4 August: Little Stars, Shopping/Cow Slalom, and Mall/Movie: Bhaag Milkha Bhaag

4 August: Heading to Bright Star School for girls and boys, residential facility for girls

In the back of a bouncy car with questionable suspension winding through the streets of Varanasi. Dennis and I are in teh way back, he's clutching the headrest in front of him. Wendy and Catherine are talking about the cultural forms of negotiation...how a high (or low) starting number isn't meant to be insulting it's a starting point for the elaborate dance that is bargaining here. And Gene is up front with the driver, wearing a seatbelt for the first time in India. He's no dummy. 

We need to stop fir sweets to take to the girls. This venture is happening because of a conversation Catherine had last night with a woman at the sitar concert. In a  nutshell, she helps run a residential facility for abandoned children outside Varanasi. Her husband has been a Fulbright fellow and is a good friend of Adam Grotsky, the country director for USIEF. She and her kids were fun to talk to, and when she issued the invitation to come out and meet the girls at the center, we jumped at the chance.  

As we drive, we can't help but comment more on the traffic here. What I keep coming back to is the men on bike carts, with one tire in front and two in back supporting a flat panel that extends 4-6 feet out behind. A guy just rode by with at least 10 mattresses piled on the back. We regularly see guys with 8-9 propane tanks on the back, 15 sacks of grain (and we're talking big sacks), or stacks of 5-meter PVC piping in tow. The bummer is when you see these guys have to put the brakes on for some yahoo traffic move by a bigger vehicle. Then they have to start the momentum drive all over again. I have seen just one facial expression on these men: resignation. It's strange: it both fortifies and hurts the heart to see. I wish I could cut these guys--universally--a break. I just don't know what that would look like.

Back to Little Stars. We had a meeting with founder Asha, her sister Dolly and Rishi, Asha's daughter. They started the school with 7 kids in Dolly's house. Now teaching 850 kids, from playgroup to Grade 2 is in this building, from 3-10 is in another building. Wants classes 30-35, parents beg for more space, so they keep increasing class size, because if they don't take the kids, the kids spend day on street. At least they can get some study, some small work. So many classes have 60 students ("please, just one more" is a constant parent refrain). 

Rishi is 22, looks much younger. Helps out teaching younger classes, doing masters in linguistics at BHU, helps with office work. She's the one Dennis targeted to show the structure, purpose and strategy of www.globalgiving.org. He believes she'll use it, but he says she might need help. Fortunately, and wonderfully, I think he'll actually follow up and advise her. 

The schools has 35-40 teachers, more for younger kids. We walked through the first room on the ground floor where a group of girls was working at a table, focused on their copybooks even though it was Sunday morning. These are the girls who live here, orphans or children of single parents, they live here because their parents cannot take care of them. The building is concrete slab, very squarish construction, high ceilings, brightly painted walls. In fact, the mural on the ground floor in the opening room (where the girls were working around a rectangular wooden table) was beautiful in its pastel depiction of Lord Krishna and his entourage. 

The school has only private funds; its financial future is uncertain. There is not a designated director of fundraising, and toward the end of our visit Dennis spent some time showing Rishi about www.GlobalGiving.org. He also asked if their school/organization was connected to a legal entity in the States. In addition to teaching full-time, Dennis provides a wealth of legal services to the kids (and families) in his school. He knows the landscape well of what foreign NGOs need to operate (or at least receive donations) from individuals and organizations in the US. We learned that Little Stars gets donations where they can. The new school, a gorgeous 3-story cement building, was funded by a Dutch donor who apparently ran out of money 80% through construction. Serendipitously, another tourist came by soon after, saw the school, heard about its financial troubles, and the next day contributed the remainder to finish the new building (500,000 rupees, about $10,000). Amazing. Currently, costs run about 6000 rupees per year for each student to provide all materials and uniforms. Teachers get 4000 rupees for month. Some donors sponsor a child, a teacher, etc. To run an organization, you need good staff, well-trained, well-educated, must provide salary for them so they can sustain their families.

We saw their facility, the classrooms, including a really nice (for a neighborhood like this, with peeling paint and intermittent basic services) computer lab. It had 20 computers, most of which function in a way teachers can count on. Folks who aren't teachers might not get the gravity of that--it is often the case that a computer lab with 24 machines will have 80% functional use when you're scheduled for a lesson/research. This means you constantly have to troubleshoot for some students. It's not an educational calamity, but it keeps you on your toes. 

The girls sleep in bright blue metal bunks on the second level, beds which are pushed aside each morning so the room can be swept. Next to their bedroom is the kitchen, a galley-type with a big bowl of brown potatoes, sacks of lentils, and pots that are (mostly) very clean. The girls do the cooking and the cleaning up, supervised by a neighborhood woman. Similarly, the new school building is maintained by a local family who gets to live below it rent-free in exchange for their maintenance. The upper school does not provide lunch ("too much to take on") but it has clean, new classrooms, though they hardly look big enough to accommodate the 60 kids squeezed in to each room. Asha said initially she taught kids for just 1 hour a day, but quickly realized that the kids needed and wanted more. Over time, parents saw the benefit of having literate children who also knew math and even some English. Remember, parents were weighing this against the money their kids brought in through work. Over the past 13 years, the neighborhood has embraced her. Theirs is one of the groups ChildLine (remember them from New Light and Kolkata?) calls when little children are deposited at the train station. 

Thanks to Catherine's foresight, we brought candy to share with the girls and with the family who runs the place. The girls showed off their hairstyling skills (future metier for some) by giving Catherine and Wendy S. new "dos" and by trimming Gene's moustache. This was on the 3rd floor of their 4 story building. Over 2 dozen girls live in this space, and the school is unable to house the number of girls who need its services. We heard heart-rending tales today where the director had to say no to people who really, really need the services, simply because there's no more space to responsibly take another child. At least not right now. The building is basic. It's concrete, airy, spare. It functions precisely because, as Dolly said, we ask the girls to take responsibility. They take care of themselves, of each other, in ways that facilitate day-to-day management: cooking, laundry, helping the younger or the less intellectually able get ready for the day, etc. We spoke to a few girls who've been there since they were 2. The sense of responsibility, the air of kindness and ownership...was beautiful to behold. The school is English medium through 5th grade, then Hindi medium through 10th (can't afford English medium for all). Students who wish to study beyond 10th are sponsored individually, some even in English medium schools. These add to the difficulty of financial decisions for the group.

I gave them $40, and I'm looking forward to sharing their story with my students in the fall. 

_______________________________

Wendy and I laid low in the early afternoon. Then we went to Fab India and I spent a bunch of money on awesome clothes and gifts. Like, completely awesome. It's wrong to brag, so I won't go into details. I also won't talk too much about the stinking VAT (value added tax, whatever that means). It is so freaking high in this country, probably because very few people a) participate in the formal economy, and b) pay their taxes (if in doubt, see "a"). Then we had a really funny autorickshaw ride...getting a "cab" here is a deeply psychological affair for a foreigner, as you have to receive the onslaught of offers from various transport purveyors. "Madam, I can take you", "Madam, come with me", "Madam, where you go?", "Madam, this way". It goes on and on. "Only hundred rupees" (for a 30 rupee ride, typically). "Madam, come with me right now". It takes energy to enter the fray, but our vigilance was worth it, or maybe it was just the luck of the draw. Our young, paan-spitting driver saw that we were taking videos of the ride, and he made the most of it. The traffic was about 50% of what we'd seen the previous day (why am I always missing the best filming times?), and it seemed like every time I turned off the camera I immediately saw something worth filming: another near-accident (we had two en route to the theater), men urinating against walls, pigs in the street, hordes of orange-clad Shiva worshippers carrying their precious loads of Ganga water slung over their shoulders on poles decorated with silver, orange and green tinsel. But then we hit the cow slalom course, and it was all worth it.

So we arrived at the mall for the show, and met everyone at McDonald's. That's right. You have it: 4 August 2013, I went to McDonald's. I even ordered and ate something, a Diet Coke, a small fries and a McVeggie Burger (peas, green beans, and a masala-y lentil mash). I ditched the mayo-laden bun and ate half the veggie pattie. It was...okay. Wendy and I hit the Nike store for her to buy an official India cricket jersey (a little jealous there) and then killed an hour by walking through the unairconditioned 4 floors, peeking in shops, having a coffee, and then waiting a stifling 15 minutes in the 4th floor cinema lobby for the theater to open. We had "gold seating", the back row. My seat was in the far left corner, the last one. Row Q, seat 25. Truth be told, the seat looked 100% skeevy, slicked down with sweat and general wear. The movie was Bhaag Milkha Bhaag, Run Michael Run, about the famed Indian sprinter Milkha Singh in the 1950s and 60s. I really enjoyed the film despite the fact that it was 3+ hours long and had an intermission. Oh, and about 30 cell phones went off during the film. And it was entirely in Hindi...with a little Punjabi thrown in, but I don't speak that either. Having said that, I only missed about 5-10% of the plot because the film (and most Bollywood films, so I hear) are so obvious that you don't need language at all to get the story. Like, at all. I look forward to watching it in English, though it's got a few graphically violent scenes so I don't think it will be good for Liv and Ruby. And Chris will find it too predictable, too facile to hold his interest, especially for 3 hours. But I'd like to see it again.

I walked home with Sanjeev and Gene. Everyone else took a bike rickshaw. I was tired at first, kind of envied that, but the walk ended up being just the ticket to clear my mind and mood. I was really grateful, although I walked up on the sidewalk (uneven and dog-ridden) while the guys walked in the street, facing oncoming traffic: no thanks.

Almost 1:00 a.m. and tomorrow we fly to Delhi.  

3 August: heritage walk #2, Sarnath, and Sitar concert

3 August: heritage walk #2 and Sarnath

Up early this morning (5:30) for heritage walk back in the old streets of Varanasi. We still cannot get close to the ghats. I think the Ganga is cresting today, it looks even higher than yesterday, if that's possible. It's moving fast and the swirls on the surface make you know how much movement is below the surface too. It's churning in spots, definitely not safe for boats. We cannot see any steps at all, so this means no bathing, prayer services or normal funerary action. It's kind of a bummer for us as academic tourists, but it must be a serious problem for families who have come to cremate their dead. I wonder if those functions can still be performed now in the way(s) that are important for fulfillment of religious obligations. There's a question to put to Girish.

The walk this morning was a lot like yesterday's, follow Ajay Panday, hear stories about the architecture and how it reflects not only religious/cultural beliefs, but historical phenomena as well. For instance, we saw a riverfront mosque today whose 65 meter minarets were destroyed--one by a natural disaster and the other dismantled by the government to keep it from toppling over onto nearby houses. We saw a small mosque that's been maintained by a Hindu family for over 30 years. We saw a temple to Krishna that allowed no photos, but celebrated the cow-centric aspect of this deity. To hide the temple from Moghul invaders in the 17th century, it was built in the shape/style of a home, with a large open courtyard (freshly swept, though incompletely, of its cow droppings from the previous day). We went to one of the last municipal "stables" where cows are housed. This one had 42 in its care, and whereas I'm unclear on many of the cow-maintenance details, I learned that female cows are owned by individuals. Male cows are manifestations of Lord Shiva; no one owns them. The bulls are said to be Nandi, a "vehicle for Shiva". Male calves are offered to Shiva, then become holy (?). Female cows are milked morning and night, but they can wander the streets during the day. Ajay said there have been smuggling issues with the cows of late, where they get taken to Bangladesh, sold and slaughtered. Ick. 

We started our day in a Koosti (sp?) ring. It's a rectangular wrestling "ring" in an airy garden, again in a courtyard up a few flights of stairs, tucked into the labyrinth of the tiny streets. The Ramayana and other sacred texts make mention of koosti, it's of religious significance. Hanuman is the god of strength and power, and his devotees especially might be inclined toward this ancient practice (though Ajay said it's dying out in the face of modern sports like cricket). The soil is mixed with clay, turmeric, neem (a healing tree), curd, and mustard oil, so it's good for the body. Ajay said people from all communities used to take part in this sport, but now it's mostly just the milk men community (?!). He offered that maybe they have the best access to good health, given what they sell. There is a tremendous emphasis on milk in this country, for health and religion (more in north than south, perhaps?) 

Story: Brahma created the cow and said it was sacred. He invited all the gods to take a piece of the cow's body and claim it, so that part would be representative of them. Lakshmi thought very (too?) highly of herself and waited until the last moment. She asked Shiva which part of the cow would be for her. All parts were already claimed, so he told her the dung would be hers. We see here that it is gathered, dried and used as fuel or to patch houses in villages, or even to tamp down the dust in the front yard. It's very important culturally. 

We finished the day with our first street food: a samosa-like blend of lentils, cumin and perhaps potato, deep fried and smoky flavored. Then bread like luchi from Bengal (fried pockets of bread--burned my fingers!) and a spicy tangy sambhal. Yum. The last stop was the home of Harish Chandar (not sure I spelled that right), the founder of modern Hindi. We met his grandson, a man in his 70s, I'd bet. Chandar was an incredibly accomplished writer, poet, journalist and social reformer. He helped get education for girls off the ground, he wrote and acted in plays (not done by respectable people at that time), published journals and knew lots of the literati of his era. His most important accomplishment was the creation of a single version of Hindi. Apparently he was consulted by folks in the British administration who were looking to impose a more uniform educational structure in this part of the Empire, and they were looking for a language to unify the various language/dialect groups. I'm not sure how he did it--since I know almost nothing about Hindi and even less about its dialects--but his was the version adopted by the British and now used in schools everywhere. He died at the age of 34. Who knows what he might have added to the culture had he lived longer.

__________________________________________________

Afternoon session in Sarnath:

Central University of Tibetan Studies: orange robed monk with long pinky nails, wide gold wire-rims. Asst. Prof. AyurSastri. This university started in 1967, became autonomous in 1977. Construction on this campus in 1980s.

4 goals of university:

1. Preserve and present Tibetan culture
2. Restoration of lost texts from Tibetans (more than 80 as of today, in Sanskrit and Hindi)
3. Get kids from border areas to study at university level
4. preserve traditional ways of studying even modern courses/subjects

 Tibetans exodus of 1957, Dalai Lama fled in 1959, many came as refugees here. 

Buddhist philosophy. Shaman (one of major cultures of India; other is Brahman) 7th century went to Tibet, ongoing exchange programs with India until 17th c. (Buddhism and secular ethics). Indian culture lost Buddhism, but it was retained in border cultures of Himalayas, some texts preserved in Tibetan translations.  

Begin with verses of praise, salutations. Varanasi still survives, was one of 6 big cities in time of of Buddha.

Dalai Lama wanted to prioritize opening of schools. Many scholars had come to India bc so many scholars from 3 great monasteries had to flee. Came to be intellectual and spiritual community here, seeds of universities here. All courses taught in Tibetan, Sanskrit is also compulsory. After that, Hindi and English are options. Interesting range of courses, offer exchanges with 5 college of Massachusetts (students and faculty). Exchanges with Austrian, Australian and other universities. Lots of work done on translations (for example, Western idealism now). 

He is difficult to understand...75-80% of the point is easy to hear, but not the last few words of the sentences. 

The goal of life is to be released from suffering. We are all interdependent. Learn to see the world as it is, without exaggeration, without undervaluing. This is the right view. Learn to apply the four noble truths in your life. You want to fulfill your responsibilities. Cites commonality with karma, but difference too. Buddhists: conscious action is important. For Hindus, there is less stress on conscious effort, conscious realizations. 

Buddhism: don't do any evil things, instead accumulate meritorious deeds. Transform your mind. Buddhism is a religion, but it has science of mind, it has a philosophy, and it has psychology. These have to be part of the practice, even for non-believers, secular ethics. 

 

Sitar concert was lovely. I met several interesting musicians, including a drummer who plays regularly at Wellesley College, my alma mater. He knows Victor Kazanjian well, a man I've read about but never met. I'll have to reach out and make contact, once I get everybody's business card in order. That is a bigger practice here than in the States. Or perhaps when I travel, should just get some printed.

2 August: CSIST (Crazy Stuff I Saw Today)

Yesterday I wrote this out as a rather scant list. Today I filled it in a bit with story elements I didn't have the energy to type yesterday.

kids playing in park

words from Master Ugwe, Kung Fu Panda

The running of the bulls, Varanasi?

Nandi, at Kali Temple, Varanasi

exterior, Kali Temple

Detail, sandstone carving, Kali Temple

Temple bats, inside. No joke.

Kali

Rooftop over submerged ghats

Hospice, Varanasi

Foot series 3: all dogs here look
at least a little bit like this

Foot series 2, cow dung drying in sun

Foot series 1, flowers at Kali temple

Tara, mother goddess

cows awaiting milking

buying bananas

cows calm at the center of the fray

idle boatmen while away afternoon playing game

Devotion bags at Bank of Ram

Bank of Ram, bags of devotional writings

buying bananas

2 August: CSIST (Crazy Stuff I Saw Today): heritage walk through old Varanasi.

• bats hanging in temple room, lots of them. It's a wonder we didn't set them into flight with all the noise our group made moving from room to room in the complex
• dead cow in road (or on its way out)
• Dennis hitting a cricket ball out of the park (yay!)
• a bloated body (cow? human?) moving swiftly down the Ganges with 3 crows perched atop it. Hard to see what it was exactly, dry-peach-colored, indistinct shape, but big enough to spot from 150 meters. It is illegal to give the dead over to the river in this way, but some people still do it. There are two main crematoria near the ghats, one to north, the other to south. They are run by folks who used to be (still are?) untouchables. The buildings in which these enterprises operate contain their own temples, as the Dalits/Harijan were not allowed in the temples that served the wider public. Not too long ago (3 decades?) a prominent Brahmin filed a suit to restrict Dalits from going to the "regular" Hindu temples. The Supreme Court sided with the Dalits. 
• riverside pooja, or prayer to the gods. This particular evening pooja to Lord Shiva was "invented" in 2000 as a boon for the tourist industry, just in its infancy here at the time. The ceremony ended with 108 votive candles, tiered into a lantern shape, swirling in the night air, as the priest chanted. 108 is the number of days Shiva fasted when Parvati died, I believe.
• monkeys go after a girl (12 years old?) whose rolled paper they mistook for food. They bit a guy's jeans, grabbed another guy's hand. Not nice animals. They are sand colored, some with red bottoms, the smallest the size of kittens, the largest are the size of my backpack (when they sit). 
• an older woman had two (?) molars pulled by a guy using a pair of pliers (I didn't see them). She didn't make a sound, just got up and rinsed her mouth out. Given my relationship with difficult dentistry, I did not get close enough for a good look. But the dentist and patient both squatted roadside, between other merchants (selling veggies, clothing, etc. from cloths spread out on the ground). This was on a busy street. Unbelievable. 
• a small charity-run hospice...not sure what to write. I don't want to disrespect the families, the dying, or the institution. I was not prepared for it, so I experienced it and processed it later. Briefly, Varanasi is the most holy of Hindu cities, the only place the sacred Ganga turns back north (6.5 kilometers toward the land of her birth) in her path from the Himalayas to the Bay of Bengal. People come here to die. If possible, they bring their aged loved ones to die here. This hospice is about 100 years old, runs as part of the Dayitha (sp?) Trust to ensure that families have at least some access to the succor of a death close to the Ganges. We entered the building, traversed the prayer room and courtyard, and were led to see the space the hospice provides. A few silent workers carried on with their duties, cleaning, cooking, etc. We went into the room of a woman and her family...individuals of three generations there, resting when we arrived. It was a very awkward moment, little light filtered in to their large corner room.  On the one hand, I was horrified at the thought of intruding into a family's private grief. On the other hand, I wanted to see what the guide was showing us, despite my inner discomfort. I admit, I stood to the side as others entered and spoke to the family. The grandmother had been there for over three weeks, had stopped speaking and taking food. She was so small, curved under a sheet, facial skin stretched across her large eyes and protuberant teeth. It was so unnerving, They said she still recognized people close to her. I have been so insulated from death. We spoke of this the other day--Americans really try hard to keep death at a distance. I'm sure this is not true for all. But Hinduism is really different in this regard. I don't wish to suggest that Hindus don't suffer when people die; that'd be absurd. And I don't know enough to say the degree to which people rely on the cycle of reincarnation to alleviate "normal" fears of death.  
• cow poop everywhere. As the light faded it became harder and harder to keep up with the guide, watch out for bicycles and avoid the omnipresent cow patties in the narrow, narrow streets.
• urinals in a random lane, tiled and separated into stalls, but not closed off. Not even the wall of stalls. This is one man-urine-y place. Seriously. There was no parallel place for women.
• rickshaw graveyard, a lovely garden with deteriorating bicycle rickshaws. I captured one on camera. 
• Shiva is connected in popular mythology with (forget local term for marijuana). Hence, there is more mention of it, drinks with derivatives of marijuana, smoke apparently happening in devotion. Not for leisure, as in US. We saw drinks made of milk, saffron and other ingredients...can be made with small amounts of pressed pot.
• Geckos, although they're not strange. There are more of them here than I've seen so far.
• so much more...I cannot even recall!
  
  
  

2 August: Part 1, Krishnamurti School

Krishnamurti Centre, Rajghat

$5000 Indian fees

$7000 foreigner fees

Krishnamurti was adopted by Annie Besant at age 13. No formal education. We are all seeking, learning about life. As an adult he disassociated himself from any organizations, orthodoxy.

2 schools abroad (1 in UK, one in CA)

fear and authority are not main drivers of educational process. Want a sense of order, but not regimentation, not discipline child in any way. It's a fairly porous campus, right next to city, like at any place with children of this age, there are temptations just around the corner. Challenge to keep children here, without having to force children in there or herd them into following rules and regulations. Idea is we would like to bring adults together who are interested in this type of education. This is an experiment for adults about how to bring order in our own lives and share it with the children.  Lots of boarders, even some from city. Fairly difficult mix, and we don't have grading systems, comparisons by ranks, exams, etc., ,not up to 8th grade. Thereafter they go for board exams in 10th, try to train them for what is expected of them. How do we run a program without what most teachers would have in their armory to bring a class together and instruct them. Here it's a question of how to work together with children. 

I asked question about how they vary class/systems/procedures depending on age of children. Naps, rest time varies, plus this is a residential program, so they have entire day open, lots of opportunities to engage the children, not just the classroom time. 

Melinda asks about exam performance, reports are okay. Their graduates do as well as other kids, on average. Some kids leave after 10th, this school doesn't give any special preparation for exams. They do not believe in competition per se. You compete against yourself, not against others. That is a core belief here. There are many kids who come in with difficulties in previous schools, bullying, punishments, criticism, etc. They have been traumatized. There are some kids who take a year or so for acclimation to this very new environment, and speaking frankly, there are kids who struggle with the rigors of the outside world upon graduation. This school builds self-esteem from inside, not from beating your neighbor. 

There are many schools that can boast better records in terms of getting kids into top universities. It's not too hard to take an 85%er and take them to 90%. Let's see them do that with 35%er, 40%ers. India faces another problem too, lots of kids who are in top 10% or even top 5% yet cannot get admitted to the school of their choice. What do you do with that? How does a child face that situation. We are not trying to become a bigger school, we are trying to become a better school. We never have a class more than 25 students. The children do not relate to us as teachers. They call us di or didi, which means older sister, or beya, older brother. It is only the most senior members who get called sir. 

When you are relaxed, you can meet the pressures of outside. You do not need to be aggressive to meet pressures, you don't need to have tension, or to intimidate others. You need to be relaxed, calm. You can meet the needs of outside if you have settled the energies inside. 

Dolores: how do you relax?

Important to have a campus like this, away from main street, in nature. Children should be in touch with nature. We learn from that without consciously doing anything about it. We are not instructing the child to look at nature and learn from it. Two minutes of quiet at end of morning assembly.

This is Krishnamurti's challenge, it's almost impossible to achieve, but we are at least trying it. Krishnamurti never gave any doctrine, specific practices or techniques...said this leads to narrowness of thinking. He wanted to be based in freedom. Truth is unknown. So you begin not with assumptions, but with a sense of "I don't know". You use system of negation, things that you understand as not true. When you see the falsity of things (such as "I am Indian, you are American", these are just labels.) How do we listen, to ourselves, to each other, to nature?

No one can give you freedom. You must earn it through right behavior, right thinking. Many of these are practices we have not examined.

_____________________________________________________________________

Morning assembly: 20 minutes

held in room where Shiva was believed to have first stepped foot on earth. The road connecting the school to the main road of town is the road Buddha walked to the river. On the other side there is a spot where he rested after crossing the river. 

Assembly hall here was designed by a renowned architect of the 1920s. They describe the campus not as classrooms, but "learning centers". The assembly hall is about 60' long, about 25' high, very open with 4' x 4' maroon tiles on floor. Sixteen ceiling fans whir overhead. The doors have tiered geometric "arches" that remind me of California. About 400 students eventually come into the hall, there were only half that number up to the last 3 minutes when throngs poured in. Older students choose the music for daily morning assembly, 

_____________________________________________________________________

Return to hotel, Wendy S. still not feeling better. Serious bummer. She'd been sick all night, morning wasn't much better. We both napped when the group returned. I woke at 2:35, just in time to grab quick lunch and head out for heritage walk. Sights from that are detailed in the CSIST (crazy shit I saw today) post.

1 August: Kolkata to Varanasi

Leaving Kolkata, heading to Varanasi...

1 August: descending into Varanasi

I am looking down only the lovely Ganga, the goddess herself. There is something important and amazing in her. There are spires in fields below...are they chimneys for bricks? Makes me think of the stupas of Bagan, Myanmar, but not nearly so many.

The cabin crew is very no-nonsense, but I had to record my inner stirrings at seeing the holy river for the first time. She twists and is more narrow than I'd have expected. I think I was envisioning a Mississippi-like mile-across, imposing to the point of jaw-dropping. She is, but more because of who she is, not the gray-brown ribbon threading the fields and trees below. This could be Pennsylvania, this could be anywhere, it's so flat and green and lovely with clumps of trees sprinkled below.  The fields are dotted with neatly combed brown patches, maybe rice. I wonder if I'll ever learn to tell from the sky.  

This is the holiest river on earth (for the most people, anyway). She is the living goddess, and pilgrims come to cleanse themselves spriitually in her waters. I have done little research on her thusfar, but I'll let you know what I find. This city is supposed to be overwhelming, and not necessarily in a comfortable way. In fact, the USIEF staff no longer sends groups here first; it's too much to take in. I am trying to be expectation-free, just focus on the river. 

She is out of view now, and as we move toward the ground, the green flat expanse welcomes us. 

So be it.

oh yeah, and the dude next to me has snorted snuff off and on throughout the flight. Didn't know people still did that. He has a small silver container (decorated with a dharma wheel etched on top?) in his front shirt pocket. At first I thought he was blowing his nose out into the aisle--body odor I can tolerate, but this, seriously? By the third time, I finally looked more closely, and realized my mistake. Still, odd.

When we touched down, we got the unusual opportunity to walk from the landing site across the tarmac and into the terminal. We stared at an aggressively slate gray sky, which unleashed torrential rains about 3 minutes after we reached the baggage arrival area, just inside the sliding doors of the airport. 

The 40 minute drive to the hotel showed that Varanasi is a city of bicycles, much more so than the megacities of Kolkata, Mumbai or Delhi. We saw troupes of Shiva pilgrims walking back to their villages with the holy water gathered in clay pots, covered and suspended from poles the young men hold over their shoulders on the shoulders of the roads. I saw many more goats than in previous cities, more folks living in destitution (a few families living in the lowest of makeshift camps in rain-sodden roadsides, pools of filth spreading to unavoidable edges of their living quarters). This was tough to see, with little ones and elderly parts of this unhealthy mix.

Girish greeted us here, then had dinner with us, as we shared our thoughts on the program so far. It was really good to hear his thoughts about the decision making processes in terms of cities and schedules. I see now the careful considerations that informed our schedule, and I appreciate his thoughtfulness on our behalf. Eight of us shared beers in the bar before dinner, and it was a nice extended moment of bonding, especially since it was just girls. We have to do this again with the other ladies as well. 

Wendy and I are both at the computer, in bed with the news on. She's not feeling well (threw up lunch--ew!) but is optimistic that she'll be better by tomorrow. Let's hope so.

Good night!

31 July, Part II: afternoon out in Kolkata

31 July: Part II

Went to Victoria Monument with Melinda and Wendy. Best part was probably taking the metro to get there, from Esplanade we paid 4 rupees each and rode two stops on a clean, crowded, air-conditioned car to the Maidan station. Maidan means "meadow" or "open space" in Hindi, but no one understood my pronunciation. Apparently, the Bengali phrasing is quite different. Seems the hotel concierge had prepared us to interact with Hindi speakers in asking for directions. Pretty funny that it was no help. But we got there eventually. It's a huge building and park. Entrance is 10 rupees for Indian nationals, 150 rupees for foreigners, about $2.50 at today's rate of exchange. Begging children held onto my arm as I walked from the ticket window toward the gate. I didn't look at them. It was an inescapable contrast from last night at New Light. I have not reconciled this inconsistency within me: why not give equally to all? (I won't.) What makes these kids less worthy (?) of a donation than the kids in a program, is it for the donor to judge? (Yes, in practical terms. And we do this all the time in every circumstance.) So I mused on this as I walked to the monument.

You enter through a black iron gate which swings in past two guard sheds/buildings. We were waved through without a glance. The approach to the monument is over a hundred meters, landscaped in the style of European palaces (tempered by English regularity in landscaping...it was neither Versailles nor the Winter Palace, but it was planned and lovely nonetheless.) The walkways are of peachy-brown rocks, kind of like river rocks, but less thin and smooth. Orange clad pilgrims--Shiva devotees (or Shiva divas, I inadvertently called them)--walked barefoot across the stones. I trod the paved sidewalks lining the gardens. Midway along the two-lane entrance/exit walk on the north side is a large statue of Queen Victoria. This monument was erected after her death, planned just weeks after (1901) and begun in 1906. The building weighs 80K tons, it's over 200 feet high, topped by a winged victory, in the Indo-Saracenic style. The architect (whose name I can't recall) didn't want this to be a solely European building, even though it's built in an H formation with domes, porticos and is made of Rajastani marble. Basically, it looks really European to me, with some Eastern touches. Walking through the museum inside (after the metal detectors, de rigeur throughout India) you find portraits, landscapes, weapons from the 17th century onward, statues of former governors of West Bengal, etc. Wendy's favorite parts were going to the second level--she and Melinda were brave enough to circumvent the "no admission" sign and join the other dozens of curious folks for a better view. I was cowed by a glance from a guard and never got up there. But Wendy also really liked the double paneled inscription under the main dome, one from 1857 when Victoria appropriated India from the East India Company to be a subject territory of the British Empire. The second panel quotation, this one from 1877, stated how all Britain's subjects benefited from the equality and justice inherent in the benevolent rule of law (yada yada) and how all subjects were able to meet their potential through application of their talents, merits and qualities, etc. Hard to stomach after the Gandhi museum's very different perspective on British "leadership" in the subcontinent.

We walked next through the gardens (past the geese!) and across streets--always a victory here--to St. Paul's Cathedral. My favorite part was talking to the woman running the small office (like my grandmother's tiny kitchen) of the social service arm of the church. We bought handkerchiefs, small glasses (NOT shot glasses, surely) and other keepsakes in part to help fund their work with 250 destitute children in the area. Speaking of their work, the woman said with a touch of despair, "you know, it's just a drop in the ocean." She paused for a beat, straightened a bit, and added, "but it is a drop." And that sentiment was probably the most important takeaway for me. In fact, it might be what I use at the title for my official reflection paper. St. Paul's is an Anglican Church, one of the oldest English churches in town, and is known for its stained glass windows. Anyone who has seen the great cathedrals of Europe won't do St. Paul's the injustice of comparing it to those Gothic masterpieces. That wouldn't be fair. But in a country that doesn't use much stained glass, St. Paul's is a standout. The white and brown walls (part marble, part wood) were chockablock with the dedications of folks buried there.  It made me think of the legions of people who die far away from their homes and families. There were 1/2 dozen worshipers there, with the hymns for the evening's service posted on wooden placards hanging every 30 feet on the walls. Gene had pointed out that the representation of Jesus in this church had borrowed from the Hindu concept of a powerful Shiva. I couldn't find it at first, but when Melinda and Wendy pointed this version of Jesus out to me (just inside the entrance to the left), I had to agree. I would have missed it if not for his tip. And I think he's right. I was looking for a Jesus on the cross, but St. Paul's did not have a prominent crucifixion on display. Paintings, yes. Statues, no. 

We had a hard time getting a taxi back, but we got to test our mettle against Kolkata traffic, crossing Nehru street like any other Bengali. I'm learning to stand mid-pack, not out at the edges like the easy targets in a wildebeest herd. We thanked Pavithra for her wonderful work on our behalf, had a great lunch (complete with a scoop of ice cream!) and the most delicious tandoor curd (strained yogurt, cooked with saffron) ever. Now off to spend a few hours with a joint Bengali family. I'm in the mood to listen. Hope my fellow groupmates are napping so they have energy to chat. 

Tomorrow we have the morning free, then leave for Varanasi. Hard to believe we're finishing another city now. 

Just back from visiting a joint Bengali family, one of the educational coordinators for USIEF, who specializes in academic advising for Fulbright. His family came to West Bengal (this state) from East Bengal (now Bangladesh) just before Partition. Lived in slum for 20 years. Then moved to rented home. Then bought the land on which they built this house, just one level, lived there for many years, built second level, then years later built third. The view from the roof is exquisite. As the light softens, the walk from the home down the muddy lane (next to stagnant water source) becomes suffused with the best light of the day. The family, anchored by the 80-year old matriarch, consists of 5 brothers, their wives and children (one per couple). The eldest sister lives with her husband's family elsewhere, but her son was there to greet us as well. The women, all clad in neatly pressed saris, cooked us a meal of luchis (deep fried Bengali versions of poori...slightly sweet puffed bread pockets, delicious!), channa dal, some kind of Bengali potato, and two types of Bengali sweets, sondesh and rasogulla (these are the Bengali pronunciations. Bengali is much rounder with its vowels than Hindi. Hindi's version is sandesh and rasgulla). I admired the women's jewelry, their bangles, the elegance of their whole demeanor. I asked where they had pinned their saris--just at the shoulder. I also followed up a question with Gene about regional varieties in saris. I need to ask a few ladies here--Melinda suggested the barstaff. What are the prominent and subtle variations in saris according to geography (and other factors, perhaps)? In terms of design, drape, etc. 

Five water buffalo followed us down the lane as we left. Thank goodness they weren't in front. 

The women/family served us cold drinks, then dinner, then tea and crackers. We had eaten full lunches just 3 hours prior. Time to go to the gym and walk for an hour. Then try the pool again. I just don't have the stamina to head out into the Kolkata night on my own. 

blurry read of in-metro map, Kolkata.
Very easy to read and follow!

Kolkata street food I didn't eat

making rice on the street, Kolkata

Shiva pilgrims in Kolkata

Victoria Monument, Kolkata (side view)

Victoria Monument, entrance

31 July: part one (Kolkata bus tour and idol makers of Kumartuli)

31 July: notes taken during on-bus lecture...soemwhat disjointed but lots of interesting information about the city of Kolkata, clay idols and...well, we'll see!

Tour guide Asif: 

Kolkata is colloquial pronunciation, reclaimed a few years ago. British capital for India until 1911, more than 125 years. Still lots of nostalgic colonial influence. That's why some of city is still called White Township. We're heading to North Kolkata, through Dalhousie Sq., now called BBD:  Binod, Badal and Dinesh, 3 young freedom fighters. We're heading to far north, area full of life, to Kumartuli. Famous for contrasting characters.

Divide city into 3 parts: 

1. north, old part of city, residential for middle class
2. central, business area
3. south, for rich people, affluent class

• west is river Hooghly, branch of holy river Ganges
• east is township (lost thread)

Statue of Gandhi, sports stadia for many different sports. 2nd largest cricket stadium, 67,000 (smaller now to facilitate better security). Also central city bus terminal, the Esplanade area. Can see tower, monument in memory of British soldiers in Nepalese. Indira Gandhi road used to be WWII runway, other end of 2 km straight road is Fort William, now HQ of Indian army. Kolkata as mecca of Indian football, 3 important teams, East Bengal and 2 others. We're at south gate of gov's house, 64 acres, official residence of governor of West Bengal. Stadium in front of us is HUGE with giant lights wrapped in red and wide metal scaffolding-like towers. Next to stadium is All India Radio building. Kolkata's mother tongue is Bengali, with Hindi spoken widely. But English is still official language of state. State parliament's Assembly House sits across from Radio. Gothic architecture of high court building used to be Supreme Court of India until 1911. Treasury Bldg (Central Finance Dept) is housed in beautiful, large red building with 100s of Palladian widows, air conditioning units jutting out of every window with gray shutters thrown open. Bright white and blue wrought iron fencing. Is this an Asian or European city, he asks?

Oldest Anglican church, 1784, St. John's first cemetery of East India Company, inside church, lots of historical artifacts including old painting of Lazarus. First reserve bank sits across street, first branch of Hong Kong Bank on Asian subcontinent, before war area, next to Suez, this was the only metropolitan city, all global offices were housed here. Insurance companies where here, Royal Insurance, largest post office (beautiful, 24/7 operation). Rail offices for whole of nation, tax collectors, writers' building (now secretariat, from 1882) was barrack for writers, clerks for East India Company. Deep red painted brick. Now serves as cabinet offices for state gov't. Dalhousie Sq. houses square water tank used to supply drinking water for city, now used as basement parking for emergencies. Historic church across from writer's building, St. Andrews, Scottish church, first with air conditioning. Bus is making loop around central area.

Now we head north, as we pass through north, lots of old buildings. In some cases, you become puzzled to see, full of banyan trees, so old, they need good maintenance, gives area a lot of charm. Central Telegraph Office Bldg and Standard Life insurance Buildings, 5-6 grand stories tall, trees growing out of upper walls, crumbling balconies, windows broken. Such beautiful buildings, rich stone work, will be expensive to renovate but worth it, in my estimation. 

Bara Bazar, largest wholesale market in Asia, 200 million rupees in cash, daily transaction, no receipt, totally depending on trust. Business conducted via relationships. 4 square kilometers. Open water taps on roadside: one water directly from river, kept here as fire hydrants. Street vendors use for washing and cleaning. Drinking water comes 2 x a day, 2-3 hours at a time, morning night, purified for drinking purposes. People use who have no direct water connection in their houses. Area for wholesale products is divided by product. We're driving by wig shops also with chamor used for puja (horse or yak tails used for religious purposes). 

West Bengal is actually in the east, only state created just on basis of language. 

We're driving by oldest mosque in Kolkata, where 10,000 people pray together at a time. He says after prayer you cannot walk these streets, they're so crowded. I see this from the bus window. Shops are built out into the street across the sidewalks, so people have to walk in the street. Stores are built on our around elevated pallets, a meter off the ground, and in these pre-market hours, many vendors are sleeping on them, colored tarps stretched across slender tree/rattan "trunks" serving as poles, lashed with twine or secured with rubber bands. Looking at rickshaw driver resting at light. The man can't have more than 5% body fat, maybe less. 

Lungis are always loose, never stitched in south, just in north. New generation doesn't care so much about very gendered dress (lungis). 

Whole fruit market, 2 kms long land stretched farther than I can see, 70% of lane is choked with vendors and their wares, starting at 10-5 daily, auctioning fruit. The other 30% space is for buyers, if they can manage to squeeze past each other. Glad I don't have business to conduct there--you cannot browse at a leisurely pace. We continue to pass people in this wide bus with just an inch or two to spare. People sit on their palettes, chopping vegetables, wrapping bidis, resettling their blankets. Just passing Tagore house, can't see it, doesn't stand out amid dilapidated buildings. Oh, at end of side lane, behind gate. A huge old red building. And another man relieving himself against the wall at the side of the street. I have seen more of that in Kolkata than anywhere else, but it happens everywhere. Just saw a man chiseling stone into smaller pieces. The curious thing was that he was squatting on the stone he was chiseling, chipping away a the surface below his feet until it was just at his toes. I wondered how much longer he could strike it with such force, because the stone as I saw it was almost the exact area of this feet. What commercial purpose could that have?

Wow, what's NOT for salw on this street?

I wonder what it's like to live here? People in the West would pay a fortune for some of these building facades. All the posters from typical Bengali folk theaters or the village stages (jhatra), has its versions in other regions, etc. They give color to the streets (not lacking, actually). People come to these areas to book the performers for shows in their areas. 

Kumar = potters

Tuli = area of village, localities. An old part of northern Kolkata.

Partha: professor of art, was at Univ. of Iowa on Fulbright.

Kumartuli, make idols with local clay. Don't fire it. Used to use different kinds of pottery along with clay sculptures, 

use earthen colors, paint according to mythological characters. 

4 sculptures: Durga, Lakshmi, Saraswati, Ganesha

, lion, Ashura...all have 2 hands. 

No properly organized studies, use roads to create their work. We can see dozens of examples in streets already. Roadside shrine to Kali, roadside barber (no chair, no nothing, except lather and razor) and shoeblack on opposite side of elevated square. 

.........so we're just back in the bus after having a walk through the idol makers area. We walked a 1-2 km semicircle through the narrow streets looking into the various craft spaces where men worked on different stages of clay idol production. Some bunched straw together into the molds, some matted clay onto the rough straw figures, others massed and smoothed clay by hand onto the figures, lifting clumps of gray mass from large mounds on the sidewalk. Then there were men who smoothed the clay into finished forms, using their hands almost as paint brushes. The weather, the heat and time had caused some idols to crack, so I saw some workers tending to the necessary corrective measures, patching in long lines across the torsos and arms of otherwise robust brittled gray forms. The men squatted in dusty lungis, undershirts already discolored with sweat. Most workshops had alcoves where other team members worked, but most spaces kept high ceilings to accommodate the largest idols. The clay is brought from the river, so it's holy clay, and these figures are returned to the river at the end of the festivals, so it's only proper that the river reclaim them, as the unfired clay dissolves on its return to the water. Durga Puja festival happens in autumn, probably in October this year. It's the largest festival in Bengal, generally lasting 10 days and peaking during the last 4 days. The idols are worshiped during the festival, then after the 10th day, they are offered into the river with great fanfare. We saw 1000s of idols today, and Kumartuli is the main supplier nationwide (do I have that right?), but there are other suppliers around the country. Kumartuli has become a brand, considered to be more authentic, most sought-after because this style of pottery/idol-making started here. It is priced a little higher than other outfits, but the busy hive of activity we saw suggests they have no trouble keeping customers.  

Reminder: Durga is a wife of Shiva, an incarnation of the goddess Kali. She has two children, Lakshmi (goddess of wealth, celebrated on Thursdays) and Saraswati (sp?--goddess of knowledge). And as all teachers know, a person can have one or the other, but not both. 

The idols are painted with vegetable dyes, and the government apparently checks to makes sure the paints used are non-toxic. The first batch of clay each season must be purchased from prostitutes (who get it from the river) as a gesture of social inclusion. 

I asked Partha (the professor of ceramics, potter himself) about how the monsoon affected the industry and more specifically the idol makers. He said flooding was a constant concern, as the whole lower tier of people's work could be wiped out with unexpected floods. Potters try to mitigate the effects of the sun/rain with tarps, that explains why they stretch nearly fully across the side streets. 

We are seeing some people hunched on the outside of the curb near the entrance to a mosque. Most are men in their 50s, 60s, sitting on their worn sandals, chatting with each other or staring at the back sides of the vendors whose stalls line the sidewalks. I saw a mother with matted hair, dirty sari and two naked small children sitting in the dirty curbside. She was reaching out in a gesture of management, hey, get back over here, kind of way. Like we all do. This is hard to see and think about. 

Just driving by the rather elegant Tipu Sultan Mosque, 2nd largest mosque in Kolkata. White, low and large. Seems to cover a lot of ground, with many stupa-type protrusions from the roof, not quite onion-domes, and clustered together in a way I've not seen before.  Busy traffic circle, again with clusters of folks sleeping on the sidewalk. Usually these people are sleeping on a mat or cloth, some with their possessions bundled near them, sometimes just as is. 

We have a long break this afternoon and I'm torn about what to do: Victorian Monument and St. Paul's Cathedral, or Indian Museum? Don't think my brain could handle all of those together. I am grateful for the extra two hours of sleep this morning, even though I missed the Kalighat trip this morning (which was excellent, so everyone says. That's good, especially since we were prepared for the worst). 

Need to go in and make plans for the afternoon!

Flowers for puja at Kalighat, a bit blurry

Kids in the street

superfocused kite flyer, Kalighat

rooftop view from New Light center

street side card game

Kalighat Temple lit up at night

Intent rooftop kite flyers

rooftop view from Kalighat

women at municipal water tap

Humble workspace, Kalighat red light area

New Light NGO founder Umri Basu

From roof of New Light