continental airlines thinks it's an okay idea for their employees to steal from your luggage

On a recent flight from Newark to Greenville, SC, I was forced to "gate-check" my carry-on bag. This carry-on bag was in my possession every moment from Madurai, India, all the way to Newark, NJ, USA. Once I reached the gate at Newark I was forced to temporarily part with this bag because they said it was too big to carry on the small airplane. I reluctantly parted with it on the jetway and felt really weird about leaving it there unattended along with everyone else's gate checked bags. But I foolishly trusted that it would be okay. I watched very nervously from inside the plane to make sure it made it onto the plane, but it was out of my possession for at least 20 minutes before we took off. This carry-on bag contained all my research materials from the past several months along with my brand new $400 digital camera. This camera contained hundreds of photos from my research. Whoever put my bag under the airplane went ahead and helped themselves to (read: STOLE) my digital camera. I've complained to Continental Airlines only to be told that they "do not cover electronic items." Basically their policy is that employees can steal whatever electronics they want. If someone stole my T-shirt, they "might" cover it. I tried explaining to them the convenience of this policy for the company, but they kept parroting the same lines back to me.

Actually, Continental Airlines employees can steal anything they want from your baggage because Continental Airlines will do nothing about it and they don't care. Wow. I should really consider a change of career! Because being a baggage handler for Continental Airlines would be a plum job. Stealing of expensive electronics is encouraged! No one will ever look into it. It really makes you feel safe, let me tell you. Baggage handlers can steal from your luggage and never be seen by anyone! Wonder if these lowlifes would accept money to put something INTO the gate-checked baggage? I mean, no one sees them when they steal!

I've spent a lot of years in India and I've (carelessly) lost many things, some valuable and some not so valuable. I cannot tell you how many times I have had things returned to me. Things like a video camera I left in the back of a rickshaw. I had this returned to me. I also lost a housekey inside a rickshaw and the driver went to all sorts of trouble to find me to give it back. Once I dropped a cheap pair of sunglasses in an auto and the driver drove all the way back to this function I was attending and searched until he found me so he could give them back. When my parents were visiting India we somehow left an entire piece of luggage in a restaurant and then boarded at 24 hour houseboat tour upriver from the town where we left the bag. Someone in the restaurant alerted the boat owner who called the boat drivers (we were in the middle of the Kerala backwaters) who informed us about the bag. By the time we got to our destination several kilometers upriver the next morning, the bag was there waiting for us. I've been lucky in that I have never had anything stolen from me in India. In fact, I've only had numerous items returned to me by people who make less money per month, or maybe per YEAR, than some of these items are worth. But the moment I make it back to American soil, my $400 digital camera is stolen from my luggage and the employers of these thieves couldn't give a damn less.

I am in the process of suing Continental Airlines in small claims court here in Greenville, SC. I will probably lose $80 (the fee for making a claim). But I've already lost priceless photos and a $400 camera so it might be worth the $80 for the satisfaction of suing these jerks.

Example of an electronic item that Continental Airlines
baggage handlers are permitted to "pilfer" from your luggage.
(from Continental Airlines employee handbook)

indecent proposal

Just like many American perceptions of Indians are often mediated by cinema, both Hollywood and Bollywood, Indian perceptions of Americans are largely mediated by American movies. In most cases, the absolute worst that Hollywood has to offer is what makes it over to India, both in cinemas and in DVD form. I think I have mentioned some of these films in previous blogs. Americans have concluded (falsely of course) from watching Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom that Indians eat monkey brains; somehow or another many Indians have seen something in movie form which has convinced them that Americans eat snakes on a regular basis. In fact, I am asked if I eat snake soup just about as often as Americans ask me if Indians eat monkey brains. Which is to say, quite often. My point is that individuals from both cultures have ridiculous ideas about the other culture that are based almost entirely on Hollywood movies. As I have mentioned before, friends of mine in Madurai have variously concluded from films such as 300 that in "America" the sun doesn't shine and everything is sepia-toned; further, naked women wearing nothing but gold coins on their nipples grind against hunchbacks for fun. (See earlier post regarding this). But let me add again that this is no more ridiculous than concluding from Indiana Jones that Indians sacrifice human beings to Kali by ripping out their beating hearts and then celebrate by dining on almost-living monkey brains.

Most Indians are very familiar also with WWF (professional wrestling) and will usually chat me up about this, since these wrestlers are my countrymen after all. Another entertainment venue for getting to understand foreigners and their strange behaviors seems to be Discovery Channel and National Geographic Channel, both of which regularly feature white people carrying backpacks and roaming various wildernesses with cameras and binoculars. A friend of mine has noted from these programs that you will regularly find white people roaming around the countryside using binoculars to stare at birds and other animals. I told her that I do this myself for fun. But from the perspective of my friends here, this sort of behavior seems a little bit insane. It would never occur to someone here to walk around with binoculars and look at birds close up for fun. People are, however, fascinated with these various nature programs and will watch them even if they don't understand English. Many grandmothers that I know seem to like these programs quite a bit, especially ones that feature underwater creatures. The grandma next door was particularly taken by a program on whale sharks.

A good friend of mine recently watched a number of American movies on DVD with her family. One of them was a (probably B movie) called "Turn Around." Some sort of horror movie. According to her review, it features a number of college girls who go into the wilderness for some sort of hiking and caving/mountain climbing adventure. My friend and her relations were shocked that "age-attend panna ponna" (girls who have reached puberty) would leave their parents and go roaming around the woods alone. She said they kept scolding them the whole time, "What sort of adolescent girl roams the woods alone?! Don't they have parents? Is this necessary?!!" Of course the girls end up getting slaughtered by some sort of man-eating ghosts, so I suppose that their trip wasn't such a good idea after all. My friend then recounted to me a scene in the movie in which a married woman inexplicably leaves her husband and baby on the shore and goes white-water rafting. This was also an unbelievable scene for them. The idea that a woman would go and board a plastic boat and forge into rushing currents just for fun seemed to be completely insane. I told her that I myself have been caving and whitewater rafting; she wasn't surprised because my friends have accepted that American girls, despite having reached puberty, not only leave their homes, but do so to engage in such crazy activities as roaming around pitch black caves.

Because Madurai people have come to understand that many Americans do indeed like to roam through jungles, seemingly without any purpose other than to take photographs, I wasn't quite sure how to interpret a recent interaction that took me by surprise. Just a few days ago I was chatting with a woman a few doors down when a man from inside a photo shop suddenly came out of his shop and approached me with a couple of photographs. (This is a man who has showed far too much interest in me in past weeks, and by too much interest I mean any shred of interest which results in unnecessary conversation with me -- a big "no-no" with any age-attend panna ponna such as myself.) These photographs were "nature" photographs he had taken up at Alagar Kovil. But these weren't just any nature photographs, they were extreme close-ups of FLIES HAVING SEX. I had no idea how to react to these photos. Are they obscene? What is this pervent implying? It was an interesting problem in that I am an American who is accustomed to seeing nature photography but who realizes that this is not a medium you often find in Madurai culture. Americans might take pictures of fly sex, but I don't think it occurs to most Madurai citizens to objectify such things. Therefore it is difficult to interpret a photo such as this in such a cultural context. He then asked me if I liked the photos and I said "yes they are nice" and handed them back to him immediately and avoided all eye contact from that point forward. He also showed them to Sumathi and she just looked at him and asked "WHY?" My sentiments exactly. Apparently my typical American response of "yeah they are nice" was the wrong thing to say because he interpreted my "liking" the photos as an indication that I liked him. And he then sent Sumathi over here a couple of nights ago to ask me if I wanted him to take me to the temple one day. NO THANK YOU. I reported the fly porn to the local ladies tonight and they went into an uproar. Apparently showing fly sex photos is considered inappropriate. What do u think?

Should this be considered pornography?

(female) cows do indeed have horns

Today I was walking through a (very) open dusty field usually populated by a number of bovines. There was a bull standing nearby that looked ominous. I thought to myself, "wouldn't it be scary if that bull charged at me?" I continued on my merry way and the bull wasn't interested, thankfully. But as I passed through the field I came upon a cow that was eating some trash. Apparently something in the trash pile stung this cow because as soon as I got nearby it started jumping up and down and then saw me and came running straight for me. I was pretty terrified. Every once in a while a cow will go nuts here and run through the streets; people will grab their children and run. When this cow came after me today I sort of froze. They say with bears you are supposed to freeze/play dead; I think this tactic may work with insane cows as well. I also started immediately praying and sending brain waves to the cow "I am a vegetarian! Please don't stampede me!" Apparently this worked, because as the very last second the cow veered off and ran off to another of her bovine friends and got her stirred up like a Mexican jumping bean. I got the heck out of there. Tonight Chellapandi confirmed that cows do stab people here, and not just during the infamous jallikattu! And those of you who are doubting that female cows have horns, believe it! They may not be as menacing as the bull's horns, but they have some horns! By the way is "female cow" redundant?

This is a selection of males and females;
you will note that they all have horns.

welcome to paradise

I'm not one to romanticize village life over city life, but this past weekend I made a day trip to the nearby village of Mangulam and being there made me wonder why I ever decided to live in the city. Late November is a GLORIOUS time to be in Tamil Nadu. And the rural landscape of the southern districts of this fair state is really at its most beautiful this time of year. The tanks, irrigation channels, and rice paddies are full of post-monsoon water. The rice paddies and sugarcane fields are bright green and the sky is a dark clear blue. There is also a nice wind blowing at this time of year. The air in Mangalam was fresh and not choked with pollution like Madurai, and it was actually peaceful without the blare of car horns, blasting of crackers, booming radios, etc.

In somewhat typical village (and even city) style I was treated with overwhelming hospitality such that I ate two breakfasts and one enormous lunch, alone. And by eating alone I mean I was the only one eating -- with 25 people standing around watching me. And after the amazing lunch I was made to lay down and take rest on a special mat and was also carefully observed during nap time as well. Normally I would find it difficult to sleep under surveillance, but this day was different as we had just marched several miles in the hot sun to a festival out near Melur and I was exhausted. It was Kartigai Deepam, a very special day for Murugan. Because I was there the family arranged transport to a drop off point, from which we walked several kilometers to reach a huge festival going on basically in the middle of nowhere countryside. (It was funny to me that the only reason we took transport was because of me; otherwise they would have walked many more miles!) Here Murugan is worshipped with no statue or any image whatsoever. They say that if there is an image of God in this place it signifies a lack of faith among the people. Basically the "temple" is merely a platform covered in garlands that everyone circumambulates. The priests crack coconuts on it for devotees and distribute ash. Nearby there is a mountain of sand that people climb up, dumping handfuls of sand and salt on a plant at the top. They say that you should pray while doing this and whatever you ask for will be granted. Also near the temple there is a huge field filled with water. This water is considered holy, and one must remove their shoes to go into it and collect the water to take home. I was the only one participating in any of these rituals as the family I went with is still considered impure for several more days because of a death in the family. It was very nice of them to take me to this festival, just so I could witness it. And it was certainly a lot of fun, and the festival was like nothing I have ever seen. A lot of festivals are like this in Tamil Nadu. So many of them are completely unique.

On the way back to Madurai, we were treated to some very beautiful views of the countryside. It was evening when we boarded the bus, and since it was Karthigai Deepam everyone had lit lamps in the doorways, windows, and on the steps of their homes. It was quite a sight, and reminded me of Christmas in the U.S. except even more beautiful. I think this is probably my favorite holiday here, perhaps because it is so peaceful. But some people are introducing firecrackers/dynamite to the Karthigai Deepam celebrations, probably because they simply cannot help themselves. What else are you going to do with any atom bombs left over from Deepavali?

My dream house is straight ahead on the water's edge.

Mangulam, TN (Madurai district)

Collecting holy water

Dumping sand and salt on the mystery plant

This smiling man will give you a tattoo using the communal needle
pictured at the bottom of the photo. It's a bargain at Rs. 3 per tattoo!



Thankfully, much more benign body art is available at the festival.
For Rs. 1 this gentleman will put henna designs on the kids' hands.

My neighborhood, Meenakshipuram, is known for
very nice Karthigai Deepam displays.

It wasn't until after this picture was snapped that I noticed
the three interlopers behind us!

sambhar for thanksgiving

I hope y'all are having a very Happy Thanksgiving, wherever you are. The day here in Madurai has come to an end. I sure do wish I were home, in the US, right about now -- gorging on dressing and cranberry sauce. But the fact of the matter is, I'm thousands of miles away and feeling homesick. For dinner I had uppuma, taakkaali koottu, pumpkin (hey, that's sort of like Thanksgiving! Except this was sauteed in tons of spices), and eggplant. Quite tasty, but not what my heart exactly desires on Thanksgiving. We ate by candlelight because there was a power cut. I told Chellapandi that in the US fancy restaurants put candles on the tables and she thought that was pretty funny.

The past couple of weeks have been a rollercoaster with some very difficult moments. This is the reason I haven't blogged in a while. But before I recount recent events I'm just going to ease back into blogging again by putting up some happy pictures from life in Madurai. I just went through over a thousand pictures today, organizing all the drishti pumpkins and such, and I stumbled upon some nice pictures from the past few weeks. Hope you enjoy.

A new use for okra

Pet sheep in the sari shop?
Haven't quite figured this one out.

A moment of rest in the midst of Deepavali shopping madness

post-saappaadu (rice meals) euphoria

The one picture from Deepavali that sort of turned out.
I have a new digital camera that no one can figure out just yet.

Madurai sunset

deepavali: not for the faint of heart...

Deepavali: the most important Indian (Hindu) holiday. No one seems to know what it is "really" about, but the two most important things seem to be new clothes (shopping madness) and firecrackers (the more deafening, the better). Everyone is in the festive spirit, and this includes pooling your money together with the neighbors and buying a goat or two. I'm not sure where folks got the idea that Indians are (mostly) vegetarians. Because most of them love meat. They might not eat cows, but they love them some goat meat. Just tonight I was heading over to the medical stall to buy some honey (considered a medicine!) and I noticed a couple of (cute) goats tied out front, happily munching on fodder and oblivious to the giddily happy, salivating humans surrounding them. I immediately knew they were going to be lunch, and the neighbors had quite a good time joshing me about it. The fact that I am a vegetarian is something they respect but have a great time making fun of me about. Especially when I tell them that my family kept goats for 15 years, but as pets! They ask me if we ate them when they died and look disappointed and confused when I tell them no. Why would someone waste a perfectly good goat that people here would pay thousands of rupees for the (rare) pleasure of eating? I am trying to be an open-minded vegetarian, but I think I'll be absent tomorrow when these two oblivous goats go to the chopping block.

Deepavali: not exactly for goat-lovers.

I [heart] TN (pre-Deepavali)

Earlier I had been feeling homesick, or actually sick for a home -- any home that is at least semi-permanent. I was feeling sorry for myself, for still being completely itinerant at the age of 28 when my peers are settling down someplace and have a semblance of a stable, normal life (whatever that is). But then I started looking back at the photographic evidence of the past few months and started to get the feeling that there is something to be said for this sort of life as well, and that I am pretty lucky to be here. Probably in 10 years I'll be wishing I could be "free" again. Right now I am feeling that I really do [heart] TN. (TN meaning Tamil Nadu.)

Of course as I write this, my blood pressure is slowing inching up with each deafening and heart-attack inducing bomb (known euphemistically as Lakshmi Candle "firecrackers") that goes off in bursts of pre-Deepavali exuberance. It has just begun this evening. I first noticed them in Mahatma Gandhi Nagar this morning, and slowly but surely the explosions have spread like a cancer throughout the whole city. By Thursday I will be hating my life completely, as bombs will be going off twenty-four hours a day by then. My favorite is having crackers going off next to me as I walk down the road. So if I've got something nice to say about TN, I'd better say it now, pre-Deepavali firecrackers.

Resident of Madakulam, Madurai

Aiyannar Temple, Madakulam
Votive Cow


Foot statue votive, gifted upon completion of vow


Horse votives


Deputy of Aiyannar


Drishti pumpkin


Kan Drishti Ganapati


Drishti Donkeys: "Lucky Queen and Lucky King"
"Look at us and you'll be lucky"


Women's Art Celebration, Madurai


Tree shrine


My bling. Let me show you it.


Ganesh, downtown Madurai


Digital Darshan of Mary and Jesus


Veelaankanni Maata

Two Madurai Spinsters

processions: men vs. women

October 30th was the 100th birth anniversary of Pasumpon Muthuramalinga Thevar (a hero of the Thevar caste). Thevar Jeyanthi has been notorious for inter-caste riots and violence, and just as recently as a few years ago individuals tended to go slightly overboard in their exuberance, brandishing sickles in the middle of the major Goripalayam intersection where the Thevar statue is located. There is often tension between Thevars and Scheduled Castes (Dalits) throughout Tamil Nadu, particularly in the southern districts. Just before Thevar Jeyanthi, a statue of Ambedkar was "disrespected" in Madurai leading to the stoning of buses. It is difficult to find out exactly what happened to this statue, because the media will not print such details. (It is illegal to print or say things which might inflame or incite religious or communal tensions, and this seems to include newspapers and other media outlets covering such incidents in detail. Just a few weeks back a radio DJ up in NE India made some apparently racist comments against the runner-up of Indian Idol, but it was impossible to find out what these comments were because no one would print them. It is also illegal to "hurt someone's religious sentiments" and often this is interpreted very liberally.) The Chief Minister of TN just named the Madurai airport "Pasumpon Muthuramalinga Thevar Airport," an action which many individuals (particularly those from the Scheduled Castes) tend to interpret as an assertion of Thevar supremacy. Needless to say it is all very controversial and I will refrain from saying any more.

Things have changed a lot in the past few years, and you don't see sickles at Goripalayam. There was violence in other districts, and a member of Parliament did get stabbed in the stomach on the way to Madurai, but Goripalayam (the epicenter of the Madurai celebrations) was relatively under control, at least when I went there in the morning. I took a couple of short videos of the exuberance, and I thought it was interesting to compare the way that women and men conduct processions. The women's procession consisted of women and young girls walking in an orderly line around the statue carrying molleppaari (sprouts, considered holy, usually grown for religious festivals) on their heads. The men's "procession," on the other hand, consisted of circling the statue over and over again at top speed hanging off the sides of vehicles, whooping and hollering and whistling at the top of their lungs. Men and young boys were also dancing; Tamilarasi wanted to leave because she said they were dancing "obscenely" because of me. It didn't seem any more obscene than usual, but we left before things got too crazy (read: after the women's procession was over).

Men's "procession"

Women's procession

cow dung (and Tamil jokes) can be injurious to health

Tonight as I was walking home from the parotta stall up at the bus stop I noticed a big conflagration out in front of the cow shed/dairy. I stopped at a local family's house to inquire as to the cause of this Sunday's disturbance. The dairy folks were on one side of the road and other residents were on the opposite side of the street and they were shouting back and forth. Basically the dairy has become a sort of Superfund site here in Meenambalpuram because they don't clean up the cow dung and the poor cows are standing in several inches of chaani (dung). Now that it is monsooning, the dung is running all over the place and the neighborhood stinks to high heaven. People are saying that their kids are getting fevers because of this, and they want the family to clean up this dung problem. I actually don't think it stinks anywhere near as bad as it did back in the hot part of summer when that dung was getting baked in the 107F sun and the smell was wafting in here all day long (I live across the street from this cow shed).

It is a source of consternation to some folks that this dairy family prospers despite living in a veritable pig sty. In this country cleanliness is absolutely next to godliness, and it doesn't seem fair to my friends that people who bathe, practice proper hygiene, pray and act godly would suffer in poverty while these dirty people are rolling in rupees. I did notice that they don't seem to wear very clean clothes. But it wasn't until today when I saw the grandpa using a cow's tail as a hand towel that I realized exactly what my friends were getting at when they accused these people of inferior hygiene. I think henceforth I will be buying my curd elsewhere.

So as I watched the fight taking place from the front stoop of the neighbor's house, I made a Tamil joke which was really something of a victory for me....until the older lady of the family started laughing so hard she began to choke! Stop me if you've heard this one already....I said, "English-le naarrukkizhamainnu Sunday. Aanaa, ingee naarrukkizhamainnu sundai!" Basically it translates, "In English "naarrukkizhamai" means "Sunday" but here "naarrukkizhamai" means "fight." " Basically it is a play on words because Sunday kind of rhymes with sundai (fight), and of course it isn't funny in English! So you will just have to take my word for it that people here seem to think this is a pretty funny joke. And everyone seems to agree, Sunday is a day for fighting around these parts. (As I write this I am under attack by enormous flying cockroaches. The monsoon creates rivers of dung, but it also ushers in my most hated creature on this Earth!)

local cow dining on scraps from the parotta stall

a rare moment of peace...

nothing some jungle cat juices can't fix

Just when you think you've pretty much touched all the bases of your dissertation research topic, out of left field will come something completely unexpected. Something that will likely take your breath away or, in rare cases, really turn your stomach. That's the beauty of doing research in a place like India. It's not going to be boring, and there is a seeming bottomless well full or unique rituals and gods and beliefs that you have never heard of or imagined before. This keeps things interesting, but it also sometimes give you the feeling that you can never know enough. You could study one small corner of this place your entire life and keep turning over stones with unbelievable things underneath.

Yesterday I made the "mistake" of wearing a nice salwar. It's a few years old but new to the folks around here. One neighbor told me it was so nice it will make your head spin; this is because it's black and I'm white and she thought it was a nice contrast. So yesterday I got some compliments on this thing. Then this morning I wake up and my middle fingernail on my left hand was infected, swollen, and very painful. I had a hangnail there that suddenly got really infected. Chellapandi took one look at it and said it was "kanneeru" or evil eye, a classic case. Suddenly it was all being pieced together, starting with the salwar from yesterday.

So she recommends that we go downtown to this sandalwood/puja supply store run by a Muslim gentleman. He would do mantras and cure my hand, she says. (Naturally I really wanted to check out a Muslim manthiravaathi, as I just interviewed three such Muslims ladies the other day who do mantras. It's very interesting to see the overlap between Hinduism and Islam in India, as far as "black magic" is concerned. Noticing that I had a cold, one of the older grandmas took my water bottle and did mantras over it and then blew into it three times. She told me to drink it in three gulps. Her daughter is basically a professional manthiravaathi who diagnoses and does evil eye cures and prophylaxes for Hindus and Muslims alike.) Before we headed downtown to visit the Muslim manthiravaathi I attempted traditional cures like iodine ointment and bandaids but it kept getting worse. I figured this witch doctor was worth a shot. Besides, it would kind of be like donating my (living) body to science.

Needless to say it was a very interesting trip. He diagnosed my finger right away as an evil eye problem. And it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see how much attention a white girl like me gets around these parts; so if there is a such thing as the evil eye, I'm going to be having constant problems it seems. He applied some ointment to my finger and then splashed me with some blessed water from a small vessel that contained lots of very intricate Arabic inscriptions from the Koran. The ointment was the consistency of petroleum jelly. We got to talking to him about the evil eye, and it wasn't until shortly after the ointment application that I realized we were standing right next to three cages, each containing a sleeping jungle cat of some kind. Turns out that this ointment is milked from the testicles of these jungle cats! When I realized this I felt very ill. But not as ill as I felt once he reached for a jar full of hairy jungle cat testicles that stunk to high heaven. I wasn't quite clear on the Tamil but it would seem that these are gleaned from the forest areas from dead jungle cats that have been killed by foxes. These attractive items fetch Rs. 150 a piece on the black (magic) market. If you are looking for a new line of work, this may be the ticket. And for a bargain 20 rupees you can get this stuff smeared on your hand and also a little carry tin of it to take home with a nice crescent moon and star design on the front. Very classy.

This gentleman was very helpful and knows a lot about drishti, needless to say. And I am going to go back and interview him in the near future. But next time I am going to avoid the jungle cat juice as it is certainly a non-vegetarian treatment.

Purveyor of fine sandalwood paste,
incense, rosewater,
and jungle cat juices.

Does anyone know what this animal is exactly? I feel sorry for him, whatever he is.
Fortunately there are only three such jungle cats currently being squeezed in Madurai.

when being excluded becomes a sort of data

What do you do when the thing you are researching is an impediment to your research? This is the problem with researching something like the evil eye. When people want to hide things from the public eye, it's not like they're just going to invite you into their homes to gape at their private affairs, etc. I really wanted to check out some Saraswati/Ayudha pujas on Saturday. Some neighbors said they would let me know when the pujas were going on so I could watch. Well, it turns out that they did the pujas in secret and then claimed they "forgot" to tell me. And then I ended up feeling pretty hurt and left out, not to mentioned discouraged since this is my fieldwork after all and Ayudha puja only happens once a year. Tamilarasi told me that people don't usually have outsiders into their homes for such things, unless those outsides happen to be children. I suppose that this is because the gaze of children is considered benign, whereas the gaze of adults is not. Of course this is a useful piece of information for my project, but when you are being excluded by the people that you have been living practicially on top of since March, you tend to take things pretty personally for a minute. Now I am being excluded NOT because I am unmarried, but because I am a not a child! So what am I? Some sort of unclassifiable being.

My past experiences in Madurai have been mostly with upper-middle class and higher caste host families. This is a self-selecting group of people who have chosen to open their homes to foreigners, allowing Americans to be part of an Indian family to the greatest extent possible. But now I'm living in a different community, and I'm being treated like a community member, not a child. It's different, to say the least, and sometimes access is more difficult. Not surprisingly, individuals who are more used to foreigners are going to be more likely to throw open their doors to them.

Just this past week, I went with some of the neighbor ladies to several houses to look at the golu displays. Golu is a display of dolls done at Navaratri. But it's almost always higher caste families with financial means who are able to put on these displays as they require a lot of money and leisure time to put on. A golu display is expensive not just because of the dolls involved, but because you are also expected to give the women in attendance free things like sari blouse material, flowers, sundal (a kind of dal), and things like small puja and food vessels. During Navaratiri people like me and my neighbors roam the Brahmin neighborhoods looking to score some booty at their golu displays. It's fun and the free stuff is nice. After leaving the golu, women compare all the families, pointing out whose doll displays were better and who is a miser and who isn't, etc. Golu is actually a very nice way of redistributing wealth and everyone knows this. It's probably the only social and religious occasion that you will find Dalits visiting and eating in Brahmin and other higher caste homes. There were some interesting interactions that took place, particularly when higher caste guests unexpectedly stumbled in upon our rather rambuctious party from Meenambalpuram. But the families who put on the golu hosted us very generously. And hopefully this wasn't just because a white girl was there.

Despite being excluded from some of the Ayudha pujas on Saturday night, I did manage to impose myself on the Ayudha Puja going on at the cycle shop next door. They also "forgot" to let me know that it started at 10pm, but I stalked them until it started. I wasn't invited to stand up top, inside the shop, where the innocuous children were, but I did get a good view from the bottom. They tolerated my presence at least. Then later in the evening they sent their children over with a big bag of prasad for me. An unexpected and very nice gesture, certain to effectively buy off any bad drishti on my part. Ironically, once I got home Chellapandi told me that I was the one who got the evil eye at the puja, because people were watching to see how the white girl prays, etc.. So she rotated some camphor around my head three times, had me spit on it, and then she burned it in front of the house. While we were doing puja at the cycle shop, the neighbor had secretly rotated some burning camphor around his cycle rickshaw to remove his own post-Ayudha puja drishti and then locked himself up in his house before anyone noticed. I was also advised by a friend to take the drishti lemon from our own Saraswati puja that evening and (secretly, in the middle of the night) throw half of it over the back of the house from the roof and the other half in the three point intersection. Lots of "secret" stuff going on that isn't the least bit secret. In such a close knit community people try to be secret about evil eye prophylaxes because it's basically like openly accusing your neighbors of being envious/destructive.

Speaking of neighbors being destructive, I think I committed a faux pas on Sunday. I was hanging out with the neighbors when I somehow, like a good American, ended up complimenting a neighbor's kids for lack of anything else better to say. Well, that was a stupid idea. She told me, with her son standing right there, that he is a complete imbecile who cannot read or write a single word of English or Tamil. He just stood there expressionless and I really had no idea what to say. This was clearly an evil eye prophylactic behavior because according to all available data this boy seems to be quite smart. I clearly made an error, because even the neighbor's aunt who was sitting there was astounded at the extent to which her niece went to slam her own son. I felt pretty helpless then. I might know how to say speak, but it doesn't mean I always know how to speak appropriately. Americans are expected to compliment other folks kids, but that's not the case here. At least you don't compliment them verbally. There really isn't a country on Earth where they love kids more than in India, so you really are expected to be completely taken by kids -- just so long as you don't say so. You are expected to coddle them, pat them, hold their hands, make the same funny sounds people make to their bullocks, carry them around, and basically fawn over them and engage in all sorts of other doting behaviors that don't come naturally to me but do to seemingly everyone else in India. But don't say the kids are smart or cute or you are going to seriously offend someone like I did.

Navaratri is a time for prayer, reflection,
and wracking up plenty of free sari blouses.

Happy Saraswati/Ayudha Puja!

It's time to worship your books and iron tools, folks! Today is the last day of Navaratri, a festival of nine nights with three days each devoted to the worship of God in the form of the goddesses Durga, Lakshmi, and Saraswati. In south India the last day of Navaratri is celebrated as Saraswati Puja and Ayudha Puja. Saraswati puja involves asking God to help you in your studies and other intellectual or business pursuits. Books, ledgers, and other such written materials used by students and business folks are worshipped today. Ayudha puja is for the worship of iron tools, or other implements you use to make a living. I'll be checking out Ayudha pujas at the cycle shop next door and the auto stand down the road tonight. We've decided to include my ailing computer in the Saraswati puja this evening; there was some debate as to whether it constitutes an iron tool or a book. Tamilarasi says it is a kind of book, so Saraswati puja it is.

My computer could definitely benefit
from some puja action this evening.

unmarried women are actually children cleverly disguised as grownups

Today was a very nice day, mainly because there was lots of hanging out around the neighborhood which was interesting, informative, and fun. This morning went over to Sumathi's house to look at the dozens of new saris she recently received. Her mother-in-law died last week and the tradition here is that female friends and relatives give saris to the female relative of the deceased. Then all her friends come over and dig through the mountain of saris critiquing each one and looking at how much people paid for them. Each sari still had the price tag and a name tag attached telling the name and address of the person giving it. Then the next time someone has a death in the family, the woman will go and give a sari of the same or similar value. Watching everyone judge the saris was especially entertaining, and I got to know what is considered ugly, what designs are considered too busy, etc. This is particularly useful information considering that Deepavali is coming up next month and I am going to have to buy saris for people. I learned that saris "lighter than a bun" are bad, as are saris which are "so thin they could be used as fish nets"; you'll have to take my word for it that this all sounds way funnier in Tamil than in English.

After the sari critiquing took place, I ended up going to town with Tamilarasi and Chellapandi as T. and I still needed to buy saris for Sumathi. As we were shopping I noticed that C. and T. were picking out saris which I considered completely hideous, but the same could be said for how they felt about my selections! I seem to go for way too much hot pink in their opinion, and they are telling me to at least go for black or some dark color sometimes. (Speaking of dark colors: after shopping we went to the temple and I had to wait outside the inner sanctum because non-Hindus are not allowed. C. and T. emerged from the inner sanctum with a plan: if I would just dye my hair black I could put on a sari, a bindi, some gold, and braid my black hair and walk right on into the inner sanctum disguised as a "north Indian"! They were super excited about this plan, convinced that it would work. While I don't want to put the equivalent of shoe polish on my hair, I am sure people would be happy as brown hair is considered to be inferior/ugly here).

We were downtown for 5 hours and only now just got back. I've only got one sari for Sumathi and an inskirt for myself to show for all that walking and haggling. There were some other things I needed to buy, like a container for sandalwood paste and an incense holder. We were quoted a total of Rs. 17 for these two items which I thought was a steal. But C. and T. assumed we were being cheated because I am white and they summarily rejected these items at every juncture. I came home empty-handed.

I was excited to come home and give Sumathi the sari, but the local ladies said I shouldn't give her a sari because I am an "age attend pannap ponna" (girl who has reached puberty; DUH, I am 28) and I am NOT MARRIED. This actually really hurt my feelings, even though I know I shouldn't take this personally. There are times when you are treated as an extra-social and extra-cultural entity as a foreigner, which can sometimes be good. But then there are times in which you really want to be considered part of the community and you are refused access because of criteria that people here take for granted but that foreigners like me might take personally. I know that I shouldn't take it personally, but it's how I felt. Now this sari is sitting here and I don't know if I will give it to her tomorrow. I don't know if it's considered unlucky for her, or unlucky for me if I give it. But I have the feeling that in this situation I am considered inauspicious and it's not a nice feeling.

The fact of the matter is that people here feel that a woman becomes an adult, and indeed a whole person, only when she is married. Before that she is merely a "teenage ponna" (teenager!) no matter her age. Even though I am 28 years old, make my own money, live alone, and travel the world by myself, none of this matters in terms of my being considered an adult and a full member of the community simply because I am not married. It's just the way it is, but it still stings sometimes. And it could be worse: I could be a widow or a divorcee.

pul irunthaalum purushan
kal irunthaalum kanavan

Better to be married to grass than have no husband at all.
Better to be married to a stone than to have no husband at all.

-Tamil Proverb.

taking the guesswork out of marriage

A couple of months back the Dinamalar (Tamil daily) ran an article "The girl who is going to live in her husband's house...", roughly translated. Incidentally this is also a very popular song that is played at weddings. It really takes the guesswork out of being a wife and daughter-in-law. I thought it might be helpful for those of you women who are thinking about getting married, are recently married, or have been married for a long time and want to try a new approach to things. Also for husbands, you might want to print this out and give it to your wife. Once you finish reading please vote as to whether or not you think these were written by a man or a woman. Unfortunately there is no byline!

"...It's really up to you whether your life is going to be sad or sweet. Housewives, this is for you...

• Always think that your life is good; don't allow other thoughts to grow, or else your peace of mind will be shattered.
  
• Set aside a time for husband and wife to talk.
• Always move about with a smiling face.
• When fighting with your husband, don't use bad words. Think before you speak.
• If you give respect to each him, problems won't present themselves.
• Always be modest. If you don't have an ego, you will be able to be more close to one another.
• Don't be always calling your mother and complaining about your problems at home. This is for your mother's own good.
• Before you get married, try to get to know things about him. Get to know about his likes and dislikes.
• Thinking you are going to make jokes, don't compare his character with that of his relations.
• If you husband is yelling at you, be completely silent and don't give a response. After a minute of silence, tell your opinion very calmly.
  
• While in your husband's house, don't always be boasting about your parents and relations.
  
• Don't leave the house without your husband's company or permission.
• Don't be self-willed and make a decision on any issue without consulting your husband first.
  
• Don't ever compare others to your husband, saying they are better than him.
• Be hospitable and gracious to your husbands' relations when they come to visit.
• Don't always be nagging, "I want this, I want that."
• If you husband gives you some money for house expenses, be very thrifty with it. When he is having a difficult time with money, give him the money you saved aside and shock him.
• On his birthday give him a gift and make him happy.
• The moment your husband comes home from the office, don't start up complaining about the household problems. Immediately give him his coffee and tiffin (dinner).
  

Tips for how to interact with your mother-in-law will be added tomorrow.

parrot astrology is expensive

Yesterday I was supposed to go out to a village and interview the local astrologer/priest/black magic practitioner. Sadly, his older sister died. Because of this he won't be doing horoscopes for sixteen days (during this time a family member of the deceased is thought to be impure). It just so happened that yesterday afternoon the kili josiyam (parrot astrology) man happened to be going through the neighborhood offering his services, so we called him in for a reading.

The cost for a reading is 5 rupees. He first did a reading for Tamilarasi, who wanted to know her husbands fortune. He asks the name, age, and star of the person and then starts to chant. The parrot then comes out of the cage and stars pulling cards out of a stack. Finally it settles on one particular card and hands it to the man. Her card was Mahalakshmi, a highly beneficent and lucky goddess.

When it came time for my fortune, I'll be damned if that parrot didn't pick the absolute worst cards in the pile. First it was "HOSPITAL" - a picture of people sick in beds with IVs in their arms and nurses roaming around frantically. He then threw the shells and six of them were pointing up. Analysis? I had crossed the path of a widow and she had cursed me. The next card was a COBRA. When my friends saw this, they gasped. Not a good sign. Cobras are holy but sometimes they are bad. In this case it was bad. But by this point my friends started to get suspicious that this astrology was fixed. I also got over my initial panic, so by the time that COURTROOM and POLICE STATION were drawn, I realized this guy was trying to pull one over on us.

I had to tell him my favorite god and I said Shiva. Then he said he would pick one card, Tamilarasi would pick one card for me, and the parrot would pick a card. If "God decided to show up and help me" one of the cards would be Shiva. If not, I am in big trouble and have to pay him 4000 rupees to save myself!!! And here is how people get cheated by the parrot astrologers.

Call me crazy, but I bet you 4000 rupees

that parrot wasn't going to pick any Shiva card for me.