nothing says happy easter like a high-noon stoning

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...

....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

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

being Tamil is expensive

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

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

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

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.