Vellaikkaari

a thrilling science experiment

2008-06-12T08:03:00.000-07:00

My sister asked me a long time ago to please post a video...And without further adieu, here is a very exciting video of me and Tamilarasi burning a piece of ciinikaaram (a sort of crystal usually found wrapped in a hair rope and hung in the doorway as a drishti prophylactic) to see if it would explode, or at the very least, snap crackle and pop as it is rumored to do upon the presence of the evil eye. In the end it did neither. But it did melt into a nice black blob on the front steps.

things I think I'm not going to miss one bit but which i might actually kind of miss come to think about it

2008-06-12T07:36:00.000-07:00

It's getting towards the time for me to head back to the US of A after more than a year living here in Madurai and attempting to do some decent fieldwork. There are a couple of things you can count on happening towards the end of a prolonged stay in India. One thing that will most certainly happen is the feeling of going mad mixed with the feeling that it is actually quite sad to be leaving. There are moments of joy when I realize the comforts of (my other) home are within reach, and there are moments of sadness when I comprehend just how much I am going to miss the very people who have been driving me bat **** crazy recently.

The other thing that is bound to happen when you are nearing your departure date is that you are going to be treated as a walking godown; my feelings regarding this are decidedly not mixed. I expect it every time but it never stops feeling bad. People here tend to approach the relationship between friendship and material gain quite differently than we do in the United States, or perhaps it is just that people here are much more explicit about it than we are, which can be disarming for the American. A month before departure you can expect both your closest friends and semi-strangers to begin demanding your possessions, especially the expensive ones. People will begin to circle your home and your person like vultures. Neighbors will send spies in to infiltrate your home when you have stepped out to buy some potatoes, and said spies will inspect your more expensive items and report back to others what they think they are worth. Some neighbors will try to buy your costly items, for dirt cheap, and others will expect items for free including jewelry, clothing, pots and pans, bureaus, mixies, fridge, tables, cot, mattresses, etc. You will have the feeling of wanting to just put everything out in the street and let people battle it out, or better yet to do a Solomon and cut the bureau and fridge right in half to satisfy the two individuals fighting over it.

I am perfectly happy to give away all my possessions here. In fact, that is exactly what I am trying to do. But it is incredibly difficult because everyone feels entitled to the same items and there is no way to satisfy everyone. I don't want my name to go bad, but no matter how good I try to be, some people are still going to be unhappy and talk trash. It's just the way it goes. One thing that I have learned the hard way (but which is still difficult to accept) is that no matter how much you try to satisfy and make people happy, it just isn't going to turn out the way you expect 9 times out of 10. It is in this respect that the Bhagavad Gita really hits the nail on the head; to paraphrase, one should do the right thing without being attached to the fruits of one's actions.

To give you an example, I recently celebrated my birthday here. In India the tradition is quite different than in the US in that the one celebrating the birthday is expected to treat others and give them gifts. So I ended up buying 60 pieces of cake at a big expense to give to all the neighbors who are actually my friends. This actually ended up making very few people happy. In fact, it was a disaster. People wanted me to give it to the entire neighborhood, including people that wouldn't mind if I got ran over by the mini-bus. Some folks complained that it was too dry or too little. And the giving of the cake prompted the neighbors to convene a conference on the front steps to assess my gift-giving over the past year. It was alleged that I had given the woman across the street laddu (a round sweet) on my sister's birthday last year but didn't give any to anyone else, and people were feeling very slighted. First of all, I've never given anyone here any laddu, and I sure as hell didn't give anyone any laddu on my sister's birthday. My sister is in Washington, D.C., for Pete's sake, and it isn't our habit to give strangers gifts on the birthday of a sister they have never even met. But yet these tall tales get woven and there's nothing you can do about it. I've tried my best to do for everyone equally while I've been here, and I've given some nice gifts to lots of folks. But at the end of the day, one shouldn't expect others to show satisfaction in the way that we as Americans are socialized to expect. I think that people here usually are quite happy when getting gifts, but because is considered acceptable to critique them or complain about them in relation to what others have received it doesn't always seem that way. In the US we certainly feel jealous and slighted at times, but it isn't usually considered acceptable to complain that the cake you've just been given sucks. In the States (or at least in the South) we say, "don't look a gift horse in the mouth." Here they actually have a similar saying, "Don't look a gift cow in the mouth." Well, here the saying should actually be "feel free to look a gift horse up, down, and all around and comment on how ugly it is and how other folks have been given a way prettier horse as a matter of fact."

Things I think I'm not going to miss one iota but which I probably will kind of miss come to think about it:

the non-stop attention (but not the incessant objectification)

kids going wild on sight of me (but not the shouts of "white rat" and "girl-with-no-skin"!)

the heat (but not the power cuts!)

figuring out out how to trick the bore well motor (but not the water shortage!)

the constant surveillance on the part of concerned neighbors (but not their domestic disturbances!)

having to wear only saris and chudidhar (but not the dupatta!)

Things I will certainly miss:

my friends and neighbors (but not their property and financial disputes and knock-down drag-out brawls)

parotta (but not the inability to make anything besides tomato chutney and plain dosa)

music (but not the loudspeakers)

the cows across the street (but not their stinky turds)

the roving astrologers (but not their cheating parrots!)

speaking only Tamil (but not the occasional feeling of my brain nearly exploding as I struggle to express subtle psychological states/emotions, convince someone of the existence of viruses [post to come on this one], and correctly produce adjectival participles at the drop of a hat)

temples (there is no caveat here whatsoever; I'll miss everything about them: the crowds on special days, the smell of camphor and flowers, the earthy black granite deities smeared with ghee. Then again I WON'T miss being rejected from the inner sanctum for being white, but I'll let that one slide for now!)

any many, many more....

At least the cake that I bought for our private consumption was quite good.
Even better was my nonsense English words sari,
with words such as "eartl" and "nshine" and "loment" plastered all over it.
This sari was a big hit.

A highly successful gift-giving experience:
Here's me with the local Mariamman temple priest, who's
wearing the veshti and tundu (towel) I gave him.
He was thrilled and wore it for a special puja last week.

requesting help for a good cause

2008-06-03T08:10:00.000-07:00

I apologize to devoted readers (hope y'all are still out there!) for the posts being so lacking lately. I do have a lot of things I want to share with you, and I promise more updates soon. In the meantime, I want to solicit help for a good cause and I hope you don't mind if I use this forum to do so. Today I found out that a good friend of mine here in Madurai, and mother of three girls, has leukemia. She had been working for me for the past few months and suddenly fell ill recently. She is very poor and needless to say it is going to be very difficult for them to pay for such treatments. It remains to be seen what the outcome will be. In the meantime they need to pay school fees for two of their daughters, aged 14 and 16. School here in India isn't free; you have to pay fees and buy uniforms and books -- all very difficult (and often impossible) if you are poor. They are also trying to get their oldest daughter into a college. I don't think they would feel comfortable accepting donations from foreigners for the medical treatment, but I do think they would be very happy to receive support for their daughters' education, especially the school fees for the younger ones. Any amount would help (keep in mind that 1 US dollar buys about Rs. 42 these days). So if you are interested in supporting such a cause and would trust me with your donation, I wanted to let you know about the opportunity. Thanks!

bush backlash

2008-05-08T07:03:00.000-07:00

The backlash from Bush's comments on the food habits of Indians is still reverberating, particularly in southern Tamil Nadu. Lawyers here are very active and quite fond of burning effigies. A famous Madurai lawyer that I just interviewed a month back burned an effigy of Bush yesterday in Madurai, and there were also Bush effigies burned in other southern cities, including Tirunelveli. According to The Hindu:

"TIRUNELVELI: The police on Tuesday arrested seven Democratic Youth Federation of India functionaries for allegedly burning the effigy of US President George Bush for his reported comments against the food habits of the Indians. The protestors burnt it near Gandhi Statue even as the police tried to snatch it."

Unfortunately photos are not available at this time but I am working on this. I don't think it's entirely accurate to say that Bush was commenting "against" Indians eating food. He was merely pointing out, using a very poor choice of words, that there are more middle class Indians than the entire population of America, and more middle class Indians means that more food is going to be consumed in India. It's a fact. But to blame the Indians (and Chinese) for soaring food prices is of course ridiculous. His comments, however, are being interpreted as "Americans don't want Indians to eat."

Details are sketchy at present, but I was rather alarmed to hear that here in Madurai "some foreigners were put under house arrest" in nearby Puthur, in response to the Bush comments. Putur is about a 10-15 minute bus ride from my house. I am not aware of any "foreigners" in Putur but my guess is that they could be part of some NGO and more likely Europeans than Americans. But here "American" usually means any person who is white, so it is unfortunately very likely that non-Americans are being put under house arrest for Bush's comments. I cannot imagine that they are very happy about this.

Hopefully no gangs are going to show up at my house. Somehow I doubt my neighbors are very concerned about the machinations of Bush and Co., or at least I hope they aren't. Only time will tell. Hopefully with the burning of the Bush effigies, tensions that had flamed up have now died down. Besides, the Madurai public has been distracted with a number of disturbances of late, and tensions between various groups are simmering almost as much as the summer heat. Lately a select few rowdies among the Madurai youth, with nothing better to do during summer break, have taken to desecrating the statues of various caste leaders, besides the one already desecrated two weeks ago, and then exacting revenge upon vehicles, public and private. Buses had to be taken off the roads again yesterday.

It is interesting to note that when the cut-out of Ambedkar here in my neighborhood was torn to shreds a few weeks back, just before Ambedkar's birthday, no one in Madurai uttered a peep. The cut-out was replaced (without any fanfare whatsoever) with a much smaller and less substantial poster of Ambedkar which was recently torn to shreds by miscreants yet again. Why is it when the Dalit leader's image is desecrated the public is silent? It is either because cooler heads prevail in my neighborhood, or those individuals who are offended are too intimidated to speak out. I think it is perhaps a mixture of both.

I wonder if the folks holding the Putur "Americans" under house arrest
would be willing to consider ankle-monitoring devices
to afford them a little more freedom.

Rice on rice

2008-05-05T05:46:00.000-07:00

Perhaps you have heard of the latest diplomatic gaffes made first by Condoleezza Rice and then President Bush. It is an ironic twist that a woman named Rice is criticizing a developing country for eating too much rice. She alleged that the "apparent improvement" in the diets of the people of India and China are to blame for global price rise. This caused a big stir in India, and Bush followed up her comments with inflammatory comments of his own.

"....When you start getting wealth, you start demanding better nutrition and better food, and so demand is high, and that causes the price to go up," Bush said. Wow. Looks like someone majored in econ. Of course Indians, like most people with any sense, are attributing the global price rise to high energy prices and the diversion of huge amounts of arable land towards biofuel production. Bush, in his infinite wisdom, admits that biofuel is a part of the problem but added: "I simply do not subscribe to the notion that it is the main cost driver for your food going up." Looks like your classic ostrich response to world crises.

Our "leaders" not only blame global warming on everyone but us, but now they are blaming the global price rise crisis on people who are suddenly able to afford nutritious food. Imagine. The nerve of a country eating sufficient food. What Condi and Bush don't understand is that India is not a food importer! They grow their own food. So it's not like they are eating up the global food supply and taking it out of other people's mouths.

The Indian media is understandably up in arms over these comments. And India doesn't need another reason to feel resentful towards the United States because they apparently already have PLENTY of reasons. One of them is the civilian nuclear deal between the US and India which is STILL like a lame duck in the water and hasn't been approved. This is a source of resentment for India (the handing over of FREE nuclear assistance, go figure) because everyone here assumes that Washington will try to ask for something in return. The way the media and some politicians talk about the U.S. here you would assume that America colonized India and not Britain. But that's another blog. And given Bush and Condi's insults of late, I cannot imagine relations between the two countries improving very much in the near future. Way to go!

Let them eat cake,

provided we get the biggest piece.

i hate power cuts...

2008-04-28T07:21:00.001-07:00

...and that's putting it mildly. The power just went out earlier for about the 6th time today, and as soon as the lights went out I let loose a barrage of curse words that made the ladies sitting outside chuckle. Scheduled power cuts are one thing. There is such a shortage of power in India that "load shedding" has to be done. I understand that. In the old days we used to have an 8hr power cut on or around the last Saturday of the month. That was way easier to deal with. But now that it is hotter than Hades, they are cutting the power CONSTANTLY and without warning. Recently it happened at 3am and a friend of mine said that in her area it was like a street fair. It was so hot people couldn't sit still inside their house so they either roamed the roads or paced the rooftops. That was brutal. I thought the relentless 1-3PM daily cuts of late were bad, but these daily 6am cuts are killing me. I am still sleeping at 6am, or trying to (I'm lazy compared to the locals, who are already up and stirring usually around 5:30). And with no fan sleeping is impossible. So at 6am I relocate to the floor in the main room, open the windows, spray myself down with bugspray and pray for a humid breeze to seep through the windows. Sometimes when you sweat enough, if there is the slightest breeze coming through the window it will produce a cooling effect. I live for these moments. Well, this morning the power went off at 6am and stayed off until 11am. That was a real treat. Then it went off again in the afternoon and about 3-4 more times after that. I was just sitting down to some notes here at my desk when it went out AGAIN. And when the power goes out after a certain point in the afternoon, I have NO LIGHTS IN MY HOUSE. This is because we are dependent on florescent light bulbs, and they don't work unless they are already burning before the bell tolls 5pm. If the power goes out, forget the lights coming back on. I have no idea why except that it has something to do with people who steal power and make the voltage low for everyone else. And the people stealing power would be just about everyone who lives next to me. So here I am sitting in the dark with just the computer light to illuminate this dump.

Thankfully I have my Rs. 3 fan which makes surviving the April heat possible.

I Google image searched "power cut"
and this pic came up. Curious.

best three rupees I ever spent

2008-04-25T00:22:00.000-07:00

The very merry Chittirai Festival just ended (sadly) a couple of days ago, and now things in Madurai are returning to their normal state. Normal state being "absolutely nothing going on". Of course yesterday we had a bandh (strike), which was different from the usual but certainly not the least bit enjoyable for anyone. I had already made my way to the bus stand and was on my way to a function when suddenly all the shops starting downing their shutters, there wasn't a bus in sight, and all the autos were missing as well. I managed to get to my destination by joining forces with a couple of random ladies at the bus stand. We managed to find a city bus (that escaped attack by the mobs) to BB Kulam and then found a lone auto to take us to Putur. For the rest of the day we couldn't go anywhere or buy anything whatsoever. Fortunately I had food in my house. A few days ago someone had the brilliant idea to smear cow dung on the face of a statue of a very important caste leader down in Goripalayam -- the biggest intersection in Madurai. Well, people didn't take this lying down. They took it sitting down, in the middle of the Goripalayam intersection. People blocked traffic while others attacked buses and stoned them. A bandh was called yesterday in protest of the dung-smearing incident. Those buses that dared to ply were punished with mob attacks, and a number of drivers were injured. A witch hunt is underway to find the culprit who desecrated the statue, though the Chief Minister has urged calm over an incident that was surely perpetrated by a "mentally unstable individual." A few years back a lorry filled with people sped past the statue and someone threw a shoe on it, and unrest erupted then as well. This time fire trucks were called to spray water on the statue, and then purifying milk was poured over it and a garland put around its neck.

Ever since the Chittirai festival started a couple of weeks ago, we've been plagued with daily power cuts at the absolute worst times of the day. Every day we go without power for at least 3 hours, sometimes more. Needless to say, business across the state is being crippled and industries are begging for something to be done. There simply isn't enough power to go around. And in this heat, these power cuts are simply too much to bear. At the fair the other night I bought a homemade fan for a whopping Rs. 3!!! I don't know how on earth they can sell such a wonder for so cheap, and I have been marveling at it for the past few days. It produces wonderful air currents with minimal effort.

I've found, inexplicably, that the night hours are the absolute WORST in terms of the heat. I cannot imagine why this is the case, when the evil sun has actually gone away for the night. Nevertheless, there isn't a time more oppressive than nighttime in terms of sweating. So last night I discovered than instead of struggling (in vain) to find ways to cool one's environment, it is better to attempt to cool one's insides. To that end I took two bananas, sugar, some leftover curd, and an entire tray of ice cubes and threw them into the blender. I then drank the super cold concoction and I'll be damned if I didn't stay cool for at least an hour after consumption.

It's 1:12 PM and I am shocked and amazed that the power hasn't gone out. Perhaps the power company was satisfied with the three hours they stole from us today starting at 6am.

I've got lots of Chittirai pics to post, but blogger isn't cooperating at the moment. Tune in tomorrow for some virtual darshan!

hand powered A/C:
more refreshing than you might imagine...

south India tour

2008-04-19T06:10:00.001-07:00

My parents recently joined me here in our fair Tamil Nadu for a whirlwind 11-day non-stop tour of south India. We managed to visit two states and six cities and saw everything from IT parks to nature preserves. We visited palaces, temples, and shopping malls, and traveled by plane, train, autorickshaw, bus, and automobile. The A/C Scorpio car from Mudumalai to Mysore was probably the most posh way we traveled, except that the driver was completely deranged and drove at terrifying speeds through crowds of people. I was so carsick I was prostrate in the backseat, but I managed to get up long enough to tell him his driving was horrifying us and he did manage to take it down a notch after that. My parents favorite mode of transport, however, was undoubtedly the "slab train" as they called it, seeing as how the "beds" resembled slabs. (It might be called "sleeper" train but for them sleep did not appear to be an option.) The highlights of the trip were the elephants and wild dogs in Mudumalai. We started off with south Indian cuisine three meals a day, but by the end of the trip we were chowing down on pizza in Mysore and Subway in Chennai. Admittedly this isn't exactly the best way to introduce folks to the local cuisine, but seeing these titillating American food items in the big city made me feel like a convict who has been locked in an idli-dosai jail for the past year and a half.

I highly recommend the Chennai - Madurai - Coimbatore - Ooty - Mudumalai - Mysore - Chennai itinerary, though by the end of the trip I don't think you have ever seen three more tired human beings than we were -- and I think we are all still recovering a week later. After I dropped my parents off at the airport last Saturday night, I don't think I have ever been so exhausted in my life, but I ended up going to a three hour Tamil movie starting at 10PM! I did this for my good friend in Chennai who I hadn't seen in a very long time. I felt bad, however, because I think I must have fallen asleep during the movie at least a dozen times. I came back to Madurai looking like I had been run over by a lorry. I got a croup cough in Ooty and developed a stomach problem (most likely from yet another evil mango, if you will recall a previous posting some month's back), so a couple of days ago Renuka had me drinking an unidentifiable liquid which was the most foul-smelling stuff with an odor like poison and a taste worse than anything you could imagine. You are supposed to chase this stuff with pure sugar. I drank it only because they told me they give it to babies, and I figured if it was safe for them it'd be safe for me. I feel asleep soon after consuming the concoction, and when I woke up 2 hours later my stomach problem was gone. A highly unpleasant and suspect home remedy, but with positive results. Again I have been scolded for consuming the "heating" mango, but I think it is rather the 40C heat outside that could be to blame. Call me crazy.

Ooty actually felt "cold" from time to time.

Eruption!!! Highlight of birdwatching in Mudumalai:
White-bellied Minivet.

Chamundi Hill, Mysore;
in front of statue of demon that the goddess killed.

Mysore Palace

We saw at least 15 wild elephants at Mudumalai NWR

Spotted Deer

Langur

First in a series of cow pics; devotees (and calves)
wait in line for darshan at Chamundeeshvari Temple, Mysore

Cow in doorway, Chamundi Hill;
Looks like they used the same housepaint on his horns.

One of the biggest Nandi (Shiva's vehicle) statues in India.

Joy rides available to foreigners for an extra Rs. 50.

Scientology is in India, folks!!!

nothing says happy easter like a high-noon stoning

2008-03-23T01:56:00.000-07:00

While most Americans were having happy dreams of microwaving marshmallow peeps and Cadbury bunnies laying chocolate eggs, I was getting stoned by the locals. Let me tell you, nothing says "home" like being afraid to walk to the end of the road by yourself on a Sunday afternoon. Nothing says, "I'm a human being just like anyone else," like having fruits and vegetables thrown at you while people who have been seeing you pretty much every day for more than a year make fun of you and call you the local equivalent of names like "honky" and "ghost" and "whitey". And nothing says "Happy Easter" like having a large stone thrown at you while you are walking down the road. Fortunately it "only" hit me on the shoulder, but it hurt and it made me very upset. It was thrown from on top of a building and if it had hit me on the head, then what? When you have stones thrown at you, you get the feeling that you are not being seen as a human being, but something more akin to a dog perhaps. Because people throw stones at dogs, not humans.

I've had things thrown at me here before. Fruits like sapotta and also tubers (surprisingly painful). When kids throw things at me it makes me upset, but when adults do it it really makes you wonder. However, I usually just ignore it and keep going. But today I didn't let it go; I stood my ground. I almost let it go, because what I really wanted to do is run away. But all the constant harassment and objectification I've experienced in this area over the past year really boiled up inside of me, and I felt incredibly upset to be treated this way after living here for so long. Today it was a teenage boy who threw the stone at me. He had excellent aim (unless he was aiming for my head) and should perhaps consider a career as a cricket pitcher (or are they called hurlers?). And let me tell you, he ended up apologizing. The locals were begging me not to call the police. I delivered quite an impassioned speech, if I do say so myself, and was carrying on about how I am not an animal, but a human, and they need to leave me alone while I am walking down the street because I am sick and tired of being intimidated to walk down the street. First it's fruits and vegetables, then stones, and then what? It's time to stand up for myself or else I am going to get run over repeatedly. While I was carrying on, people were remarking: "Wow! She speaks Tamil!" as if I had mistakenly been stoned because people thought I didn't know Tamil (partially true). The angle that seemed to work best in getting sympathy from the huge crowd that gathered for the spectacle was asking folks if it is part of Tamil culture to stone white girls.

The good news is that after one year in Meenakshipuram I have finally stood up for myself and something tells me I won't be stoned henceforth while walking to BB Kulam. Immediately after the incident I ended up meeting some very nice people who took a genuine interest in me. They asked me why I was living in such a horrible part of town. That's a very good question. Let's hope that the next four months are stone free.

Sundays in Meenakshipuram are all about giving thanks to God
for the blessing of the wine shops.

nearly falling head-first and backwards out of the bus is embarrassing...

2008-03-21T07:45:00.000-07:00

....it's also dangerous, and scary. Today was one of those days. 80 year old grandmas manage to remain upright while an overcrowded Indian bus lurches left and right and rumbles over huge potholes, slamming on the brakes frequently and without any warning whatsoever. Meanwhile I fall over easily, even when I'm holding on to an overhead bar. I've fallen on top of people from time to time, and it's always embarrassing, but today was the worst. I was holding an umbrella and my bag and was trying to get two damn rupees out of my bag when the bus lurched and I fell backwards. I don't know how I didn't fall out of the bus head-first and backwards, because I was right in front of the entrance (three steps leading down to an opening with no door) to the bus and it was unobstructed. I flew across the bus and somehow or another ended up ass-first on top of a woman right who was right next to the exit. Lucky for me I landed on her, but I think she would have rather I fell out of the bus because she was really angry and started screaming at me. "CAN'T YOU HOLD THE DAMN BAR??" I looked like a total idiot who almost died because she wasn't holding onto the bar. People started grabbing my things and trying to help me the best they could. "Hold the bar!!" But if you don't keep your change purse inside your bra like most women here you require two hands to get your change out. And for this I nearly died.

going by bus in India is cheap, but it sucks.

procession of goodies

2008-03-15T12:50:00.000-07:00

There were some technical difficulties in the previous post, but I managed to get the video up this time.

being Tamil is expensive

2008-03-15T10:38:00.001-07:00

Thought y'all might like this video. It's a short movie showing the procession of lady relatives bringing gifts to a ritual ear piercing for two kids, ages 3 and 6. These sorts of processions are known as ciir, and all sorts of auspicious occasions require them. They are accompanied by bursting firecrackers, virtual dynamite explosions, and marching bands. Relations are expected to provide gifts and cash to the tune of thousands (and sometimes tens of thousands) of rupees at events such as ear-piercings, weddings, and coming-of-age ceremonies. Money gifts are recorded in a ledger, with name and address and amount of cash being meticulously written down. If you don't have cash when a relation is having a function, you either pawn some gold jewelry if you have it, or you get a loan from a local moneylender at exorbitant interest rates.

If you're low on cash, it's a good idea to have a function. At this particular ear-piercing the family made Rs. 120,000. They're going to build a house with the money. It's interesting to note that while the whole point of these functions is to squeeze tens of thousands of rupees out of your relations and closest friends, people aren't supposed to do up their functions too grand because people will talk about them being too ostentatious. So at this function, the meal was veg and no goat meat was served. People brought a live goat along as the ciir was being marched in, but it turns out the relatives took the goat back home with them when the function was over. The family also didn't hire a professional photographer or videographer (the reason for which, I am told, was to avoid being too ostentatious), but they took care to invite two foreigners with cameras who were instructed to take hundreds of photos of every aspect of the function.

Some people don't even bother disguising the fact that their functions are all about the Benjamins, or Gandhis as the case is here. Recently I went to a coming-of-age ceremony in a village about one hour from Madurai. When we reached the venue I was greeted by a girl about 12 years old whom I assumed to be the reason for the function. Then a little while later a girl shows up all decked out in what was actually wedding jewelry and I was really confused as to what was going on. Well, it turns out the girl in the wedding finery was the one having the coming-of-age ceremony, and she was 21 years old!!! She came of age probably ten years ago, but her family decided to have a "do-over" so they could advertise her for marriage...and rake in Rs. 300,000!!! A handy sum when you are about to spend every penny you have on dowry gold. It comes as no surprise that everyone I know is in debt up to their ears because of ritual obligations. During the last ear-piercing we went to, a friend of mine was horribly embarassed because she could only give Rs. 3000 (more than twice the monthly salary of a day-laborer). Luckily she wasn't one of the in-laws or she would have been laying down Rs. 10,000 easily -- plus gold earrings, chains, and rings. This doesn't count all the vessels, fruits, and clothing that come as part of the ciir. Compare this with the price of the punch bowl you had to buy from that wedding registry in the States and you realize just how expensive it is to be a Tamil.

hoping there isn't a lemon somewhere with my name on it

2008-02-28T07:12:00.000-08:00

I'm sorry for not having updated in a while. Hopefully I haven't lost too many dear readers. What little of my time hasn't been consumed by a family drama that would rival most Tamil soap operas, has been spent documenting cases of witchcraft that hopefully don't involve me.

A couple of weeks ago on the way to a neighboring village an advertisement in the bus caught my eye. It was a woman astrologer/priestess/witch advertising her services to the public at large. Since then I have seen her ad on at least two other Madurai buses. Is "witch" too pejorative of a word to use in your research? Well, I am calling her a witch because she practices witchcraft. She's got spells to use on your family, on men, on women, in school, on the job, and to make you rich. She also has cures for malignant astrological influences. She'll read your horoscope and your palm while she's at it.

I never really paid much attention to witchcraft until I moved to this neighborhood. Around these parts it's being practiced constantly, and usually it's wives who use it to control their husbands and to quote "make them like an obedient dog circling around your leg." Interestingly this form of witchcraft, vasiyam or mai as it is called in Tamil, seems to more often turn men into drooling idiots which I suppose is a form of control which could result in obedience. If your mother-in-law is bad, you'd better hope she doesn't get a hold of a magical lemon from one of these witches because she might plant it under your threshold and destroy your life. One of these days I'm going to write up a post just on the uses of lemons in Tamil culture. Because these little devils have dozens of uses and can convey mad powers, both auspicious and malevolent.

So, I had seen this ad in the bus and got curious. It turns out she lives in the same neighborhood as my painting teacher. I asked him about her and not only does he know who she is, it turns out his younger brother ran off with her 35 years ago. It turns out she was having a puja consecrating a new Kali temple that she has constructed right next to her house (usually a no-no as Kali is a ferocious goddess that you aren't supposed to worship in your home, as she is easily angered by the slightest errors and lack of diligence regarding ritual pollution. The priest at this puja was very careful to advise her on this.) My painting teacher informed me of the puja and I went there along with my trusted associate/research assistant.

When we arrived they were in the middle of the sacred bonfire (a.k.a. yaaham) and the priests were pouring oblations of ghee, milk, curd, honey and other auspicious items into the fire. The high priestess (who shall remain nameless as I am shit scared of her) immediately received me like royalty and put a garland that weighed several pounds on my neck. The puja stopped long enough for me to be photographed and videotaped (apparently these media would later be used as advertisements for the temple!) This really angered one of the actual VIPs in attendance, a woman who had donated Rs. 50,000 towards the construction of the temple. She ended up pouting and stomping out of the puja at several points. She was 100 times scarier than any witch and I certainly hope she doesn't scrawl my name on a lemon in a fit of rage.

After the photos and video were taken the puja resumed. The priest began to pour what he called "blood" into the sacrifical fire but I consulted a neighbor and discovered this was fake blood consisting of kungumam and honey -- which is a good recipe to keep in mind for Halloween. The room was so smoky that even my Tamil associate had to run outside gasping for breath. There were drishti pumpkins and lemons everywhere. The lemons came in handy at the end of the puja (post-abishekam) when the priestess received the garland off the Kali idol and immediately became possessed. She was flailing all over the room and the Brahmin priests (who I imagine aren't accustomed to possessions) tried desperately to control her. She actually fell ONTO THE FIRE which as you can see below is actually quite significant. She was unscathed. The priest called for a blessed lemon and they held her still long enough to squeeze the juice into her mouth at which point she immediately became calm and Kali left her. I think my research assistant doubted the authenticity of this possession for reasons I won't get into here, but both of us were too scared of divine retribution to consider the matter further.

At the very end of the puja we took blessings from the priestess. My research assistant prostrated, I took some kungumam from her, and then we promptly high-tailed it out of there. I was scared they were going to demand tens of thousands of rupees from me, and the VIP lady was boring holes into my head with her eyes. Turns out we left before the distribution of prasad, and they ended up sending a bunch of lemon rice and other tasty items to my painting teacher's house for us. I felt really bad for escaping like that, mostly because the hostess received me so nicely and it seemed rude to leave, but I also felt bad for escaping because I am scared of angering said hostess. And for good reason because I don't want her using her lemons against me.

I was pleased to note heavy use of drishti pumpkins in this puja.

Kali puja was carefully documented by video camera
for subsequent digital darshan.

My painting teacher painted this as a drishti prophylactic outside the new temple;
He did it for free. As he put it, you've got to keep your friends close, and
practitioners of witchcraft closer. A smart policy.

no love

2008-02-17T08:39:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day is India is always quite a bit deal for lots of people, especially College students and youth. It's getting bigger every year, and so are the protests. This year was no exception. In cities across India, hardliners gathered together in mobs to burn valentine's cards, raid shops, and break up couples caught canoodling in public to "advise" them against the dangers of Valentine's Day, an evil American holiday that is corrupting Indian youth and culture. "Advising" couples about the evils of love often involves threatening to beat or manhandle them, but that's another story altogether.

Here in Madurai we were fortunate enough this year to get some Valentine's protests. A hitherto unheard of hardline group took it upon themselves to burn not just Valentine's cards, but a pair of (white) dolls that were supposed to represent "lovers." Unfortunately I don't have a photo of the doll burning. The pictures in the paper were basically just scenes of chaos. I really wanted to see footage of the white American dolls being burned at the stake.

According to the chief of the Shiv Sena's North Indian branch, Jai Bhagwan Goel: "We have come to know that in America, even unmarried girls as young as 11 or 12 years have become mothers ... and every second man there is divorced," Goel told reporters after reducing several greeting cards to a small pile of ash. "This is their culture— it cannot be accepted here."

I'm certainly not the first to defend American culture, but these anti-Valentines folks need to read the Tamil newspapers every day if they think that India is some puritanical land. These stories, and daily-life in my neighborhood for that matter, make The Jerry Springer Show look like Mr. Roger's neighborhood.

"Protest Valantine Day!"

train strikes elephants, pregnant women in state of panic

2008-02-07T09:18:00.000-08:00

A Tamil daily, Madurai Mani, was running the headline today: "Aborted baby elephant's death: Should pregnant women panic?" I immediately purchased this paper to get the scoop. A few days ago three elephants were tragically mowed down and killed by a train running in the mountainous regions of NW Tamil Nadu. Apparently the elephants did not hear the train as its engine is electric, not diesel, and it was much quieter than most trains. Once the train hit the elephants, the driver tried to get out to access the situation but was unable as he was surrounded by a herd of elephants. Upon impact a fully-formed male elephant baby was immediately aborted from its mother's body. This picture ran in many of the newspapers.

Well, it turns out that this news hasn't been taken too well by people across Tamil Nadu. If you are at all familiar with the very popular Hindu god Ganesh (a.k.a. Pillaiyar and Vinayagar, in Tamil), who has an elephant's head, you know that elephants are pretty important here in India. Elephants are considered manifestations of Pillaiyar, and the fact that a baby elephant died during this accident isn't boding well for folks here -- and for pregnant women in particular. This death of the baby elephant is being taken as a very inauspicious sign for pregnant women. But the papers are telling people, don't panic, you can do some protective rituals for Pillaiyar and it will be okay.

I'll provide more details from the article in the next post. In the meantime we are currently dealing with some major drama. I wish I could write about it here, but I can't. People are okay, but it's just some insane drama that you couldn't even imagine. I will have to tell you about it in person someday. Or by email!

After some research I discovered the sad fact
that elephant/train accidents are fairly common in India.

photography by B. Tamilarasi

2008-02-01T20:23:00.000-08:00

After a much needed break, I am safely back in Madurai. While at home I got to catch up with friends I haven't seen for a very long time. I was flattered to learn that folks have been reading my blog religiously! So I am resurrecting this blog now after a hiatus. I hope you enjoy, and make some comments from time to time. I am sure there will be many more embarrassing and potentially interesting things to take place over the next six months.

Each time I return to India, even after a relatively brief hiatus, I feel as though I am coming here for the first time. This time was no different. After only a few weeks my Tamil had become like a rusty wheel. I was taken aback by the Indian service and hospitality, especially after just having spent time in Philadelphia where service encounters of any kind are often excruciating. My last service encounter in the United States was at the airport in Newark when I bought an overpriced bottle of water; the "staff" were literally lying half asleep on the counter and customers were treated at best as hostile nuisances, at worst as invisible entities.

Flash forward to my hotel in Chennai where the service and attention were so over the top it was actually quite a bit suffocating. After every service encounter I was presented with a comment form asking for my evaluation of the service. I signed no less than five different forms on at least three different occasions confirming that I had indeed paid a Rs. 4000 deposit upon check in. I received a call merely six hours after check-in asking if I wanted my room cleaned. I said no, but when I came back during the afternoon there was a man hard at work cleaning what was already a spotlessly clean bathroom. I tried to give him a tip but he refused; he was merely doing his job. While I was trying to sleep off the jetlag in the middle of the afternoon, reception called to ask if I liked the hotel. At the complimentary breakfast buffet, staff rushed to serve the guests. At dinner I told the waiter I would spoon the dhal onto the plate myself and he looked like he was going to cry.

I reached Madurai and was very happy to see my friends again. People seemed happy to have me back in the neighborhood. I had brought one of the neighbors a bottle of Jim Beam and I have never seen him so happy. The local men had quite a fun night on Tuesday it would seem. Regrettably I discovered upon my return that I had basically been robbed blind while I was away, but that's another story altogether.

While I was out of town I gave my good friend and brilliant research assistant Tamilarasi a digital camera to take photos while I was away, mainly because I was missing Pongal this year. I have included some of those here, with her permission. I think she will be pleased to see them published on the web. She wasn't able to get photos of decorated bulls (a traditional part of the Pongal festival) because the owners said that taking photos of them would cause them to be damaged by the evil eye. One owner cited an instance in which a foreigner had taken a picture of his bull, thereby putting the evil eye on it. The bull then ran away, never to be seen again. I am guessing it might be a little difficult for me to get an interview with this guy.

Taking off the evil eye immediately upon my return

A decorated doorway at Pongal

Pongal kolam featuring the obligatory pongal pots and sugarcane

decorated calf at maaddu pongal or "cow Pongal" --
one of the three day of Pongal on which cows and bulls get rest

Pongal kolam

the horns of cows and bulls are freshly painted on Pongal

evil eye repellent at gate of house

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

2007-12-21T11:06:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-06T08:52:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-05T07:56:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-28T07:37:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-22T06:50:00.000-08:00

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...

2007-11-06T07:48:00.000-08:00

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)

2007-11-04T07:36:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-04T06:37:00.000-08:00

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

2007-10-28T07:45:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-25T08:12:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-23T09:05:00.000-07:00

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!

2007-10-20T04:13:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-11T07:22:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-09T23:13:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-09T21:06:00.000-07:00

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.

bad teacher

2007-10-08T21:34:00.000-07:00

Now that I've got my computer back, I'm back to blogging again. Hopefully more frequently. I was going to post some pictures from Luke's and my travels around South India. Unfortunately every single one of those pictures is gone now, since my computer crashed and hit the tile floor. It's like some kind of karmic punishment that these pictures are the one thing they weren't able to salvage.

On Sunday I got back from my second trip to Chennai in less than a week. On Saturday I left Madurai at 6am by train, arriving to Chennai at 3pm. Immediately retrieving the computer. Getting back on the night train at 9pm and arriving in Madurai the next morning at 6am. 24 hours of near constant travel punctuated in the middle by several hours of roaming the city in the worst, loudest, most insane traffic on planet Earth with the meanest, most cheating auto drivers in India. The good news is that my computer is back and in working order. Wireless connection is not working. I haven't determined if this is a computer problem (hope to God not) or a modem problem. One main problem seems to be that the "g" key is malfunctioninggg. Hyperfunctioningg, more like. But if this is the only problem I am left with aftger this computer disaster, I'm happy.

Last week, before I left for Chennai, I went with a friend of mine to try and get her 16 year old son in school. You see, they won't let him in the school and they won't let him in the classroom. Why, you might ask? Good question. Did he do anything wrong? Touch the teacher's hand? Act wild in the class? Harass a girl outside the school? Cuss? Nope. It seems to me that the reason they won't let him in is because he is either the wrong color, the wrong class, the wrong caste, or all of the above. My friend was basically at the end of her rope, and was even calling reporters at local newspapers tryingg to figure out what to do. The papers have been reporting a lot on the Collector's schemes to keep kids in school, talking about how the Collector is having posters hung up all over Madurai saying, "Send your kids to school! Don't send them to work!" ETC ETC. Well, that's all fine and good, but when the teachers in your government schools are nothing but thugs and criminals, all the posters in the world aren't going to changge a thingg.

I went with my friend to the school. Because a white girl accompanied her, my friend and I were seen immediately and the headmaster said he would put her son in the classroom the next day, no problem. Keep in mind that when my friend went alone with her son, they were made to sit in the sun for hours and were never attended to. The teacher is a fat rowdy thug of the sort that probably has people's knees broken in half for pissing her off. She talked down to my friend and called a liar and all number of things in Tamil, thinkingg I didn't understand. I came back at her in Tamil which surprised her.

After the headmaster gave the go ahead we left happy. The next say she sent her son to school. Well, it didn't turn out so great. They beat him and humiliated him, made him go out and buy tea and a bun for the math teacher (man) who then threw the tea down and said he didn't want it. Then he started to beat the boy screaming, "What work does your father do? Is he a coolie (laborer)? You're just as worthless as him and there is no point in educating the son of a coolie!" and "Your mother came here with a white girl! You think I'm scared of that white girl? You can call the police if you want, and the Collector too, it's no use because I'm not scared of anyone!" Meanwhile, over at another government school, the 8 year old daughter of my other friend was being beaten by her teacher for playing with a necklace in class. She comes home with her hand swelled up three times its size and cannot sleep, much less do her homework. Further, at another government school, my friend's 10 year old son is beaten and made to sit outside the classroom every day because his mother cannot afford his school fees.

We take it for granted in the US that school is free for kids. Just like some folks in Europe, Canada, Brazil, etc., probably take it for granted that medicine there is socialized. In India your parents need to come up with about 10,000 rupees a year AT LEAST to keep two kids in a good school, and that doesn't even include uniforms, books, school supplies. And if you are poor there is NO WAY you are going to afford this. Furthermore, if your kid is the wrong caste, class, and/or color, how is he or she going to be properly educated and come up in life when they are being beaten and humiliated by a thug masquerading as a teacher?

I'm happy that we have socialized education
in the United States of America.

drishti attack!

2007-10-02T07:15:00.000-07:00

It's been quite a while since I posted, the major reason for this being that I have been suffering from a major case of the evil eye. This resulted in my computer being destroyed last week. (I will explain later how exactly it was destroyed. And by later I mean when the computer is safely back in my hands and there is no risk of me being charged for anything). The next morning after the computer was destroyed my friends explained to me that this was a clear case of amma kan ("mother's eye"), an incredibly dangerous kind of drishti which involves someone putting the evil eye on their own property. You see, just a few days before my computer was destroyed I was admiring it, saying to myself "Wow, this computer is really working well after three years. There are so few scratches on it, and it looks great!" ETC ETC. So what happened next? It was destroyed. Clear cut case of the evil eye, folks.

Fortunately there is an antidote to the evil eye destroying one's computer and in this case that remedy is a valid international warranty. Because there isn't one single person in Madurai who can fix Mac laptops, I had to get on a train to Chennai and go to the one Apple service center there. They diagnosed a hard disk problem and agreed that the cause was amma kan. Apparently evil eye is covered under the Apple warranty, in India at least. Thank God this happened to be here and not the US, otherwise I'd be paying for a new hard disk. Hopefully by Saturday I will be back on a train to Chennai to pick up my computer.

In order to avoid putting amma kan on your computer I recommend repeating to yourself, "My computer sucks, my computer sucks." If you have a PC (especially a Compaq), this mantra will no doubt come easily to you.

cake miracle

2007-09-23T19:43:00.000-07:00

Those of you who have been to India before might be familiar with the shortage of good cake here. The cakes here leave something to be desired. Lately I've been having this insatiable cake craving that I have tried to suffice by tasting cakes at several different locations in Madurai only to be disappointed. The one place we had great cake was at this random fancy hotel in Kottayam over in Kerala. But since then I haven't happened on any decent cake UNTIL NOW.

Behold the Pillsbury EGGLESS COOKER CAKE MIX!! Best thing about this cake mix, besides the fact that no chicken slime is required, is that NO OVEN IS REQUIRED! AMAZING! Because those of you familiar with the cooking situation over here also know that ovens are few and far between.

Last night Chellapandi and I decided to try this out. I must say, I had my doubts. How could this possibly work? In a PRESSURE COOKER? We mixed the batter and put it in a metal rice container and then sat that down in a couple of inches of boiling water inside the pressure cooker. Then we applied the pressure cooker lid, without the whistle (key, apparently, to preventing a cake explosion). There were some initial problems with water bubbling up into the cake, but Chellapandi resolved that. For a while we would look in there and it just looked like brown lava inside the pan, but slowly and surely it started to turn into CAKE!!! As the cake pan bobbed up and down in the boiling water, shaking the pressure cooker up and down, sure enough a chemical reaction happened resulting in CAKE. Last night I devoured half of it and I must say it was great. Not quite sweet enough, but it's homemade cake made in a pressure cooker and it's amazing. Whoever came up with this at Pillsbury is a genius.

Pillsbury has made homemade cake possible
for Brahmins without ovens.

"PILLSBURY has launched Eggless Cooker Cake Mix. It is available in chocolate and vanilla flavours and is priced at Rs 35 for a 175 gm pack, and reportedly makes a 250 gm cake. All the ingredients are supposed to be pre-mixed. The user only has to add milk and oil and steam it for 30-35 minutes."

punching big holes in your ears is painful.

2007-09-19T10:43:00.000-07:00

lack of gold as a menace to society

2007-09-18T06:32:00.001-07:00

Just when I thought that people were disapproving of my erstwhile lack of gold jewelry simply because it was aestheticially displeasing to eyes that have been trained to value bling above all else, I learn that my refusal to wear gold jewelry was actually a highly selfish act bound to throw all of society into chaos. Just as seeing a widow or barren woman is considered to be highly inauspicious (especially first thing in the morning), seeing a poor woman (Read: woman lacking in gold jewelry) is bad luck and has the potential to disrupt your life and spoil your prosperity.

A sumangali (married woman) is a highly auspicious sight, and her participation in functions and religious events is highly beneficial. Certain pujas which are performed for financial prosperity require the presence of a certain number of married women. The number one sign of a married woman in the thali, or marriage chain, which for most people here is simply a cotton cord smeared in turmeric (manjal kayiru). A woman who is not married does not have any manjal kayiru around her neck. If she has means, she will wear a gold chain in order to avoid going around with a bare neck which is considered not only pathetic but a highly inauspicious sight for others. This is particularly the case for widows who are of course the most inauspicious of all. It is the husband's very presence (signified by the thali) that affords the woman auspiciousness. When he dies she is quite literally divested of the thali (and other symbols of marriage) and thereby loses all rights and benefits accorded to married women. In order to avoid this problem of going about with a bare neck, many widows have taken to wearing black cords around their necks. This is also the case for women whose husbands have gone bad. These gutsy women decide, "I don't need this husband!" and throw their thali away, putting on a black thread.* **

So the cries of the grandmas for me to just "PLEASE get a chain" were actually pleas for me to stop showing myself without gold and potentially disrupting people's lives. Now when I think about how I have gone to weddings here without a chain I shudder! "Your neck is WEIRD without a chain!" "Your neck is NOT GOOD without a chain!" "You need decoration!" "Just don't fuss about it and buy yourself some earrings!" -- these statements keep ringing in my head. Because to see a woman without a chain is "bad" as Chellapandi put it. It's quite nothing like the States where women go to the Oscars, Emmys, etc. in designer gowns but NO NECKLACE. I tried to explain to Tamilarasi that people in the U.S. sometimes think too much jewelry takes away from the outfit. She of course found this funny, especially as she looked at the photographic evidence in American magazines, rather perplexed by the conspicuous lack of chains on the part of the super-rich.

I am glad that I have been duly informed that my going without gold was putting society at risk. Thankfully I now have a chain! But unfortunately it isn't quite enough as I have been advised by several women to "please just go and at least buy a daalar (gold pendant) and put it on the chain." This is because my chain is short ("only" 10.5 grams, or slightly more than one pavun (8 grams) and one can see that nothing is hanging on it. So now I have become neurotic that my chain is too short and that I don't have a daalar!!! Not sure it is possible to win at this gold game.

A gold daalar can apparently mitigate
the tragedy that is a short chain.

*This is certainly a brave move in a place where many feel that it is better to be married to a murderer than to no man at all. And I do not say this the least bit sarchastically because it is absolutely true. Many women have told me that it doesn't matter what their husbands do, they will remain loyal to him and continue to be married to him. People believe very strongly in the idea that in life (for women) there is only one marriage between one man and one woman. Therefore divorce, remarriage, or widow remarriage is a foreign concept (quite literally). Of course this is the case only for women, as widowers are expected to remarry (if they are the right age) and occasionally men do take more than one wife at at time (though this isn't exactly considered ideal). The current Chief Minister is himself married to three women. And of course a man can have many girlfriends as well. Though this is considered a bad thing to do, it is almost never considered grounds for a woman to divorce her husband.

** As a side note I don't want to leave the impression that the women in my neighborhood are all chaste victims while the men run off with whomever they please. Plenty of women around here have boyfriends on the side, and apparently their abundant gold jewelry testifies to this (according to the neighbors). And just recently a local young man came crying to my friend asking for her advice because his wife just ran off with a married man and abandoned him and their three children. When he went to the railway station to plead with her to come back, at least for the sake of the children, she said she didn't care about him or the children and the train pulled away like some sort of terribly sad movie. The major difference between the women and men that I have observed is not so much their behavior as the consequences to their behavior. And I must say that living in upper-middle class neighborhoods here had (quite mistakenly) led me to believe that Jerry Springer soap-opera type stories are confined to the United States, while everyone here is living in complete domestic harmony and bliss. Of course I am sure there are soap operas to be found in the upper class neighborhoods as well, though in those areas people seem more preoccupied with hiding them.

Happy Birthday to Ganesh!

2007-09-15T08:14:00.000-07:00

Today is Vinayagar Chaturthi, the day that Lord Ganesha (a.k.a. Vinayagar [in Tamil], Pillaiyar [also Tamil], Ganapati, etc.), son of Shiva and Parvati, bestows his blessings on devotees. It is also apparently his birthday. And who doesn't love Ganesh? He has an elephant head after all. On the first day of Ganesh Chaturthi people either buy Ganesh statues made out of clay, or themselves make them from clay, and worship them before submerging them in water the next day and letting them melt back into the sea, river, etc. This re-enacts Ganesh's birth in which his mother Parvati actually made him from clay and breathed life into him. Because Parvati made Ganesh all on her own, Shiva actually didn't even know who Ganesh was the first time he set eyes on him and he ended up chopping his head off. Then, depending on which version of the story you read, he realized his folly in killing his wife's son and agreed to take the head of the first being he saw to replace Ganesh's. An elephant walked past, and there you have it.

Vinayagar Chaturthi is really a quite enjoyable holiday, and begins with loudspeakers blaring films songs at 5:30 AM to get the jolly mood started off just right. Fortunately for me, the loudspeakers are situated about 10 feet from my front door, right near the small Vinayagar temple next to the medical stall. With each beat of the bass, the lights in my house go dim and the ceiling fans slow. The vibrations of the cement walls afforded by the latest Tamil cinema hits being blared at ear-splitting volumes really got me into a meditative frame of mind this morning.

Once Chellapandi arrived she expressed a bit of frustration at the decibel level, and the fact that one simply cannot even speak to another person and be heard. I think this mirrors the sentiments of just about everyone else around here, perhaps even the DJs themselves, but as I have mentioned before people seem to look at it as a necessary evil. Everyone seems to hate it, but no one will rush up to the speakers and turn them off or, better yet, smash them. Chellapandi explained that the month of Avani (the current Tamil lunar month) is a very auspicious month in which everyone should be happy and should necessarily rise very early, smiling all the while. Apparently the loudspeakers are designed to help members of the community reach this beatific state.

I rather feel like Miss Havisham or Mr. Scrouge when I pray to the gods for a power cut during these community loudspeaker binges. But today I got my prayers answered when the music miraculously cut off around 10AM due to a sudden power cut. Perhaps they actually blew out an entire transformer, the way they are sucking power from all the houses to run these speakers. Needless to say, the only time I get excited about a power cut is during a holiday, as one certainly doesn't want to do without a fan when it's 100F. Suddenly Meeambalpuram was plunged into silence. Well, not really because you've still got horns blaring non-stop, and drums and firecrackers up the road, etc. etc. But as a community we managed to have a very nice puja right there in front of the little Ganesh temple because our ears weren't bleeding as we prayed. It was really quite nice, and not just because the speakers were dead for a few blessed hours. It was nice to get to take part in this with the neighbors. I was especially interested to see that the young priest officiating the puja has "VIJAY" tattooed across his forearm. Turns out he is a big Vijay fan.

After the puja I made my way downtown for the day. It was such a tiring day, and as a result I am going to bed at 9:15PM. Fortunately the current came back on, as did the speakers. So I will be rocked to sleep tonight by the film songs. Earlier I had to cook dinner by candlelight because all the power is being sapped by the speakers and as a result the tube light in the kitchen doesn't function.

Kan Drishti Ganapati : This relatively new-fangled representation of Ganesh is a favorite for warding the evil eye off of homes and businesses. Note the accentuated eyes.

Pillaiyarpatti Ganesh: This Ganesh is famous for having only two arms. Apparently the only other two-armed Ganesh (besides this one in Tamil Nadu) can be found in Afghanistan!

yellow fever (except it's me this time)

2007-09-11T22:19:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone. After a completely inexcusable delay I am finally blogging again. I was actually quite flattered that a few people were angry at me for not blogging. I was also happy to see some comments on here from folks.

I hope that you haven't given up on the Vellaikkaari blog just yet, because there are still quite a few more months to go before I earn shore leave. And I think that blogging about Madurai is going to be the pick-me-up I need right now as I appear to have hit a bit of a slump.

There are lots of things to tell. Especially some ghost stories! But I will save those for later. My internet connection has been on the blink for two months, which is part of the reason for my radio silence. Also, my boyfriend was visiting India for one month and we were doing a lot of traveling. We spent one week in the lovely Meenambalpuram at which time I introduced him variously as "my friend" "my classmate" (and his personal favorite) "my father's brother's youngest son" or "chittappaa paiyan." I think no one bought these lies whatsoever, but then again no one seemed to care and people seemed to enjoy playing along that the emperor has no clothes. Yet again I was reminded that people in Madurai are much more open-minded that I have been led to believe, especially where foreigners are concerned. I was so completely neurotic about people thinking I am a "bad girl" for having him here, that I began to assume the neighbors were disapproving of me when actually it was just that they had a migraine. In fact, people who have never spoken to me before began to make conversation because of Luke! Namely, the men across the street. Again I need to remember that my actions, or misdeeds, are not at the front of folks' minds. Of course, they would be if I were a 28-year-old unmarried INDIAN woman, but I'm an American and I get away with (some) stuff.

Luke bought me some gold while he was here, because even after a short time he came to realize its importance. Importance actually isn't even the right word; think something much stronger, like AKIN TO GOD. I think the moment of realization was when we were in the market in Pondicherry and I was wearing a sari and no chain. The older ladies there were making fun of me (ruthlessly) because I didn't have on a chain. I couldn't resist jumping in and telling them I understood what they were saying, to which they basically responded, "Well, okay then. Understand us and get yourself a CHAIN!" and "Your neck looks WEIRD (without a chain)" ETC ETC. I was mad as a hornet after that, because at that time I (thought I) hated gold. But of course once we got to Madurai some gold purchases were made and I changed my tune real quick. However, I had to wait until a week after Luke left to unveil the earrings, and I still haven't unveiled the chain. You see, this is because I don't want to be confused with a prostitute. Allow me to do the math for you: man appearing on the scene (not husband) + sudden and inexplicable input of gold jewelry = "prostitute." This is the formula in Meenambalpuram. I've been told it many times and I didn't believe until I saw it for myself. It's repeated here kind of like a mantra. So I've got to be careful how I deploy this gold. So far the earrings have been a big hit and no one has done any dubious math quite yet. We will see what happens when the gold chain comes out. I'm going to a wedding on Friday and I might just make a splash because there is no way I am wearing a sari again without a chain.

In the meantime, I hope y'all keep reading this blog and I promise more updates!

In TN there is no such thing as too much bling.

just your average Sunday afternoon

2007-07-30T06:01:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't posted in some days. There wasn't very much in the way of excitement this past week, until yesterday that is! But before I get into that, let me report that I found out that karikkoddai is actually charcoal. Americans are slow like charcoal, which requires vast amounts of petrol, time, and attention to sufficiently catch on fire. But like I always say, better charcoal than the banana tree log which doesn't burn at all.

Yesterday morning some "rowdies" from the area showed up and started arguing with the neighbors in front of my house because the wife's younger brother had bought a plot of land abutting theirs (which they are anyways illegally occupying) and had built a wall on it which apparently was occupying some of their land (again, not their land in the first place). There was a lot of yelling but eventually they left and things were calm for several hours. Then around 5pm a fracas ensued, when they came back with more people ready to fight. I of course couldn't understand a single word of any of this. There are two kinds of speech I have a hard time understanding here: 1) shy children talking and 2) people fighting. The former mostly because I am half deaf and the latter because I don't know many bad words and cannot understand Tamil when people are screaming.

Actually I did understand a few words when the husband was lunging down the stairs of his house trying to beat the tar out of one of the rowdies, which was basically "BRING IT!" By the time the rowdies had left he was huffing and puffing on the front porch, yelling something about "RESPECT!!!" At the height of the conflict his son had run into the house and got a club (and thankfully not an arivaal -- machete) and came storming out, ready to do some damage.
The husband had rolled up his veshti and was ready as well, but the women were in the middle holding the men back. Turns out they were fighting with the guy who is my regular rickshaw driver, but I couldn't see him as I was peering out the window trying to get a glimpse of the melee. I simply couldn't imagine him fighting, as he is totally calm and quiet at all times, but according to sources he is like a cobra which goes along calmly one minute and strikes the next.

Today I learned that it all started when these rowdies, whom everyone is afraid of, came over here in the morning and started harassing the wife when her husband was not home. This got him pretty outraged, that and when they came back and went up to his door and ordered, "HEY, EJACULATE!!! GET OUT HERE." Turns out calling a man "ejaculate" isn't a very nice thing and is a good way to start a fight. Of course I didn't know this word and got Tamilarasi to tell me all the bad words that were exchanged yesterday, but they were so bad she couldn't bring herself to speak them and wrote them down instead. She was also nearly dying of embarassment and laughing hysterically, but I was of course pretty excited to learn some bad words as these are things one certainly won't get in the classroom. Apparently they were also screaming things like "I am going to rape your mother, sister, grandmother, etc." These things weren't so funny of course.

Once the police showed up, the rowdies got on their motorcycles and went home. Not sure what the next phase is going to be. The neighbors put a police complaint against them which was pretty brave considering most people here avoid the police at all costs, and certainly don't put complaints against confirmed rowdies. After the rowdies dispersed, I considered it safe to leave and I went to a big kan kadchi (literally "show for the eyes" or "exhibition") at Tamukkam. Turns out it was a good thing I left when I did, because there was a huge brawl directly BEHIND my house last night while I was away. Basically I won't get into the details in this forum, but someone was demanding to be able to pitch a tent on my roof so his family could live there. This person has clearly lost his mind.

Some of the highlights of this past week included getting my fridge repaired and getting darshan of Nasser, a big Tamil movie star! They were doing a cinema shooting at the Gandhi museum. Unfortunately I had missed the shooting the day before when Nasser had acted out a heart attack scene with some comedians, including Vivek!

Unfortunately all my Nasser pics turned out blurry, but here he is with a group of schoolkids.

Tamilarasi channeling a distinctly Rajasthani way of wearing a sari.

dumber than a banana tree log

2007-07-25T09:20:00.000-07:00

Today I learned that there are four types of intelligence:

1) Phosphorus: This material apparently lights on fire very easily; if the wind blows and there is a fire nearby, then phosphorus will easily go up in flames. Thus a “phosphorus” type person is very sharp.

2) Camphor: This substance will light on fire easily, but only if you put a match right up to it. This person is smart, given the right spark, but not as quick as phosphorus.

3) Karikkoddai (translation to follow): This item is very difficult to burn, and requires a lot of fanning and a lot of effort to get a good flame. This type is person is obviously considered dumb and slow.

4) Banana tree log: This type of wood simply will not burn. A banana tree log person is considered to be an idiot and a fool.

I was prompted to inquire about this intelligence scale after reading an article in the weekly magazine put out by the Dinamalar Tamil daily. The article was about a young Tamil software engineer, Rahul, and his experiences working in the United States. When he went home to India, his family and friends had a lot of questions about life in the states. Here's an excerpt:

“What is this, Rahul? Computer software engineers from our country are going to the United States by the boatloads. Americans aren't as smart as us, are they?” asks Rahul’s uncle.

“That’s true, uncle. If you grill one of our people four times about a particular issue, it’s enough. He’s like camphor. But if you tell an American this same thing even forty times it won’t penetrate their brain. Therefore, even if a boy from our country who is just an average student goes to America, he’ll be making sense of things in no time," replied Rahul.

I found this story pretty funny and consulted Tamilarasi to get to the bottom of it. She detailed the four types of intelligence for me, and you might be happy to hear that Americans don’t fall under the category of banana tree logs, but we are considered in the category of karikkoddai which is either a piece of shishkabob meat, the bark/seed from the curry leaf bush, or the firewood used when roasting meat, depending on the translation! I need to check with Tamilarasi to figure out what exactly she meant. So Americans aren’t absolute idiots, but we are dumb and slow. I’ll get back to you tomorrow with our final verdict. It's not looking good, though, because from the looks of my notes I’m pretty sure we are going to end up being a piece of damp firewood.

What do U think?

Which one R U?

a minor irritation

2007-07-23T06:48:00.000-07:00

The light in my bedroom no longer works between the hours of 5pm and 10pm which, interestingly, is just the time that one might want to turn on a light in one's room! I've been advised that every tube light in every home is like this, once it reaches a certain vintage. Apparently mine has already reached its life expectancy of one year and I should no longer expect to have light during these hours owing to low voltage. There is a solution, which is to turn on the tubelight religiously before 5pm and let it burn all night. This is not only inconvenient, but wasteful. I've been doing it, however, because I need light WHEN IT IS DARK OUTSIDE. However, tonight I made the mistake of accidentally turning it off when I left the room! FOOL! It's a habit to turn the light off when I leave the room, what can I say? So now I can forget reading in here tonight, etc. The tube lights in the rest of the house are still functional, but sitting in my "office" during the night hours means getting mauled by mosquitoes as there isn't a window but a hole in the wall. Furthermore it isn't exactly a posh room, containing nothing more than a plastic lawn chair and a small table. I think it might be time to invest in a new tube light perhaps.

kedda neeram

2007-07-20T06:51:00.000-07:00

My eyeball was twitching pretty much non-stop for about two weeks, and only now does it seem to have calmed down significantly. I am either cured because Chellapandi waved chilies, dal, salt, mustard seeds, and dirt from a three-point intersection around my head and then burned it in a blazing inferno on the main road, or because she's been feeding me a different variety of spinach every morning. I like to think of it as a combination of both.

Though my eyeball twitching problem seems to be, thankfully, on the way out, these days are really seeming like a kedda neeram (bad time) for me. Firstly, my fridge (my prized possession) quit working the first day I got back to Madurai. It's been in the shop for a week, and I pretty much concluded today that I am never getting it back. The tricycle driver showed up and carried it off into the sunset, and I really have no idea where it is now. Furthermore, every time I call they keep saying it will be ready "tomorrow" (translation: never?). The phone is also broken, for the third time, which added to my anxiety today. Whenever the repair guy shows up to fix it, it miraculously starts working again, which leads them to the conclusion that I am crazy. Of course it makes me even crazier when this happens. I should also mention that the Western toilet in the house is oozing black sludge and threatens to die any moment. Once that goes, my life as I know it will truly be over.

What really clinched it for me today was when I went to grab my tape recorder, thinking I would at least try to boost my spirits by getting some interviews, and it turned out to be BROKEN as well! This was TOTALLY out of left field. The rest of the day went waste as I was led on a wild goose chase through the city, trying to find yet another "service center" where another of my prized electronics will most likely live (die?) in perpetuity. When the tape recorder went bust, so did all my patience. People here really and truly have the patience of Job, and it is moments like these that the impatience of Americans really comes to the surface. More than impatience it is naivete; I keep believing when people say "tomorrow". In general I try to be very patient here, but when so many aggravating factors come together in one particular moment, it becomes crystal clear that the entire tank of patience has run completely and utterly bone dry. I was so frustrated that I literally felt like I was running on fumes and I had to sit down. Tamilarasi unfortunately had to be witness to my hopelessness. She cheered me up, though, and so did Chellapandi when she got here. Their father-in-law is coming back from the village on Monday, and I have every confidence that he will blast the Videocon disservice center sky high as soon as he gets the chance. I look forward to this moment. In the meantime, the very nice neighbors have decided to turn on their fridge (it is kept merely for show and rarely, if ever, turned on), and are letting us store some of our perishables there.

My alarm clock is about the only thing around here that isn't broken.
In fact, it's been working a little TOO WELL these past couple of days.

When you first got your period did a marching band show up at the front door?

2007-07-17T08:23:00.001-07:00

Two nights ago the big function was held for the girl next door who 11 days ago reached her "age attendment." I have to say it was probably one of the coolest functions I've seen, and fun was had by all. Hopefully fun was also had by the girl, for whom this function was ostensibly being held. I say ostensibly only because for 95% of the function she was holed up in the room where she has been the past 11 days, and all the merriment was really going on outside.

First off, a marching band showed up and started to play: two drums, cymbals, trumpet and clarinet. They were pretty awesome. Shortly after that, the mother's brothers (maamaa) started to filter in. They are the ones whom the girl's father and everyone else must receive with pomp, circumstance, and respect. They are the ones who bear the expenses of this function for their niece, and indeed all important functions for their sister's daughter save marriage. When the mother's oldest brother showed up, everyone stood up, including the 85-year-old grandma which was a signal to me that this guy was a high roller of some kind. Turns out he is "just" the maamaa. But as Tamilarasi put it, even if the taay maamaa (mother's brother) is ten years old "we have to show him respect." Standing at attention for a ten-year-old boy would be a bit too heavy on the patriarchy for my tastes, but fortunately this particular taay maamaa was 40, not 10, and I of course stood up like everyone else.

The most important parts of the function seemed to center around the presentation of lavish gifts including vessels, fruits, silk sarees, eggs, sugar, jaggery, and huge quantities of cash money to the girl's parents. The material gifts are carried from the mother's father's house on the heads of the women, wives of the mother's brothers and other female relations. This is known as ciiru. They follow the marching band in a line, and in front of them men set off the obligatory atom bombs and other firecrackers to sufficiently deafen all those in attendance. When the women arrive at the girl's home, they are received by the girl's father and their gifts and cash money are catalogued in a ledger. This practice if known as moy. Even those who don't do the ciiru give huge sums of money for the moy, often to the point of going into incredible debt to do so. This is a matter of respect. The person to whom you give at a function will consult their ledger before they attend your next function, and will most like give double. I saw people who I know to be quite poor give the equivalent of half their monthly income. Often individuals will take out loans at extortinate interest rates to save face at the moy. In Madurai, unsavory moneylenders often compound the interest for such loans by the minute, thereby enslaving people for their whole lives.

After all the gifts have been received and duly noted in the ledger, it's time to bring the girl out of the room and out back for the ritual bath/tidal wave. All the wives of the material uncles, and other close relatives and female friends, take turns dumping water over the girl's head. As soon as the first drop was poured, some of the ladies starting doing that ululation thing which was pretty neat. As Tamilarasi put it, this is a "very auspicious sound." The female relatives also smeared lots of turmeric and other herbal concoctions on her as well. This lasted for quite some time. After the bathing, the girl is dressed in a super fancy silk saree given by the taay maamaa and ornamented in tons of gold. It's then time for the photo op, in which the girl prostrates to all the taay maamaa and their wives and receives their blessings. They then garland her.

After the photo time, we all made our way over to the mandapam where dinner was being served. No one will eat in the girl's house as it is tiiddu or impure. The girl must remain in her house for three more days as she is vulnerable to being grabbed by ghosts and demons if she leaves the house. For thirty days she must carry a piece of iron to ward off the evil spirits. Oh, and I forgot to mention that for the 15 days she is impure, she must drink raw eggs first thing in the morning. I asked Tamilarasi, isn't that gross? And she said, "Oh no! The first time you drink it you will vomit, but then after that it is fine."

Wonder if any of y'all ladies had a marching band show up to your house when you reached your "age attendment" way back when?

The grandma from next door is my Madurai style icon. She and I are actually the only people in Meenambalpuram who wear sunglasses. Except hers are way cooler than mine.

Photo-op in front of the kolam

As the bombs go off, the band plays on.

Ciiru (directly in front of my house)

Girl's father receives his wife's brothers

Mother's brothers seated around all the goodies.

moy: taay maamaa takes account of all the goodies and cash

One of the uncles garlands the girl.

Touching the feet of the mother's eldest brother.

Major bling.

Me with some of the neighbors.

Approximately 200 camera-crazy people demanded that I take their pictures. I took so many pictures that I went through two sets of batteries. When the digital camera comes out, a circus ensues. Curiously enough I managed to get at least one picture of myself.

a rather simple case of mistaken identity.

2007-07-14T07:04:00.000-07:00

Today Tamilarasi and I made our way downtown for various purchases such as cloth for her son's school uniform and bangles to wear to a nearby function tomorrow morning. Seeing as how my stomach operates according to a very strict schedule, by the time 1:30 PM rolled around I was about to die of hunger. I reluctantly decided that we would eat in a very busy meals place right beside the Meenakshi Temple. I was reluctant because places by the temple, pretty much any temple, aren't exactly renowned for cleanliness and hygenic food. And sure enough, I've been insanely nauseous for the past several hours.

But it turns out that there was something quite a bit more amiss than the sambhar in Manorama restaurant. As Tamilarasi and I were busy eating, suddenly there was this man trying to bum rush our table. There was a big confusion and hubbub, and when I looked up there were several restaurant employees holding back a man with crazy in his eyes. He was looking at me and gesturing wildly, going on about how I looked like a "cinema actress" and indeed he thought I was Trisha! He kept trying to rush up to me and they were holding him back and trying to throw him out of the place. Meanwhile a man was very calmly pouring sambhar on my banana leaf which added to my confusion. Was this a serious matter and should I run away? The sambhar man told Tamilarasi that he was simply a "loose" man and there was nothing to worry.

Last Thursday, the evening I arrived to Madurai, the 13-year-old girl next door reached her "age attendment". She has to stay in this room for 11 days and cannot go to school, but she can watch TV from the room. And when I visited there last Sunday she didn't seem to be acting like someone who felt like they were under house arrest. Indeed she seemed pretty happy. I'm thinking she might be glad to be out of school for 1 1/2 weeks. In the villages it is usually the case that the girl is kept separate for something to the tune of 15 days, and sometimes in a thatched hut which the mother's brother (maamaa) builds. No men should see the girl or else they will break out in a rash all over. At the end of the 15 days, she comes out of the hut and the maamaa burns it and water is poured over her head in a sort of ritual bath. Then she is free to move around normally. But here in the "city" the girl hangs out in a bedroom and watches Tamil movies and serials. Nevertheless, it is still a big deal in the city as well. And tomorrow there is going to be a huge function and I am really looking forward to seeing it in person, as I have only seen such things in the movies. I think it's going to be pretty awesome, and it's my first function in the neighborhood.

"But that American girl doesn't look a thing like me!"

"seeing my name, are you trembling with excitement?"

2007-07-12T07:26:00.000-07:00

That's what my new cell-phone stalker from Kanchipuram asked me yesterday! I made the mistake of dialing a wrong number. All I said was "sorry, wrong number", but this was enough to titillate the man at the other end -- especially because he gathered that I was a foreigner. As a result, he called me constantly all day (I never once answered, until he tricked me by calling from a different phone) and texted me at least a dozen times with all sorts of ridiculousness. One was a picture message of a baby with its finger in its mouth saying in Tamil "Naan thaan" which basically just means, "It's me." Not sure where he was going with that. I never responded, which only upped the ante.

I had dialed the wrong number around noon. By evening, he had given me the name "Sandhya" and was trying to taunt me with all sorts of nonsense, such as "Time's up, Sandhya! Race me to the phone and call. I bet I will win!" The best is of course the gem that I put in the subject line. Cell phone stalkers are a dime a dozen in these parts. Cell phones are this sort of electronic appendage that affords men a chance to "interact" with women and maintain a sort of invisibility, without which they would never act. My non response was interpreted as an actual response, in that I was seemingly so shy and titillated by this man that I couldn't bring myself to call or write him back. This only ratcheted up the fantasy of said individual to the point that he invented a name for me and started calling me by all sorts of super informal vocatives. It's certainly the exact same thing in the U.S. with the internet: men take the anonymity of it as a kind of license to harass women in all sorts of ways. Here it is MUCH more benign, but nevertheless annoying. A few years back I had to make a complaint at the cell phone company because this guy got my number somehow and wouldn't stop calling me. Recently I had to stop going to a certain dry cleaners because the man there took it upon himself to get my number off the receipt and start texting me and calling me out of nowhere.

Chellapandi took care of the Kanchipuram stalker, however, and relished every minute of it. She waited for him to call and then answered the phone demanding, "WHO ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU CALLING THIS NUMBER?" He was shocked, as he had expected me. I cannot really translate what she was saying to him, because Tamil affords all sorts of informal verb conjugations and vocatives that really give the sense of disrespect that we don't have in English. But basically she really gave him a dressing down to the point where he actually called BACK making up lies to defend himself and demanding to know why she was talking to him like he is a "rogue" and "scavenger" when he is actually a respectable businessman!

That's about it from here. I've been back in Madurai for one week. I've still got a lot of bureaucratic hurdles to clear, but so far, so good. People in my neighborhood were happy to have me back, which made me feel good. It was good to see them as well. I still want to write an entry called "Americans are anal." I will save that for tomorrow. I would like to share some revelations I made during my recent stint back in the U.S.

visions of A/Cs and T.V.s dancing in my head...

2007-05-23T05:35:00.000-07:00

As of this Saturday, the Vellaikkaari blog is going on a brief hiatus. White girl needs to go home in order to procure a research visa. Then it's back to Meenambalpuram to readjust all over again. Four weeks should be enough time for the neighborhood kids to forget about me, which isn't really what I am going for. Just today chaos ensued when I stepped outside to buy some ginger. Nevertheless, I am feeling sad about leaving, and particularly anxious about it.

I do, however, look forward to indulging in only the most grotesque excesses of American culture, including but not limited to: extreme use of air conditioners; extended periods of time watching only the most brainless and revolting television programs; reading trashy celebrity gossip magazines; cheesy pop music, etc. If only I ate junk food, I'd indulge in that as well. About the only thing I'm going to do every day that isn't useless is read the New York Times. I am really looking forward to that one.

In the off chance that this sudden immersion into the excesses of American culture proves traumatic, I will certainly blog about it. Thanks for reading my blog the past few months. It has proven to be of immense therapeutic value. I hope you will come back for more in July!

Fun times buying meen (fish) in Meenambalpuram.

wormhole detected

2007-05-19T05:40:00.000-07:00

Thanks to a postal wormhole opening up between Washington, D.C., USA, and Meenambalpuram, India, I am currently getting up to speed on how Ricki Lake went from a size 22 to a size 4 without surgery as well as getting an up close look at Paris's jail cell. It's incredible but I am reading the CURRENT issue of gold-standard US Weekly magazine, courtesy of my idenitical twin. It only took 5 days for it to get to my house! Whatever happened to those days back in 1999 when we would wait months for packages or letters, only for them to never arrive, or if we were lucky, stripped, crushed, or destroyed? Whatever hapened to the letter that would saunter in after 3 months in some postal purgatory, with the whole envelope and contents missing except for a scrap of charred paper bearing the address? Oh those were the days! Back when it took 30 minutes to open an email at the one internet cafe in town and phoning home was an expensive and frustrating joke. Now I sit in the middle of nowhere Meenambalpuram, blogging with high speed internet. If I want to call the U.S., or even (literally) the middle of the Amazon jungle, I use Skype and 9 times out of 10 I have an excellent connection. Ahhh, the miracles of developments in telecommunications. The only downside seems to be that snail mail starts to lose its luster. Except when that snail mail contains US Weekly magazine!!! Thanks, identical twin!

different worlds

2007-05-18T22:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday as I was preparing my speech for the Rotary meeting, I noticed an announcement in The Hindu: "Melanie Dean speaks about 'My Experience in Madurai." I got pretty nervous seeing that, especially because I was in the midst of trying to figure out how to not to garble "pure" Tamil words in my speech. I feared a central Pennsylvania Pongal celebration repeat, in which the audience turned out not to be fifty but something like five hundred people. But there were only about 25 people there last night, and they were all super nice and happy to hear me speaking Tamil.

It was a totally different world I stepped into yesterday evening. The world of "high society" people, as Tamilarasi calls them. It was the first time in three months I've been in an English- medium environment. They were all speaking English, in fact the entire meeting was conducted in English. Then the American girl steps up to the podium to give a speech in Tamil! It was funny, actually. They liked it though, and at the end people had a lot of interesting questions. But I was pretty taken aback by one older gentleman's question, "In America men marry men and women marry women! We are afraid that is going to come here. What do you think about this?" I responded in Tamil, and I was trying to say that I didn't have any comment, but I think what I really said was something like, "I really don't have an opinion one way or the other." I of course do have an opinion, but I think it's an opinion that isn't going to be understood or well-received in such an audience. I think my response could have potentially irritated the audience or could have made them happy. Fortunately other members of the audience started in with other questions, so I dodged. They wanted to know how I was going to go about finding a husband, and they found it comical (but understood) why I would never consent to living with in-laws, as is the custom here. I managed to crack some jokes too, which made me pretty happy. Overall it was a nice experience. But when I was reading the speech, I was pretty darn nervous. It's always intimidating to speak Tamil in an English medium environment.

What really impressed me, after living in Meenambalpuram for the past three months, is how completely separate worlds exist here, with very little contact between them. This meeting was taking place maybe one mile from where I live, but it's a universe away. I guess it is kind of like going from small town South Carolina to some snooty, Ivy League, northeastern U.S. blue blood social function. Except the people at the function last night weren't the least bit snooty or entitled. They just live in a very different world from the folks in Meenambalpuram. And they gave me a pretty awesome gift: a set of six glass tumblers. I am trying not to admire them too much lest they shatter like my late coffee mug.

I'm afraid there's no photographic evidence of the event because my drishti sari was so powerful it broke the camera. Well, not really, but it would have if there had been a camera. In fact, this sari invited so much drishti I am sick YET AGAIN. After the talk I went to the fancy (A/C!) restaurant downstairs for dinner where there was a fan blowing cold air on me. My throat started to hurt immediately. I got scared and asked the waiter to move it, but it was too late. There you have it: evil eye + air conditioning = deadly. This stuff is REAL folks. I really don't understand how it is possible to get sick "again" when I've been sick for two solid weeks, but it's happened. To make matters worse, on the way home I got compliments on my sari, compounding the drishti problem. I came home late so there was no one there to rotate camphor tablets around my head, make me spit on them and then burn them. So I did this myself. I don't think it works to do this evil eye thing on yourself, but I was desperate. I've been hacking my lungs out for two weeks and I cannot handle another round. Then I started gargling with salt water and made lemon and honey tea as a double whammy. Somebody needs to tell the Milan store that this "Drishti collection" can be dangerous to health!

Happy Birthday, Julie!

2007-05-17T20:39:00.001-07:00

Hope you have a great birthday, Julie! Wish I could be there to celebrate. But I'll have to sweat it out here for another week. Guess your early birthday present was a Sarkozy victory!

I had to go to all the way to Pondicherry for this baguette.

Hope you don't mind Swiss cheese!

warning: high snark factor.

2007-05-17T09:55:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been pondering a certain type of, shall we say, neo-colonial American who comes to India. Let me sketch out the psychological profile for you: This type of American just loves India for how quaint it seems, and revels in the attention that a foreigner gets here. She doesn't seem to notice the half-naked man passed out (or perhaps dead?) on the side of the road, or the guy with no legs rolling past on a skateboard asking for rupees, but if there's a homeless puppy around she will cry her eyes out. Said American seeks out the "feel good factor" of working with street children at prominent NGOs, but mistreats the very hardworking, poor servant woman in front of her face. She secretly enjoys the feeling of power over inferiors, especially servants, while simultaneously feigning discomfort at being served. In fact, the servant-boss relationship makes this American very uncomfortable, not because it seems wrong to be waited on, but because the American deep down "feels sorry" for the servant -- a feeling that is really based on the idea that such a person is doing inferior and demeaning labor, rather than making an honest living and having no need for pity. Instead of trying to adapt to the local culture which sees the work of servants as honest labor and labor which provides for families, said American seeks a way to avoid interactions with servants as much as possible. But because she doesn't have the ovaries to confront the servant and fire her herself, she instead resorts to dirty tricks. Why not just lay a trap for the servant? Like perhaps leaving thousands of rupees laying around to tempt a person who is honest and upstanding, but who is in tens of thousands of rupees of debt and has moneylenders banging her door down? Who has to sometimes feed her kids leaves from the drumstick tree because they have no money for food? Why that would be a wonderful excuse to fire someone! Rather than facing up to your inability to value said servant's labor as productive and honorable, why not trap them into stealing and ruin their reputation instead of making yourself uncomfortable? Brilliant!

Speech!

2007-05-17T09:28:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow evening I'll be giving a speech to the Rotary Club of Madurai. Wish me luck! Somehow or another I ended up in this situation. I just hope there aren't tons of people there. The speech is going to be in Tamil -- but spoken, not "pure" Tamil, so I hope they don't throw tomatoes at me. It's *possible* for me to read it in literary Tamil, but it will sound stilted as hell. Tamilarasi has been coaching me the past few days. My friend and fellow Tamilphile Costas and I once gave speeches, in literary Tamil (!), at a Pongal celebration held by Tamils living in central Pennsylvania. I was expecting 50 people or so but there were several hundred. I'm hoping that this function is smaller somehow. Otherwise I will be crazy nervous.

A few weeks ago I went to the upscale Milan store in Madurai to check out their "Drishti Collection." The idea behind this ad campaign is that the clothing is so fancy and awesome that you'll need to carry evil eye prophylactics around with you just to keep the evil eye off. A pretty awesome ad campaign to investigate for my research! I met the store owner who was super nice and really keen on getting me to speak Tamil at his "club." So a few days ago his lawyer and professor friend called me up and invited me to give this talk. I'm nervous but I think it will be good to meet some "high society people", as Tamilarasi calls them, because they tend to be quite concerned about mitigating the ill-effects of the evil eye, considering they've got plenty of property to defend.

I'm going to be wearing a sari from the "drishti collection" -- but sans the protective evil eye pumpkin. I might need a fire extinguisher, though, because the sari is so cool I'm sure it will burst into flames from all the drishti it's gonna attract.

astrology is real.

2007-05-14T22:52:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the last day of agni nakshatram (or the time of the "fire star"). It's a 14 day period in May when the temperatures soar in Tamil Nadu. I've heard super hot May days explained as agni nakshatram but I didn't know until this year that it's calculated by astrologers according to the stars, moon phases, etc. And let me tell you folks, it's real. I didn't know you could predict the weather according to astrology, but now I'm a believer.

The past two weeks have been the hottest weeks I've experienced in my life. My house has turned into a concrete oven. Concrete really isn't the best material to be constructing your house with in this kind of climate, unless you want it to double as a kiln.

Yesterday the high was 106, on the last day of agni nakshatram. Today, I already notice that I don't feel like my body is going up in flames. This is because the high today is only going to be 102. Agni nakshatram is over! Astrology is real!

Say hello to Agni, god of fire. Looks like he is pretty capable of generating 106 degree temperatures to me.

racism sucks.

2007-05-14T08:38:00.000-07:00

What's the opposite of vellaikkaari? I get so upset at being called whitey all the time, but I think it's time to think about the flip side of vellaikkaari. I think I've got it bad being called whitey? That's nothing. Because white skin is what is privileged here; "fair" skin is all the rage. Fair skin is what is considered beautiful, and the whiter the better. We in the U.S. might pay hundreds of dollars and risk skin cancer to get a tan, but that concept is completely foreign here in a place where dark skin is very much looked down upon. The opposite of vellaikkaari is karuvaaci ("blacky"), kaakkaa ("crow"), and even karu vandu (black bug). There are hundreds of other bad names as well. I could probably do my entire dissertation on such hate speech against dark-skinned people.

From literally the moment a person is born here, their skin tone is made an issue. If a child is fair, it is praised. If a child is "black," some folks can't help but be disappointed. You're a woman and you want to get married? Are you very black? Then you'd better have a shit load of gold because you're not going to find a husband without it. If you are a man and you are very black, it might also be difficult, but if your wife is more fair than you it's considered a point of pride, an advantage for the man. Fairness seems to be about the only category in which the woman can "best" the man, as the groom must necessarily be taller, older, more educated, and earn more than the woman. The bride shouldn't be too much fairer than the man, however, as she will be egotistical and difficult to manage.

A friend of mine here is considered very "black." Her mother-in-law has discriminated against her from day one. I guess if you are an evil mother-in-law with low self esteem a good person to bully would be a darker-skinned daughter-in-law. In the beginning of my friend's marriage, her husband bought her gold, as her mother-in-law had stolen her jewels from day one, and she was a happy housewife in the neighborhood, enjoying life. Her mother-in-law, and others in the neighborhood, began to resent her saying, "She's so black and look at how she is wearing that gold and nice clothes! Look at how her husband is keeping up that blacky!" ETC. It's basically looked at as tantamount to throwing pearls to swine, for such a dark-skinned woman to be wearing gold. Why should such a dark-skinned person be enjoying life so much in the midst of persons not as dark as her?

Well the evil mother-in-law got her wish, and sure enough they put enough of the evil eye on my friend that her husband went completely rotten and her entire family life went to hell in a handbasket. Now her in-laws have completely cast them out, and her husband has run off with a prostitute, leaving her to raise two kids pretty much alone. But the greatest insult of all has been the fact that in order to survive she has had to pawn off all her gold. And let me tell you folks, if you aren't wearing a shred of gold and you are dark-skinned, people of greater means than you will often treat you like total shit here. And I've seen it first hand, going around the city with my friends who don't have any gold. It's like seeing an entirely different side of this culture. If you are black and are wearing tons of gold, your skin color can be perhaps overlooked because you are wealthy. Gold can buy you some respect. But if you are black and you have no gold, don't expect to always be treated decently.

I told my friend about racism in the U.S. which she was very interested to hear about. There are a lot of similarities between Jim Crow laws in the U.S. and the practice of untouchability as it still exists in many parts of Tamil Nadu. Remember separate water fountains for blacks and whites? Dalits in Tamil Nadu villages are still fighting for the right to drink water out of cups and not coconut shells. There are human rights groups in India fighting for untouchability to be considered as a form of racism. This is a pretty loaded concept that I won't get into right now, but I bring it up because I think it is something to think about.

It is incredibly distressing to comprehend the self-loathing involved in this sort of racism. My friend was looking at an Entertainment Weekly magazine that my identical twin sent me. Inside there were many African American singers and movie stars featured. Firstly, she was surprised because most people here think that all Americans are white. She was amazed to see African Americans featured in the same pages as white people, just as famous and rich as white people. "Even though these people are black, look how much self respect and self confidence they have," she said. "We don't feel that way here."

Another distressing manifestation of racism here is the fact that many people seem to take heart that "there are people who are even darker than Tamils," meaning Africans. Many of the people who have referenced this to me do not know about Africa, where Africa is, or who Africans are, but they tell me that they have heard that there are people on this Earth who are certainly blacker than Tamils. One time a friend's mother was telling me this, after she praised my skin for being white. Then her daughter said, "But mother, we are just as black as they are." I feel particularly badly for the many African students who are studying in Madurai. I can only imagine how they are treated. As my friend pointed out, "People here will stare at you because you are white, but it is out of surprise. They like what they see. But they will stare at the Africans to make fun of them."

I do think that things will eventually change here over time, but it's going to be slow. There is actually a certain resistance brewing towards this kind of racism within Tamil cinema, but only insofar as the heroes are concerned. The hero of the Tamil cinema gets darker while the heroine gets fairer. There was an interesting scene in a recent film in which they hero is very dark and the heroine incredibly fair. When he flirts with her she scoffs, "Will someone this fair ever love someone as black as you?" to which he replies, "Hey! My color is on the top of your head, and your color is on the bottom of my foot!"

agni nakshatram

2007-05-13T21:03:00.000-07:00

Turns out the sweat lodge(s) might not have been such a good idea after all. After suffering from a case of black lung for a week, I finally went to the doctor on Saturday. Dr. Dheep is probably one of the best doctors in Madurai, and he didn't accuse me of any cool drink or ice cream consumption. He did, however, kindly offer me an injection but I opted for tablets instead. He confirmed a respiratory infection as well as dehydration. Looks like 106 degree temperatures don't mix too well with sweat lodges. And by sweat lodge, I mean my house. It's so hot in here that everything, included paper and books, is hot to the touch.

This time of year is known as agni nakshatram in Tamil, which literally means "fire star." And it's an apt name as it does feel as though a fire were burning in the sky. Considering that I simply cannot sleep at night from the heat, and the illness is showing no signs of retreat, I reluctantly went to a hotel on Saturday night so I could get some rest in an A/C room. It was a gamble, though, because as we all know it was ice cream and A/C which caused my disease in the first place. I didn't really want to go to the hotel because I felt like some sort of failure: after all, are the Indians around me having heart palpitations because of this heat? I decided, however, that this is foolish thinking, as I think that people here are genetically predisposed to be perfectly jolly in heat that would otherwise kill an American.

So I did what any self-respecting American would do in my position and I lied to everyone around me and told them I was going to a "friend's house" for the night. "Friend's house" meaning the brand new, super sleek hotel right across the street from the railway station. On my way out the door, people across the street inquired as to the status of my black lung, and asked whether or not I had consumed any ice cream recently. I told them that I certainly had consumed an ice cream and look where it landed me. Instead of fighting the ice cream hypothesis, I'm embracing it happily now. It actually makes people happy to hear that I realize my folly and will never repeat it again.

So on Saturday night I slept soundly, making sure the A/C was as cold as possible so as to get my money's worth. But I ended up feeling lonely and I came home yesterday. I guess I'd rather be getting annoyed the hell out of in this crazy zoo than relaxing in a quiet, cold, posh hotel room with television and room service. My "welcome back to Meenambalpuram" moment occured this morning when, inexplicably, the loudspeakers were dragged out yet again and the nagaswaram music started blaring at 5:30 AM. At first I thought it was Sunday, because people sometimes like to blare music on their one day off, but then I realized it was Monday with seemingly no holiday to explain the loudspeakers. Music at this decibel level usually indicates God is involved, but Chellapandi told me that folks are opening a photo studio in the neighborhood. This time the reason for neighborhood glee appears to be secular in nature. People's happiness appears to be directly proportional to the degree to which they can make homes in the area shake through the use of loudspeakers.

sweat lodge

2007-05-11T05:29:00.000-07:00

Over the past 5 days my cold has ripened into a nice respiratory infection. It is especially pleasant to experience such a condition when it's 105F outside, let me tell you. Apparently this ailment was precipitated by the wreckless, foolish decision to consume an ice cream. As we all know, eating and drinking cold things is likely, if not guaranteed, to kill you. Curiously, about 200 people besides me ate an ice cream at the cinema theatre on Sunday, but I'll bet you that not every one of them got bronchitis. If you eat and ice cream and nothing happens, great. But if you eat an ice cream and you get bronchitis, the ice cream definitely caused it and you shouldn't eat ice cream ever again.

But henceforth I'm going to stop poking fun at the eating restrictions here, because while they may not seem at first glance to gel with "science" (at least what Westerners think of when they think "science"), I've decided that these guidelines are there for good reason. I now most certainly believe that mangos do not mix with a hot body, and they will in fact nearly kill you if you eat one after being out in the sun. Same goes for papayas, apparently. Because as I said before, these fruits are considered "heating" foods that will make your stomach explode if consumed during moments of vulnerability. Further, I cannot count the number of times that air conditioning in India has made me deathly ill. Any attempts to make sense of this within the American paradigm of understanding illnesses fails every time, so I am going to go with the local method for interpreting such things and conclude the A/C makes you sick. And just this past Sunday, my consumption of an ice cream precipitated my rapid decline from a cold into what appears to be full blown bronchitis, providing further evidence for the maxim that cold things make you sick. Especially when your body has been in a minimum 85F, maximum 105F ennvironment every day for 3 months, except for those brief moments when you've be able to enjoy some deadly air conditioning.

As is the case with most "folk" beliefs, as well as supernatural beliefs, people don't just believe these things without evidence. The scientific method can also apply to "folk" beliefs and supernatural beliefs, even though most Westerners don't like to think so. In many cases, an event can be understood according to both "scientific" explanations and "supernatural" or "folk" explanations. For example, when I ate that mango that made me deathly ill, my illness could both be understood according to the germ theory and according to the more local theory that mangos have "heating" properties. We cannot see the germs with the naked eye just as we cannot "see" the supernatural properties of the mango. My ailment could be explained either way. Another example: Just today I bought a great coffee mug for Rs. 70. As I was riding home I was thinking to myself, "What a deal! I love this mug! I cannot wait to get home and drink some tea from this mug! This is a great mug!" And what happened the moment I got home and washed the mug, admiring it the whole time? It fell and shattered into a million pieces. How to explain this? It looks an awful lot like I put the evil eye on that mug, and that's why it broke. And how could you possibly prove to me that this isn't the case? What I am trying to say is that people do not always believe in things on pure "faith" alone, but also because there is all kinds of evidence in daily life to support these theories, whether they be "scientific" or "folk." You envy and admire things; they get destroyed. Simple as that.

Nevertheless, I've avoided the doctor because the first thing they are going to ask me is did I have a cool drink or did I have ice cream. If I confess that I did have an ice cream, that will be the end of discussion. If I refuse to admit that I consumed an ice cream, they will look at me as if I am lying. Then they will try to give me an injection, which is often the local solution to every sort of ailment from colds to headaches to stomach pain to feelings of sadness. If you feel the slightest bit ill, friends and strangers will enthusiastically suggest that you go to the doctor and "uusi poodunga!" Which means, "get injected!" If you say you went to the doctor, people will invariably ask, very excitedly, "uusi pooddaangalaa?!" meaning "Did they inject you?!!" The one thing about the doctor here that gets people super excited is the notion that they might get an injection. They don't care what the injection is; the action of getting a shot in the arm is the important thing here. More than any actual medical value, this shot appears to give people a phychological boost and the feeling that something is being done. I figure doctors are probably injecting people with sugar water and making a killing.

It turns out that if injections are not available, or if the foolish foreigner has inexplicably refused to seek out an injection, people do rather enthusiastically embrace local home remedies which, no surprise, work pretty damn well. Today Tamilarasi came over and saw me looking in pretty sorry shape. She immediately procured the necessary materials and began construction on what can really only be described as a eucalyptus sweat lodge. She boiled water in a big pot and dropped a eucalyptus gel tab into it. She wanted to create a tent over my body using a heavy bedsheet or synthetic saree, but all we had was a cotton saree, which somewhat thwarted her plans to create intense heat through the use of polyester. I was a bit worried about the heat, considering that it was already about 90F in my house. She covered my body with the saree and instructed me put my head over the pot and huff in the vapors. It was so strong that I immediately began gasping for air. I didn't think I would survive but she told me to keep at it. Meanwhile she was outside the tent asking very excitedly, "ARE YOU SWEATING YET????" Apparently the key was to sweat bullets. I found it very difficult to breathe and feared falling unconscious. But I stuck it out and when I emerged from the eucalyptus sweat lodge I could breathe some better. I was then instructed to bathe with the water from the pot for added benefit.

Tonight when Chellapandi came over, she noticed that I had purchased some ZANADU balm, as instructed by Tamilarasi. She decided it was time to create another sweat lodge using this Zenu I mean Zanadu balm. I don't know what the hell they put in this Zenu balm, but it's about the strongest shit on earth and it would probably kill a gladiator in the right quantities. When she covered me with the saree, I was gasping for air and could not breathe, the fumes were so intense. My lungs burned like they were on fire. I started to cry. Chellapandi peeked into the tent and confused the tears with sweat, taking this as a sign that the treatment was working swimmingly. Then she realized I was crying and not sweating, so she closed the tent to let it continue to work. She told me to huff it in but it was so strong I couldn't manage. Eventually I started to sweat and snot started to pour from my nose. Success! I emerged from the Zenu sweat lodge victorious. Or at least my lungs were much more clear. My whole face was red, not surprisingly. Chellapandi had been hesistant to introduce this treatment as she thought I would be "afraid." And let me tell you, the Zenu sweat lodge is a powerful treatment and one should be afraid. But Chellapandi wants me to try it again in the morning. Hopefully I can handle it.

Despite the lack of pitchfork accessories,
my sweatlodge managed to be way cooler than this guy's.

prickly heat powder: don't leave home without it

2007-05-10T06:22:00.000-07:00

Ah, the lovely refreshing month of May. Springtime! Nothing like a May in Tamil Nadu, let me tell you. The feeling of having just had a full bath in hot salt water after one minute outside. The invariable hours-long power cut which leaves one contemplating the true miracle of ceiling fans. The moment in which the power returns and the ceiling fan begins to spin, making the room even hotter than it was before, leaving you to wonder if a ceiling fan is really so great after all. The fresh night air, with the "low" clocking in at around 83F. It's bliss, let me tell you. And let's not forget the prickly heat. There's nothing like a good case of prickly heat to make your face feel like it's being poked all over by needles.

Chennai clocked in yesterday at a startling 108F, while we in Madurai were wrapping up in woolen scarves and stocking caps as the mercury only managed to crawl up to 102F. Fortunately the humidity is only at 80%. Surprisingly, while the foreigner is sweating so much even her FOREARMS are dripping, the average Madurai citizen stands smiling in the 102F sun seemingly without a drop of sweat on their body. Maybe a drop of sweat will drip down their forehead, but that's about it. What gives? What is the secret here? Are white people less evolved and biologically incapable of dealing with the heat? Locals are cafeful not to let the foreigners walk too much in the sun, etc., as foreigners "just cannot manage." It's true, but there's got to be something else going on here! How is it that one can be so used to extraordinary heat that he or she appears not to sweat??

I've discovered the secret! It's prickly heat powder! Sprinkle this all over your body, and it absorbs the sweat. All along I thought the powder obsession here was just about making one's face look ghostly white; it turns out it serves a dual purpose. Unfortunately I took the prickly heat powder a little overboard and broke out in a rash, so I might have to lay off it for a while. But it was nice while it lasted. Now if I could just do something about this ringworm on my hand.* **

Prickly Heat Powder: Comes highly recommended.

Except for the little allergic reaction detail.

*joke.
**kind of.

Madurai rampage

2007-05-09T20:28:00.000-07:00

Little did I know yesterday, while I was laid up from a case of bronchitis (apparently precipitated by the consumption of an ice cream in an A/C theatre on Sunday), Madurai was going up in flames. It all started when yesterday morning, the Dinakaran (a DMK newspaper) published the results of an opinion poll which asked people across Tamil Nadu who should succeed the current Chief Minister, M. Karunanidhi (a.k.a. Kalaignar). The poll itself did seem to be politically slanted, with the choice basically being between "M.K. Stalin" and "others." Kalaignar's son, M.K. Stalin (currently the Local Adminstration Minister), got 70% of the vote. Meanwhile his oldest son and Madurai powerhouse, M.K. Azhagiri, registered only 2% of the vote. Kalaignar's daughter Kanimozhi also registered 2% of the vote. The rest of the votes went to "others."

When Madurai DMK cadres saw this poll, they went on the rampage in defense of their local man Azhagiri. Protestors demonstrated outside the Dinakaran and Sun TV Network offices here, burning copies of the Dinakaran newspaper. Eventually the mob stormed the building, hurling petrol bombs and burning the offices to the ground. Government buses and vehicles were stoned. Three people were killed in the blaze.

Dinakaran and Sun TV offices on fire

Sun TV employees blocked the highway in protest of the attack, alongside the body of a fallen co-worker.

Protestors burn the Dinakaran newspaper.

Kalaignar (right) with his son, M.K. Stalin. Can you guess who his son is named after?

i [heart] aravanis.

2007-05-06T08:16:00.000-07:00

The Chittrai festival finally wound up yesterday morning as Alagar began to make his way back up to his temple on the mountain, about 15 km away. I got up at 3:30 AM and got ready because I thought we were supposed to leave at 4 AM in order to make it to Tallakulam in time to get darshan. Of course we didn't leave until 5 AM, reminding me that I've got to stop thinking in American time. Because we left late, we basically had to run around Tallakulam, asking people where God was. We made it just in time and got great darshan right up close. This part of the festival was known as puuppalakku or "flower palanquin," which Alagar is carried around on. The priests throw blessed flowers from the palanquin to a lucky few devotees. As Alagar approached, some people in the huge crowd offered up small steel tumblers filled with sugar, on top of which a camphor flame was burning. After Alagar passed by, some people passed out the sugar to us as prasad. There was a rush among the people when Alagar got close, and it's something you really have to experience to appreciate. According to my friends, this was my opportunity to ask God for my research to go along swimmingly, and to have my wish granted, but I was too busy watching the people praying to Alagar to think about my own wishes. Hopefully I'll get some merit for being there, though.

Today it was back to our baser needs and desires, as we made our way to the cinema to watch Spiderman 3, dubbed in Tamil of course. If you read my blog on the misadventure that was watching "300" in a Madurai theatre you can understand my hesitation about going to another American (local translation: porn) movie. I actually did some research on the internet to see if there were any sex scenes, or other scenes that might make the male audience go into a state of hysterical excitement, but it seemed that the Spider-Man 3 would be pretty tame even for local tastes.

When we sat down in the theatre, we were happy to see that several women had showed up with families to watch the movie, though the audience was still about 95% young males. And as such, the audience did not disappoint as far as crazy movie-watching antics go. Firstly, it was total chaos getting everyone to find a seat. It was 30 minutes into the movie before people managed to get themselves seated in a chair. Ever seat in the theatre was eventually taken. People wanted to see this movie so badly that handicapped individuals were being carried in on people's backs. During the entire movie people were whistling at ear-splitting volumes, not surprisingly when there was any kissing or clothing on women that could be construed here as revealing. Some front-bencher had one of those red-laser lights which he used to point out any breasts on-screen for the benefit of visually impaired individuals in the audience. It was interesting to note the uproar among the young men during certain scenes. In any scene in which masculinity appeared threatened, such as when Peter Parker cries when Mary Jane dumps him on the bridge, the entire audience burst into an uproar of heckles. Not surprisingly, everyone started to get up and leave 5 minutes before the movie was over which was frustrating to me because everyone was standing and preventing me from getting my 40 rupees worth. I have never quite understood how people here can sit still for 3 1/2 hours to watch a movie, only to leave 5 minutes before it's over. I did, however, particularly enjoy the first 5 minutes of the movie when everyone burst into applause after Mary Jane sang a song on stage. People seemed pretty happy to see a song sequence in an American movie.

A friend of mine had a lot of questions about American culture based on this movie. Firstly, when Peter Parker puts the engagement ring in the glass she asked me what "champagne" was. Then she asked me if I had tasted it and was pretty shocked to learn that I have consumed alcohol in my life. If you aren't already familiar with this taboo, women here aren't "supposed" to consume alcohol, and if they do they are considered really bad. Furthermore, drinking in general, even for men, is considered degenerate. (Even though recent data show that 250 million people in this country regularly pound whisky and 1/4 of those are women!) She also noted that America is "very dark." I think she got this impression because a lot of the scenes were filmed at night. I sort of got frustrated at this question. I told her that the sun shines in the U.S. just as well as in India, to which she replied, "Really?" I bring this up not to make my friend look stupid, because she is incredibly intelligent. But I tell you this just to highlight how vast the gulf between Americans and Indians sometimes seems. It's sometimes very hard to communicate the realities of one's life back at home to people here. The difference between India and the U.S. appears quite literally to be the difference between night and day, as far as my friend is concerned. It's hard to explain that what people are seeing in a movie simply isn't true, just as it is incredibly difficult to get backward notions about India out of the heads of most Americans.

Tonight at 8:00 PM I dared to go to the ironing man's shed to try to pick up my clothes. 8:00 is supposedly a perfectly legitimate time to be outside. In fact, people encouraged me here that I could be outside as late as 10 PM without problems. The fact is, however, that herds of young men loiter around the Ambedkar statue next to the ironing man's shed. And they simply cannot resist harassing me, night or day. Today I just completely ignored it because I am so very tired of it all. I am sick of feeling intimidated any time I have business on the main road. These youths didn't really do anything bad, but it's really frustrating to always be singled out and targetted with these absolutely infantile and childish tactics. One gets the feeling of wanting to prove to them that you can speak Tamil, to put them in their place, but there is also the feeling of absolute exhaustion which results in one just remaining silent. As I was walking past I really wanted to pelt them with stones, but here comes this woman walking down the road with her arm around this man's shoulders and she scolds them for me. I really just wanted to go and hug this woman. Finally, someone standing up for me in this place! But then I realized, wait a minute! This woman has a pretty deep voice. This woman has her ARM AROUND A MAN! Impossible! You see, this woman was really a man. An aravani. Aravanis are a community of men who dress as women. Some of them are castrated or have sex change operations. Some of them are prostitutes, and I think this one had just landed herself a customer. She was pretty much my hero of the evening. Indeed, the month. Maybe the year. Looks like aravanis, who are themselves sort of living at the fringes, are the only folks around who will stand up for the white girl.

Besides aravanis, I also majorly heart Vijaykanth and Kalaignar right now. Vijaykanth is a famous actor turned politician whose party won in the constituency of Meenambalpuram. As I mentioned before this area doesn't have a proper road. In fact, it's the worst "road" I have ever seen in Madurai. The government has been promising a new road for years but it's never materialized. Flash forward to Vijaykanth and now he has got Karunanidhi (Tamil Nadu's Chief Minister, known as Kalaignar or "the Artist" for being a famous cinema script writer) to see to it that a road is finally put in here. A couple of months ago they had put in new manholes, the first step before laying the road, but these became completely destroyed in a matter of weeks. As a result, there were huge gaping holes in the middle of the road several feet deep. A few days ago they put a bunch of tree branches down in those holes and the local goats were feeding on them. I figured that nothing was ever going to happen. But sure enough, yesterday the bulldozers started rolling! Looks like we are going to have a road running out to Meenambalpuram. And Tamilarasi told me it might even last six months before it's destroyed!

I've never been so thrilled to see a bulldozer.

I think I will join the Vijaykanth fan club.

Kalaignar got the bulldozers rolling in B.B. Kulam!

biggest event of the year

2007-05-04T05:26:00.000-07:00

The Chittrai festival has been going on this past week, and it's the absolute biggest event of the year here in Madurai. When there is absolutely nothing in the way of entertainment (save cinema) for a city of nearly two million, and perhaps for the district as a whole, the Chittrai festival becomes a major draw. Thousands of devotees from surrounding villages throng to Madurai to witness the various events. Many people walk long distances to the various venues. Along the way, philanthropists and members of political parties set up pandals (thatched roof huts) offering free drinking water and buttermilk to help beat the scorching heat.

People travel miles from surrounding villages in bullock carts, camping in the city and sleeping in the streets. The first part of the festival is the celestial wedding of Meenakshi and Shiva, which happens in the temple. Thousands attend. The priests officiate this wedding and two male priests also exchange garlands, standing in for Meenakshi and Shiva. During the ceremony, when the tali is tied around Meenakshi's neck signifying marriage, all the married women in the audience retie a new string around their own necks.

Next day is the chariot procession, which is a spectacle to behold. These chariots are several storeys high and are pulled on huge wooden wheels. People by the hundreds drag the chariots with huge ropes. The chariot wobbles back and forth as it is heaved forwards, giving the impression that it could crash and fall down any moment. Some people do die in these chariot processions. This is where we get the word "juggernaut" in English: it's actually a name for Krishna. And a long time ago devotees in Orissa supposedly flung themselves underneath the chariot as it passed by. This doesn't really happen anymore, as far as I know, but individuals do sometimes accidentally get crushed by the wheels when placing coconuts underneath as offerings, for example, and misjudging the speed and strength of the chariot.

A few days after the chariot procession downtown, Alagar comes down from his temple about 15 KM away to Madurai to take a dip in the Vaigai river (which is bone dry). He is supposedly coming for Meenakshi's wedding but misses it by 3 days. He realizes this at the river's edge and then turns back on his golden horse and goes back to his town. He takes several days to get here, and people follow him down to Madurai in bullock carts and on foot. Along the way, devotees squirt water on the statue and on the devotees, keeping them cool. Alagar's festival was most likely a completely separate festival at one time but it has become conflated with the Meenakshi part of Chittrai.

Alagar stops at a number of different places along the way to the Madurai, resting for the night and allowing folks to get darshan. In another interesting twist, he is said to have a Muslim mistress and one night he stops at a Muslim area to "sleep" with her. Basically this festival brings together lots of folks, worshippers of Shiva, Vishnu, and also Muslims. The whole city is simply buzzing with energy with everyone waiting to receive Alagar as pretty much the biggest VIP in existence. A carnival atmosphere prevails, and the fair goes on all night long in Tallakulam, while Alagar is holed up in the Perumal temple there. For the very select few among the thousands, it may even be possible to grope the foreign girl's ass while waiting to get darshan of the Lord. Killing two birds with one stone, I suppose: the carnal needs as well as the spiritual ones.

You'll never see faith in human beings like you see at this Chittrai festival. When Alagar arrives on the golden horse, making his way to the Vaigai, you can feel the rush and the surge of faith among the thousands in attendance. You simply cannot imagine a religious tradition more different from the Judeo-Christian or even Islamic traditions. Here God is not imagined to be up in the sky and out of physical reach. He or she is very much in the presence of people here, manifesting all the time. Just a few days ago the city Collector and other important high-level VIPs were photographed at the venue where Alagar would be entering the Vaigai, assessing the preparations. The headline above the photo read: "Getting ready for the Lord." Imagine a culture in which God actually shows up in front of your face on a regular basis. This is the religious tradition here. This is not a statue riding on top of a golden horse, it's God. And it is for this reason and many more that I think Westerners completely miss what is going on in Hinduism. There is too much apology, too much trying to cram Hinduism into a monotheistic box, making it more palatable to a Judeo-Christian audience. To much tiptoeing around "idol" worship. We need to stop trying to understand Hinduism in Western terms and start trying to understand this tradition on its own terms. Westererns spend too much time on texts and not enough time trying to understand practice. There is a huge difference. I could go further, but there are plenty of apologists who would get very angry at what I have to say. Don't believe me? It's happening right now. Books are being burned and careers are being destroyed as we speak.

Meenakshi's chariot

Huge ropes for pulling the chariot

This gentleman from a surrounding village was kind enough to let me take a picture of his boom boom maadu. There were quite a few of these at the festival, and folks took darshan of them. This gentleman and his family were camped out on the side of the road outside someone's house.

View from the kitchen window.
Cess pool not pictured.

you can call me coconut water

2007-04-30T20:34:00.000-07:00

Last night I went up to the roof where the wind was blowing and it felt simply splendid, a much need relief from the sweltering heat downstairs. The two neem trees adjacent to the house catch whatever scant breeze is available in the area and multiply it. Meenambalpuram is very arid and dusty and doesn’t have many trees, and I think if it did folks would be a lot happier. Well, at least they would be cooler, and for an American in India this translates to happier. Of course these trees would have to be mighty hardy, seeing as how this place is basically a desert.

In the evening hours while I usually head up to the roof for some heat relief, older gentlemen in the neighborhood usually pull a plastic chair out into the dirt road and just sit there in the evenings, relaxing. Most women around here come and sit out on their front porch, chatting for hours. Sometimes they brawl about money, but usually it’s friendly conversation and gossip. Last night the funny joke was that the ladies across the street couldn’t really pronounce my name and it ended up coming out as “coconut water” – which is what my name sounds like if you leave off the initial “m” sound. I told them it was no problem if they wanted to call me “coconut water.” There are worse names like “rat” or “pig”, which is how some American names translate into Tamil.

It’s nice to see folks sitting outside their houses, especially women. Because in my experience in middle to upper-middle class neighborhoods, women usually stay pretty much locked up in the house. They definitely don’t sit outside on the front porches idly chatting away with neighbors, I guess partly because there are walls surrounding their homes. In my own personal experience in such a middle class family, the woman of the house (or, I should say, the daughter-in-law) had nary an idle moment to spare whatsoever. In fact, she never sat down that I saw. Folks around here in Meenambalpuram don’t bother with such things. The women seem to sit down whenever they have a chance. This isn’t to say they aren’t working like crazy 95% of the time while their husbands mostly lounge nearby smoking beedies, but they do seem to have some free time around these parts.

I have finally started to recover from the dreaded mango disease. I noted that in 2 ½ days I drank 20 liters of water. Drinking that much water is supposed to kill folks, but I’m still thirsty. That evil mango pretty much knocked me slam on my ass.

Yesterday Tamilarasi took me to the town library. This was certainly a interesting experience. I've been to some of the local university libraries, which are quite good, but I've never been to a public library. First off, there were no lights or fans turned on, I guess to save money. So it was quite dark. The first room you walk in to was full of only men, all reading newspapers -- either standing up at special newspaper reading stations, or sitting down at three very long tables. It was pretty quiet in there. Then you walk up some stairs into the "library" section. This was full of mostly women, reading quietly or looking for books. The books were arranged by various topics. One such topic was "stories". The whole shelf was supposedly full of stories, which ranged from fiction to non-fiction biographies to poetry to religious stories. I say "supposedly" because there are no titles on the bindings whatsover. Furthermore, there is no classification system. There are just hundreds of books thrown onto the shelves, all looking exactly the same. When I asked about a card catalog folks looked at me blankly.

I met a very nice woman there who is doing her M.A. in Tamil. She was looking for poetry, which is what her thesis is on. She told me that you must just "take a risk" and grab a book, hoping it's something useful. I was pretty baffled, trying to imagine doing research under such conditions. Tamilarasi couldn't understand why I found the "system" a bit difficult. She just simply started taking all the books off the shelf, one by one, looking for something useful. While I wanted to jump on the tables and start screaming about the wonders of the Dewey decimal system, others simply searched for books with all the patience of Job. They would grab a book and walk to a window where some light was getting in to open it up and see what it was. There were plenty of avid readers there, and everyone seemed to find what they were looking for, so I guess everything is working out just peachy at the Simhakal public library.

Come on folks, is the Dewey Decimal System really necessary?

warning: evil mangoes of death en route to U.S.!

2007-04-26T23:07:00.000-07:00

Remember how I said y'all should run out and buy Indian mangoes, just as soon as they hit U.S. shores? Well, you might want rethink that one. I just saw in The Hindu that the first shipment of Indian mangoes is on its way to the U.S. They had a picture of the U.S. ambassador to India, sitting there smiling in front of a table holding a bunch of big juicy Indian mangoes. Little does he know that these could very well be evil mangoes of death. Let me explain.

As I had mentioned earlier, one of the best things about summer in India, perhaps the only perk of 105 degree weather, is a delicious in-season Indian mango. They are expensive as hell, but delicious, and there are literally about 500 different varieties. Just the other day I bought a kilo of these enormous mangoes. I cannot remember the name of the variety, but I think it probably translates to "evil death mango" in Tamil. There was a lady selling these on the street. It was super hot that day and I got home and after resting for a little while I decided to pick out the biggest one and eat it. I rinsed it off and dried it and then peeled off the skin, chopped it up and ate it. About one hour later the problems began, and for the next 36 hours or so I was in total hell with a bad case of "the boths" -- which for the uninitiated means an illness characterized by liquids coming uncontrollably out of both ends of your body.

I think this mango was marinated in raw sewage before I got my hands on it. I guess the only way to safely eat a mango is to wash it in chlorine bleach before you peel it. There really must have been some majorly raunchy sewage on it if it was enough to cross-contaminate the mango as I was peeling it. By the time Chellapandi showed up, I was in the full throws of "the boths." She informed me that the reason I got so sick was because the mango is a "heating" food and I ate it right after being out in the hot sun. Furthermore, the mango had been sitting out in the sun. Here in Tamil Nadu pretty much all foods are classified as being "hot" or "cold," and this has little or nothing to do with actual temperature of the food, but something about the qualities of the food and what people believe they do to your body. My friends have now concluded that the "heat" of the mango does not "sit well" at all with my body and they've told me to stay the hell away from mangoes. I tried to explain to them that probably the mangoes had been marinated in sewage but they weren't buying the germ theory whatsoever. And you know what, maybe they are right. It's situations like these that can serve as evidence both for the validity of germ theory as well as local theories about foodstuffs which appear somewhat mystical to Westerners.

Other items in the news of late: The Indian authories have issued an arrest warrant for Richard Gere, who grabbed Bollywood actress Shilpa Shetty at an AIDS awareness rally and kissed her multiple times on the cheek, attempting to act out a scene from his movie Shall We Dance for the entertainment of the audience. Well, the audience was pretty shocked, or at least the right wing politicians who were there. And now he could possibly serve 3 months in PRISON. That's right. Shetty has been charged as well, because she didn't STOP HIM. Both Gere and Shetty have been charged with "doing obscene act in a public place" and "indecent representation of sexual activities." The magistrate who viewed the video footage observed that the demeanor of the actors during the incident was "highly sexually erotic" and "transgressed all limits of decency with the potential to corrupt society." One of my lady friends here in Madurai said they shouldn't throw Richard Gere in jail but they should definitely throw Shilpa Shetty in jail because she didn't try to stop him engaging in what was tantamount to "rape." As much time as Richard Gere has spent in India, you'd think he would have learned a few things. At the same time, if folks here think a public kiss on the cheek is bad, they ought take a stroll on the South Street Bridge in Philadelphia sometime. Speaking of that bridge, hopefully that godforsaken thing has been torn down by now.

Richard Gere and Shipa Shetty's "highly sexually erotic" and "obscene act" with potential to "corrupt society." It would have been better if they had just acted out your run-of-the-mill gang rape scene from a Bollywood or Kollywood movie. Then no one would have batted an eyelash.

elephants and alcohol do not mix

2007-04-24T21:09:00.000-07:00

I've been living here in Meenakshipuram/Meenambalpuram/BB Kulam/Ambedkar Colony/Mullai Nagar for going on two months now. Sometimes I'm ignored when I walk down the street, and those moments I cherish. But there are still plenty of folks in this area, I figure somewhere in the millions, who haven't set eyes on me yet, which is going to ensure that I continue to hear screams of "whitey". Can't I just "get over it" and give up feeling objectified? Don't think so. But I can at least try to stop taking it personally. It could be worse, I could be the Dutch girl of Anaiyur who showed her ankles, and whose legend is still being kept alive and well by the residents there.

I think the key to "fitting in" here is to stop trying to fit in. I don't know why I haven't realized this sooner, like 8 years ago maybe. One the one hand, it seems a bit closed-minded to maintain a completely different standard for foreigners. For example, foreigners can reveal their ankles but if an Indian woman does it she is considered morally bankrupt. On the other hand, this attitude towards foreigners could be considered very open minded. People here accept foreigners and their habits as being a completely different beast, and they sometimes don't apply the same standards of judgment that they would to locals. In other words, they sometimes seem to tolerate difference in foreigners quite a bit more than I think Americans would. This is sometimes freeing for me. At the busstop, for example, I often feel that if I would just stand in a certain way, hold my head down in a certain way, try to be as inconspicuous as possible like a good Indian girl, then maybe the pack of young men at the tea stall across the street won't gawk at me as much. Realizing that I am considered to be an alien here, and accepting this fact, can make one more relaxed. Why not just stand however I feel comfortable? Why be afraid to draw attention to myself? Because the fact of the matter is, my skin color does that for me. It doesn't matter what I do, or don't do. I am never going to completely fit in and I am always going to stand out and be considered very strange. Better to act appropriately, but to also remember that you simply cannot hide.

This being said, it is true that it is much better to try to blend in here than to go your own way and stroll around half-naked, for example. Wearing the local clothing seriously reduces the static on the line when trying to interact with folks. Despite being an American, the more time one spends in this place, or any place for that matter, the more one starts to judge oneself by the local standards. I find myself completely obsessed with covering up as Indian women do. Can they see my shoulder? My ankle? Is my incredibly annoying dupatta covering me completely? One begins to become ashamed of one's body, which I don't really think is healthy. You start to realize just how incredibly arbitrary local modes of "modesty" can be. For example, in the US I think it is still considered fairly risque to walk around with your midriff hanging out. Here the midriff is about as titillating as an ankle is to us in the US.

The more you think about it, the more "modest" one dresses the more one actually titillates. Covering up actually becomes a sort of advertisement for what is underneath. For example, the dupatta's entire purpose is to cover boobs when all it really does it draw one's attention to them. Think about bras. What is the point? It's considered improper in the US to go without one, and they are seemingly there to control boobs, yet bras seem to do nothing but foreground the breasts. Think about cultures where women walk around without shirts on. Do you think that is considered risque? The sari is considered the most demure and modest garment that a woman can wear here in Tamil Nadu, yet it is also considered quite titillating for men. Here it is very important to cover up appropriately, yet you will often see very old women walking around without blouses and with their breasts hanging out. This isn't considered wrong or risque, and not just because they are old but because they CHOSE to take off their blouses years ago, in an effort to be less "sexy." In the old days some women would take off their blouses after the birth of their first child. After this point they considered themselves to be of a certain age and point in life at which it is no longer important to attract the male gaze. By taking off the blouse, they achieve this. As someone pointed out to me, if you hold something in your hand so no one can see it, others will try their best to find out what it is.

I didn't expect to go on so long about clothing, especially because I wanted to address animals today. Just yesterday an elephant just showed up outside our house. It's funny because in the US we pay about 25 bucks to see an elephant. Here men rent them out like rickshaws and ride them around neighborhoods, begging for change. Some people were afraid of this elephant and they had good reason. Elephants often go nuts and stomp people to death and I think it's a good policy to keep a safe distance. Wild elephants are a different story, especially the alcoholic elephants of Assam. In Northeast India they storm into villages, destroy huts looking for rice beer, drink to their hearts content, and then go on drunken rampages, killing local villagers. If you don't believe me, just go to the BBC News site and search for "elephant beer" or "drunken elephants amok in Indian village." There was an article also in the NYT magazine a few months ago, talking about how stressed elephants around the world are right now and how are simply going crazy. In Assam they are, no surprise here, losing their habitats and are being forced to forage in human settlements. Unfortunately for elephants and humans alike, the creatures seem to have become addicted to alcohol in the process.

Later I will talk about the cricket den underneath my floorboards. I am convinced the crickets are getting revenge on me because I ratted one of them out to Chellapandi who broke it into 5 pieces with a broom and then swept it out the door. Now at night there is this cricket underneath the floor who makes so much noise I really cannot sleep. I think Chellapandi must have killed his friend. People here aren't afraid of bugs like many hysterical Americans, myself included, and you won't find Indian children fascinated much by animals either. But we'll leave that analysis for some other time.

Peaceful sacred animal or drunk rampaging killer?

Cost for locals to get blessing from elephant: Rs. 1. Cost for white girl? Rs. 10.

Where's Waldo? Can you find the 100% organic sewage fed chickens in the cesspool?

once upon a time there was a Dutch girl...

2007-04-22T06:52:00.000-07:00

Today is Sunday which means it's time to make the difficult decision about what to do for fun in Madurai. It's really a torturous decision because there are so many choices. Well, actually there are two choices: temple or cinema. Though I did see in the newspaper today that the "Russian circus" has come to town and we are so starved for entertainment here I think I might just go. In any event, today I opted for the cinema and I brought Tamilarasi and her 14 year old son along. Turns out we really should have opted for praying to god instead. I have to say that today was simply one of the most uncomfortable and unpleasant movie-going experiences I have ever had. If it hadn't been for the A/C, the main reason I went in the first place, then it would be the worst movie experience ever. In fact, the A/C is the only thing that kept me there. Let me explain.

Since there weren't any good Tamil movies out right now, today we had to opt for an American movie, dubbed in Tamil. The movie "300" is running here, and I had read somewhere that it was pretty good. Boy, was I wrong. I mean, maybe it's okay in an American theatre, in English, but it simply does NOT translate in Madurai, and I'm not just talking about the language. First off, before we went, Tamilarasi asked her husband and sons if "ladies" could go to this movie. I was like, well it's an American movie and I'm an American lady so I'm going. When we stepped into the movie theatre I got why she had a doubt. It was pretty much like stepping into a den of hungry wolves. Though I haven't been into a porn theatre, I'm guessing that the atmosphere was identical. It was packed full of about 200 whistling and howling men who turned to stare at me pretty good when I got in there, under the dim glow of blue lights. Appropriate because they call porn films here "blue films". We were the only two females in there at first and I considered leaving. Fortunately three other women did come in, but I think they were considered to be of low moral standing. See how difficult it is to watch a freaking American movie here? Women just do not go because it is a major hassle. When the men, young and old, weren't whistling, howling or yelling, they were talking at top volume on their cell phones to God knows who. At one point people starting meowing and making cat noises throughout the theatre. I have no idea why. Overall, a wonderful environment to watch a movie.

Apparently American movie equals porn movie here, and they were ready for some skin. I was thinking, what exactly are they going to see in this "300" movie? Keep in mind, folks, that some of the scenes we watch in American movies are super scandalous here, and I felt really uncomfortable during kissing scenes, etc. People were whistling and shouting at top volume the whole time, especially when there was any chance of seeing some skin. The male audience especially enjoyed the rape scene, as per usual. This "300" film is a "historical" film about the Spartans, and their clothing was appropriately spartan to say the least. The women wore togas/glorified rags pretty much falling off their bodies. In one scene this absolutely hideous hunchback monster man steps into a brothel where women with nothing but coins covering their nipples start grinding all over him. In another scene a very attractive woman allows herself to be licked on the face by a monsterous beast of a man. Someone asked me if American women are like this, not caring if a man is hideous and just grinding on him and letting him lick them. Also, do American women walk around with coins covering their nipples? These scenes are incredibly embarassing because the audience members equate whatever white people are doing on screen with white people in "real" life. Never mind that this movie is supposed to take place thousands of years ago or whatever. People see the white folks running around on screen with spears wearing rags and coins, and they think we are doing this today itself. But let's also remember that 99% of Americans have concluded from watching "Indiana Jones" that Indians regularly eat monkey brains as part of a healthy diet.

Basically "300" totally sucked. They dubbed it completely in literary Tamil so I understood hardly anything. The film was entirely in this horribly depressing sepia tone which I suppose the director thought would lend some feeling of historical authenticity. How many more of these bullshit ancient battle movies are going to come down the pike? There was "Troy" which was TERRIBLE and some other movie pretty much exactly like it. Oh, I think it was "Alexander." "300" is in the same vein, and it totally lifted scenes straight from "Gladiator". "Troy" and "Alexander" both ran here and they were simply terrible. I'm sick of these stupid battle stories where the women are pretty much only there to get raped or assaulted and otherwise stay in the background. Furthermore, how many more movies do we need with people chopping people to bits with swords and spears for 2 hours? So they did some special effects with the blood in this movie. Disgusting and pointless, if you ask me.

Needless to say this is the last time I am going to watch an American movie in Madurai. Except maybe Spiderman. That I really want to see, but not if there is any nudity. If there is any nudity they need to just go ahead and put it in a porn theatre here and be done with it. People cannot handle it otherwise.

After the movie I headed back to Tamilarasi's neighborhood. Today I've been hearing all about the "Dutch girl" who was in that neighborhood a few months ago. People cannot stop talking about her, and of course because I am also white there are invariably going to be comparisons drawn between us. I really started to feel sorry for this Dutch girl, because apparently she was the first white person they'd seen in that neighborhood and from what I heard packs of people surrounded her everywhere she went. I heard that she wore pants that exposed her ankles (SCANDAL!) as well as a tank top. She rode around on a bike with an UNMARRIED MAN. This seemed to be the biggest mistake she made, bigger than walking around half naked.
Apparently this man told her her clothes weren't acceptable so she started wearing a sari. But this didn't make up for the fact that she was going around with this guy who was 30 years old and apparently already a spinster. Oh yes, and she smoked cigarettes outside as well. Basically this Dutch girl was a walking disaster. And today everyone was looking to me for comparisons. I seemed to pass muster, however, because I was covered up. Furthermore I spoke Tamil which she did not. As per usual my hair and skin and every square inch of my body was inspected. Every way that I differed from the Tamil standard was pointed out and commented upon. Keep in mind that freckles and moles do not readily appear on dark skin, and on fair skin these items become objects of intense curiosity and indeed concern, as they appear to suggest some sort of disease or insect attack. Lack of gold jewelry was addressed; earrings were inspected and nose ring was duly noted. Hair color was observed; it was noted that some foreigners, while all looking exactly alike in the face, appear to, on occasion, have differently colored hair.

Overall it was a good day. I really liked that neighborhood and think I will go back there as often as I can. It is very calm and quiet during those rare moments when my mere presence does not encite chaos.

Tamilarasi and sons

Further evidence that cooking in India should be left in the hands of trained professionals.

yellow fever

2007-04-21T04:01:00.000-07:00

There's something about a culture with a special day set aside in the calendar intended just for buying gold. That something would be "crazy." I don't think you'll find any country on this earth where gold is so important. It's not just decoration but money as well. Women are given gold as dowry and it's a backup reserve and source of financial security in times of need. It's always valuable, it's indestructible, and it cannot be produced, hence making it highly useful as a form of currency.

Yesterday was Akshaya Tritiya, day which falls on the third day of the new moon of this particular lunar month. It's a highly auspicious day, especially for buying new gold and jewelry. If you invest in gold or other major assets on this day, it is considered lucky and you will get higher returns over the long haul. We've been in the middle of an advertising maelstrom the past couple of weeks. Banks want you to come in and buy gold coins and bars, and jewelry stores are trying to draw folks in to purchase some major bling. And if you drop thousands of rupees they'll even throw in a free gold coin for good measure.

It is a source of great confusion and consternation to the folks of this country, especially the women, that I don't wear very much jewelry and I absolutely never wear gold. Not only are my clothes considered out of style, but I look like a pauper because I wear so little "decoration." I try to explain to people that 24-carat gold looks absolutely hideous on fair skin. This explanation is accepted more readily than the "I just don't like jewelry" argument which simply doesn't fly here. Or even more blasphemous, the notion that jewelry is simply a waste of money. This is certainly an American idea. Last night Tamilarasi and I strolled around the jewelry district, looking for instances of drishti paranoia during this busy shopping day. I told her that I might need to look for a silver chain and it was really comical to her, the notion that I would walk into one of the major jewelry stores on Akshaya Tritiya and ask for a silver chain. I think you cannot get more low class than that!

Over the next few days I'll add more snaps from Pondi.

Better wear a helmet or you might look like this guy.

Pondicherry is not Madurai

2007-04-19T04:22:00.000-07:00

I just spent the past few days in Pondichery, catching up with Roos, a friend of mine from Holland who is in town for a few weeks. She took some time away from her work to tool around town with me for a few days. We first met back in summer of 2002 at the Tamil Summer School of the French Institute of Pondicherry. Way back then we stayed with two Polish girls in one room at a VERY shady guest house near the Government Park. Turns out that the Hotel Qualithe, known for hosting a number of sketchy foreigners in its downstairs bar as early at 7am some mornings, apparently was the scene of a prostitute murder not too long ago. Last time I stayed there a couple of years back the place was busted by the police for serving alcohol on a black day. Needless to say, I didn't stay at this place this time but instead opted for A/C luxury on the other side of town.

Back in the good old days of the Tamil summer school, we commuted by cycle. None of us had any cell phones and had to reach one another the old-fashioned way, by cycling or walking to someone's house. There were just a few restaurants catering to tastes other than South Indian idlis and dosa. These were also the days of traveler's checks, not ATMs, and super slow internet. How did we manage? Just fine, I guess. But now when I visited Pondi I was simply bowled over.

Pondicherry, now "Puthucherry" as it has been renamed, is POSH. There are lots of amazing places to eat now and the food is some of the best you can find anywhere. New restaurants and hotels have been constructed on the ocean front, some with views of the ocean. Coffee shops are offering iced mochas and wireless internet, for example, and Pizza Hut has even made it to Pondi, and though I wouldn't really call this a victory I certainly wouldn't be above patronizing this establishment after two months of eating rice. The city was simply overflowing with tourists, most of them Indian (it's tour season) though there was the standard contingent of hippies and expats. Some things in Pondi never change. Foolish Westerners were walking around half naked, but since it's Pondi the locals didn't really bat an eyelash. EXCEPT for the woman at the tea stall who was wearing SALWAR PANTS and a t-shirt. Salwar pants are meant to be covered, at least down to the knee. Basically she looked half naked and would have been better off wearing shorts or a mini-skirt. Kids were pointing and laughing and adults, including me, were staring. But she was smiling from ear to ear, getting a tea in the middle of the men's domain of a tea stall and sitting herself down right on top of a rock next to the gutter to drink it. Guess she was loving the attention.

Yesterday Roos and I took a couple of bikes and rode several kilometers out to Auroville beach on one of the most dangerous roads I've seen in India. The entire time you've got a white-knuckled grip on the handlebars, pretty much. Because we are white we simply sailed right on in to the private Auroville area. A quaint place where white hippies and ashramites play guitar and contemplate world peace under the shade of palm trees. Meanwhile the brown-skinned locals serve drinks and clean the place. Sweet, isn't it? Enlightenment really doesn't have to be a lot of work, especially when you bring your Euros to a third world country.

Overall, Pondi was a super amazing vacation. I fell in love with this place all over again. I even went around without a dupatta. Now I am back in the dustbowl of Madurai. I think I will go eat some rice now.

Many more pictures to come, but for now feast your eyes on this one, which I think is a nice reversal of the tourist gaze.

Toasted Buns:
Frenchman tans his ass while local woman/
beggar reclines on beach, looking on.

enormous cockroaches are incredibly difficult to murder

2007-04-14T10:10:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gentlemen, here you have photographic evidence of the largest cockroach I've seen outside of zoos. This roach is living (and now [mostly?] dead) proof that the evil eye is REAL, folks. Just the other day I was thinking to myself, "Wow! I am really lucky. I haven't seen one gigantic enormous cockroach in this house yet. Guess there aren't any horrifyingly ginormous roaches here. Hahahaha! LOL" Well, guess what. I just walked into the bathroom, going to innocently wash some clothes, and this beast was in there. I pretty much went into hysterics which is what I do when I see roaches, especially on this scale. I *hate* roaches more than anything. I won't kill mosquitoes that potentially carry viral fever, malaria, or dengue, but I will kill roaches. I've only ever murdered one other roach in my life, and that was back in 1999. I've killed other roaches I am sure, but this was grisly murder I tell you. Many of you have already heard the Roscoe story. One day I will share it with others. This story, however, is not so quaint. It took about 10 minutes of jumping around with a broom, beating it with all the force I could muster, before he pretty much bit the dust. Then again, I am not sure he is dead now because once he seemed somewhat immobilized I covered him up with a plastic cup. Basically this roach did not want to die. I beat him so many times and then he would fall down and look dead for a few seconds. Then the antennae would start to flutter and damned if that sucker didn't come back to life over and over again. It was a pretty awful situation for me, as a supposed vegan, to be murdering a creature, even one as ugly as this. But I found that rage, fueled by pure disgust and hatred, was an effective catalyst.

Did you know? Roaches have nine lives.

Motorcycles for Mangoes: GW has finally secured his legacy

2007-04-14T07:04:00.000-07:00

Happy (Tamil) New Year! Today there has been some truly wonderful news, fitting for this festive holiday season. In a truly spectacular development in bilateral trade relations, India and the United States have finally hammered out a deal: we give India Harleys and they give us mangoes. Splendid! So prepare yourselves, folks, for the Indian mango. It will be on your store shelves within a few weeks. Tis the season right now for mangoes! Fully-irradiated, delicious, juicy, decadent Indian mango flesh. There's nothing like it.

You see, for the past 18 years Indian mangoes have been banned from American shelves. This is because the Department of Agriculture felt that Indian farmers dumped way too many pesticides on the mangoes and that they were unhealthy. Well not to worry, Indian farmers are now radiating the mangoes with a super duper X-ray gun, thereby killing all pests and making them safe for American consumption. GW has finally secured his legacy. He visited India last year and tasted the mangoes. He was hooked immediately and said he wanted to liberate the Indian mangoes and allow them to come to the United States! As the Indian Commerce Minister put it, "The U.S. has far too long deprived itself of the taste of the Indian mango." So folks, I hope that you will write to President Bush and thank him for freeing the Indian mangoes. I know that he will appreciate hearing from you. After all, his dream has always been to serve as a liberator.

Tomorrow I am heading for Pondicherry for a few days. For my faithful blog readers, I should be back online by Thursday, if not before. Perhaps I will find something interesting in Pondicherry to write about.

Taking a snap with my Tanjore painting guru and his wife and grandson
at the "who's who" of Madurai event of the year: SITA farewell tea.

Making a speedy getaway: This morning I was chatting with my identical twin over Skype when I heard someone come in the front door. I thought it was Chellapandi, but I couldn't figure out why she would be coming in at that time. Then my internet connection went out and I was hearing all sorts of switches in the other room being switched off and all kinds of commotion going on. I went into the other room to see the front door wide open and some random kids just going wild through my house. They just came right on in and made themselves at home! Looks like the 3 year old knew exactly how to go and switch off a modem. Very clever.

some of my favorite things

2007-04-12T10:21:00.000-07:00

I was thinking lately about some of my (new) favorite things. I thought I would share them with you. As I write this, I can hear rats squeaking. Rat squeaks will not make it on to this list.

1) Running water. After sweating all night, there is nothing better in the morning than dousing oneself in cold water and washing away the sweat. But because being in TN makes one obsessed with water conservation, I use the water very sparingly. Furthermore, water used to wash clothes is utilized for flushing the toilet. Unlike those hellish days of Alagappan apartments a few years back, there is actually water here in this house, and it runs. It can be tapped via bore well, which goes down into the earth about 150 feet. Having a bore well at home is a true miracle. I know bore wells are screwing up the water table something awful, but I really don't see any alternative in a place that is looking to be more an arid desert than a subtropical region. Rain-water harvesting is always an option but no one seems to do it, and no one wants to/is able to pay for the technology. And then again for rain harvesting to work, it has to actually rain. And you know how that goes.

In Alagappan Apartments/Hell, I would lay awake at night wondering when/if the water would be turned on. IF water came it was pumped in for about 15 minutes per day, and the times would not be announced to those of us "not in the know." The landlord/rowdy apparently clashed quite often with the water lorry guys which basically meant some days the water didn't come. I ended up buying a huge plastic trashcan and multiple buckets and vessels. I would keep the trashcan under the faucets, keeping the spigots open at all times. When the water came on, I would rush into the bathroom and start filling up the buckets. This is how I lived for a year. Of course most people (read: women) have to go out and either wait in long lines in the sun, clashing with one another to get their three buckets of water from the lorry. Or else they wait by the corporation water pumps and then pump out the water by hand once the city decides they can have some. And I thought Alagappan apartments was bad.

2) Washing the dirt off my feet. There's nothing better than coming home after walking around outside and running some water over your feet. Suddenly they go from filthy to simply dirty. Many of you who have dwelt in such a dusty place know that the dirt never really goes away. Just rub your fingers vigorously over your skin a few times and the dirt starts to come off. But rinsing off filthy feet gives the feeling of full body clean.

3) Clean drinking water. There is nothing like having a couple of big cans of clean drinking water at your disposal, 20 liters each. You feel pretty good because the drinking cans are recycled and you aren't using plastic bottles. It's also incredibly cheap. And I relish every drop. There's nothing like filling up a bottle of water and then chugging the whole thing. AHHHHHHHH.

4) Cold water. Cold water is one of the absolute best things in my life right now. I simply cannot understand how cold water and cold drinks have not caught on around the world, especially in a place that's regularly over 100 degrees with about 90% humidity. It just simply cools your entire body down, but this is precisely the reason why people here avoid it like the plague. Cool drinks are considered dangerous. (And with Coke and Pepsi putting heavy metals in Indian sodas, I guess they kind of are.) I recall fondly my host family days when I would come down with a case of the amoebas and I'd be interrogated about whether or not I had consumed a "cool drink." Because if you get sick, a good culprit is a cool drink. I think that Americans are pretty much the only people on this Earth who are in love with cool drinks. And they are truly a miracle. Cool drinks might be the one good thing that America has to offer the world at the moment.

Well, that about raps it up. Right now my favorite thing is pretty much water, from the looks of this list. I also really like mangos. One day I will write an ode to the mango.

tackling the beggar/cow "menace"

2007-04-11T23:24:00.000-07:00

Beggars, cows, what's the difference?

Those of you who have visited Madurai, or indeed many other cities throughout India, would have noticed the many stray cows wandering throughout the streets. Cities such as Chennai have banned stray cows within the city limits, as has Delhi where folks have come up with the clever idea of installing computer chips in stray cows so that owners can be identified and fined. Well, this week orders came down from above for Madurai police officers to start herding up stray cows, loading them into vehicles and hauling them off to some holding location. You might also have noticed that there are many beggars roaming around Indian cities as well. Just two days ago the police swept the city and hauled the beggars off to jail in a paddy wagon.

"The police commissioner who took disciplinary action and arrested the beggars, who are posing a nuisance to the public, similarly yesterday ordered that stray cows be snatched up from the road," read today's Dinamalar. Beggar nuisance. Cow nuisance. Same shit, different day for the public it would seem. I know that I will sleep better tonight, knowing that the cows and beggars have been hauled off to their respective holding facilities, no longer posing a nuisance to the public.

I can understand arresting the beggars and hauling them off to prison, but the poor, hungry, defenseless cows? Isn't that a bit inhumane?

Doppelganger strikes again!

2007-04-11T19:59:00.000-07:00

Unbelievable, folks. But it would seem that my doppelganger has struck once again...this time on the other side of the earth. In Washington DC of all places! Turns out that people who have known me for *years* thought this doppelganger was me! I saw them just a few months back yet this doppelganger royally fooled them. Never mind that I am supposed to be halfway around the world at the moment. I mean, when people you went to college with and indeed shared a residence with for a year or more, think that your doppelganger is you, and start conversing with the doppelganger as if she really were you, you really start to wonder. Here I already have a doppelganger in Madurai, and now I've got a twin in Washington DC as well? Amazing! The fact that she can move back and forth from Madurai to Washington DC so quickly is a feat in itself. I really want to try and meet this doppelganger! Besides looking so much alike that people I have known for years get us confused, it would appear that we have very similar backgrounds and interests, both being from SC and frequenting the same places in Washington DC as well as Madurai, India, of all places! The only thing is, however, that the Washington DC doppelganger is about six inches shorter than me. Not sure how that played in to the calculations of folks who mistook her for me. Turns out Indians aren't the only people who think all white people look exactly alike.

The Washington DC doppelganger couldn't possibly be my sister, LL, because she and I are exactly the same height.

"The seemingly impossible, made possible."

2007-04-11T02:30:00.000-07:00

I am going to suggest this as BSNL's new motto. I will explain....Currently I am not sitting in a internet cafe being hounded by men about whether or not I know how to cook sambhar. I am not waiting outside the phone booth/sauna waiting for over an hour for the selfish foreign #$@&* to get off the phone so I can talk, only to have to give up and turn around and go home. Most importantly I am not standing at the Mullai Nagar bus stop right now for 45 minutes in the blazing hot sun, with toddlers screaming "whitey" and other obscenities at me as per the direction of their elders. No, I am not getting to experience any of these things as I am currently sitting *in my home* in Meemabalpuram, using wireless internet!

How is it possible, you might ask? I would say it is quite easy, but I'd be lying. Yesterday they said they would come so I waited at home all day and no one showed. This morning I called again and was told they would come. After 15 days of waiting and running from pillar to post, and nearly being thrown out of places because I didn't register my name with the security guard, etc. etc., finally today three men showed up from the phone company and hooked up this blasted internet. I couldn't be happier! Now the possibility exists to talk with people at home for free. So please crank up your Skype programs.

Today I had a chat with Tamilarasi about the general habit here of "flaking," as we call it in the US. This custom often poses serious problems for the researcher. Folks will tell you that they are definitely coming to your house at 11 AM on Sunday, for example. You get really excited because you just might be making a friend and you are going to get to host someone. So you crank up the kerosene stove and with great difficulty make some coffee. Pretty soon 11am rolls around but you don't expect them to be on time. Then it's 12PM and they could still show up; one hour late is pretty standard. Then by about 1 PM you realize they are a total no show and you are left wondering, "What went wrong here?" When can you ever believe what people say here? VERY often folks say that they are going to do something when they have absolutely, positively no intention to or even *ability* to do so. (Recall, for example, the promise of a gas cylinder when it didn't exist; the repeated promise over the course of a month that the window and fan would be installed "tomorrow" when no money existed and hence, no possibility of installing said items; ETC. ETC.)

Something here isn't translating properly. I tried to glean some sort of information from Tamilarasi, like maybe there is some magic decoder for deciphering when people really intend to do something and when they do not. But all she told me was that people here are "used to it." So I think that people just flake on people all the time and it's acceptable. People here are generally just more patient than Americans, and furthermore Americans' expectations are way too high. For example, I got irritated when the internet people said they would come but didn't. My day went waste. I had wanted to go out but was unable. There isn't a housewife or househusband sitting at home waiting for people to show. But then I decided that I shouldn't expect anyone to show up when they say they will and that I should then be thrilled if/when they do. For example, this morning I didn't expect the fan to be put in because they flaked and didn't show yesterday when promised. But then, when they did show after I had been sweating buckets over my food for the past month, I was thrilled. Similarly with the internet guys. I had just resolved that my Rs. 1800 I paid for internet had been stolen and that no one was ever going to come and install the connection. This was liberating. But then today when they actually showed, I was ecstatic. And sitting here right now typing as I listen to BBC news doesn't hurt much either.

Basically I have resolved that there is really no secret code for knowing when people are serious and when they aren't. I really wish I could read people's minds, though. When they say they are definitely going to come and then never do, what is the thinking there? Did they just change their minds at the last minute or did they never have any intention of showing in the first place? I have finally started to pick up on when people are bald-faced lying, however. Like when an auto driver says he knows where something is but he has no clue. I've been honing my liar-detector skills in that department. But I still cannot figure out the flaking thing.

Other things that I have been tripping on lately are just how incredibly different cultures are from one place to the next. This sounds really obvious, but lately I've been thinking about the differences that aren't so transparent to us on first glance. Things which are entirely culturally conditioned but which we take for granted as unconscious habit. I'll give you some examples. How often have you crossed your legs without thinking? Folks here do not do this. You'll never see women in Madurai crossing their legs. Whistling. This one is a bit different because here there is actually a cultural proscription against whistling, but nevertheless, we often whistle songs when we are happy or just without thinking. People here don't do that. Do you ever roll your eyes when frustrated? You won't see that here. Someone told me once that this means you are dead, not frustrated. Want to say hello to someone at a distance? We wave. But I did this yesterday and Chellapandi did not understand what I meant. Furthermore, think about kissing and hugging. It might come as a surprise to Americans that these things are not universal. But they aren't. In lots of cultures people don't kiss at all, apparently. And I think that South Asia is a place where kissing is something of a foreign introduction, hence the proscription against it in movies. Formerly I had mistakenly taken this anti-kissing thing as a mark of a very puritanical culture. This isn't the right way to look at it. It's not that people don't kiss because they think it is dirty; it is just something that people don't do. It's an entirely culturally conditioned thing.

Those are just some of the things I've been thinking about lately. I'm going to go sit under my new fan now.

Before the ear-piercing cermony the children have their heads shaved. Then sandalwood paste is applied to the scalp. A professional photographer was on hand for pictures, but people were very insistent on my taking photos of everything, especially the goats/lunch.

Tamilarasi's youngest son and Chellapandi's son touching the goats, of which they were pretty proud. A goat goes for about Rs. 2000, or one month's salary for many people.

Goat doesn't want to take a bath.

They say if the goat shivers, then God accepts it as a sacrifice. Pouring cold water on the goat is a good way to get it to shiver. Once the goat shivered, people were happy and were saying "ummmm, nallaa kulichchaachu!" meaning "it's bathed nicely." After this photo the goats' heads were cut off. Fortunately I was spared this scene. Later on, I was the only one who wasn't eating any goat meat at the communal meal. One lady remarked, "She's not eating any goat!" and pretty soon it started to spread around the room like a game of telephone, "Did you hear? She said she doesn't want any goat meat!" I was sort of embarassed. Already I'm weird here, and here I am not eating any goat. Vegetarianism is pretty much for the Brahmins and stodgy upper castes here.

We only had to wait 6 hours in the heat for everyone from the village to show up. Pretty soon the trucks rolled in with everyone crammed in the flatbed like sardines. People came bearing all sorts of gifts like raw rice, paddy, salt, bananas, etc. The women carried these items on their heads. Once everyone arrived the ear piercing began. The children sit in the laps of the mother's brother, or maamaa. He is the individual who is financially responsible for the functions of his sister's children. Often this is merely a nominal position as others may step up to pay if he is unable and has a "prestige problem."

Once it was over Parthipan was pretty relieved. Both boys and girls get their ears pierced as it is a rite of passage. However, the boys have their earrings taken out 3 days later.

In the lap of the mother's brother's son. As a girl you might either marry your mother's younger brother, or more likely, your mother's brother's son. Marrying your father's brother's children is generally considered taboo here, however it does happen.

loudspeakers have been turned off; folks are now permitted to go on with life

2007-04-08T23:49:00.000-07:00

Thankfully the loudspeakers have been turned off and packed off to the next Mariamman function in some other neighborhood, allowing more people to experience the joy of music blasting 18 hours a day. We people in Meenambalpuram wouldn't want to hog this all to ourselves.

Now a certain "peace" has descended over Meenambalpuram, where at night the only sounds to be heard are the sweet chirping of crickets and the neighbors clashing with one another, yelling into the late hours of the evening. Last night there was a power cut and moments later there was such a commotion next door that I seriously thought someone was either being burned to death or murdered. I remained locked in the house. but I peeked out the window to see a crowd of spectators gathered outside. This morning I didn't hear any bad news so I figured there were no casualties as a result of the brawl.

Here in Madurai I see people yelling with one another and fighting in public all the time. But sometimes when people are having an argument it is hard to know. Often people do not make gestures or angry facial expressions as you might expect, but merely raise their voices to really loud levels. Sometimes it's also hard for me to know when people are arguing because sometimes people just speak at very loud volumes in general, and not just when they are angry. But nevertheless, you do see people arguing, trying to fight but being held back by others, or just straight up fighting quite often. I think that this must be a side effect of a very high population density. When you have so many people virtually living on top of one another with little personal space, fights are going to result.

This weekend I attended an ear-piercing ceremony which was very interesting and enjoyable, and I'll post some pictures and a description of that sometime soon. We only had to wait 6 hours in the 100 degree heat for it to get started, so things were really quite organized. I also heard some more news of my twin at this function! A few weeks ago a woman in my neighborhood had indicated that she had seen me at my landlady's housewarming ceremony. I told her that I was in the US at that time and therefore was not there. She did not believe me. This foreigner at the ceremony looked just like me and it must have been me. Then, this weekend at the ear-piercing function, I met another woman who said she saw me at the same housewarming function! She also could not believe it when I told her I was in the US. This might just be the same foreigner who frequents the same internet cafe as me, has the same name as me, looks just like me but doesn't speak Tamil! Wow! I really hope I get to meet my doppelganger! But since every white person looks exactly alike, I am sure I will run into her sometime soon.

Me, Tamilarasi, and her husband at Pandikovil.

VIP access to the sprouts...

2007-04-05T05:32:00.000-07:00

That's a benefit of being a foreigner in Meenambalpuram. On Tuesday I was given top secret access to the sprouts (known as mulaippaari) being grown for the Mariamman festival. A special house is chosen for this purpose and it just happens to be the one across the street from my house. I had noticed an old grandma going in and out of this thatched hut on the root all week. (And you can see this thatched hut in one of my previous photos of the Mariamman temple view from my roof) I had no idea what she was up to. On Tuesday the only other woman besides the grandma with access to the sprouts took me up there and let me inside to see. You cannot just grow them anywhere. Someone very clean has to do it and the area has to be very clean and sanctified and free of pollution (ritual and otherwise). Menstuating women cannot go in there; hence, having a grandma growing them is a good idea.

I had no idea where I was being taken until we were inside the hut. It was a pretty amazing sight. They had a tube light set up in there but the sprouts have been growing in the dark. There was about an inch of water on the floor. They even let me take some pictures which are below. I was pretty honored to be given access to this place. When Chellapandi heard I had been in there she was really shocked and wanted to know what it looked like. But then later on in the evening, before they took them out for all to see, she got to have a peek at them when they brought me back up there for a puja and picture taking time. The grandmother officiated at the puja on the roof, and everyone went there to take her blessings. Also, the mulaippaari are considered very sacred and people very much want to take their darshan.

The first pot of sprouts was taken to the temple by a woman across the street. She was taken up to the roof where she witnessed the mulaippaari and once she touched one of the vessels she became possessed with the spirit of Mariamman. Chellapandi and I were on the roof across the street so we witnessed all this. She then began to eat the leaves of the neem tree, or veeppamaram as it is called here, because Mariamman is associated with these leaves. She was swaying to and fro and Sumati, the important woman with access to the sprouts, put the pot on the woman's head, took her by the arm and led her to the temple where the sprouts were deposited. The woman was still possessed and Sumati literally dropped her on the ground outside her house across the street where she lay writhing around for quite some time.

Later on in the evening all the mullaippaari are taken out of the hut and the names of women and girls are called who have taken vows to Mariamman to carry the mullaippari in procession. The women approach the stairs up to the roof and their individual mulaippari is lowered down by relay. The men handle them at this point, but only to transfer them to the women. Then all the women and girls line up at the temple and carry the mullaippaari pots on their heads to the Aiyannar temple in BB Kulam. About 2 hours later they arrived back to the neighborhood, at about 12:30 AM, where they deposited the mulaippaari at the temple. Then the loudspeakers got cranked up again and people started blasting fireworks.

The next morning all the women and girls returned again to the temple and again took the mulaippari in procession, this time all the way across the city to the river's edge at Simhakal. They walked all the way across the city barefoot, in the blazing heat. Some young girls were carrying pots as well, but they were accompanied by their mothers who later on took over for them. The grandmother who was in charge of growing the sprouts led the procession. She is very important in this festival. She is also the one who has been leading the songs at the temple every night throughout the festival.

I very much enjoyed the mulaippari part of the festival, because I'd never really witnessed this before. I'd seen women carrying these pots downtown, but I had no idea about their significance. The festival has been educational and enjoyable for me in that sense, however the constant and unrelenting blare of the loudspeakers has cast a pall over the festivities. When so many people here HATE the loudspeakers, I simply don't know why they continue it. But fact of the matter is, it's tradition. But as of yesterday I really lost my patience because they stopped with the god songs and have now started up with cinema songs all day and night. When it was all about devotion to god, it makes one more understanding. But when you are constantly hearing songs like "We're gonna sing and sing and party like crazy" and "Last night.....UMMMMMMM YEAH" and "Do it like that, do it like that with your hand," you don't really feel like worship is what's on people's minds. And you want them to turn the freaking speakers OFF. Further, this one guy seems to have knighted himself the MC and will not shut up with the microphone. All day today he's been shouting into it. I'm not the only one who doesn't understand what he is shouting about, something about dinner tonight. Chellapandi says he is incomprehensible. But when he gets on the microphone, my lights go dim in the house. Seriously.

Tonight the festival is going to be over! I figure by 11:30 PM the loudspeakers will be turned off.

The woman in the middle is the one in charge of growing the mulaippari. To her left is a woman who seemed to be second in command. The woman in blue was an interloper as far as I could tell.

Mulaippaari

Mulaippaari outside the temple before the second procession

Patti (grandmother) leading the way

Procession across the city

Neem Tree: Nature's Air Conditioning

red moon, second night of the festival

when your house is made of solid concrete and it's shaking at the foundations...

2007-04-03T01:12:00.000-07:00

...then the music is too loud. I deciphered this yesterday. Living next to a Mariamman temple is injurious to health. Or at least to your hearing. Definitely injurious to hearing. Already my hearing isn't the greatest to begin with. And with the loudspeakers in the neighborhood blaring for a week straight now, day and night, it cannot be good. Then you've got your airhorns blasting, whistles blowing in your ears on the bus, etc. It's a recipe for premature deafness.

I knew that Mariamman temples were notorious for ear-splitting music at festival times. Nevertheless, I have located myself near one. Chellapandi warned me about the noise. It's funny because over the last week it's been really loud and annoying, especially because they are planning the same high-pitched and squeaky song sung by a grandma over and over again until the late hours of the night. But I actually thought, "This isn't so bad!" Well, I spoke too soon. Yesterday evening when I came home, they had set up the REAL speakers all throughout the neighborhood. And they've set up a command station close by to the temple so that experts can monitor the sound output 24/7 in case there is any danger of some malcontent like me sneaking up and turning the volume down to a semi-tolerable level.

My house, made of a solid slab of concrete, has been shaking at the foundations. And tonight only they are going to "start" the festival! I laughed when they told me this. Last night I almost ran away to a hotel. Largely from the noise, but also because it was the absolute hottest night I have thus far experienced on this trip. Unbearable. The thought of air conditioning is titillating to say the least.

It's not just foreigners/wusses like me who cannot bear the ear-splitting noise. It turns out that a lot of Indians don't like it either, which leads me to wonder why on earth they do it? Last night while the house was vibrating I was feeling frustrated, especially once midnight started to roll around, but I started to think that perhaps the degree of volume from these speakers is comparable to the amount of faith people have in Mariamman. I think this is some way of showing devotion to her, so I got myself calmed down by thinking this way. Furthermore, Tamilarasi pointed out that it has been scientifically proven that music makes plants grow better. For this festival they are growing sprouts in some secret location next to the temple, and the height and health of these sprouts at the end of the festival will provide some indication of Mariamman's dis/satisfaction with the people. Tamilarasi is right about the research on music facilitating plant growth, but if I recall correctly it was CLASSICAL music, and it probably wasn't played at a deafening volume. I'm surprised that these sprouts don't shrivel up a die on the spot.

Tonight there is a procession, and I look forward to seeing this. Women have been growing sprouts in vessels for the past few days. Tonight they will be carrying them on their heads in the procession. According to Tamilarasi, those with the tallest, healthiest sprouts will be praised as virtuous. Those with sprouts of pitiful growth will feel shame.

Temple at night.

These are the speakers which have been put up all around the area. Here's a huge sign announcing the festival and featuring the faces of the important people who are sponsors of the festival, and who are perhaps graciously supplying the speakers. I sort of felt sorry for the many cattle that were tied up next to the speakers. Then I surmised that they are most likely deaf by now so the noise mustn't bother them whatsoever.

The bus stop in Mullai Nagar. I spend a lot of time here each day, waiting.

A very nice full moon last night.

My new "bed". Think glorified lawn chair.

Due to a minor security breach of late, I went out yesterday to purchase a bureau, which is considered essential here for safeguarding valuables. I dropped about $50 on this thing so hopefully it can keep thieves out. It has a lock box, featuring an image of the god Tirupati, and it also features two "secret" lockboxes. I really don't think they are that secret, however, considering that every bureau of decent quality in this country comes with these exact same features. The girls at the shop offered to change the Tirupati picture to one of Jesus, but I declined. Was nice of them to offer, however.

YAY! More mass-produced plastics to consume!

2007-04-02T01:37:00.000-07:00

While "strolling" through Anna Nagar the other day, I stumbled upon the newest "cash and carry" supermarket in Madurai: "Spencer's Daily". The very friendly cashier told me the name of the company which owns this chain, but I forget. The Spencer's in Madurai is trying to be something of a Bangalore mall, what with an A/C movie theatre attached to it. Suffice it to say, there are a number of corporations here in India that are getting into the retail, so-called "cash-and-carry", market these days. The most demonic corporation of all, Wal-Mart, is also positioning itself to get into the Indian market.

Needless to say, small shopowners and traders across India have been protesting the entrance of these various corporations, particularly Wal-Mart, into the retail business because it is going to put thousands of people out of business. Imagine the Wal-Mart machine taking over India as well! Do you really think the vegetable sellers are going to survive?

Your traditional shop here is about as far away as you can get from the cash-and-carry scenario that we are familiar with in the States. You walk up to a counter, usually with a list, and hand it to an employee. All the goods are behind the counter, out of reach of the customer. You dont browse around. They go and gather all the items you want and bring them to the front. This is for staples like rice, dals, and other non-perishables, as well as items like soap, shampoo, snacks, etc. If you need vegetables, you go to the vegetable market which doesn't need explaining.

But now we've got shops like Spencer's where everything is in one place. Even though I am sort of slamming cash-and-carries here, I did patronize this store and I rather enjoyed it. I wouldn't buy vegetables there, because the prices are too high, but for other things it is convenient because it is a shopping style that is familiar. And no surprise, the cashier told me that foreigners and others really like the store for the very reason that it is "cash-and-carry." Spencer's, a national chain, seems like one thing, but WAL-MART? (Unlike most liberals I have a good reason to hate them and hold a personal grudge seeing as how I worked for them as a cashier during my teen years). I can see why folks are protesting in the steet, trying to keep these devils out of India.

I took some clandestine photos of the place and bought some coffee powder. While waiting for the bus I got to see a family brawling on the street in front of the Apollo hospital.

Yay! More mass-produced plastics to consume! Just like home!
I think I'll take them home and then throw them in the cess pool behind my house.

The complex is known as "Majesty Cine Mall"

And the best part about the Majesty Cine Mall
is the drishti pumpkin hanging above the entrance!

BANDH !

2007-04-01T05:11:00.000-07:00

The funny thing about Tamil newspapers here, especially the Dinamalar, to which I subscribe, is that almost every single day there is a huge one word headline on the front, screaming something or another. Favorites seem to be "CLASH!" "DESTRUCTION!" "ANGER!" or some variation of these words. Yesterday the state government called a bandh (strike) across Tamil Nadu and this was headline news. The bandh was called because the Supreme Court refused to rule in favor of reservations (affirmative action, in this case specifically within educational institutions) for the OBCs (Other Backward Classes, as they are known here). OBCs represent underprivileged groups that are not under the umbrella of the so-called STs and SCs (Scheduled Tribes and Scheduled Castes, groups which are listed in the Constitution as being entitled to reservations of numerous sorts, especially government jobs, spots in educational institutions, etc.)

Because of the bandh, all businesses (other than ones deemed essential) were to remain closed from 6am to 6pm on March 31st. Further, flights were grounded and trains and buses remained at a standstill. At first I was irritated, because I couldn't go anywhere and was pretty much locked up at home all day long. But then I got a grip on myself and realized my selfishness. The point of this strike is to support the OBCs and here I am irritated that I cannot use the internet for one day? Sadly, many members of the privileged sections of society were celebrating the court's verdict, which is always disturbing to see. Students at the premiere educational institutions were particularly gleeful. Meanwhile, the cynical media couldn't help but point out that the OBCs have remained silent. After all, if the OBCs aren't demanding reservations then they mustn't need them! That's the (il)logic, and you can see the problems with it.

I have to say that I was very impressed with the bandh. Unlike in the US, more often than not, the public at large is India is actively involved in issues. People across the state of TN banded together and struck in favor of OBCs yesterday. In the US, can you imagine a statewide strike over any social issue? Forget it. People are too passive and resigned. Every day in the media you see groups mobilized all over India, standing up to issues such as corporations taking advantage of the people, police atrocities, government malfeasance, lack of drinking water, global warming, you name it. Hell, women travel by lorry from the villages and stage sit-ins in Madurai because they want the free color televisions the goverment has promised. We're lucky in the US if we're able to get people off of their asses to protest an illegal war that's been dragging on for 4 years.

Because of the bandh I wasn't able to do much yesterday except sit in my house sweating and reading, mostly sweating. But Friday, on the other hand, was much more interesting. Tamilarasi called and wanted to go to this Mariamman temple that an astrologer had encouraged her to go to for solutions to some family problems. I'd never been to this place before. We went by auto, but were unable to go by the main road to the temple because it was blocked. We ended up going down this dark and smoky back way. Turns out that the smoky back way was through the cremation grounds which I had never seen in their active state. Bodies were burning all around and it didn't smell so nice. Women aren't supposed to go to cremations, so there were only men there and curiously enough, dozens of goats. Some men were shaving their heads.

We arrived at the small temple and, not surprisingly, my presence incited complete chaos. It somewhat died down in time for me to see a rooster get its head chopped off at the entrance of the temple. A family was there seeking some solutions to a problem and they offered a rooster to Karappusamy. The temple was packed and there were lots of people there suffering from evil eye problems and also ghost possessions. The priest divined the problem by placing a burning camphor tablet into the sanctified water and watching its movements. Then the afflicted individual was made to get down on his/her knees, facing Karappusamy and praying. The priest then lit a small piece of sanctified cloth on fire and held it about 2 inches away from the individual's face. He says some mantras and then takes some sanctified coconut water and suddenly splashes in onto the flame, and the person's face, making the drishti go out the back door of the temple. Individuals are made to vacate the doorway for this purpose, lest they fall pray to the dispelled drishti. The priest then drops another flaming camphor tablet into the water to assess the situation once more. He then prescribes actions for the family to remedy the situation. Often families were taken outside for a private consultation. One girl with the IV needle still in her hand came in and the pujari told her family that she was possessed not by one ghost, but two. It was interesting to note that the family didn't seem to be aghast or really the least bit perturbed by this. It was simply a fact that two ghosts had possessed her and the pujari had a remedy. Simple as that.

The father of the girl asked my name. In the hubbub and commotion he misheard me and thought my name was "tender coconut water" which was pretty freaking hilarious. We had a good laugh over that one. His wife asked if I was married. This was the first question out of her mouth. No surprise there. There was all kinds of interesting stuff that happened when I got home. In particular I came to learn that I had been robbed of Rs. 100. I ended up getting it back, but it was a really strange situation! After this strange experience I went up on the roof for some cool air and when I came down there were 3 youths of about 17-18 years old just standing on my front porch like a bunch of dummies, waiting for me. It was 9:30 at night and I was more than a little miffed to see them squatting there, stalking me. I'd never seen them before, but apparently they had heard that a white girl was living there. They wanted to question me about how far away the United States is. Right now it's feeling farther away than ever.

Today I was instructed to keep to myself in the neighborhood and to only associate with "high society people" in other sections of town. My caretakers have said that they will vet individuals from my own neighborhood for me to associate with. Right now I think I will take their advice considering that two of the individuals I have made acquaintance with so far have turned out to be a prostitute and a "man of very bad character" (Read: rapist?). Further, I've been informed not to go back to the Mariamman temple because the priest will work black magic on me and not to take tea or any food from individuals in the neighborhood because they will put magic potion in it and try to bewitch money out of me. It's going to be an interesting year in Meenambalpuram!

damned if you do, damned if you don't.

2007-03-29T00:19:00.000-07:00

That's my motto lately. But I'll get to that later. As I've said before, things have been getting better for me in the neighborhood. Panguni masam (the Tamil month we are currently in) is a super important one for lots of things, and it's a big month for Mariamman, as I've mentioned before. They've had the cone speakers blaring music for several days now, mostly in the evening. Every single day there seems to be a huge to-do going on the neighborhood because somebody is having a special function. So there's a lot going on. Next week I'm going to a couple of ear-boring ceremonies which should be interesting, especially for my research I hope.

Two nights ago I was walking to pick up some clothes from getting ironed and the kids were going nuts there at the temple, jumping up and down to the music and waving neem tree branches all around. Looks like they haven't had this much fun in a while. The old pujari was eyeing me as I walked past. I'd gotten wind that he was wondering why I haven't showed up at the temple yet. Fortunately I had tucked 10 rupees in my pants in the off chance that I was brave enough to battle the attention and make my way into the temple. I got lucky on the way back because this family I've made acquaintances with was on their way to the temple and I went with them. By "on their way" I mean they set foot out their front door and walk about 10 feet. It's a small temple, as you'll see from the photo.

It was nice to finally see inside. Mariamman inside is a sight to behold. The pujari was happy that I showed up, and I think the 10 rupees didn't hurt either. I prayed for divine intervention and help in getting me to "fit in" in this neighborhood. Though "fit in" isn't exactly the right term, seeing as how it is impossible, but you get what I mean. Then I went home happy. The neighbors were happy as well, to see that I had gone there.

Yesterday was a challenging day for me. So much harassment, kids and young men, even adult men, jumping in front of my face and screaming "HIIIIIIIIII!!!!!". I felt stupid getting irritated at kids, but I did get majorly irritated. At first I thought I just wasn't used to being here yet. But now after a month I've decided that things are different now. Just in two years men are behaving differently. They seem much more titillated at the sight of a foreign female and they aren't as afraid to show it. When they react to me, I just COMPLETELY ignore it. As if I were totally deaf and dumb. This seems to baffle them and I revel in this reaction. Yesterday afternoon I had pretty much had it. I decided that I needed to take up yoga, or perhaps tranquilizers, in order to deal with it all. But then on my way home, things were different somehow. Kids were waving at me nicely, and I waved back. Girls were smiling and I smiled back. Men left me alone. Then, I seemed to pass the Meenambalpuram test (at least a very small one), because once I got back to my neighborhood and the kids caught sight of me, they screamed "AKKAA!" (older sister) and waved. I was thrilled, let me tell you. It is so pleasant to be hearing this instead of vellaikkaari.

It's still proving challenging to fit in. Mostly because I am still feeling shy in the neighborhood. People don't really reach out to me, but they secretly criticize me for not coming up to them. Fact of the matter is, I really don't feel like reaching out right now because I still feel so marginalized. When walking down the street feels something like walking down a catwalk, it's hard to feel outgoing. This will change over time. Last night a throng of kids discovered me trying to hide and get a moment of peace on the roof. I ended up taking their pictures because this is something that kids really love here. This was my first positive interaction with the local kids, besides the mere sight of me serving as a constant source of amusement for them. But I ended up getting scolded by this lazy bones man across the street who didn't want the kids coming around. What he perhaps doesn't understand is that I am mauled like that every time I walk down the street. And he's irritated at a few kids screaming outside his house? Give me a break! Hence the subject line. You don't interact with folks enough and it's a problem. When you do try to get to know folks, you get chided. What to do? Just do what you want anyway and laugh it off, I guess.

Making peace with the neighboorhood kids, with the help of a digital camera.

Chellapandi and her daughter. We saw a great movie, but got mauled by bedbugs in the theatre and I ended up bringing them home with us. We managed to cram 9 people in this autorickshaw.

The roof is a nice place to go if you want to pretend it is possible to go unnoticed.

white people tax

2007-03-28T01:28:00.000-07:00

The one relaxing thing I manage to do in Meenambalpuram each morning is read The Hindu, a most excellent English language newspaper. This morning, however, my blood pressure shot up to dangerous levels when I read a very small tidbit of news, snuck right in there on the second page. Do you have white skin? Do you want to see inside the Meenakshi temple, Madurai's most famous landmark? Then you'd better be prepared to shell out Rs. 50 to get inside starting on April 1st.

The article stated that the board of trustees decided that "foreign" (READ: "white") tourists will have to pay Rs. 50 to enter the "permitted areas" of the temple (READ: areas outside the inner sanctum where white people [and Muslims] are allowed) for viewing of "sculptures" and "artworks". When I first read this I was confused. What "sculptures" and "artworks" will these tourists exactly be seeing? There is already a museum on site which charges folks for seeing sculptures. Then I realized what they mean. The board of directors has screwdly reasoned that for foreigners, the sacred idols used for worship are mere "sculptures" or "artworks" and they are now prepared to charge accordingly.

Keep in mind, folks, that this is an ACTIVE temple. Meenakshi temple is not a museum. Oblivous foreigners treat it as such, and often enter the temple premises dressed in a very disrespectful manner. It is for this reason that I understand why they keep foreigners out of the inner sanctum. But why this additional white people tax? There is already a significant charge for taking photos and a very steep charge for taking video. The museum itself pulls in a lot of cash. So why this white people tax? It will be interesting to see how they enforce this. I imagine that they will post people at the entrance looking for white people and will then charge them to get in.

Of course, many may find it absurd that I would be so angry over the equivalent of $1.25 being charged to foreigners when this is nothing for them. This is true. But this charge seems outrageous to me, especially when there are already the aforementioned ways to get plenty of money out of the white tourists who come into the temple. What irks me is that while tourists from all over India and the rest of the world flock to Meenakshi temple by the thousands every day, it is going to be white ones who are going to have to pay. Maybe this is just desserts for centuries of colonialism. After all, white people (especially British ones), made off with tons of valuable Indian sculptures, jewels, etc. Perhaps we should have to start paying back for all the stuff that was stolen. But it still makes me feel pretty bad. Especially because I treat Meenakshi temple as a place for prayer and meditation, not as a tourist destination. It is the one place to go and sort of escape the madness (though the oppressive touts there make it difficult at times), and now I am going to be further marginalized in this place of worship for being a foreigner. It really ticks me off.

Recently a white man managed to enter a temple at Puri, in Orissa. There the temples are noted for being very restricted to foreigners and non-Hindus. For this reason I have never bothered to go there. But when it was noted on the security cameras that this "American" man had gotten into the temple, the priests went into an uproar, locked the temple, and threw prasad (holy food intended for devotees) worth hundreds of thousands of rupees into a hole and buried it. I myself, while praying along with everyone else, have been approached by police in one particular temple and told to step back and get away from the idol. In this context I am feeling particularly miffed right now. From now on I am going to stick to such temples as Mariamman and Karappusamy temples which don't discriminate against people of any color, caste, or class, as far as I can tell.

I am penning a letter, in Tamil, to the board of directors of Meenakshi temple explaining my outrage. Then I am going to write a snarky letter to the editor of The Hindu. And I am going to go to the temple on April 1st and I'm not going to pay the tax. We will see whether or not I get in.

If you think I am full of crap for my position on this, I am all ears.

not so fast with the moon conclusions!

2007-03-27T02:18:00.000-07:00

Turns out I've been playing pretty fast and loose with this moon question thing. The other day I pulled a GW and prematurely declared "mission accomplished". I've been advised that we need more photographic evidence. I hope that Professor Don Collins at Warren Wilson College doesn't mind if I reprint his email to my father here:

"I took a look at your daughter's blog site. Unfortunately, we cannot make any conclusions regarding the moon appearance from the tropics and temperate latitudes merely from one fuzzy photo. In order to study this scientifically, you would need a network of observers world-wide to agree to take digital photos of the moon at exactly the same date/time. The time should be Universal time. Another option would be to photograph the moon rising or setting on specified dates where the horizon is also in the photo. If the crescent moon is photographed near the horizon from different latitudes, the "angle" of the crescent will certainly be different. Be sure to get a team of photographers to photograph the moon on the same dates, however.

"I also suspect that participants on her website may be confused about the shape of the crescent moon being caused by the earth's shadow. The earth's shadow rarely falls on the moon - it's only during a lunar eclipse. I will post a Physics Photo of the Week this Friday explaining
that."

So I will need to enlist some help in this. It would be great to get a photo of the rising moon, with the horizon in the picture -- at the same time on the same day. Last night I went up on the roof again and looked at the moon. At that point it was high in the sky and I realized that without the horizon in the picture, you simply cannot compare photos of the moon and draw any conclusions about how its angle differs from place to place. Despite suffering from a lack of common sense, not to mention scientific know-how, I drew this conclusion simply by rotating my head around and noticing how different the moon looked!

Other than trying to conduct faulty scientific experiments, I've been suffering from bedbugs and prickly heat. That's about all the excitement from here. People here are majorly depressed because India is already out of the Cricket World Cup. When they lost to Bangladesh the fans went ballistic and were putting their pictures on donkeys, conducting mock funerals of team members, shaving their heads in mourning, and attempting to destroy the homes of some of the disgraced players. Needless to say, cricket is taken very seriously here in India. In the English language media these fan outbursts have initiated a debate about "progress" and "rationalism" in India -- the highly educated Indian elites opinion of the "common man" is often disparaging, especially with respect to the events of late. Then there is the whole Bob Woolmer murder fiasco which has marred the sport altogether. Will have more reports tomorrow.

Case closed!

2007-03-25T23:41:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you, but this photo of the moon that my sister just sent me just about clinches it. The moon certainly does look different depending on where on the Earth you are! They look pretty freaking different, and I'll be interested to see how much it changes through the seasons. Even though it's blurry, you can still make out that in Silver Spring, Maryland, the shadow of the moon appears to be on the right lower half as opposed to the left lower half in Madurai. I still cannot grasp why this is the case, because I cannot wrap my brain around such matters of spherical geometry, but now that we have photographic evidence that the moon looks different I can rest somewhat easily. Thanks L.L.!

Thanks to an alert reader for pointing out there was no photo previously.