The past week had been really nice. I settle more and more into Maher and India, just in time to leave. I really feel more adjusted. I get around on my own now too, if needed. Classes have been going well. I use what I call a "carrot" at the beginning of my rowdy classes. The carrot is a promise of fun to come if they mind their P's and Q's, usually a game or a song. I have one class that adores singing "Twist and Shout". I like the way they say "shake it a-baby". This week I have also continued getting up before the sun rises to do Tikwando or Capoeira. Then I stretch a long while or do yoga before going to take a cold bucket bath. There was one amazing morning with Stephane when he told me he could Salsa. I remember the steps, he's an amazing lead, and we spent that morning Salsa-ing our butts off, again while the sun rose. I had a moment where I couldn't stop laughing, thinking how funny it to do Salsa dancing in India with a man from France. My feet have been killing me from the blisters but besides that I feel really great.
Earlier this week I had a great experience shopping in the posh part of town. I found a guitar tuner and books to give my guitar students when I leave. We went into a MALL and bought books too. A real mall, so mall-like that I didn't feel like I was in India. I didn't really like the mall, but I was able to find some books on learning English. We also visited a huge supermarket. I was skipping through the isles, reading this label and that, wishing I could take more home. India is cheap too- till you buy too much stuff. I am getting better at bargaining too. It used to be that it felt wrong to haggle over a price, but now I'm really taking to it. I get really proud when I get them to drop their prices way down. As a white foreigner, they start the price at at least double its value most the time, and I know that. I had fun getting some great gifts.
Yesterday was Maher's 14th Anniversary celebration, and Pinky's (one of the house mother's) wedding. What a fun filled day!! It was busy from the get-go. As we walked to breakfast, garlands of marigold flowers were being strung up all over the place: the stage, the gates, the big main building, and all the doorways. The colorful canopies that I love so much were put up over the stage and next to the building that has the kitchen. Even more marigolds were torn so that there were bags of flower petals to throw and use during the ceremony in the wedding (traditionally, rice is thrown in abundance as a symbol of prosperity, but as it is Maher AND a waste of food, flower petals were chosen instead.) After a fantastic breakfast of Poha (beaten rice cooked with peanuts, tomatoes and spices) coconut, Chapatti, and a small cheese wedge, we got busy too. We took pictures for Lucy of all the preparations. Women were cooking a kind of fried chapatti that I can't remember the name of. Huge pots of potato, chickpea, and paneer curry were being stirred with utensils big enough to be oars for a boat. Lots of Marathi was being yelled and there about how everything should be done. Then it was time to have someone help put me in my sari. I have worn a sari now quite a few times, but the process of getting the folds just so is really hard. You don't just wind the yards and yards of fabric around you: its an art. Once wrapped up like a present, we rushed back for in time to see Pinky getting smudged with what looked like mustard. It's turmeric, and its done as a tradition. We got smudged too. I smelt like curry. Soon after washing my face, the car from Vatsyladam pulled up and Stephane and Toby rolled out, fully dressed like Indian men. Toby even wore the traditional what hat, which made him look like he was ready to sell hot dogs.
How many weddings have I seen since I have been in India? I'm loosing count. Pinky's wedding was extra special since it was a Maher wedding. It still was done the Hindu way: she was dressed beautifully, henna on her feet and hands, the blanket between them, the ceremonial fire (inside!), coconut, and walking around the fire as man and wife. But Sister Lucy acted as the mother of Pinky. Its bittersweet to see her marry. She is leaving to live with her husband. I will miss her singing and tabla playing. Its a time of celebration and sadness.
The afternoon had alot of down time, which we filled up quickly. They had set up the music and microphones and began to play music. ANYtime music is played, the boys dance. They dance with each other, energetically, and I always get a kick out of it. The girls huddle on the sides and insist that they can't dance because the boys hog the dance floor, which is BS. The culture is different. I began dancing. I could care less. Everything I do in India is subject to a crowd of people watching. I have, in the last month, accepted that. I am a strange and fascinating creature. Best that not ruin any of my fun. My goal was to have fun and to DRAG the girls out to dance, which I did. They felt more secure if we all did the same dance and/or stood in a circle. So I danced for quite a while, which was quite a test for my sari. Then the boys drug me off to their side to dance. The boys' dances are much more fun. They are in a frenzy!
The Maher ceremony was nice. There were hundreds of people there. It started with awards and speeches. Then performances from children singing, dancing, and doing tikwando. And then... me. I was supposed to play "Bright Sunny Day" on my guitar. I was nervous about it, but being that it isn't the first time I have played to a crowd, and the fact that most people wouldn't know the words, I felt better. I have placed my WELL TUNED guitar by the stage where they said and sat down to enjoy the program. As I got on stage to play, I saw that a small child had my guitar and no one had stopped him from playing with it. I tried to check the tuning, but could not over the booming of the music from the current performance. Worst performance of my entire life. The child had played with the tuning pegs. The sourness of the guitar mixed with feed back from the microphone, and although my singing was okay, I crawled off the stage, defeated. I was happy there was another dance party directly after. I shook off the sour notes.
It's eleven days till I leave and I will cry my eyes out. It's true that I am excited to go home and see family and friends. And eat some olives and cheese. But oh how I love these people!!!!! The children... what can I say? They are so easy to love. Even the ones that are really naughty. It will be hard to leave, but I know its time. I can continue to help Maher from the states. I can never forget this place.
Earlier this week I had a great experience shopping in the posh part of town. I found a guitar tuner and books to give my guitar students when I leave. We went into a MALL and bought books too. A real mall, so mall-like that I didn't feel like I was in India. I didn't really like the mall, but I was able to find some books on learning English. We also visited a huge supermarket. I was skipping through the isles, reading this label and that, wishing I could take more home. India is cheap too- till you buy too much stuff. I am getting better at bargaining too. It used to be that it felt wrong to haggle over a price, but now I'm really taking to it. I get really proud when I get them to drop their prices way down. As a white foreigner, they start the price at at least double its value most the time, and I know that. I had fun getting some great gifts.
Yesterday was Maher's 14th Anniversary celebration, and Pinky's (one of the house mother's) wedding. What a fun filled day!! It was busy from the get-go. As we walked to breakfast, garlands of marigold flowers were being strung up all over the place: the stage, the gates, the big main building, and all the doorways. The colorful canopies that I love so much were put up over the stage and next to the building that has the kitchen. Even more marigolds were torn so that there were bags of flower petals to throw and use during the ceremony in the wedding (traditionally, rice is thrown in abundance as a symbol of prosperity, but as it is Maher AND a waste of food, flower petals were chosen instead.) After a fantastic breakfast of Poha (beaten rice cooked with peanuts, tomatoes and spices) coconut, Chapatti, and a small cheese wedge, we got busy too. We took pictures for Lucy of all the preparations. Women were cooking a kind of fried chapatti that I can't remember the name of. Huge pots of potato, chickpea, and paneer curry were being stirred with utensils big enough to be oars for a boat. Lots of Marathi was being yelled and there about how everything should be done. Then it was time to have someone help put me in my sari. I have worn a sari now quite a few times, but the process of getting the folds just so is really hard. You don't just wind the yards and yards of fabric around you: its an art. Once wrapped up like a present, we rushed back for in time to see Pinky getting smudged with what looked like mustard. It's turmeric, and its done as a tradition. We got smudged too. I smelt like curry. Soon after washing my face, the car from Vatsyladam pulled up and Stephane and Toby rolled out, fully dressed like Indian men. Toby even wore the traditional what hat, which made him look like he was ready to sell hot dogs.
How many weddings have I seen since I have been in India? I'm loosing count. Pinky's wedding was extra special since it was a Maher wedding. It still was done the Hindu way: she was dressed beautifully, henna on her feet and hands, the blanket between them, the ceremonial fire (inside!), coconut, and walking around the fire as man and wife. But Sister Lucy acted as the mother of Pinky. Its bittersweet to see her marry. She is leaving to live with her husband. I will miss her singing and tabla playing. Its a time of celebration and sadness.
The afternoon had alot of down time, which we filled up quickly. They had set up the music and microphones and began to play music. ANYtime music is played, the boys dance. They dance with each other, energetically, and I always get a kick out of it. The girls huddle on the sides and insist that they can't dance because the boys hog the dance floor, which is BS. The culture is different. I began dancing. I could care less. Everything I do in India is subject to a crowd of people watching. I have, in the last month, accepted that. I am a strange and fascinating creature. Best that not ruin any of my fun. My goal was to have fun and to DRAG the girls out to dance, which I did. They felt more secure if we all did the same dance and/or stood in a circle. So I danced for quite a while, which was quite a test for my sari. Then the boys drug me off to their side to dance. The boys' dances are much more fun. They are in a frenzy!
The Maher ceremony was nice. There were hundreds of people there. It started with awards and speeches. Then performances from children singing, dancing, and doing tikwando. And then... me. I was supposed to play "Bright Sunny Day" on my guitar. I was nervous about it, but being that it isn't the first time I have played to a crowd, and the fact that most people wouldn't know the words, I felt better. I have placed my WELL TUNED guitar by the stage where they said and sat down to enjoy the program. As I got on stage to play, I saw that a small child had my guitar and no one had stopped him from playing with it. I tried to check the tuning, but could not over the booming of the music from the current performance. Worst performance of my entire life. The child had played with the tuning pegs. The sourness of the guitar mixed with feed back from the microphone, and although my singing was okay, I crawled off the stage, defeated. I was happy there was another dance party directly after. I shook off the sour notes.
It's eleven days till I leave and I will cry my eyes out. It's true that I am excited to go home and see family and friends. And eat some olives and cheese. But oh how I love these people!!!!! The children... what can I say? They are so easy to love. Even the ones that are really naughty. It will be hard to leave, but I know its time. I can continue to help Maher from the states. I can never forget this place.
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