Amritsari Whiplash

Amritsar is located in the northern most part of India along the Pakistani border. In total, we spent 21 hours in Amritsar, of which 13 or so were spent awake and exploring.

Upon arrival to the Amritsar Station, we were greeted by Mr. Bubbles --a tall and regal white-haired man-- who happens to be the General’s older brother. He transported us to the Tourist Guest House, where he and his wife live in semi-retirement. There we meet Mrs. Bubbles. Like myself, she is fair-skinned and dark-haired. She noted that many northern Indian women (Punjabi women) look like us. We held a brief conversation over a cup of chai, and then we were escorted to our room. “Okay, see you at 5:30am!” Said Mrs. Bubbles.

As instructed, Meli and I were up and ready to go by 5:30am. Accompanied by the Bubbles and their adopted grandchildren, Arti and Sahrov, we set out to the Golden Temple. While we missed the sunrise ceremony, I was incredibly moved by the beauty of the temple and the fervor with which people prayed. It was a lovely break from the hustle and bustle of the city that at times muffles the sounds of chants and the sense of spirituality that is characteristic of India.



“Amritsari food is unlike any other cuisine in India.” We heard this repeatedly from our coworkers. The Bubbles agreed and promised to give us a Gastronomic Tour of Amritsar during our flash visit. To start, we had a traditional Indian breakfast composed of puris (a puffed-up, fried tortilla of sorts), chaana (chickpeas), mango chutney, sweet lassi, and an Indian pancake... I can happily report that the rumors were true. Much of it was deep fried, but delicious. This meal alone induced a food coma. Contrary to what my physician would suggest, I took a short nap once we returned to the guesthouse.


After awaking from my food coma, Mr. Bubbles helped us organize a cab that would transport us to the India-Pakistani Border where they perform Wagah Border Ceremony. This tradition started in 1959 and consists of a celebration of patriotism and the lowering of the flags. It was unreal to think we were so close to Pakistan. At one point in the ceremony, the gates are opened momentarily; only long enough for a handshake between an Indian and Pakistani solder. In addition to the many thoughts that crossed my mind related to patriotism, gendered segregation (men were seated in one area and women in another), and unequal treatment (tourist were given their own section where we enjoyed of wiggle room), I was captivated by the cheerleader, or the master of ceremonies. With the lift of a finger he would command the attention of the Indian public and inspire them to cheer ever so loudly... our cheerleaders could learn a thing or two from him. lol


The ceremony ended at sundown and we head back to the guest house for dinner. I wish I had photographed my meals, but I was too busy eating them- so I apologize. For dinner I had the most exquisite deep fried fish, with chaana, paneer pakoras, roti, and a mango fruit salad. My chubbies were so happy, but they were feeling sooooo fatty-fat (as Anita says lol).


Our trip concluded with a late night talk with the Bubbles, and an early train ride back the next morning. I am still recovering from the whiplash. Thank you Mr. & Mrs. Bubbles for the hospitality! :)

Happy Birthday Geeta!

We had the pleasure of attending Geeta's 7th birthday celebration (Laxmi's daughter).

This is the lovely and curious Geeta. She periodically accompanies Laxmi during the evenings while she prepares dinner. Our apartment then becomes her hunting ground. She likes to inspect the rooms, play with our computers, draw and take pictures, get into Meli's pencil box and my make-up bag, and she loves to speak to us in Hindi as if we understood.

Auntie picked us up around 8:30pm and walked us over to Laxmi's home. Before then, we had no idea where or how close Laxmi lived to us. We soon found out that she lives in a slum neighborhood tucked behind some apartments just across the street. It was dark outside, but we managed to slither through some narrow/unpaved pathway without harm. Laxmi, her husband, two children and sister in law share a room the size of a standard US laundry room. They didn't have much, but Laxmi said they are "very happy" as she proudly noted that her union was a "love marriage." We were humbled to take part in the celebration. <3

I will spare you the details on the celebration, and let the pictures do the talking.

Eva's Journey to Speaking Hindi PART II

Good morning/good evening class! lol

I am happy to announce that I have moved from single words to small phrases... On the flip side, I am embarrassed to share that my Hindi is still BROKEN and in dire need of a linguistic mechanic. Here is what I have learned since my last post:

• dadaji- paternal grandfather
• dadiji- paternal grandmother
• naniji- maternal grandmother
  
• nanaji- maternal grandfather
• chalo!- You go!
• ou!- Come!
• kripya- please
• ghitdi (jeetdee)- demanding... this is often how Laxmi refers to her daughter Geeta lol
• me apse pyiar bohot car du- I love you very much
• tom paghal ho- you are mad/crazy!
• apkaise pasan karte ho _____?- do you like _____?
• paghal- crazy
• gussa- angry
• agla- next
• mera favorite - my favorite
• apka favorite _____ kya he?- What is your favorite _______?
• tora, tora- little little (I say "tora tora Hindi. English me")
• mera nehi- not me
• chaldhi, chaldhi- hurry, hurry!
• mujhe nehi patah- I don't know
• mujhe bhook lag rahi hai- I am hungry!
  

For the next phrases and words I need to give you some context. Today during class, Poonam and Varsha insisted that I take pictures. My first response was:

• last me- at the end (of class)

Then, they began to pout, slid their thumb forward from their chin, and said:

• katti- I am 'breaking friendship with you'
  

I immediately cracked up remembering the Mexican cortala ritual. For those of you unfamiliar with the tradition, it's a 'breaking friendship' ritual wherein your index fingers face each other and the person who is being 'cut', proceeds to sever the connecting fingers with her index finger, and thereby agrees to end the friendship. This is very common among children, although I have known some adults to engage in such behavior. haha

Lastly, they said:

• baat nehi carengue- I am not speaking to you!

After some tickling and cheek pinching, this is how the argument ended...

by giving in and taking pictures. lol


That concludes today's lesson... Sorry that my progress has been as slow as atole.

Rishikesh Day 3 & 4: Have we forgotten our Mother?

The most impressive part of DAY 3 was the Arti Ceremony. Arti, often called "the ceremony of lights," is the most popular Hindu ceremony involving gurus, holy people, and other divine representations (like Shiva, Lord of Mercy and Compassion). The ceremony lasted about 45 minutes and consisted of chanting, the passing of a five-wick lamp and other items. During the ceremony, members of the congregation pass their fingers over the flame and touch their foreheads. They also sprinkle water from the Ganga River (per Indian name) over their heads. It was a wonderful ceremony to witness. In concert with the sunset and the sounds of the swollen river, the chants and lights offered a space for reflection and prayer. The stillness of the wind, allowed me to bask in the prayers lifted by my sisters/brothers; to feel their most intimate of desires and needs. Without any promise of delivery, they chanted, clapped, and prayed faithfully. I wondered if Abuelita Lupe was there and followed by lifting a prayer for my loved ones. My prayer included YOU. <3





Keeping with the theme of enlightenment and awareness, we actively searched for a Yoga class on DAY 4-- after all, Rishikesh is the 'Yoga Capital of the World.' After visiting several Yoga Studios, we were fortunately referred to an ashram where we received FREE personalized instruction, tea, watermelon, and had the privilege of meeting Guruji, the founder of the ashram and most revered man by his followers. Having taken a break from Yoga, it was a challenging yet invigorating experience.





We couldn't leave without visiting her... the Ganga River. She was swollen and cold after the showers from days before. She flowed steady raising the dirt which tinted her with the color brown. Excited to make her acquaintance, I removed my shoes and held the chain attached to a cemented pole as I descended into her womb. Her initial coldness was shocking. It was as if the coldness acted as a defense mechanism alerting her visitors to her strength and value. She felt me and I felt her. Soon, the coldness disappeared and with it went my hesitation to submerge myself in her. "Ram, ram, 1; ram, ram , 2..." I chanted while holding hands with some beautiful young women from Rajasthan, India. With each submersion, she enveloped me with her warmth and energy. I realized that more than washing my body, she had given me a portal into her hurt. Her exasperation became mine. Together we pained over the harm woman/man had violently inflicted upon her, her mother, and her father. Ashamed of my neglect (our neglect) I apologized.... "Forgive us sister, for we have wronged you!"

Have we forgotten our mother?

**You can find a video of the arti ceremony on the side bar.