Heros in Eden

On 12/20/2011 I awoke early and as was with each morning could hear the crows outside squaking about the arrival of the sun.

On the previous day Rahul took me to Prasanthi School for special children. The children at this school were full of bright smiles, laughter and curiosity. I could tell, right away, they were cared for.

The care began with the atmosphere of the building. The architecture allowed for a cool breeze to pass through, light filling the halls and heat to stay out. Next, was the teacher to student ratio, six children per teacher, in addition to aids for support. Also, in the classrooms the students were observed to be working at their own pace without trying to slow down or speed up to match the other students.
Unfortunately, I did not take photos in the school. Mostly out of respect for the children's privacy and so I could just be there as a witness. However, the road to the school was like Eden.

The Road up to the School

Random Puppy Seeks Children 

Rahul and the President Ramakrishnan Palat

The man running the school is one of Rahul's old professors, Ramakrishnan Palat. This is a man who had a successful career as a professor and could easily just have retired and chased around elephants on his plantation. But no, this man chose to create a place for special children.

Very few of these kinds of places exist in southern India. The goal of the school is go get the children accepted into the main stream schools.

I was honored to meet a man with such a kind temperament and a true example of altruism.
Here is a link to an article in The Hindu http://www.hindu.com/2007/05/20/stories/2007052000750200.htm
about how Dr. Palat became interested in helping.

Meals on Leaves

On 12/18/2011 Rahul and I had a wedding reception. It was a bit odd to have this party without my own family to cheer me on. 

I was draped in a full Sari by both sisters; Rahul's sister, Rakhi and his sister in law Swathi. We even did a practice run in Sari the night before (with the assistance of an assertive neighbor) so I could learn how to walk wrapped in the long cloth. 

Sari's are very long and they cover your toes. I wanted to pick up the cloth, prance around and curtsy however, I was told not to pick it up. (On the practice run I picked it up a few times anyway to tease my new Sister in law). However, at "show time" I was well behaved. One of my good friends told me I could lightly kick the bottom so I did not fall down.  (Thank you Kamma)

The Indian wedding reception begins as the couple is greeted and well wished by many family, neighbors, co-workers, friends and friends of friends. Then after photos, a lot smiling, and more photos take place, a wonderful feast is eaten on a large banana leaf.

This feast is called Sadhya and it is specific to the Kerala region of Inida. Sadhya consists of many wonderful curries each created to please a certain taste for your palate: sour, sweet, pungent, astringent ect.  There was a curry made with pineapple and coconut, there was one with vegetables and butter and jaggery (a kind of sugar) one that was spicy and pickled with mango and mustard seeds and others lovely savory dishes all surrounding a heap of rice. 

I sat and ate with a charming man who was a librarian for a collage and a woman who was a gynecologist. The conversations was as rich as the foods. We talked about food and Indian culture. 

In India, I always was asked two questions: 

How do you like our country? And 

How do you like the food?  

Marriage ceremonies like the one we had bring together neighbors and family. Most of the time this feast consists of hundreds of people. (Ours was much less due to my family being more potato than curry. :) )

Marriage receptions help to strengthen communities by getting everyone out to share a feast of fine foods, food is a very important part of Indian community.   

After the feast we sat out side and talked and laughed. I chatted with family and Amas' friends who are history professors.

My favorite part of the whole day was when Rahul's father sat next to me leaned in and said, "You are a nice lady." with and affirming kindness, I was glad to receive.

Poem for India

Life, in-twined with Landscape 

life full of delicate details, 

hand painted lines on trucks,

flowers in strings of orange and greenish white,

man holes covered in leaves. 

Family

In Calicut a new bride is welcomed into a family with a ceremony. This wedding ceremony is made of of a few very old and what I found to be loving traditions.

First was the part where I was dressed by my new sister in law. Even if I had known how to put on my own sari, this dressing would have taken place. It was a good thing, in that it initiates the beginning of a relationship. Some new sisters could meet politely smile and never talk to one another. However, when you have some one wrapping you in cloth it is very familial.

Another thing I liked is the ceremony of bringing a lighted lantern into the family home. The poet in me just eats that one up.

Also, prior to bringing the lantern into the family home my new niece in law had the task of washing off my well traveled feet. Another charming metaphor, I left old dirt behind and began a new life with an extended Indian family.

Dressing Myself, or Not.

As I lounge about today I am in a t-shirt and some blue jeans. I did put on my make up and blow dry my hair. Make-up is a learned skill, as is styling short hair. However, most of my clothes I have been able to put on since I was about three (especially my favorite jeans and t-shirt)

Occasionally, I will wear a dress that needs zipped up in the back. I do know how to use a hanger and pull the zipper up myself if I have to.

The sari is a way different story. Wikipedia has a nice article on the subject of this unique and beautiful dress. “The word sari is derived from Sanskrit which means 'strip of cloth.” The cloth of a sari is enough to make at least four new curtains for long old fashion windows. There is also a version of the sari, which is called a half sari, which is two pieces of shorter cloth.

Iloveindia.com states that some saris and built on a loom for three weeks at a time by several artisans and many are made from fine silks. Both of the saris I was dressed in India were lovely examples of the fine art of cloth. 

So After my divine lunch at Auntie and Uncles house and a wild wrestling with a shower bucket my new Sister in Law dressed me in a half Sari.  My first sari was a half sari so I could manage the amount of cloth. It was lined in gold and thin and white. 

 To be continued....
 

Tools for Eating

 

This is the first home I arrived at in Calicut.

One lucky language tool is that all women can be called Auntie and all men can be called Uncle. Though know I know the names of the family. I will use Auntie and Uncle out of respect.

(This photo was taken prior to our departure) However, on the day we arrived the Auntie in the peach handed me a rose as soon as I got out of the car. It was so kind and made me feel like a princess.

Inside their home is floored in beautiful marble and the furniture is wooden and sturdy with soft comfortable cushions. 

Rahul and I were fed a divine lunch a potato stew with coconut milk, chilies, fresh black pepper, onion and some auntie magic. (I still have stew daydreams). Also a flavorful lentil dish and a few other lovely things like fried bread, chapatti and chutney.

I did get in a bit of cultural trouble when it came to eating with the chapatti*.  In Calicut the people eat with their right hand (the left is used for other less savory tasks). I am left-handed and that is the hand I eat with. A charismatic and directive Uncle corrected me. Rahul informed him I was left-handed. I was told I could eat with my left hand but not to eat with both hands. Which I think was a bit of jesting so I did not feel too bad.  Then an Auntie was so kind as to hand me a fork; a tool I requested and used the rest of my stay. My soul could be a bit Indian but unless it is Kentucky Fried Chicken I will be sticking to my fork.

*Chapatti is a flat bread like a tortilla.

Bags and Love

In New York we were asked to give up our seats for a unaccompanied minor. As a result of our wiliness to surrender our seats to the youth, the nice man at the counter put business class tags on our luggage. "Your bags will be first off the plane." he said with a smile.

We did not think about the fact that at our layover in Dubai our bags were first off the plane and first loaded onto the plane.
So in Calicut as I stood panicking our bags were lost forever I noticed something lovely about Indian men. First, they all stood close to one another chatting and watching the bags circle the conveyor belt. Next, they would lovingly pat one another on the back or, rest there arms on one another. Lastly, if a bag came by that needed to be removed it was never lifted alone.



I noticed this behavior through out India if six people were all piled onto a motor cycle (okay, I am exaggerating, five was the highest I saw). They would not hold the back of the Cycle or, onto the seat, they would lean their cheek lovingly onto the person in front of them, or give the driver a back rub or, just a gentle hug.
If that was me there would be no gentle hug, I would have been hanging on for dear life.
The whole Kerala driving system is made up of a giant game of chicken combined with an extreme faith in breaks. 

Cars and Auto Rickshaws Passing on the left

Arrival in Kerela

Calicut or Kozhikode (sounds like cory cody) India is a place where many people have arrived to acquire and trade spices adding rich flavor to an other wise bland life.