them? If all the people in villages are getting free televisions from the government and sitting around during and after dinner watching music videos and soap operas no wonder people are trying to live the fantasy life. Only after being abused by your husband, getting aids and joining a support group will any women leave their families. The male student on the bus would ruin the girls reputation, destroy respect for her in her village and worst of all impregnate her out of wedlock tarnishing the whole family. But for the boy student even after these actions have been committed, even after going before the village court, even after his own parents reprimand the girl and her family, he will only have to pay a fine of $3 or $4 dollars to the village council. Why is it that when they two students were staring so deeply into each others eyes it is always the girl whose eyes first look toward the ground? Because the women are pushed down in all ways, even though the men will take the women to bed with them they won't respect them. Even though the women cook and clean and cater to all the men's needs the men won't respect them. I would like to create one Indian holiday opposite from Women's Day that is already celebrated here where the women actually leave the house eat at restaurants and relax. Where the husbands all have someone like a British Nanny scold them and even beat them if necessary. I'm waiting for this day to come.

When you're faced with poverty

As a person who is clearly foreign with white skin in a country where white skin is idolized and cherished it is most difficult to know the situation of those who live with nothing in comparison to my own personal background. I am definitely not individually wealthy, but I am coming from a family where I never had to worry if the heating bill would be paid or there would be food in the cupboard. This put me in a constant predicament. Tonight I am staying in Chennai with a social activist who is really changing peoples perception and motivating them to support others from different castes and classes. She stays in a third floor apartment in one district of this enormous city. There are three fashion design students taking courses and staying with her and one boy she sponsored to get his bachelor's in social work who frequents the residence. These kids are like my Indian brothers and sisters. We talk about social issues, read together, make jewelry and design fashions, cook, wash clothes and eat. They are all originally coming from rural villages, but now they can get around in the city with basic social interaction skills. Tonight after dinner and creating some new hairstyles we were enjoying the breeze on the balcony. One girls said she wanted to show me something so I went and we crossed the apartment, looked out the barred window and saw about 8 or 9 men sleeping on the roof of a building next door that is being constructed. These men are sleeping on cardboard boxes. All their belongings fill half a burlap sack. They work every day from 6am to 10 pm making 100 rupees per day. These men are my neighbors. They earn 2 dollars per day. How can you eat three meals, support your wife and young child with these wages. We know their contractors and managers are living in nice houses with air conditioning, they are able to feed their children 3 meals a day and send them to school. Their wives are decorated with silk embroidered sarees and gold jewelry but they have no concern for the people they depend on for this lifestyle. The coolie workers who are fulfilling the managers tasks can't defend themselves or protest this wage and lifestyle. If they protest the 100 rupee per day salary with disappear from their pocket and another eager oppressed person will come fill their place. Not being able to support your family but having your mouth glued shut so you can't speak about it, and your hands tied together during your daily labor, this is why i wake up everyday and bear the heat and pollution. This is why i meet officials and try to motivate students and leaders. This is why the Indian people can't bring about this change themselves.

Meals Eating

There are so many amazing foods in India, but Tamil Nadu exceeds other states in special varieties and preparations of food. You can't eat iddly for breakfast in Andhra Pradesh and you can't have dosai for dinner in West Bengal. Well, technically you can if you go to a Chettinad hotel specializing in southern food, but the atmosphere and experience isn't the same as eating local foods prepared by local people. Make sure you keep in mind that in India signs for a hotel does not refer to a place for lodging but it is in fact a restaurant. Signs for a restaurant are also referring to a place for eating complementing the institution a restaurant defines in western countries. This country survives on rice. The government has even instigated rice rations for all people to eliminate the obvious problem of starvation. You can get 20 kilograms of rice per month for a family for only one rupee per kilogram. That translates to 2 cents for one kilogram which is 2.2lbs. Even the most poor families using this ration are able to eat three meals of kanji a day. Kanji being the most basic food consists of rice and water sometimes with some salt for taste. If you aren't eating kanji and the father of the family works two to five days a month your family can have a delectable sambar to complement the government rationed rice, otherwise known as a vegetable and yellow dal sauce. I myself have taken both of these meals in my journey, but the common meal I want to describe is served in hotels. Since rice is a staple and a good source of protein and energy everyone is eating rice so in a hotel many people prefer rice meals. You wouldn't imagine how much rice one person here can eat without becoming the slightest bit overweight and some people still being extraordinarily slim. I would estimate that an individual can eat 2 cups of boiled rice per meal if given the opportunity. This is in addition to any sauces. chicken, appalam, drinks, and pickle. In a hotel when you order a rice meal, first you get a nice steel plate covered with a banana leaf that is quite often cut into the circular shape of the plate. On that plate are between five and ten small steel cups filled with a variety of sauces and even a dessert. A waiter will come and put a crispy appalam on your place and then he'll bring a huge steel bowl full of rice and start scooping it out onto everyones plate. Everyone will start tasting and pouring small amounts of sauce onto their rice in different sections seeing which sauce they want to eat first and which they want to save for the end of their meal. With a rice meal the rice is unlimited so at least two helpings of rice should be eaten. First you can mix some sambar then try the spicy beets. After eating that there may be a kurma with potatoes or peas if your eating southern Indian food. Some other types of vegetables will be served like fried bitter gourd or sweet shredded carrots. There may be an eggplant kurma with some other assorted vegetables that even taste cannot help to identify their variety. After these substantial sauces you will finish your meal with rasam or curd with salt. When you mix rasam which is like a light sometimes oily vegetable broth with your rice the rasam should be almost double the amount of rice. Then when you scoop up handfuls of rice the rasam is fully present and the Indians will tell you drinking rasam aids in digestion. Feel free to drink the rest from your plate when all the rice is gone. If you opt for curd this is basically like mixing yogurt and rice with a little salt for taste. The curd floats in its own juice which is like the water that separates in a cup of yogurt from the dairy section in the supermarket. Mix it all in add a tiny spoonful of salt mush it around and consume. After if you are lucky there will be some kaserie which is a sweet orange grainy dessert usually accented with a cashew or there will be some payasam which is most similar to tapioca, but instead of grains of rice or tapioca balls there are noodles. You can drink these directly from the steel cup itself. After all of this you will want to take a nap right there on the table, but odds are that you've stopped for this rice meal on the way to your next destination so off you go, hopefully the bumpy Indian roads with diversions and all will aid in your digestion.

Comparative Chapals

Chapals is the Tamil word for sandals. Sometimes referred to as slippers they differ from shoes which are called shoes, some Tamil English mixed language. Chapals should definitely not be worn with socks (just a tidbit of fashion advice especially white tube socks with champion logos like my parents). There are so many types of sandals it's hard to recreate the experience I am having with all the different varieties, take notice of how I said varieties instead of styles. Ok, so the styles in the shops are nice and all but this blog is about the hard core wear and tear of this dusty life of toiling in the fields and walking and walking and walking. This may be why many south Indians in Tamil Nadu choose to go without any protective footwear. Their feet are caloused and cracking with cuts and blisters, but apparently they have no concern for potential infection or fungal attacks. There is quite a discrepancy in the prevalence of people wearing shoes between the north and south. I would guestimate 99% of norther people wear shoes while maybe only 79% of southerners wear shoes. This percentage is definitely increasing with the availability of low cost models, but still health education will affect the rate change as well. You can see so many abandoned chapals on the side of the road and in trash piles ranging from mud covered single shoes to pairs of new looking chapals, there are foam varieties, but more rare is an abandoned pair of childrens footwear. I've met people who hobble around with chapals that look as if they've been worn for the past 25 years. The heel is completely worn through leaving holes at various angles depending on where the majority of their weight falls. Also many people wear chapals that they can just slide their foot into and flop around in loosely while walking. No matter if there are straps or ankle support they leave them open and redefine what a flip flop should be. I've been running for a train and my chapal has completely dislodged itself from my foot leaving me to retrieve it and attempt running again. That is what you get when you import Havianas or some other foreign product and attempt using it regularly in India. Mostly the chapals have a place for your big toe and then where ever the rest of your foot places itself seems like luck of the draw also taking into consideration the varietly of foot ailments and deformities. Today I saw someone with two feet, fortunately, but all their toes grew at 45 degree angles toward the pinky toe. This person was not wearing shoes and unfortunately there was a bag of bananas blocking my view of his foot when he sat behind me. There is also a common birth defect, potentially and highly likely to be from inbreeding, where there is an extra appendage at the end of your set of hopefully 5 toes just hanging out sticking off the outside side of your foot or hand. With sandals this node would probly enjoy itself dragging along the dusty ground as the rest of your toes were protected by the footbed of your chapal, but at the same time this may be best because when ever I see this defect I want to pluck the appendage off myself or just cut it quickly with my pocket knife. I think you would need an extra wide variety to protect this type of genetic deformity. Unfortunately I have yet to see any custom styles like that for someone who doesn't have enough money to seek medical attention in the first place to have it removed. I just got some new chapals from the Bata company which may be the most prominent commercial chain in India for shoes after my last chapals broke and I tried to repair them myself with superglue. I made four do it yourself attemps and after that failed they went in the waste bin. Whatever chapals you are wearing it is definitely best in a footwear optional culture to make sure that yours are easily removeable and replaceable. Don't get too attached because the quality of Indian shoes does not support the motto built to last. Maybe built to get dusty and fall apart is a more suitable motto for this country.

How many shawls can one priest have?

In Tamil Nadu it is a sign of respect and a tradition to drape someone with a shawl when honoring them at an event or function. Recently I attended a Jubilee ceremony for on priest named Backianatham. This jubilee function commemorated his 25th year of service to the Roman Catholic church. The event was organized by one of the Lead Forward trust members as it was especially relevant that he is a Dalit priest and the location was a Dalit village. In events in Tamil Nadu some number of people are seated on stage in plastic chairs in a row. At least one row will be present sometimes more if necessary. The stage for this even was the church steps and entry way and you can imagine in a big Dalit village they will have a big church to hold all the attendees during mass. This stage was quite gigantic and as they were arranging chairs they seemed to squeeze about 20 or 25 people on the stage as more chair were popping up on the ends when more people arrived to fill them. Backianatham sat in the middle and for hours people gave speeches about Backinathams leadership and monumental career. He has really helped many people and supported many local projects as a leader. So after each speech out from the sidelines popped a sparkly or woollen shawl and the speech giver draped it over Backianatham and then posed for a cheesy photo that will go in some scrapbook and collect dust on a shelf with other 2009 memories. After about 20 shawls refolded in a pile were amassed I began to wonder after 25 years as a priest, not including his time as a brother how many shawls could be possibly have. Probably after 10 years and 15 years there is also a similar ceremony to collect shawls and this even excludes all the individuals who shawl him because he is a priest or helped their family. One thing to mention is the moment after being shawled you can remove the shawl, towel, fabric or some sort and another party folds it neatly along the creases as it was just unfolded from the package to be placed over your shoulders so there is really no time when you are wearing the shawl just people have the photos to construct the memory of that fine moment when you were wearing the shawl. After the jubilee I guestimate that Backianatham has about 3 house fulls of shawls probably exploding out of the windows and creeping through the cracks of the dried palm leaves and straw that make for a fine summertime roof. They layer the floor and could construct a plush bed or bench. You would never run out of makeshift pillows and there would always be shawls to shawl someone else with which brings me to the second rhetorical question... Is it appropriate to re-shawl someone with a shawl that you've been shawled with? As a final comment I know one priest who gives the shawls and towels to all the people in his native place. After spending six days with him I saw his shawl pile triple and he's only been ordained as a priest for one year. What will his jubilee ceremony be like?

Hindu Temples vs. Starbucks

Hindu Temples are as common in Tamil Nadu as Starbucks on the streets of New York City. This hypothesis doesn't need any factual support with numbers and statistics, all you have to do is go for a walk in either place, take that amount as equivalent to the other then you can understand the magnitude of both coffee monopolies and religious invasion. Ten years ago NYC was full of small businesses setting up great coffee shop with themes and atmosphere. Whether you were in Chelsea or Soho the locals would be able to guide you in the direction of a coffee shop that was uniquely New York. Once Starbucks took off and buying overpriced latte's became trendy, because what else can starving artists and underpaid waitresses afford? Maybe one sample at the Triple Five Soul sample sale per year, but enough Starbucks frappachino's to fulfill their daily need for caffeine they multiplied forcing all the small business back to jersey or upstate to struggle with small town shops and cafes. Result: Starbucks is a huge success and monopolizes the coffee industry in NY and across the US as well. Well, no longer am I a New Yorker, I am an Indian girl, or at least I am trying to become one. Okay I can't speak Tamil though one of the recognized national languages is English, and I posses brown hair and hazel eyes, but I wear the local dress hang out with only local people, eat and cook the local food, so those factors should count for some transformation in me. If you walk down my street in Chengelpattu you pass some churches, boarding schools, hospitals and shops, but in every Hindu shop, and let's face it most of the shop owners are caste people so they are Hindu, there is a small shrine. In between the churches and schools are wooden huts sheltering statues of Ganesh or Shiva. This doesn't account for the two story tall blue cats that protect the Hindu temples when you drive from Chengelpattu to Pondicherry or the historical sandstone temple which consists of four temples inside the fortress walls that makes Tanjore so famous, no, only I'm speaking about Chengelpattu itself. If you go inside any Hindu persons home they definitely have a turmeric or sandalwood mark on their door to bless their home and they will have a small shrine or a shelf full of idols that they can worship any time they wake up, after going to toilet, or after returning from the wine shop. So we've discusses the homes, makeshift shrines, shop devotees and large temples throughout the state, but what about the individual temples themselves. If a Hindu person own land there will be a temple there. In a village in the Hindu section there will be a temple there. Even on the dashboard of a Hindu car there will be a god to worship and adorn with fresh flowers everyday. You pass the colorfully rainbow colored tower style temples taking the bus anywhere on any highway. You see the Hindus dressed in bright red going for pilgrimage to the appropriate temple that they feel is best. You see the stark white temples where the gods all blend together with faint shadows separating their bodies from cow tails and other architectural details. After seeing this blasphemy of religion, if you can call a system of idol worship that supports an oppressive system of caste religion, everywhere it becomes as common as trash piles that the cows munch on all day. It is so common that the people themselves oppress because of the Hindu religion and it's smirti without even realizing why or how their own beliefs allow them to degrade other human to feel less than the dirt they themselves walk on. Once a few people can realize how common and robotic their entire "religion" is then they can start to think for themselves and realize the mistake they have made by adorning a plastic cow with jasmine flowers in the perfect shade of ivory.

White Babies

If you take a moment to examine the public reading material in the US, mainly magazines, newspapers textbooks etc, the photographs of so called ordinary people are usually black or white like the people in our country. This is not meant to be racist in any way, just to see some cultural differences and really examine racism beyond the obvious black and white. I visited the card shop today to find a birthday card for my nine year old friend Ashwithi. She speaks English fluently and can be seen taking the center of attention or vying for it. At the card shop there were many cards to choose from. Mostly birthday cards, some for Christmas and some for holy communion. The card I picked had a butterfly theme with a pop out inside which I thought was great for the occasion, but I could have easily picked a drawing of a white naked baby holding a rose with some gold glitter instead. There were no cards with black babies or Indian babies, or Swedish babies. Earlier this year I photographed a Math book and on the first page of the first lesson was a white baby with a bumblebee costume. Who is this child and why are they in the Math book for LKG students? Can an Indian student aged 6 identify with a white baby? Chances are they have never seen a white person before. During my first month here for Pongol holiday I went to the village Alagapasamuthiram and met our successful student Susai's mother. She is also a success story and inspires her whole village among others with her hard work and dedication to provide funding for her children to complete studies through college. On the wall in the main room of their house there were two posters with motivational phrases.... and WHITE BABIES. Susai's mother is obviously Indian, so why are the people famed on the walls white? The British rule in India was a detrimental time of exploitation and segregation. The caste system itself sprouted from British Brahminical thinking. The people who are oppressed in villages want to identify themselves in their home and school with the same color person that put them in the situation to struggle for basic survival. I think if you explained this they would not accept this arrangement, so why are there white babies? Don't get me wrong I've seen some Asian babies on posters in pediatric hospitals and saree shops, but the majority of the subjects are clearly of Aryan descent. Today also I began to promote the slogan 'Black is Beautiful' to two shop girls who were saying how beautiful I was after buying some kerchiefs. I dominated after they put themselves down by comparing the color of their arm to mine and said their arm was the better color, my face is an ugly red color and I want a beautiful face like theirs, even throwing in the Tamil words for good and beautiful. The didn't have a chance to combat because they felt a moment of confidence and were too shocked to react. The printing presses should start photographing Indian babies and the tradition of putting a black dot on a child's face and feet so say they are too young to be complimented should be outlawed. You should be able to say an infant is beautiful or cute even without having to worry about some made up curse threatening their future. I've met people suffering from the effects of the evil eye and I feel terrible that they are the only ones making themselves suffer so. It's pitiful. In resolution, make and buy posters with Indian babies, compliment infants on their looks and features and forget about the imaginary spirits that will threaten your entire psyche and physical being. Affect your future by taking full advantage of NOW!

My Wedding Ring

So after being in India four months I have learned first hand about the reputation that preceds foreign women. Not only have I heard stories and read them in the news about incidents when foreign women acted in a most unrespectable manner, but I have seen volunteers wearing provocative clothing even around children. This reputation extends to me and it is something I am battling against along with the stereotype that all foreigners are super rich. In this fight to the finish I have made one purchase that has changed my individual status and if it were true and I returned to the US I would get some tax breaks. I bought a wedding ring. Ok, so it is a seriously cheap imposter costing 70 rupees or $1.40. Now it is becoming tarnished... must be the water. The backside has been scratched through to expose its copper color, and sometimes it turns my finger green, but the stories I tell and the jokes between my local friends are quite entertaining. Men will be quite provocative in shops and especially on buses. The only prompt for them is my white skin. Not even my western clothing is an excuse for this forward behavior because all the modern girls wear jeans. So now I am a married woman. I usually say I have been married for a year and have no children because then I would have to stay in my country because I would miss them too much. Last week my husband was an architect and this week he is a banking manager. The best joke is that last week I had a son, really no morning sickness or stretch marks. My husband is supposed to come visit in June, but we talk every couple days and the situation is really difficult. Sometimes I just laugh to myself and try to imagine marrying a bank manager. What kind of life would I lead then? Fortunately this tends to ward off the more strange behavior, but the intentions won't change. People are no different, having extramarital affairs and prostuting themselves. If someone is trying to touch you inappropriately they will manage to do it. Really this is an experience to understand how the women are thought of in society. Their sex is not given respect, but they will be exploited for sex with no consequence. Who knows what my husband will be doing next week or if i'll have quintuplets, but in the mean time I am having some interesting unavoidable life experiences.

Code of Conduct

Chennai is a wild city, and traveling by any means is always an adventure. In my last visit I was going with my friend and fellow activist Sherin to meet a team of drug sellers in the district of Guindy. No, we weren't going to fuel our cocaine addiction, these people are selling pharmaseuticals under the prestegious name Swiss Garnier. Personally I think of pocket knives mixed with hair products from Swiss Army Knives and Garnier Fructis shampoo's and conditioners. From Perambur we took an auto rickshaw that Sherin had already taken one tour of the city with previously that day. You have to be careful not to hire a drunkard, then your drive will be more nauseating and dangerous than imagineable. Since she trusted this driver she hired him again. The drive in auto is almost one hour through the dusty streets, past slums and high class neighborhoods and hotels, but this certain adventure would show how comfortable I have become as an expatraite, and also how much more adaptation I would need to really become a local. We were driving along a stretch of road consisting of three lanes, at least the pavement marking were for three lanes, but the drivers created about 5. This auto rickshaw driver had been driving dangerously close to every car, person, and fueling tank that we approached. In one instance a two wheeler, otherwise known as a motorcycle rolled back 1 inch after coming to a stop in traffic and hit the auto because our driver was so close to his bike there was no place for his movement of any kind. Fortunately or not this couple was muslim and the woman on the back of the bike was sitting side saddle wearing a burka. As soon as her eyes met the auto man's her arm flew in the air and a clenched fist began waving in his direction. He tried to pay no mind, but because he was so close her scolding was unavoidable. So on the three lane open road the traffic was building. Auto man's phone started ringing in his pants pocket. He began frantically searching for it, something to distract him from his hectic and semi-unfortunate life and a driver. He ended up missing the call but slowed the auto so much so that he was lagging behind all other traffic. He placed the phone next to his left leg on the seat. About 3 minutes later the phone rang and his erratic driving slowed again. He began talking and driving Sherin and I. This moment is similar to being the passenger on a motorcycle driven by one hand. I freaked out. Earlier I had asked for his accident record and he told me he was a very safe cautious driver. No way I felt safe at this point. I began first telling him to hang up the phone, louder and louder I commented. He began talking about me in another language to the third party. After he hung up in annoyance I really sent him some words. I told him he was an idiot for disobeying the traffic laws that you can't drive and speak on the phone and that he knew better. I told him I didn't want to die in India and that he was responsible for my life, Sherin's life and his own which clearly didn't affect him at all. Then I said if he recieved any other calls he must pull over and by this point I was making huge gestures with my arms to explain myself better. I'm sure he understood everything I said. He said the call was an emergency and I said I didn't care who it was he must pull over or i'll beat him until he does. I told him that he knew better and why didn't he use his head to think instead of just hold the phone to it. Does he want to die? I pestered him until his repeated yes mam's because monotonous. So much for the traffic police or the intense signs saying all these things like talking on the phone and drinking will kill you and someone else in your potential accident. Really the signs are intense I'll post some traffic and health safety signage in the future. So now i'm working to change the individual and act as a mother or guidance counselor for all the misdeed's I witness. I can almost guarantee that I didn't affect him at all, but at least Sherin was entertained for part of the ride.

Are you in India?

You know when you're in India because in the month of May the rooftops and sidewalks are too hot to walk on without shoes. Even when you say the word shoes it only means enclosed footwear. If you are referring to sandals which everyone is wearing then you should refer to them as slippers. If you are washing your laundry by hand in buckets then you go and hang them to dry in the sun you first try to go without shoes because it is the most natural and lazy way, but soon after the soles of your feet are red and they feel like they are covered in 1,000 blisters you hold your dripping wet clothes on one arm and put your shoes on with the other.
You know you're in India when you wake up in the morning and after opening your eyes you are already sweating like you have just been working out at the gym. If you take a shower you need to have an initial sweat to block your pores so you sweat less afterwards or you are already wet so you don't feel as if you are sweating as much. If you eat a meal anytime during the day or night, even after the sun sets and the cool night air consumes your surroundings, you will sweat. Whether it is the curry spices or the work you have to do chewing and feeding yourself you will be sweating like a fat white man at New Jersey beach.
You know you are in India if you have strange happenings with your skin. If you go for a walk and then prepare to take a bath and see heat rash all over your thighs or sit on the floor during dinner and then realize that your leg is covered in red ants that are biting you. If you scrape your knee or scratch your mosquito bites and everyone shows concern and wonders how and what has happened to you similar to the effect of you being in a serious accident. If you being to examine other peoples strange skin ailments like albinism, boils, goiters, strange scars and then suspect yourself of the same problems. You are definitely in India.
If you are in a restaurant, meeting, medical shop, fruit stand, bus station or wherever and everyone around you is coughing and hacking and spitting pieces of their throats on the ground you are definitely in India. I think at least half the population has some kind of bronchial infection, irritation or just enjoys hacking. The intensity of the dust is something that no human body, no matter how long you have worked to adapt to this environment, cannot get used to. The pollution and exhaust from the cars with no emission standards is definitely another culprit, but no one is complaining about that.
You know you are in India when you ask local people for directions and they themselves don't even know where places are. Is it before or after the slum area?Is it the first street on the right or the second street on the left. If you read the book India: Culture Shock as I did before visiting you will be informed that people will make up directions even if they don't know where your destination is. As if it is making you less manly if you admit that you don't know where the location is. This is something to hilariously compare to the US with the notion that men won't ask for directions. After living in India, I'm not sure if it's women's instinct or experience, but I can tell when someone is making up directions even if they seem totally legitimate. This is definitely a task that needs superior focus because the directions are being given to someone in my party in Tamil. Sometimes the attitude or the drunken slurs that give it away.

Is this a beach vacation?

It seems somehow, as fortunate as I may be, whether it is almost getting hit by a bus or motorcycle, or getting to taste some random exotic fruit I've never tried before that I always end up at the beach. In my journey so far I have not taken any time on my own to travel away from Lead Forward and have spent most all of my time with people working for the program or in relation to impoverished people in India. I have maximum 4 non Indian acquaintances and I call them that because 3 of them I've only met once, and the other has left the country. So how is it that I have all these magnificent beach experiences. I've been to the tourist beaches where historic temples come with a high fee for entrance, even for India. I've been to the biggest beach 13km long with a width that you could hold track and field events. I've seen boys practicing gymnastics and break dancing flipping and flopping in the sand and crashing into the sea. I've been accosted by boys with their 'pet' monkeys trying to get any rupee from the foreign girl. I've been to deserted beaches where fishing villages are still trying to reconstruct their lives after tsunami devastation. I've been taken out to sea in their hardcore boats with thumping trumpets of engines cruising along with priests and administrative assistants. I've been to the most deserted village beaches near Cuddalore where all the industrial factories are developing without any pollution control. To compare the most industrial places with the most natural without any restrictions for either, no wonder they say Cuddalore is the #5 most polluted city in the world. I wonder what the future toxicity of that gorgeous beach will be. I've sat under a palm tree plucking roses to put in my hair while eating cashew biscuits and drinking Pepsi. I've had women's empowerment discussions under these palm trees. I've been to the touristic Silver Beach where there have been so many people it's difficult to see the sand or walk and on other visits I've relaxed in the sand for hours losing track of time discussing philosophy and culture. I've indulged in cashew butterscotch ice cream that costs only 20 cents. It's rich creamy half melted consistency cooling me along with the sticky ocean breeze. I've sat with families. I've sat with friends. I've sat with clergy. I've debated with security officers who don't speak English and bad mouthed commissioners who have come to inspect and regulate the beach scene. I've eaten fried, battered bananas, chillies and onions wiping my greasy fingers on my jeans or some newspaper. I've swam with skirts, jeans and churyda, but never in a swimsuit. I've been an assistant architect for magnificent sandcastles and posed in photos with random strangers. I've watched the sun set into the sparking black sea it's blazing pink, orange and red colors captured, everlasting by my dinosaur of a camera. For all the frustration and fight the oppressed are faced with whether or not they can afford a cinema ticket to distract themselves for three hours at least there is so much natural beauty that they can surely be distracted for a while.

School Time

clockwise from top left:

-Dalit Graduation Ceremony, Chennai with students from Dr. Arullappa, Neerpayer

-3rd Std. students at St. Joseph's Porour (Fr. Jayaseeleans establishment)

-Sacred Heart, Cuddalore: Sister Sagayam teaching embroidery stitches

-English reading practice at Sacred Heart Cuddalore Hostel

-Lead Forward students of Sacred Heart Cuddalore

-My visit of St. Mary's Chengelpattu