A Very Kolkata Durga Puja

I think it was during the D.C. Fulbright orientation that I first heard about Durga Puja in Kolkata.  At that point in time I had no idea what the festivities were all about, only that they were huge, and that this was THE time to visit Kolkata.  Conveniently, the Navyug schools had four days off for Dussehra/Durga Puja, and the Kendriya Vidyalaya schools (where other ETAs have been placed at) had a full ten days off.  So, three other ETAs (Krish, Joanna, and Stephanie) and myself booked our Kolkata tickets for this time.  Needless to say, we were very excited.

As our plane from Delhi left at 6am on the morning of Saturday, October 1^st, we made sure to arrive at the airport extra early.  This meant a taxi at 2:30am.  The driver turned out to be extremely fast.   There were few cars on the road at that time, but we quickly overtook all the vehicles we came across.  It was quite terrifying for us, especially in our sleep-deprived state.  As there were no seatbelts in the backseat, Stephanie and I clutched the handles above our heads, and joined hands across Jo’s body to create an arm seatbelt for her.  Fortunately, we reached the airport safely, and far ahead of time.  It was a long wait, but this was certainly far better than missing our flight. 

Soon after touching down in Kolkata, we found a taxi to take us to our destination: the house of Zoe and Irene, two Kolkata ETAs who were very generously allowing us to stay with them for the duration of our trip.  The drive was long but scenic, and allowed me to get a preview of Kolkata.  I immediately noticed how much more lush Kolkata was than Delhi.  Before we reached the city proper, especially, there were many palm trees, ponds, marshes, and green green fields.  Our driver was a little confused, but eventually we found our way to Zoe and Irene’s house.  

Lush, green, marshy Kolkata scene

Our hosts were exceedingly gracious and welcoming from the very beginning, and helped us to get settled in right away.  It was really great to catch up with them, and to exchange stories about our different experiences living and teaching in India.   There was a lot of overlap in what we had gone through, especially with regards to teaching, but there was also much that was different.  One small but important difference was that these girls had never really had to argue with a rickshaw driver, as Kolkata auto-rickshaws only run on fixed routes with fixed prices.  Additionally, unlike us Delhi ETAs who had spent our three weeks of language training in Mussoorie, far away from our “home” city, the Kolkata cohort had spent their language training time in Kolkata.  This had given them a little more time to get cabin fever, so they had travelled a little more than we had.  Their descriptions and pictures of Puri, Orissa and Bishnapur, West Bengal, were beautiful—these places are definitely now on my “to-visit” list!  They also shared some useful information about travelling to Varanasi and Himachal Pradesh.  The biggest difference, however, was also the most obvious—Delhi and Kolkata are two very different cities: linguistically, culturally, and food-wise.   Needless to say, I was very excited to explore all that Kolkata had to offer.

Our first day was mostly spent recovering from our early morning, but I did manage to take a night walk, during which I witnessed the festivities beginning.  There were colored lights everywhere, music was playing, children were eating cotton candy, and the atmosphere was full of excitement.  Some of the pandals had already been unveiled, so I spent some time admiring those.  The lights, colors, intricate designs, and sheer size of some of these structures were overwhelming!

Before I write any more, I should probably explain something about pandals, because they are a huge part of Durga Puju, and were a huge part of our trip to Kolkata.  The story of the pandal begins with the story of the festival, so I will begin there.  There are several different legends of the Durga Puja festival, but I will share the one that seems to be the most common.  It is said that Mahisasur, the buffalo demon prayed to Lord Brahma for eternal life and invincibility.  Brahma granted him his wish.  Despite his seemingly earnest prayers however, Mahisasur misused his power, and wreaked havoc the world over, even threatening the Gods.  The Gods knew they had to stop him somehow, so they created a ten-armed maiden.  In each hand, they placed a weapon designed to fight the demon.  The maiden, Durga, was given a lion as her mount, and sent to fight the demon.  She slew him, and the world was saved.  For more information, see http://www.calcuttaweb.com/puja/

  

Bengali Hindus believe that Durga returns to Earth every year in the month of Aswin (roughly corresponding to September/October).  To celebrate her return, Bengalis create beautiful structures called Pandals.  Pandals are large, almost hall-like constructions that house beautifully made scenes of Durga (who is at the center) slaying the demon.  Surrounding her are her four children, Saraswati (the Goddess of wisdom), Lakshmi (the Goddess of wealth), Ganesh (the remover of obstacles), and Kartik (the protector).  During Durga Puja, Kolkata residents generally spend time at their own Pandals, and then travel around the city admiring others (this is known as “Pandal hopping”).  On the last day of the festival, the Durga idol is taken to one of the holy rivers in the city, immersed, and sent back home to Heaven.  Below is a picture of the first Pandal I saw.  There were many more to come.

Intricate Pandal art (Photo Credit: Stephanie Baker)

 The next day we went to see a Pandal a little further away in North Kolkata.  This pandal had been prepared by the residents of a housing complex in which Sarva, a friend of the Kolkata ETAs, lived.  The Pandal was beautiful, but the highlight of the evening was a ceremony in which Sarva’s daughter, Sky, played the part of Durga:

Sky (centre) as Durga with two friends as Lakshmi (left) and Saraswati (right)  (Photo Credit: Krish Varma)

The next day, we took advantage of a Bengali food festival going on in a hotel close by to Irene and Zoe’s house.  I was very excited to try Bengali food, which is famous all over India.  In particular, West Bengal is known for its excellent fish and prawns, both of which I was very much looking forward to.  Bengali cuisine is also known for its liberal use of mustard and jaggery.  The meal was delicious, and I ate way too much.  

SO GOOD!!!

That night, we met up with some of the Calcutta ETAs and their friends. It was very interesting to talk to them, as they were almost all Bengali, born and bred, and very keen to talk about their city and state.  One thing that was particularly striking to me was the intense pride that Bengalis have in their culture.  Because Delhi is a capital city, nearly everyone there is originally from somewhere else, so very few “Delhiites” that I had spoken to had talked about their city with such fervor.  While I certainly did not always agree with these young Bengalis’ disparaging comments about Delhi, I eagerly listened to their recommendations for things to do in Kolkata.

After eating Chinese food, we all went to a dance club together.  It was very fancy, and a lot of fun.  It was also very interesting, as it showed me a side of India that I had not really experienced yet, and reminded me of how diverse and full of contradictions India is.  India is a land of villages, of rice paddies, of Gandhi, jungles, the Taj Mahal, and of poverty stricken slums.  It is also, however, the land of call centers, Bollywood excesses, sleek hookah bars, a class of young, hip, urban elites, and, yes, chic night-clubs.  Each and every one of these things is a legitimate part of India, and if it takes a night out on the town to remind me of this fact, then so be it.

The next day, a large group of us went on a bus tour to a number of the most famous Pandals in Kolkata.  The bus tour, organized for American Fulbrighters in India by a Fulbright alumnus, was extremely efficient and enjoyable.  I was able to see many beautiful pandals, eat a traditional Durga Puja lunch, and also spend time chatting with many other interesting Fulbrighters.  The trip reminded me how lucky I am to be part of this network of intelligent, interesting, earnest people.  Below are some Pandal pictures, mostly from the tour.

Beautiful Pandal

Buddha themed Pandal

Pandal made of recycled materials; reminded me of the Magic Garden in Philly

That night, a group of us decided to do some more Pandal hopping, as most of the pandals are beautifully lit, and therefore best viewed at night.  The pandals were beautiful, but my favorite part of the evening was viewing one pandal that was actually inside someone’s foyer.  The family had opened up the pandal to the public, and therefore many people were coming in off the street and admiring it.  When we did the same, the family grew very excited, asking us where we were from, and what we were doing in India.  We ended up sitting with them for a while, and talking.  The children in the family were especially charming: there was a very eloquent nine year old girl named Diya, a little toddler nicknamed Mishti (which means “sweet” in Bengali) and a seven year old boy nicknamed Prince who was infatuated with America, and a very talented artist.  We chatted with the adults and Diya, admired Prince’s drawings, and laughed at Mishti’s antics.  It was a wonderful evening, and a perfect example of the famous Indian hospitality (one of the many many many examples that I have experienced).

By Wednesday, we Delhiites were a little bit Pandaled out, so we decided to do some Kolkata sightseeing.  First item on the agenda was the Victoria memorial, a beautiful monument to a very interesting (if not necessarily beloved) lady.  Inside the memorial was a very informative museum, which explained a great deal about life in Kolkata during the Raj, and about the days when Kolkata was the British capital of India.

Victoria Memorial (Photo Credit: Krish Varma)

The next item on the agenda was Rabindranath Tagore’s house.  Unfortunately, we arrived only to find it closed.  We were able to peer through the gate though, so that was something.  We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the neighborhood, where we stumbled upon a structure known as the marble palace.  It’s a little bit of a surprise when one first comes across this gated property, right in the middle of a dingy, crumbling winding Kolkata neighborhood.  The mansion is a large, white, marble British-style mansion, surrounded by a green garden with fountains and statues.  The gate is guarded, and boasts a huge sign informing all passersby that photo-taking is prohibited, and admission is dependent upon a letter of permission from the Governments of West Bengal and India.  We were allowed to look though, and look we did.  As we walked away from the marble palace and back into a more typical Kolkata back alley, an elderly man beckoned to us and directed us into a large, crumbling building, explaining that there was a “golden Durga” within.  There certainly was, and she was beautiful.  After being so shut out of the palace, it felt very nice to be so warmly invited inside somewhere.

That night, a huge group of Fulbrighters met up for dinner at a fancy Bengali restaurant called “Oh!  Calcutta.”  Bahut tasty.  Afterwards, we headed to Salt Lake, a suburban area of Northern Kolkata, where Julie, Sarah, and Pamela (the other Kolkata ETAs) live.  There we viewed an enormous Pandal, about the size of a three story building.  Beautiful.

HUGE Pandal

The next day, we headed back to Delhi, as most of us had to be in school the day after.  We were sad to miss the immersion of Durga, but grateful to have been able to be in Kolkata during this truly special time.  The trip was very interesting for me for other reasons as well, as it gave me a glimpse of what life would have been like had I been placed in Kolkata. 

In some ways, the trip made me a bit wistful.  Delhi is a booming, cosmopolitan, modern, made-over city, which is wonderful, but can sometimes feel a bit sterile.  Kolkata on the other hand, seems to have experienced little in the way of renovation since 1911, when it lost its capital city status.  Much of Kolkata is disintegrating; old, old buildings with crumbling walls and trees growing out of the roofs line the boulevards.  Desperately poor people conduct their daily lives on the streets.  (This happens in Delhi too, but the phenomenon seems much more widespread in Kolkata.)  Even the nicest houses (maybe especially the nicest houses) can make one feel as if he or she is still living in Victorian times.  I have heard Kolkata described as “falling in on itself,” and as a “shit hole.”  As strange as it seems though, both of these comments came from people who truly, deeply love Kolkata, for this is part of the city’s charm. 

Kolkata Building (Photo Credit: Krish Varma)

Kolkata Street

While Delhi’s appearance speaks to India’s hip, hi-tech future, Kolkata (to the passing tourist’s eye, at least) is a page ripped out of a familiar, beautiful picture-book India that is quickly disappearing.  And perhaps the most wonderful thing about Kolkata, as I mentioned above, is that Kolkatans are fiercely proud of their city, and eager to show it off to visitors.  Delhi on the other hand, sometimes seems not to have an identity of its own. 

Kolkata was beautiful and fascinating, and part of me wishes that I could have spent a year there.  Nevertheless though, I was very happy to return to Delhi.  As I made my way through the following day, I realized how much I had missed my daily routine, my kids, my sabzi-wallah (vegetable seller), my morning walk, and all of the other things that are so unique to my experience in Delhi.  And, despite the fact that most Delhi-ites come from elsewhere, I am realizing more and more that the city has its own identity and personality.  It is its diversity that makes it such an interesting, complicated place.  Thus, even after my amazing vacation in Kolkata (where I would have been equally happy to spend my year), I was very happy to come back HOME to Delhi!

Mountains and Monkeys

Once, just once, during my semester in Hyderabad, I took three trips in three weekends.  It was exhausting, and it left me tired and ill.  I vowed never to do anything like that this time.  And I have not broken my promise to myself, yet.  However, I did take two consecutive trips.  They left me exhausted, but very, very happy.  Here is the first installment:

Shimla: Friday, September 23^rd –Sunday September 25^th

At 8:30 pm, Krish and I boarded a bus bound for Shimla, Himachal Pradesh.  The bus had been described as “AC Volvo” on the website that we had booked it through, so we knew it would be pretty nice.  When we boarded, we were not disappointed.  The seats reclined, there was complimentary bottled water, and a large T.V. screen up front.  I thought I would be able to sleep well.  I thought wrong.

When I first saw that T.V. screen, I did not think that it would play loud movies until 1 am.  But it did.  I also had not foreseen the carelessness with which our driver jerked the wheel around, and alternately slammed on the brakes and accelerator.  Worst of all, there was a group of schoolgirls on board who saw fit to giggle and shriek their way through the entire night.  Very little sleeping took place.

We arrived in Shimla at about 6 o’ clock the next morning.  We were tired from the night’s events, but so happy to be back in the mountains in the cool weather.  After watching a beautiful Himalayan (foothills) sunrise, we hiked up over the ridge, and checked into our hotel.

Shimla sunrise

After catching up (part of the way) on sleep, Krish and I headed down to breakfast at The Indian Coffee House at around 8:30.  Yes, it’s “our pick!” in Lonely Planet, but that is NOT why we went.  We went because it was basically the only restaurant/café/food vending establishment that was open that early.  But we were glad we did.  The ambience is interesting: the place is dark and cavernous, and all the waiters are dressed exactly as their predecessors who worked back in the 60s (the place was built in 1957!) would have dressed.  The clientele—at least at the fairly non-touristy time at which we went—is mostly made up of local, middle-aged men.  Guidebooks describe the place as an “old boy’s club” for Shimla’s bank and civil service workers.  I’m not a coffee person, but I felt that I had to get some.  And it was quite good!  My veg dosa was even better.

The Indian Coffee House

Coffee House interior (Photo Credit: Krish Varma)

After breakfast, Krish and I headed down the mountain towards the former Viceregal Lodge.  It was not the shortest walk, considering we only really had one full day in Shimla, but it was beautiful, and the weather was perfect.  The whole while I could not stop exclaiming about how beautiful Shimla was, and how happy I was to be out of Delhi for the weekend.  (I love Delhi of course, but I think I love the Himalayas more…)  Krish mentioned that Shimla reminded him a lot of Mussoorie, but was a lot cleaner.  I think I agree.

The walk down to the Viceregal Lodge was not at all well signposted, so there were several times at which I feared we were lost.  We kept asking people we passed if we were on the right track though, and it seemed we were.  Finally we arrived.  Lonely Planet (I promise I’m not an LP devotee; it’s just helpful for travel!) had described the Lodge as looking like Hogwarts.  When I first saw it, the first association that sprung to my mind was Bryn Mawr’s Thomas Hall.  Then I remembered that Bryn Mawr and Hogwarts are basically the same thing.

The Lodge

The Lodge (photo credit, Krish Varma)

Both the building’s exterior and the grounds were beautiful.  I really felt that I could have been on an old estate in the English countryside.  Except for the monkeys of course.  And the imposing peaks in the distance.  But still, a true Raj relic.  After walking around a little bit, Krish and I walked to the building’s entrance for a tour of the interior.  The tour guide explained that the lodge was once the summer home of the British Viceroy, Lord Dufferin, who used this massively grand mansion only a few weeks out of each year!  Several important conferences were held in the lodge; in fact, the decision to partition India 1947 was made there.   After Independence, the lodge remained the summer home of the Indian president, until 1965 when it became the Indian Institute of Advanced Study.  Now it houses an impressive collection of books, and provides a space for scholars to conduct research.

A conference room (Photo credit: Krish Varma)

After walking back up from the Viceregal Lodge, Krish and I had lunch, then headed up to Jhaku Temple, which is one of the most famous sights in Shimla.  The temple, which is dedicated to Hanuman, the monkey God, is famous for being overrun with extremely aggressive rhesus macaques.  So aggressive in fact, that most people recommend that visitors bring a walking stick in order to fight off the monkeys.  Krish and I were quite excited.  It was starting to rain when we set off, so I bought an umbrella.  Because I didn’t want to have to carry an umbrella AND a stick, I bought an umbrella that was big enough to do both jobs.  Because I already had a practical umbrella back in Delhi, I decided that this one might as well be a fun umbrella.  Pictures are below.

Ready for monkeys

Ready for rain

The Jhaku Temple is about a 30 minute walk up a steep hill.  Unfortunately, it started pouring as we were walking, so it took a little longer.  We did make it eventually though, and we paid our respects to Hanuman inside the temple.  We then walked around outside the temple.  At first, we saw very few monkeys, as the rain was very strong.  They came out in full force as the skies began to clear though.  I never had to use my umbrella/monkey weapon, but I did brandish it several times!

Dos and Don'ts of monkey interactions in Shimla

Steps of the Jhaku Temple

HUGE Hanuman Statue

After coming down from the temple, we promenaded around Shimla, and admired the old British architecture.  Especially beautiful was Christ Church, which is actually the second oldest church in North India.  The inside was just as beautiful as the outside, with lovely stained glass windows and an elegant pulpit area.  I was particularly moved by the many plaques covering the walls of the church, some from as long ago as the 1870s and 80s.  They memorialized various members of the congregation, many of whom were Britishers who had died while on their assignments.  Though I am naturally not in sympathy with the people who came in and sought to oppress an entire subcontinent, it was still sad to think that many of them had lived very difficult lives in colonial India, then died far away from home.

Christ Church (Photo credit: Krish Varma)

The next day, Krish and I left Shimla by toy train.  This tiny train runs on a narrow gauge rail through the hills, going through numerous tunnels and revealing splendid views.  I think the pictures convey the trip much better than my words ever could:

View

Train on the narrow gauge rail (Photo credit: Krish Varma)

Through a tunnel (Photo Credit: Krish Varma)

Our train at the station

Mountains through trees, or, what happens when the train is faster than my photo taking reflexes--I promise there was a beautiful mountain view just seconds before that picture was snapped!

We reached Delhi late that night.  A short trip, but entirely worth it!

More soon I promise...but for now, pictures!

Hi all!  Sorry for the absence.  I'm actually working on a post right now about my truly amazing trips to Shimla and Kolkata.  It should go up very soon!  For now though, I've finally gone back and inserted some pictures into my past posts, so feel free to take a look.  I know it's not the same as an actual post, but you know what they say: a picture is worth a thousand words...

Exams!!

Prior to my arrival in Delhi, I had heard many things about the Indian education system: it was based mainly on rote memorization, with very little creativity; it was teacher-centric; exams were fearsome.  It’s one thing to hear these kinds of things.  It’s another to experience them.  

Still though, I wouldn’t say that my reaction is entirely negative.  Not at all.  In some ways, oddly enough, elements of the Navyug school curriculum actually remind me of Waldorf.  Students have a separate notebook for each subject, which they often decorate with crayons and colored pencils, somewhat like main lesson books.  Everyone is expected to take art and music classes, and, as at Waldorf, P.E. is called “games” here.  Also fun to see are the similarities between Indian and British schools.  As in Harry Potter, my school is divided into four “houses:” Pragati, Ekta, Chetna, and Shakti.  The houses compete against one another in sports events, music competitions, debates, and math bees—sometimes the competition can get fierce!  All students dress in their house colors on Wednesdays and Saturdays for the special sports activities usually held on those days, and it makes a nice change from the pale gray and blue uniforms they usually wear.  Another fun similarity between British and Navyug Schools is the system through which older students help to discipline the younger ones.  As in Harry Potter, my school has prefects, house captains, a head girl, and a head boy.  All wear badges proclaiming their status.

The testing system though.  That is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.  So completely different from Waldorf, Haverford, and even the SATs.  Even what I’ve read in Harry Potter—at least Harry had to be able to perform his charms and spells, not simply regurgitate the names for a test.  What frustrates me is the fact that the exams for all the subjects except Hindi and Sanskrit are in English, so many of the kids have no idea what the test is saying.  Because the teachers are under pressure to teach to the test, kids just memorize the answers that they know will appear.  Understanding the meaning of the answer is far less important than getting the right answer.  Many of my more earnest students do try hard to understand the meaning of the dense passages they are asked to read, but many are discouraged.  Thus, memorizing these chains of unfamiliar words is all they can do.

Some students do not have the time or inclination to do this admittedly rather silly task.  And so they cheat.  Some are stealthy about it; others are sloppy.  Either way though, unfortunately, it seems to be completely expected by teachers and students alike.  This week I have been given plenty of “invigilation” (proctoring) duties.  Some groups have been good.  Others have been loud, with students running around the room, and hitting each other.  In every group though, I have caught at least one cheater.

The rules are as follows: if a teacher catches a student copying from another student’s test sheet, he gets ten points deducted from his score.  If a teacher catches a student using a cheat sheet, his answer sheet is confiscated, and he is given a new blank one.

To me, this seems absurdly lenient.  After all, I went to Haverford College, where even an incorrect citation on a paper could result in an Honor Council trial.  At first, I was angry.  It seemed so clear to me: the kids cheat because they can.  If the consequences were harsher, they might think twice before scribbling the answers on their hands or hiding text books in the bathrooms.  Additionally, as I mentioned earlier, the kids cheat because they must; 8^th grade science is designed to be challenging for 8^th graders—in their native language.  Imagine how impossible it must feel to take a test in a topic that is already difficult, in a language that you can barely understand?

Further complicating things is one particular law that states that no child is allowed to fail a class until 10^th standard (10^th grade) when children are placed onto tracks (science, commerce, or humanities).  Because my students know that they will pass on to the next grade, no matter how abysmal their test scores are, there is very little incentive to try hard.  This law is the hardest thing for me to wrap my head around.  Yes, it can be humiliating for a child to have to repeat first grade, and even worse to have to repeat 7^th grade.  But it’s a whole lot better than passing through to 10^th grade, with the reading level of a second grader.

I should note however, that, even as standardized testing is gaining (or at least maintaining) importance in America, people in India are starting to see the flaws in their own system.  While in Hyderabad, I visited a Waldorf School, whose Principal told me that Waldorf schools were gaining in popularity for this very reason.  A Wall Street Journal article discussing the issue was also recently published: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703515504576142092863219826.html       

I realize though, that, for the near future at least, the problem is much, much bigger than I or any of my teachers, or even the New Delhi Municipal Council can do anything about.  It is also extremely complicated and nuanced, and it is extremely presumptuous of me to criticize this system.  So for now, all I can do is watch, learn, and assist as much as I can.  And hopefully my (probably almost absurd-seeming) aversion to cheating and my focus on understanding the meaning of texts will at least be small step towards some kind of change, at least in my school.

Teachers' Day

As I am sure many of you know, the Indian calendar is full of holidays.  Some, like Diwali, Holi, and Eid, are well known in America.  Others, like Rakhshabandan, and Muharram, not so much.  One lesser-known holiday that I found out about was Teachers’ Day, which takes place on September 5^th. 

One of the first things that I discovered about Teachers’ Day is that it is actually an international holiday; other countries just don’t observe it in the same way that India does.   Originally, the holiday was created by UNESCO to be celebrated on October 5^th.   Eventually though, every country picked its own date.  India’s is October 5^th in honour of Dr. Sarvapalli Radhakrishnan, an Indian academic, philosopher, and statesmen, who is known for his role in creating the Indian education system.  In the U.S, Teachers’ Day takes place on the Tuesday of the first week of May.  I’ve never actually heard of it being celebrated there.  After having experienced an Indian Teachers’ Day though, I’m all for bringing the tradition back to the states!

Weeks before Teachers’ Day, I was informed that, I had to wear a sari on that day.  I kept this in mind, but put off the sari buying until the week before.  It was a little tight time-wise getting the fall stitched and obtaining a blouse and petticoat, but I somehow acquired all of the necessary accoutrements two days before the appointed date.  The day before Teachers’ Day, I attempted to tie the sari myself.  “It can’t be that hard,” I told myself, as I intently watched “how to tie a sari” videos on goodindiangirl.com.  How naïve I was.  I have only worn a sari once before in my life, and that time I failed miserably in tying it, and ended up getting my friend Laura to wrap it for me.  This time was no better.  Finally, I admitted defeat, packed my sari up in a bag, and carried it with me to school the next day.

As soon as I walked through the school gates, I was greeted by a group of my sixth grade girls, all of whom looked quite put out.  “Ma’am! Why are you not wearing a sari ma’am?” They asked.  I showed them the bag, and they shrugged, shook my hand, and wished me a happy Teachers’ Day.  I quickly extricated myself from them, and made my way to the Principal’s office, where I found a group of teachers, including my coordinating teacher, all in beautiful, perfectly wrapped saris.  I explained my situation, and they quickly took action.  Because the staff bathroom is always locked, there was some indecision as to where I would change, but we eventually settled on the biology lab.  After almost no time at all, I was wrapped up in my sari, with eyeliner under my eyes and a bindi on my forehead.  I was also lent a necklace and bracelet.  As my teachers remarked, I truly was “looking like a real Indian girl!”  Below is a picture of my teachers’ handiwork.  I like to think that they quite enjoyed having a life-size doll to play with that day! 

मैं हिन्दूस्तानी हूँ!

The assembly followed.  Except today, it was run by the class 12 students, all dressed up in teacherly garb, who gave speeches about the origin of Teachers’ Day, and about the Navyug School teachers specifically.  They then led the younger children through the usual routine of Vande Matheram, Hindi prayer, and National Anthem. 

After the assembly, the teachers went off to the staff room to relax and socialize while the 12^th graders taught the younger kids.  From time to time, students would come into the room to give gifts of cards and roses to the teachers.  It was quite nice.  Eventually, all of the teachers were called down to the library, where the class 12 students who were not teaching handed out sweets and handmade cards to the teachers, then sang a song.  Soon after, the students went home, and the teachers were fed a lunch of dosa that had been delivered from a restaurant nearby.  Sidenote: I would not recommend having dosas delivered—they really are best eaten fresh off the pan.

What followed was not something I was prepared for.  All the teachers were summoned down to the principal’s office.  “Now you shall sing to me,” she proclaimed.

Now, this is one thing about Indian culture that I truly love.  In America, one never just asks another person to sing them a song.  It just isn’t done.  If one ever tried to do such a thing, the reply would inevitably be something along the lines of “Oh no, I don’t sing!  Well…only in the shower.  Oh no, I can’t sing in public!”   And so on and so forth.  But in India, there is no such thing as “I don’t sing.”  Everybody sings.  It is as natural as breathing or talking.  People sing as they walk down the streets.  They sing in temple.  School children sing every day in assembly.  Singing is just not something to be self-conscious about.

Back to Teachers’ Day.  After the Principal made her request, of course, the American was called on to sing first.  “Country Roads Take me Home” was the only song that came to mind, so I sang that.  I think it went alright.  It was an unfortunate choice of song in some ways, as it made everyone assume that I was homesick, but…no matter.  I’ve got other songs all picked out for the next time this happens!  After I started us off, some other teachers sang some beautiful songs in Hindi, which I really enjoyed listening to. 

And that was my Teachers’ Day!  I hope the U.S. will eventually pick it up as a holiday.  Teachers work so hard, and do so much good.  Cliché as it is, I want to take this opportunity to thank all my teachers up until this point in my life.  I wouldn’t be where I am today if it hadn’t been for all of you!

Attempts at being cultured

As some of you may know, I contracted an awful viral fever around the middle of August.  I started feeling sick on August 15^th (India’s Independence Day) and didn’t get well again until a whole week later.  Not only was I out of school for a week, but I also shivered and slept through two three day weekends.  This means that, while I was flat on my back recovering, my fellow ETAs were being good Fulbrighters, seeing the sights of Delhi, and getting to know our new home.  Once I recovered, I was determined to catch up.  Here are some of my adventures.

This past Saturday, my flat-mates and I decided to take a trip to Old Delhi.  I had been there before, close to the end of my junior semester abroad, but was eager to go back.  It was as I remembered it: hot, crowded, busy, dirty, and caught in some bygone era.   Please do not take these words negatively though—I love Old Delhi for these very reasons.  It is the most alive-feeling place I think I have ever been to.  The energy there is indescribable, but incredible. 

The highlight of the trip for me was our visit to Jama Masjid, Old Delhi’s most famous mosque.  I had been there once before in May 2009 with my friend Taylor, but had not had a very positive experience.  That time, I had been wordlessly roared at by a man sitting outside the mosque; only later did I discover that he was trying to tell me that I could not bring a camera inside without paying.  Additionally, I had made the mistake of wearing ankle baring pants that time, and had to borrow a robe.  That time, Taylor and I decided not to pay the exorbitant camera fee, so went in one at a time, while the other stood outside with the cameras.  Due to this less than ideal situation, the visit was short and stressful. 

This time though, I met my roommates Jessica and Krish at the mosque, and had no choice but to bring my camera in with me.  I’m glad I did.  Inside the Jama Masjid is a tower that one can climb up into.  Women are not allowed into the tower without male accompaniment, so I had not been able to go there last time.  This time though, Krish secured tickets for Jessica and me, and we all climbed up the winding, narrow staircase.  I’m glad we did.  Not only could we see all the mosque grounds, we could see all of Old Delhi.  From such a great height, it looked just as hectic, but there somehow seemed to be an order and harmony to the chaos.  Definitely worth the return trip.

Courtyard area of Jama Masjid

View from the tower

Jess and me

The next day, I headed to the India Habitat Centre (IHC) for the Asia Livelihood Documentary Film Festival.  (See www.indiahabitat.org and www.jeevika.org for more information.)  First of all, I have to say, I am so glad I found the IHC, as it seems like a great place.  There are always Indian art and cultural shows—galleries, plays, dance performances, music concerts—I’m sure I’ll be there a lot.  The film festival was great—all of the films were on life in India, but they were all very different.  The day I was there, I got to see a film about homeless children living on a train platform, one about the Baul musicians of Bengal, another film about street hawkers, one about a young boy working in a cinema, and two films about ambitious Indian teenaged boys.  Quite a diverse sampling!

Last Wednesday was Eid, the end of Ramadan.  I spent the evening, along with my roommates, with the family of the cousin of one of Krish’s friends.  The family was wonderfully kind and welcoming, and also very knowledgeable about India, America, economics, theater, literature, and everything in between.  This made for very pleasant and interesting dinner conversation. 

Now about the dinner.  There was SO MUCH FOOD!  This makes sense of course, as most of the people present had been fasting for an entire month.  I had not been, but I ate as though I had.  The food was delicious, and almost entirely non-vegetarian (the idea is that, after a whole month of fasting, no one wants to eat vegetables).  I am almost completely vegetarian here in India, and also have not eaten any mammal meat since 2009.  This time though, I really felt that I should get into the spirit of things, and celebrate Eid properly.  So I partook of the chicken biryani, mutton curry, roast lamb, prawn curry, and liver fry, as well as the parotha (bread), the salad, and the raita, which were the sole vegetarian elements of the meal.

This past Friday, I went along with some other Fulbrighters to the India Habitat Centre, where there was a dance and music festival going on.  I got to see some truly amazing Odissi dancing by a male dancer, who first did a dance based on different legends of the sun god, then did a second dance about the many reincarnations of Vishnu.  His ability to tell a story through not only the grand gestures and turns usually associated with dance, but also with the subtlest of movements with the fingers, eyes, and eyebrows was amazing.   Also part of this festival was a sitar/tabla performance and a kathak show.  The beautifully graceful kathak dancers definitely inspired me to practice more!  I know I will be attending as many dance concerts and “cultural events” as I have time for this year.  I am disappointed to be missing things like the Philly Fringe, but am very excited for the dance and theater I will get to see here.

Also this weekend, I went to the Delhi book fair, to “Zindagi na Milegi Do Bara,” the Bollywood movie that the other ETAs had seens while I was sick , and to Dilli Haat.  Dilli Haat is a rather contrived little crafts marketplace that seeks to recreate a village feel.  (For any Hyderabad people reading this, Dilli Haat is basically the Shilparamam of Delhi, except about half the size.)  As in Shilparamam, there are little stalls all around Dilli Haat, where vendors hawk crafts from all over India.  Unlike Shilparamam however, there is also a huge selection of food stalls.  Each food stall represents one of the states of India.  Krish and I ate at the Uttar Pradesh stall, and it was very good.  I doubt I’ll be shopping much in Dilli Haat, but I’m sure I’ll be going there quite often to eat!  My goal is to sample food from every stall by the end of this year.   I am quite excited to try some of India’s lesser known cuisines, such as the cuisines of Manipur and Nagaland!   

A Whole Lot of Catch-up

August 14^th, 2011

Hello everyone!  I’m very sorry I have not written in a while.  Things have been really crazy.  We left Mussoorie; we moved into our new houses; we started school; a whole host of phone and internet problems got resolved, unresolved, and resolved again multiple times; I got infected with the virus from Hell, which put me out of commission for a week…  Things continue to be crazy, but I will provide a few quick updates.

LEAVING MUSSOORIE

On July 29^th, we bid a sad farewell to Mussoorie.  It was really starting to feel like home, and though we knew we wouldn’t miss shivering in the cold rains, the idea of heading back to hot, humid, polluted Delhi was not that appealing.  Leaving Manoj, Auntie-ji, Ravi, Sunil, and the rest of the gang at Ivy Bank (our guesthouse) was also sad.  Fortunately, there is facebook.

After a stomach churning drive, we reached Dehradun.  With 5 hours to go before our train departed, we were not sure what to do.  So we restaurant hopped, and ate about five dinners.  Oh, and we also went bowling.  It was a lot of fun.

DELHI ARRIVAL

We arrived in Delhi at 5:30 am, on July 30^th.  We were immediately whisked off to the Taj Mahal hotel, where we spent a few days in the lap of luxury.  Though the complimentary breakfast was nice, I must admit that I was very happy to get out of that place, and very excited to start life as a Delhi-ite.  Which brings me to…

OUR APARTMENT

I am now a proud resident of Malviya Nagar, a neighborhood in South Delhi.  There is a small park with a playground directly in front of our house, where there are always children playing, and adults power walking.  Also, there is free yoga every morning!  I have yet to take part, mostly because I have not had a good night’s sleep since returning to Delhi, but I hope to join in soon.  Our apartment is very nicely located, close to the bustling Malviya Nagar main market, the super swanky Select City Walk Mall, and the Hauz Khas metro station.  Our landlords are wonderful, helpful, and welcoming, and have promised me Indian cooking lessons.  More on those to come!

SCHOOL

Lest we forget, I am here in India on a Fulbright English Teaching Assistantship.  My assignment is to teach middle school English at the Navyug School, Laxmi Bai Nagar.  The Navyug School system, founded in the 1980s, is a system of government-funded English medium schools for academically talented children from the “economically weaker section of society.”  The schools operate under the belief that bad economic circumstances should not stop talented children from achieving all that they can.  I believe whole-heartedly in the school’s mission, and am excited to be affiliated with it.  I am not blind to its problems however.  As is so often the case all over the world, particularly with regards to education, things are not always quite as clear-cut and perfect as they seem.  For example, though the school is technically English medium (all subjects, including science, math, etc. are supposed to be taught in English) this is not really the case, as many of the students do not have the English skills to understand such advanced concepts in the language.  (I should also mention that some students speak very good English—the huge range of proficiency is another problem.)  For this reason, teachers often revert back to Hindi when explaining things, creating a vicious cycle.  Naturally, this has implications for me too.  The literature on the government mandated syllabus is often far too advanced for many of my students: try explaining the concept of irony (in English) to kids who struggle to put two sentences together in the language.  Not easy.

So far, school has been chaotic, frustrating, exhilarating, refreshing, heartwarming, exhausting…basically, overwhelming.  My students are very sweet, but very loud.  Some of the kids are loud because they are being deliberately disruptive (having fist fights, drumming on the tables, throwing pens, etc.).  Others are honestly trying to learn, but in their enthusiasm are yelling “ma’am!! Ma’am!!!  I will read Ma’am!!!”  When everyone is yelling this at once, it is impossible to hear the child who is actually reading.  Additionally, there seems to be no stigma attached to being a “tattle-tale” here.  This is frustrating, as it is very difficult to conduct a class when children are constantly coming up to me and accusing their classmates of some crime or other.  On the plus side though, some of my favorite quotes have come from tattle-tale situations:

“Ma’am!  Ma’am!!  This boy is abusing language ma’am!”

“Ma’am!  This is bad boy ma’am, you must slap him!” 

“Ma’am, this is naughty boy ma’am!”

From one of the class monitors, a bright girl with very good English, who tries to help me keep order: “Ma’am!  This boy is saying that I am your secretary ma’am!”

My personal favorite so far: “Ma’am, this boy is playing tabla on table ma’am!”

Outside of class however, my student are very sweet, often giving me flowers, friendship bands, or candy.  Sometimes I am serenaded with such American (and Canadian) masterpieces as Ke$ha’s “Tick tock,” Akon’s “Smack that,” and Justin Bieber’s “Baby.”  I hope to continue to get to know these kids outside of class, so I can be more than just the crazy teacher who tries in vain to yell over their din, yet refuses to hit them. 

The teachers at my school continue to be wonderful.  Most of them have children my age, so they call me “beta” (child), and are very motherly towards me.  When it comes to such things as holidays and school policies, I am very ignorant, but they are all patient with me.  As I settle in, I hope to need less and less help from them, but for now, having this supportive network has been very nice.  That’s not to say that it’s all sunshine and daisies.  Teachers here are overworked and underpaid (sound familiar?) and have to deal with a lot of pointless bureaucracy, which often means that their energies are taken away from the important task of teaching.  Also, the school is short staffed, which means that most of the classes have at least one substitute teacher period a day.  This is often exhausting for teachers, and unproductive for students. 

As they say, every rose bush has its share of thorns, and it looks like teaching at the Navyug School will be rosy and thorny all at once.  During our orientation, one of the speakers told us that many of our students and teachers would move us to tears with their commitment, hospitality, and kindness.  He also mentioned that there would be those who moved us to tears for other, less happy reasons.  I think every day about how wise this man is.  One day, I was upset because I could not get my sixth graders to do any of their work during class, due to an unending chain of fist-fights.  As I walked out of school that day, fighting back tears and questioning my right to such a prestigious grant and amazing opportunity, one of the girls in the class came up to me and said “Ma’am—you are good teacher ma’am.  My class…always like this ma’am.”  And once again, I was fighting back tears.

I can tell that this year will be a roller coaster ride, full of euphoric highs followed by scream-inducing drops, stomach churning loops, and terrifying yet exhilarating upside-down sections.  Fortunately, I love roller coasters, and I am looking forward to continuing on this ride…even if I do puke a couple of times along the way.

INDEPENDENCE DAY

India’s Independence Day is August 15^th, which falls on a Monday this year.  For this reason, we celebrated at the school on Friday, August 12^th.  At first, there was doubt as to whether there would actually be a celebration at all, as the monsoons were pelting down full force—the school has no auditorium, and all assemblies are conducted outside.  Eventually, in the afternoon, the whole school filed into the courtyard.  First there was a short skit by the primary school students about the environment.  Then, there was “fancy-dress show,” during which little first, second, and third graders paraded around dressed as various Indian trees and animals, as well as the sun and the moon.  There was even a mini Gandhi and a mini Nehru.  Needless to say, it was suitably adorable.  Then followed some singing performances, some speeches, and one somewhat unusual, but very impressive presentation: one seventh grade boy got up in front of the microphone and made a number of animal sounds (all Indian animals).  There were several bird calls, a tiger’s roar, and a very convincing water buffalo bellow.  Very entertaining.  The assembly finished with a whole school rendition of the National Anthem. 

The event was very interesting to me for many reasons.  Though I’ve grown up watching fireworks on the fourth of July, and occasionally even eating a burger or hotdog, I’ve never really been encouraged to be particularly patriotic or nationalistic.  When I was enrolled in the Waldorf School during the Bush years, patriotism was almost frowned upon.  One of my friends and fellow ETAs, Stephanie, made the point that India is still a young country, and nationalism has to be taught, to remind the people of the country’s unity.  Additionally, there are still people in India who remember the days before independence, who know first hand how far the country has come, and how horrible such things as Partition really were.  I don’t know that I’ll ever feel particularly nationalistic about America, but I might do well to appreciate the freedom I enjoy as a US citizen.

RAKHSHA BANDAN

This year, the Indian festival of Rakhshabandan, the festival that celebrates the bond between brothers and sisters, fell on August 13^th.  I had been experiencing the leadup to the holiday ever since Mussoorie, when beautiful beaded bracelets started appearing in stores and roadside stands.  Slowly, I cam to learn about the holiday.  On rakhi, sisters will tie bracelets onto their brothers’ wrists, while expressing her love, and asking him for protection.  In return, the brothers give gifts and sweets.  A few days before the festival, Aruna, one of the teachers at my school, invited me to her parents’ house for their Rakhshabandan celebration.  Honored to be invited, and excited to see what it was all about, I accepted.

Upon reaching the house, I met Aruna’s parents, her three sisters, and her one brother.  Also present was Aruna’s son (who had recently completed a fellowship with a company in DC!) and a large group of cousins and in-laws.  Though it was a relatively small family function by Indian standards, there was definitely a festive, family reunion type of energy going around.  I watched as all the sisters tied rakhis onto their brothers’ wrists while chanting a prayer.  Once the tying was finished, the sister painted a dot onto her brother’s third eye, and popped a sweet into his mouth.  Because cousins and in-laws are considered just as good as brothers and sisters here, there was a large number of exchanges.  I even got to tie a rakhi onto one of the brothers in law, which was very nice.

After the pooja, lunch was served.  It was delicious.  Needless to say, I ate a lot.  But it was my first Rakhshabandan, so that’s allowed, right?  Food and joking aside, though, it was really a lovely afternoon.  It was especially nice to be able to celebrate the holiday with a family, seeing as I am so far away from my own.  A surprising number of Indians I have met here have bad-mouthed themselves, saying that Americans are much more friendly and honest.  I don’t know if I buy this though.  Certainly, the kindness I have experienced so far goes above and beyond even the most exemplary stories of the famous Indian hospitality.

KATHAK

I have started lessons in kathak (North Indian classical dance)!  I took one semester of kathak while in Hyderabad, but I am extremely rusty, and excited to start up again. 

I first entered the dance school intending only to ask about what kinds of classes were offered, prices, etc.  When I walked in, however, I discovered that the woman at the desk spoke only Hindi.  We were somehow able to communicate though, and she asked if I would like to meet the kathak teacher.  I was nervous, but said yes.  She led me back to the practice rooms, where the kathak teacher was sitting on the floor playing the harmonium, while a man next to him played the tabla.  They stopped their playing when I walked in.  The woman who I had been talking to explained who I was to the kathak teacher.  He didn’t really speak English either (I REALLY have to get better at Hindi!!) but the man playing the tabla did, so he communicated to me that the teacher wanted me to show some of the kathak that I knew.  Feeling like a fool, I bumbled through some of what I had learned in Hyderabad.  After some head shaking, and muttered words to our translator, the teacher showed me a few steps.  He and the tabla player then accompanied me as I went through them.  As I left, the tabla player told me that it was “a beautiful thing” that I was doing, (picking up kathak once again), and that he wished me luck.  So that’s my signing up story: more on actual classes soon!