Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in carolmeissner's LiveJournal:

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Sunday, February 12th, 2006
10:33 am	Home! I'm home! It's Sunday morning and it's snowing, a far cry from India's balmy weather. Our trip back took over 24 hours! The hustle and bustle at Hyderabad's airport caused separation from Naveed's family sooner than we expected or wanted! It was so difficult leaving the wonderful people who had been our "home" for the entire time we were in India! Regardless, we were whisked into the international flight section where we remained for the next 4 hours waiting, while our flight was delayed. It was a long wait. Finally we were able to board the aircraft for our connecting flight to Dubai. Did I mention that three adults to one toddler is the right ratio to have for a trip of 24 hours? Thank goodness Nora had all of us because each of us was necessary to keep her content as we started the long flight to JFK. Once back in NY getting through customs was a challenge! However, Aunt Maggie and Uncle Inayet had arranged for us to have a limo that took us to their house. They also brought us winter coats! New York was cold! Once at their home we had Dunkin' Donuts (Aunt Maggie had read my journal) and KFC! How American was that! It was wonderful and their kindness toward us helped ease our transition back home. While at their house I also received my first cell phone call and spoke to Toby, Anna, and Fitch with a lot of my friends yelling hello in the background! It felt great! Earlier I had called Mom and Dave and it was joyous to talk with people who I hadn't been able to speak with for the previous three weeks! After dinner we started the arduous drive to Brewster. We were caught in the crowded Long Island traffic and I was surprised by my reaction. Didn't these people know how to drive???!! Didn't they know that seven lanes of traffic could easily fit into three lanes??! I had to laugh! When we first arrived in India I thought the driving there was terrible and frightening! Now, three weeks later, their driving was the norm and American drivers didn't know what they were doing! How quickly a person adjusts to a new environment. I'm hoping the same is true for me now that we are back in America. When I got up early Saturday morning to go get my coffee and coffee roll at Dunkin'Donuts in Brewster, I found myself whizzing around cars like I was a driver in India! Never a slow driver, I'm hoping my own adjustment to driving in the USA adapts quickly or I'll be in real trouble! It was after spending the night in Brewster that we headed back to my home in Poughkeepsie. Karin and Naveed picked up their second car that had been stored in my garage and then they headed back home and I was here, alone, for the first time in three weeks. It felt glorious! I spent Saturday sleeping, relaxing, sorting mail, sleeping, showering, relaxing, sleeping - you get the picture! And so now I've been home 24 hours and the reality of being "home" once again is starting to settle in. It feels great! I was going to go to work today to sort of ease back in, but the snow makes that impossible. So tomorrow will be my first day back. It is just as well. I have so many things to incorporate back into my thinking. I reviewed the goals I set for my trip to India and think I have met each one! Additionally, I return a more humble and grateful person. When I started keeping this journal, I had no idea the impact it would have on me, and on others. To all of you who read my journal, and wrote to me with your heartfelt words of encouragement and support - my own heartfelt THANK YOU back! Being so far away from home, your responses helped me to stay connected and encouraged. To those who wrote to me on my personal email account, or just kept me close in your thoughts and hearts, thank you also. I never felt bereft or alone and your support helped to sustain me in a foreign country, in a foreign culture. I must also thank Karin and Naveed for inviting me to go on this trip with them! I was able to be with Nora daily, for three weeks, and felt her love for me in her actions and smiles! I saw Karin being an outstanding mother and I saw Naveed rejoice and take pleasure in being back with his family. I met people who were a lot like me, and people who were different. I experienced life in India, was part of an extended family, and learned much about myself in the process. So I return to America more humble yet more grateful, thankful for my life and the people who share my life with me. Heartfelt thanks to all of you! Thank you for all the love and support extended to me as I made this trip-of-a-lifetime. I will never forget the kindness extended to me. With much love, Carol Current Mood: grateful (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, February 9th, 2006
4:44 pm	Farewell to India Today is the last day we will spend with Naveed’s family before returning “home”. It will be a long journey, halfway around the world and back to another way of life. While I was packing and I took out my NY clothes, I looked at them in disbelief. I had my silk black top but it was heavy silk, designed for winter, not the soft fine silk of India. My pants were black too, comfortable pants made of cotton jersey. The cotton was thick, again not like the finely textured cottons of India. Into my carry-on luggage I packed a complete change of clothes for the trip home. All of the items I would be wearing were black. I felt like a Muslim woman who wears her burqa when she travels. The color choice is certainly the same; only the style of clothing is different. Saying good-bye to India is easy for me; it is not my home. I wonder how it is for Naveed. Which place does he call home, India or New York? Or are they both “home” for him? The feelings for Naveed and his family must be so intense! Many years will likely pass before any of them see each other again. I cannot even imagine, nor do I want to imagine, being separated from my children for so long! Asma said it will be years before she sees her mother and father again, and she lives only near Bombay, not America. The travel is too costly and the time away from school for her children interferes with their studies. In India long separations seem to be an accepted part of life, even if unwelcomed. And so I prepare to return to my adopted country too, for I am also an immigrant in a way. Having been born in Germany to American parents I was American by birth. However, my mother was born in Germany just like my twin sister and I were so we are technically German also. Actually my father is also of 100% German descent even though he was born to immigrant parents in Texas. So for the first 18 years of my life I possessed dual citizenship, both German and American, choosing my American citizenship the first time I voted in the States. Yet I understand the immigrant process, the yearning for something more, and the giving up of what one has in order to gain the new. I understand the sadness and the hope, the sorrow and the eagerness, the worry and the excitement. And it is all apparent here today. It will take three cars to transport us to the airport. The cars here are so small and our luggage so large. Actually it might take five cars depending on who goes with us to see us off. I have given all my rupees away in preparation - to the servants, Naveed’s nephews and niece, his parents. It felt good to distribute the money I had remaining. People here do not have much and generosity has always been one of my family’s virtues that I’ve prized and seek to emulate. I would hope people would do the same for my family if the situation were reversed. And so, farewell, India! I am glad to be going home even though I have cherished the time spent here. I will probably never visit again but I will remember this trip always. With love, Carol Current Mood: touched (14 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, February 8th, 2006
11:06 am	Asma came back! When Asma left to return to her home around Bombay last week, I thought I might never see her again. I was wrong. Naveed called almost as soon as she had left and asked her to return and she did! Yesterday Asma came back to Naveed’s family’s house with her three children and we had a wonderful opportunity to re-connect. It was a special gift for me that Asma came back because I had struggled for days after learning that it had been her “obligation” to ensure my well being the first time we met. What I found was that we would have self-selected each other anyway! What a relief! This time there was no obligation and we still connected in ways that only people who have similar views can. We talked about so many things and the peace that I felt with her before, returned. I was hesitant about seeing Asma again since I learned of her “duty” to me. I wondered how I would feel around her, how I would react. In fact, I was busy when she arrived and needed to let some time pass before I went downstairs to greet her. My anxiety was for nothing! As soon as we saw each other we were free! And so, instead of packing or doing a multiple of other tasks, Asma and I talked. She told me of her marriage and what it was like to be a woman of India. I told her of my marriages and what it was like to be a woman of New York. We talked of money, and jobs, of education, and men. We discussed children and childbirth and sorrow and joy. We talked of hopes and dreams and tribulations and losses. In short we talked of all those things that women universally need to say and hear from each other. And so, with only two days to go before we depart, I once again got to spend time with a woman who has touched my heart with her kindness and compassion, truthfulness and honesty. We laughed and cried together and shared some of our hearts’ stories. It was a wondrous day. Love, Carol Current Mood: happy (10 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, February 7th, 2006
2:18 pm	Three Days till Lift Off and Counting It’s funny how the mind works. I know I am going home and already my body is shifting over to New York mode. I am anxious about work. I know the search committee convenes soon and that their work is paramount to determining the future of our school. I know the search committee members, I know the stakes, I know so many things and yet I am completely out of the process! How can that be after spending twenty years of my professional life in Hyde Park? When I return, the first stage of interviews will be finished and step two will commence as the new principal will be chosen; the person who will be The Principal after I leave. Even though this is “my” journal, the publicness of it hampers my natural flow. I trust the vanguard who is charged with this initial process and so I must take the leap of faith that is required. Godspeed to all that are involved in that process; may wisdom and strength and courage accompany you on this journey. Here in India plans are already underway for our return trip home. Yesterday Nazima took Karin and me shopping one last time and it was a day I almost died. The same thing happened to me once before when Janice, David, Karin and I were visiting the Grand Canyon, years ago. I became disoriented, woozy, dizzy, and almost fell down. Except this time it was crossing one of the main thoroughfares in downtown Hyderabad. Luckily Karin yelled at me, grabbed my arm and kept me from falling. I would surely have been run over and dead if she hadn’t. There are lights that are supposed to work on this main highway, with shops on either side of the road, but they weren’t working, and probably hadn’t worked for some time. Instead, if you needed to get to the other side, you simply had to cross over, in spite of the 9-11 lanes of traffic coming at all times. On the way over the first time, I was ok, frightened but ok. You put your hand up indicating to the rushing, oncoming traffic that you are preparing to cross and then you simply go, maneuvering among the cars, motor scooters, rickshaws and bicycles that don’t even slow down. It was awful but we made it. For some reason, on the way back I looked up toward the oncoming cars and froze before becoming dizzy. Even now that sensation of wooziness comes over me remembering. It all would have happened so fast, been so easy just to fall down, to die! How Karin noticed what was happening to me I don’t know but her yell pulled me out of wherever I was and her yank on my arm pulled me forward and out of harms’ way. It was a frightening and upsetting experience. Actually now that I think about it, this same thing has happened three times to me now. Besides Hyderabad and the Grand Canyon, it happened once at the scene of a car accident I had just witnessed. As I was running over to help I simply fell down, no reason, I just fell. I went to stand and fell again. Finally I remember just willing myself to get up and get to the car and help the people inside and I was able to move. Yesterday with all that oncoming traffic there would have been no time to get up and move. And so yet another lesson learned. I cannot control what happens in New York. I cannot even control myself. But the tender mercies of others can see to it that what is needed gets done. And so once again I feel blessed. Blessed that the members of the search committee know what is at stake, and blessed that my daughter saw me falter and caught me in time. God is truly merciful and good. With love, Carol Current Mood: grateful (15 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, February 6th, 2006
9:48 am	Boris Pasternak and Love Lying in bed, wide awake even though the sky is still dark with night, I find myself thinking of “Dr. Zvivago”, both the book and the movie, and their effects upon me. I’m presently reading “The Solace of Leaving Early” by Haven Kimmel, a book that Kit recommended to me; and as I went to bed last night, I thought about how that book delights me with its complexity of human characters and its story line; not really about death, but rather what it means to be alive, how the struggles in life, our own human foibles and thoughts, our efforts, are what makes us all so alive, even with all our vulnerabilities and frailties. Long after everyone else had already gone to sleep, as I finally put the book down and decided to go to sleep myself, I thought about love, and how, even though others might not interpret life the same way, love steals into one’s life with all its messiness and complexities and a person is forever changed. It was a wonderful way to end a day in India after having taken Nora and her cousins to two parks filled with children and women, in a place where I am a stranger, looking strange to the people who inhabit this place which is a strange land to me. And yet, here it is - all of life’s complexities and fullness, for us all to experience. And so as I awoke to another new day my thoughts were filled with India and home, and Nora, and watermelon, and I burst out laughing on the inside, feeling how I thought Yuri must have felt in Dr. Zvivago, when he just couldn’t contain himself and he had to get up to write his love poems to Lara. I first saw the movie, Dr. Zvivago when I was a teenager. It was a “date flick” and I was on a mission. Ever the goal oriented person, I was interested in seeing how many dates I could fit into one weekend (Barbara and Paul, remember this?). Well, I ended up seeing Dr. Zvivago five times! What I most remember, however, was not the boys I went out with, but that each time I saw the movie, my perceptions of what the movie was about, changed! I was startled with myself and thought how could this be, it’s the same movie! (I was young, forgive me, I thought all ideas and perceptions were fixed at that time.) I found myself fascinated with the concept of changing perceptions and all through college, re-read Dr. Zvivago each summer to see if my perceptions changed yet again, and they did! But by then I no longer was “young” and knew so much more of life, or so I thought at the time. Now I am much older, have read many more books, seen many more movies, and have lived a full life learning that perception is life, that life is messy, that love is messy, and that I am richer for having experienced much messiness in my life. (Matt and Dan, can you tell I am getting ready to return to work where the convolutions of my thinking will eventually get me to the point of what I’m trying to relay?) Life is unexpected! I eat watermelon in India and it is delicious. Naveed’s mother tells me it is the season for watermelon. (It’s February, how can this be the season for watermelon!?) So at lunch yesterday I ate watermelon and lamb and then played with Nora under a water spout on the roof of Naveed’s family’s house in India where our apartments are located! And I thought about children and fun and play and love. And about love’s “rules”, whose rules, what rules, why rules, (In India, several days ago a couple was beaten to death as hundreds looked on silently and watched, because the couple had married each other even though they were of the same “lineage” and their penalty for doing that was death?!) as Nora bathed in an unorthodox way, playing in the water, sitting on a Land’s End diaper changing pad, in a waste water basin with my Eastern Mountain Sports portable vinyl “sink” I brought from New York, with Nora’s mother, my daughter coming upstairs and seeing us, looking aghast, and then laughing herself and taking video of Nora and me playing in water, in India so far from “home”. After Nora was all clean, in a new change of clothes we went to the parks where she played, got dirty all over again, fell down, cried, laughed, explored, had a runny nose, hugged me close in the car, came home, ate, and hugged me yet again before her mother took her to bed, clean once more, to sleep for the night. And in my room, waiting for me after a wondrous shower poured with a pitcher from a bucket of sun-heated water, was a bowl full of watermelon; brought up to my room (I don’t eat dinner here) by one of the servants because Naveed’s mother knew I had liked it so much at lunch! And so in a place where they kill people for loving the “wrong person”, just like we do in the States (remember the man who was killed in Wyoming just for being gay?), I write a journal entry on my lap top, which will be posted onto the internet, available for all to read, thinking about love and watermelon and Nora and Dr. Zvivago and how perceptions change, and life is messy, and love is messy, and how fortunate I am to live a messy life! With love, Carol Current Mood: content (19 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, February 5th, 2006
12:02 pm	Learning More I can’t sleep! It’s Sunday morning here, 3:45 AM (or Saturday evening 5:15 PM New York time). I’m wishing I had a “medium coffee, extra light, no sugar and a coffee roll” from Dunkin’ Donuts! My bug, spider and mosquito bites are itching me, driving me crazy actually, and I think about how bizarre it is that a woman who lives in New York State would have mosquito bites in February! Actually, much appears incongruous to me at 3:45 this morning so I think I’ll just write some of those thoughts down. 1. The mirror that sits across the bed from me here does not accurately depict the woman that I am. The person “I am” is more than just how I look at 3:45 in the morning. 2. Even though I threw-up at Karin and Naveed’s reception, it wasn’t really the end of the world. The sun still came up the next day, people still talked to me, and I still exist. I need to just move on. 3. What is, is. Period. 4. How I interpret what “is” will help impact what follows. 5. “E + R = O”. An event, plus my reaction to the event equals the outcome. 6. Sometimes a person can be stupid and smart at the same time. I was stupid to almost stop taking my malaria medication! I was smart to listen to the sage words of wisdom from my family and friends who knew I would be stupid to stop. 7. I have 32 bites of various kinds on my body. I counted them. The “after bite treatment for insect bites and stings” is not the “Itch eraser” it says it is. 8. In spite of those 32 bug bites I enjoy being alive and feel like I have a blessed life. I have people who love me, others who like me and I am mostly able to take care of myself and others. So, life is really good even if I do have 32 bug bites and the mirror doesn’t show who I actually am, and even though I did throw up in front of hundreds of people at Karin and Naveed’s marriage reception. Carol Current Mood: okay (19 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, February 4th, 2006
10:31 am	Marriage and Family Structure One of the younger men in Naveed’s extended family is ready to get married and an arranged marriage is being sought. Marriages are a major life changing event here and the most solemn condition for promoting family stability, wealth, and a potentially good future. So this morning I asked Nazima to explain a little more about marriage and family structure here in India. I am hopeful that I did a good job of being polite and respectful because those certainly were my goals. By the way, arranged marriages are still the norm throughout all of India, probably more than 95% of all marriages are arranged marriages. Naveed’s family comes from an educated “class”. Their goal is to promote the future of their children by ensuring that their children marry well, have good jobs, behave as educated people behave (polite, respectful, solicitous), and follow expected family roles. Naveed’s extended family members here speak openly about their sense of responsibility”, “duty”, “obligation” and “roles”. They speak of having an obligation to their family and that they have a duty to behave a certain way to support the family structure. Each person in both the nuclear and extended family has clearly defined roles based on gender and birth order. For example, although I didn’t know it at the time, Asma had a duty, obligation and responsibility – in her role as oldest female sibling to Naveed and her mother’s oldest daughter - to ensure that everything here was to my liking, as the senior most visiting guest. What I looked at initially as being self-selection, was really pre-determined obligation! That Asma and I ended up liking each other was secondary, and not necessary. She was doing her job, meeting her responsibilities, being a dutiful daughter and sister as her role demanded! Actually, although I am always willing to know the “truth” I am glad that I did not understand the role Asma was required to perform when I first arrived. Since I was ignorant of her “obligation”, I was just myself, and we ended up liking and caring for each other. If I had known it was her “duty” to be especially nice, I think I would have felt more like a burden and would have minimized the amount of interaction she “had to” have with me. This conundrum is something I will probably reflect on for some length of time because it clearly shows how fixed thoughts can influence behavior for the good (or for bad), even if behaviors on both parts are good but each person is totally unaware of the views of the other! Here it is the “duty” of the family to secure good matches for their children. It appears to be a primary goal. Either the family, through their personal connections knows other families who have children as likely candidates for marriage, or distant relatives are considered, or a match maker is contacted. Traditionally, when a family believes it is time for one of their children to marry (this applies for both males and females) the parents initiate a search. A photograph of the prospective bride and groom is taken and shared with the prospective families, along with a chart showing the family lineage. The chart lists all the relatives from the grandparents of the prospective couple, to the present siblings. Each person’s education and job status, male and female, is listed. In this way, because extended families are so important and Indian couples have family obligations on both sides, a family can check to make sure there are no serious holes in the family structure that would negatively impact their child. If after examining the prospective family’s lineage the family believes a match might be possible, the prospective bride or groom is shown the picture of the other party. Either the prospective persons or family members can veto a match at any time in the arrangements and that would end the discussion. However, if the prospective bride or groom likes the family lineage and finds the picture of the other person attractive, and the family approves, a meeting is arranged for the family of the potential groom to meet the family of the potential bride. It is at this point that the family of the potential groom, but not the groom himself, actually sees the potential bride. If the potential groom’s family likes the appearance of the bride, and the bride’s lineage, then when the prospective couple agrees, and the families approve, an engagement is made. During the engagement period neither the potential bride nor groom actually sees each other, or speaks with each other. That occurs for the first time at the wedding ceremony! For the wedding itself, the bride becomes a member of her husband’s family as well as her own. To show her submission to this new role, for two days before the wedding the bride is required to sit with her head bowed, never once looking up. The groom’s family is there to watch as well as her own family. It is in this preparation stage that her hands are painted with henna and she cannot use them, having her needs taken care of by her female relatives on both sides. It is the groom’s family who gives the bride a multitude of sarees which she will wear after marriage. In fact, it is the groom’s family that picks her wedding sari. Additionally, the groom’s family gives her gold jewelry to welcome her into their family. After the wedding, the bride lives with the groom’s family unless the new couple can afford their own home. The bride now is responsible for caring for her husband’s needs, maintaining the home, and caring for the children. If she has a job outside the home she must attend to that also. The husband is the primary provider for the family. Here that role is taken very seriously with large sacrifices being made to ensure that a family unit thrives. If the sons do not go to America or some other western country to get ahead, they often take year long work contracts in Saudi Arabia. That is how families increase their standard of living. The women are allowed to return to their own families while the husbands are away or they can stay with their husband’s family. The husband then comes back to visit once every six months or a year, for several weeks. He then returns to Saudi Arabia to earn more money. When the family feels that the man has earned enough to support the family adequately, to buy a new home, or simply to have sufficient money in the bank, the man stops his contracted work in Saudi, and then gets a job in India. Most upper class families here have male family members who work in Saudi. It is the common practice, really the norm, in fact, it is expected. I am hopeful that I have shared this information in a respectful, considerate and compassionate manner. As I strive to understand cultural norms in India, I am hoping,in the process, to increase my own ability to be thoughtful and kind as I reflect upon what I am observing and learning. How we relate to our environment, what we think, how we act I now believe is part nature, part nurture, and part nation. Being in India these two weeks has opened my eyes to a whole different way of life, a life I never would have thought possible, but now, a life I can even understand. Love, Carol Current Mood: thoughtful (20 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, February 3rd, 2006
8:39 am	Life in India The last few days have been a whirl of activity as our time here in Hyderabad is getting short. When I post this entry we will have less than one week left before our return home. It’s amazing how quickly the time has passed and how I yearn for my regular life even as I enjoy the experience of being here. My heart goes out to Matt and Dan especially. Many thanks to them and to all of you who have been encouraging their efforts back at school. I know how rough it is when one of the three of us out for just a day; this three week period is a s-t-r-e-t-c-h even though both of them supported me and extended kindness when I applied for the time off. I know it will be a difficult transition back, just as it was when we first arrived here; yet I am looking forward to returning to the USA. There is so much that we take for granted in our country. Here life is faster paced than usual. There is last minute shopping to get done, museums to visit, etc. When we visited the state museum today we saw a special collection of jewels. They were fascinating! What was also fascinating at the museums and exhibitions is that they charge more money for visitors who are “non-Indian”, as they call us, than they do for their own population, actually ten times as much! It reminds me of how in Europe you have to pay to use the toilets! Every culture has their own unique way of doing things. Our own country is so multi-national that it would be impossible to differentiate who is “Non-American” by simple appearance. Here, even though this is the fifth largest city in India, I have seen only two other Caucasians, other than Karin, Nora and me. We really do stand out here! There were security booths before entering the jewels section. That too was unique. Men went through a routine screening like we do in the States. Women had to go into a curtained area and were frisked thoroughly! How odd it seemed that men were scanned casually and women were checked by other women in a most thorough fashion. However, one of the women guards did tell me I had a nice salwar suit! I thanked her politely and worked to “be one with India” when what I really wanted to say was, “Do you really think all this is necessary!” I mean after all, just what did they think women who were going to see a jewelry exhibition were going to bring in? Somehow the words “dangerous” and “women” in India don’t jive. Still, I was polite and as sweet as I could be (and yes, I know that doesn’t necessarily mean I was either but I do think I was both. I would not want to embarrass Naveed’s sister, Nazima, who was with us.). Naturally, the women’s checkpoint took about ten times as long to complete as the men’s checkpoint. By the time we got inside I needed to go to the bathroom so I went into the women’s bathroom but changed my mind about using it. It was not a “western designed” bathroom as they call bathrooms like we have at home. Instead there was a curved piece of tile laid in the floor that emptied into a pipe in the floor itself. I tried to figure out what I was supposed to “do” but couldn’t come up with anything that made sense to me so I decided to wait until we got home! It was a long morning! I’ve learned that in order to see women and children in India, going to specific places is what one needs to do. There were many beautifully dressed and attractive women at the museums, and lots of school groups too. I’ve learned a lot about the education system here. It is very interesting. All children are “supposed to” go to school but no one checks to see if they do. There are no public schools; instead, all schools are private. The schools advertise for customers. The prices range from minimal to very expensive. Guess which schools are the best? All children wear uniforms to school. Each school has its own distinct uniform. Parents must buy the uniforms for their children. Schools are divided up by categories. Schools can be all one sex or mixed groupings. After the beginning levels, students must take tests before moving to the next level. Guess what, if they don’t pass the entrance exams, they don’t move on! After a certain level there are state tests that all students must take in order to move to the next level. In Naveed’s family and all the people his family associates with, education is highly valued. His nephews all get private tutoring as well as their private education. Placements in colleges are determined by the scores earned on the state tests! You must earn spots in the schools, with the highest scoring students receiving the spots at the most prestigious universities. I’ve learned that of 30,000 students taking a particular chemistry exam, Naveed’s father scored third highest. That prestige is still part of his legacy today and is what helped his family to be able to flourish here. Jobs are scarce in India, or at least high paying jobs. Naveed’s father earned his job as a chemist/ professor through his educational success. Manzoor earned his professorship in mechanical engineering the same way. Naveed earned his through computer science. Juvairia is working to become a doctor like Azra. If she scores high enough, she can pursue that path. If not, she can switch into another medical field like pharmacy or dentistry. She also goes for an hour of individual tutoring daily to ensure she does well on the state tests. All of this makes for a very stratified society. You need education in order to thrive but education costs money. Without money, you can’t get an education, therefore you don’t thrive. It’s a real Catch-22. Into what family one is born makes a world of difference over here. Naveed’s family’s servants, for example, are people who have been Naveed’s family’s servants for generations! The concept of “moving up” is an American concept. Here, if you are already “up” like Naveed’s family, you have to work hard to stay there. If you are a “serving class” family, that is where you remain unless somehow your family can pay for your education which will give you a way “out”. But I think that is rare. I think in India, it is easier to move down in this society, if you are not careful, than it is to move up. Naveed’s family is not wealthy but they are far removed from the masses. I don’t know who the rich would be since that is not the group in which we travel. But I am grateful that his family is not poor either. The poor here work so hard and earn so little. Karin was concerned because her salwar suits are sent out to be ironed by a woman who comes to Naveed’s family’s home everyday. I reminded Karin that the woman needs the work or she would have no money to support her family. With so many people competing for jobs, the pay scale here is really low. With a low pay scale, more people can have jobs because other people, like Naveed’s family, can afford to pay them for doing work. It’s a vicious cycle in a way. With the laundry person charging so little to iron the clothes, Naveed’s family pays her. If she charged more, they would look for someone else who charges less, or do it themselves. And in populated India, there is always someone who will do the job for less because they are desperate! In this country, the people who are Naveed’s family’s servants are fortunate. They have a steady income and job security. They are also treated well. They were invited to the wedding celebration as guests. And they work hard while probably making only little money by our standards. But they have work! So many other people in India don’t. I don’t pretend to have any solutions or answers. This is just a narrative of what “is”. I’ll write again soon. Carol Current Mood: pensive (17 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, February 2nd, 2006
4:31 pm	Greetings from Hyderabad! This will be a short post because we are having a very busy two days! I will hopefully have time to write more extensively soon. We went to a state run handicrafts exhibition and shop yesterday and this morning we went to the state cultural museum and also visited a famous jewelry exhibition of the last Nizams. The Nizams were rulers of Hyderabad until independence in the 1940’s, and were extremely rich, like the Rockefellers and Vanderbilts. I am healthy and doing well. Karin and I are spending quality time together with Nora as Naveed is spending more time with his family here. Nora is growing by leaps and bounds and is a joy to be with! Karin is a fabulous mother and I am very proud to be with her. Tonight we are returning to the state run Exhibition we’ve visited once before. More later. Love to all my family and friends. Carol Current Mood: busy (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, February 1st, 2006
8:39 am	"Somewhere Out There"... Somewhere Out There… Thank you Fitch, for reminding me about the words to that song. It seems that in the mornings now when I wake up, I hear that song playing in my mind, and it’s good. It reminds me that I am not alone, that there are many people who I love, and who love and care about me too. And so life is good, even with all its complications and messiness. As usual, it is early morning, 3 AM, and the world seems quiet. It is a good time for reflection. Yesterday as I was recovering from being so sick, a man came to visit. He was Manzoor’s father. It was unusual in several ways. First, I was resting up in my room and Naveed asked me if I would please come down to meet this man. That in itself is strange since men and women mostly don’t spend time together except in larger family groupings. But I gladly complied. Naveed asks very little of me, and if he wanted me to meet this man, that was good enough for me. Well, as I entered the parlor (the formal meeting place and the room usually reserved for men to meet) something struck me about this slight man who was visiting. I felt drawn to him with warmth that I couldn’t explain. It turns out he was a district superintendent of schools and had wanted to meet me because of my own line of work, and so we chatted easily about education and how I found life in India, etc. Then I began to “see” something else. This slight man, 75 years old, looked just like my father! Except for his dark skin, he looked so much like my father, except healthier than when I last saw my dad. He had the same slight build, same hair line, the same fine nose (I always liked my father’s nose), the same warm smile and good teeth. Even his large framed glasses were like my father’s, as were his gentle yet friendly mannerisms! I was astonished and asked him if I could take his picture. He graciously complied. I am sharing this story because it makes me mindful of God’s mercy. Could it be that in this far off land, with me feeling so sick and upset with myself for vomiting at Karin and Naveed’s wedding celebration, that God sent this man to comfort me? To make me remember my father and the numerous times my father had comforted me as a child after throwing up? When I awoke, this morning that’s what I thought of, God’s mercy. Not a bad way to wake to the start of a new day. So Daddy, wherever heaven is in that “somewhere out there”, beneath this clear India sky, I think about you -- and I am grateful that Manzoor’s father reminded me of you and the comfort and love you so freely provided me during the many years we spent together. And so another day begins for me even as yesterday was spent in recovery for me and preparations by Asma for returning to her home. Asma and I were able to spend some private time alone before she left, sharing yet again in the connectedness between us. By five in the evening Asma, her husband Umrayar, their daughter Juvaria, and their two sons, Abdur Rahman and Abdur Raheem had departed. The house seems strangely quiet and empty. Everyone else went to the train station with them, to wish them a good journey, except for Naveed’s mother and me. Today, without Asma, will start a new chapter in my life here. With love, Carol Current Mood: grateful (20 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, January 31st, 2006
3:19 pm	Hi, it's Karin Mom asked me to provide an account of last night so here it is.  We began getting ready around 7 PM, with Naveed wearing a traditional men’s outfit of a long embroidered camel colored-top with cream colored cotton pants (Kurta pajama – no idea how to spell it). He even had special shoes which reminded me of what a genie would wear, which we had gotten when we went shoe shopping a couple days back. We attempted to put Nora in her outfit, but it was too tight so we had to go to plan B, another cute, but not traditional dress. While this was going on, Naveed’s sister Azra was attempting to get Mom in her sari. Mom already had her petticoat and top on, but the fabric must be draped in a special way, and Mom had to sit down many times while they were wrapping it around her. My heart just broke (along with everyone else’s) as we saw her struggle to make herself well even though she was too weak and ill to stand for longer than 15 seconds. Finally she was finished and it was my turn. Mom’s sari was a deep maroon with beautiful ornamental shimmering beading. Mine was turquoise with magenta around the edges, also with beading. They wrapped me up and pinned me to make sure that Nora wouldn’t mistakenly undo me while we were at the party. We had to escort Mom down the stairs to make sure she wouldn’t fall if she passed out, and then Manzoor took us in his car the short distance to the function hall. When we arrived, we could see many men in front of us sitting together in a large open room. Naveed told us that the ladies’ entrance was to the right so Nazima took Mom to go and sit, and Juvairia took me a couple minutes later into the ladies’ area, which was partitioned off from the men’s by a maroon colored curtain. As Mom sat among all of the relatives, alone in a sea of beautiful salwar suits and sarees and long black braids, I was escorted to the front to meet all of the female relatives. I was introduced by Nazima to everyone, and it was so nice to meet so many women that I had heard about. Nazima was careful to tell me who each person was, “This is my father’s brother’s daughter”, etc. and each person seemed eager to meet me. After the introductions, I got to see how they made all of the food. Nazima took me to the back of the hall, and I was shocked to see a dirt floor and huge cauldrons which held chicken and other dishes. They were made over an open flame. I also saw a man frying something that reminded me of a flat samosa (can’t recall the name right now) also over an open flame. Samosas are fried pyramid shaped pastries stuffed with potatoes, peas and other yummy things. It was like they had transported me to a totally different place, because one wouldn’t have even known it existed because it was so well hidden. Then it was time for Naveed, myself and Mom to go and receive the garlands up on the stage. As they put the garland on me, I thought, I don’t know if Mom will be ok with the smell of these, and as soon as I thought it, she threw up. It was so shocking (but totally understandable!) that I don’t think anyone knew what to do. Everyone just sat there for a couple very long seconds. Then they went into action, a man coming to change the sheets that covered the floor of the stage and people moving Mom down into the chairs. Mom was very embarrassed and we all just felt bad that she wasn’t feeling well. I really wanted her to go to the doctor, but she refused. She decided to apologize but I felt it really wasn’t necessary. People get sick and there is little they can do about it. Everyone understood and no one was angry. Their hearts just went out to her. The evening progressed and Mom left soon after. Before she left though, I sat behind her to just relax for a couple minutes (Naveed had graciously taken care of Nora through all this with help from Juvairia) and two of Naveed’s female cousins came and sat right next to me. They were eager to talk with me, and hear what I had to say. It felt funny being the center of attention, as I really haven’t been since Nora has been around, and before I knew it, all of the young women had turned their chairs to talk to me as well. After a while, Nazima took me again to meet more people, and I heard the men eating behind the screen that was set up. Once they had finished, we got our turn. We would have all eaten at the same time, but they had neglected to put up a screen in the middle of the dining area. It turned out that I only ate with Azra since everyone else was busy chatting with or entertaining other guests. She showed me what to eat when, and I enjoyed the food immensely. The biryani (a traditional Hyderabadi dish with meat and rice) was very spicy, and even Azra commented that it was too hot for her. Once we were finished, a waiter came over and offered to wash my hand (I am left-handed, but ate with my right just in case anyone was looking). He did, and it felt nice, but then he wanted a tip. So far on this trip, I haven’t carried any money with me, so I had nothing to give. Luckily, Azra took care of it. I guess they only offer to wash the hands of the important people (obvious from my henna hands I suppose – oh wait, maybe it was my white skin and reddish hair, hmmm). After that, everyone chatted and Nora entertained herself with her cousins on the stage, throwing rose petals from our garlands and just running around. As time went on, people left and others gave us more gifts and garlands. Once most of the people had left, Nora got tired and starting tripping and falling a lot, so I knew it was time to go. We left with Uncle Siraj and Ammi (Naveed’s mom), along with Juvairia, and finally went to sleep after changing into our pajamas. I felt like Cinderella returning from her ball – back to work! It was an exciting and very exhausting night. I was sad that Mom wasn’t there to experience all of it but glad that she had decided to return home because she was not well. She seems better today, but still weak. Hopefully, her condition will continue to improve. One more thing I forgot to mention, Naveed’s sisters’ outfits were stunning. Azra wore an iridescent magenta heavier silk sari, and Asma had on an olive and pumpkin heavily beaded sari. Nazima’s was an aqua sari and they all looked beautiful! I know that Mom wouldn’t have wanted me to leave that out.  Current Mood: calm (5 Comments |Comment on this)
9:48 am	I am not God I am not God. I can not move Heaven and Earth. I cannot control everything that happens in the world. I cannot even control myself. I am weeping as I write this entry. Last night at the marriage celebration of Karin and Naveed and the honoring of Nora’s birth - as Karin, Naveed, Nora, Naveed’s mother and father and I all sat in special chairs on a Dias in front of hundreds of his relatives – at the very moment that garlands of flowers were placed over our heads to commemorate this most festive occasion – at that very moment, I began vomiting. Not soft, “Oh excuse me while I get sick vomiting” no, instead; retching, heaving, sick, projectile vomiting in spasms that repeated themselves three or four times! All over the Dias, all over my garlands of flowers, all over the floor, all over my new sari, and I think, all over Naveed’s father who had the bad fortune of sitting next to me. I remember the silence. It seemed to last an eternity as I sat hunched over, sweating, trying not to fall into the vomit on the floor all around me. The silence continued even as someone – maybe several people - came over to help me, to take the garlands off me, to help me stand, to escort me to a seat in the audience area. I wanted to die right there, first from being so physically drained and weak, and then from mortification of what had just happened. I started to cry (I always cry after I throw up) and knew I needed to do something as I began to recover from the vomiting. Thank God, I’ve read Jane Eyre. Ever since I first read that book as a young child I thought she was so brave as she had to stand on a chair in front of all the other children in the orphanage and endure their stares as penalty for something that happened that wasn’t her fault. I vowed even then that I would not flinch from what had to be done, myself, should I ever find myself in a similar situation. So, with Jane Eyre as my role model, and with Karin and Naveed’s ok, I stood up and unsteadily walked to the front of the reception hall, at the foot of the Dias, covered in my own wiped off vomit and I apologized to everyone there, even as tears streamed down my face, for what had just happened. I’m sure my words didn’t carry or even make much sense but I am hoping that the sincerity of my apology could be seen by those who looked at me with their kind, if shocked and startled faces. I then returned to my seat. After recovering a bit more, I went home, with Nazima accompanying me, in her role as the youngest sister. She helped me get into my nightgown and in bed before returning to the reception. Naveed’s family had wanted to stop the celebration and take me to a hospital but I couldn’t bear it, and both Azra (the doctor) and Asma (who knew my heart) both agreed with my desire just to go home and have the reception continue. So that is my story. I slept from the time I got home, until now (3:30 AM). I will ask Karin to write another version of the party and include her words in my journal since I have nothing more to add except that I had been seriously ill throughout the day and thought I could “will” myself to be better for the party. So much for my force of will! With humility, Carol Current Mood: distressed (26 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, January 30th, 2006
8:23 am	Henna Some details to take care of first. Dan and Lucille, please write an email to me on group wise. Just say hi, no need for an actual message. I cannot write you unless I hear from you first since Naveed’s family’s computer does not support my address book. Thanks. Matt, thank you for faithfully writing and sharing the important information I need to have. I appreciate it greatly. Dave, how do I print out my journal entries? I want to save my initial posts as well as all the comments and I’m afraid I will lose them since I can only access the most recent 11 posts. Either please assure me I can access all of them when I get home or please start printing them for me now so I don’t lose them. Thanks sweetheart! Mom, how are you? I have not heard from you. Please know I think of you often and love you very much! As I’m writing this it is early morning. Loose dogs are barking in the background; the city traffic is starting in earnest. I am typing lying in my bed and keep getting jolted every time I look down at the keyboard and see my hands. They are wild! As typical here, since women tend to stay in their homes, our henna was applied here instead of us going to the beauty/henna shop. Wait till you see the pictures. It was quite an experience. I’m glad I had it done once but I don’t know if I’ll have it done again. I certainly don’t feel like me, but then again, I wanted to “be” India and this certainly is part of the experience. Here’s how it works. A beautician is charged with completing the designs. Since Karin and I (parents are highly honored here) are the most special women in the upcoming celebration, our hands were painted the most intricately. The other family women also had their hands painted to indicate their status as part of our honored group, but their hands were not completely covered with the henna designs. As the mother of the “bride” I also got henna designs on my feet and ankles. Karin could have had that done too but chose not too. The henna comes in a tube very much like a small pastry decorating device pastry chefs use to decorate cakes. For my hands, the woman worked over an hour creating the patterns and designs. My feet took less time since the designs weren’t so intricately drawn. The henna is squeezed out as a fine paste which then must be allowed to harden. This takes another two hours, during which time you are not supposed to use your hands. As the paste hardens it starts to contract, feeling like you must start to scrape it off immediately! But instead, you are supposed to wait for it to disengage from your skin by itself and fall off! While I found the drawing and creativity of the designs fascinating, it is the waiting around afterward that wasn’t fun. Asma told me that for weddings, the hands are painted two days before the actual wedding ceremony and then sugary syrup is placed on top of the henna. This syrup makes the dye set more permanently but the woman can’t use her hands for two days and must remain still! She is fed by her sisters and mothers and assisted in doing any other tasks, such as going to the bathroom, because she cannot use her hands. Asma did not like that! Still, these henna hands are considered to be extraordinarily beautiful, and although the men in Naveed’s family never usually comment on anything that pertains to women, they all commented on the beauty of our hands when they were finished. The henna, applied the way we had it done, will last about one week. We are not allowed to wash for twenty-four hours. Good thing the party is not until this evening so I can shower right before! It bothers me not to be able to wash my hands, probably mostly simply because I was told I couldn’t (I hate being told what to do or not do!) or I would spoil the design. Sigh. I still have about 12 hours to go! That’s all for now. I will most likely not write again until after the party occurs. Thank you all for your kind thoughts and best wishes. Love, Carol Current Mood: hopeful (25 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, January 29th, 2006
2:29 pm	Bangles, Shoes, and Breakfast Today is Sunday, it’s already noon and I am writing, sitting next to Nora who is taking a nap looking as beautiful as only a sleeping toddler can look! We have already had a busy day, starting off with breakfast at Azra’s apartment in a neighborhood close by. Her home is lovely! There are marble floors throughout her apartment! I was stunned! Naveed’s family’s home is traditional in design; Azra and Manzoor’s apartment is modern. Typical of what I’ve learned here, his brother and their family own the apartment downstairs from Azra and Manzoor. Families are very important in India, and if you are lucky enough to be from a good, kind family, like Naveed’s or Manzoor’s, it would be wonderful to have such a close family relationship. However, if your family were awful, this type of closeness would be gruesome I think. Anyway we had a wonderful time and Azra and her servant girl made a wonderful breakfast for us. As usual, the food was exotic and fancy, three types of fancy breads, one puffed, one crepe, and one a type of rice cake. Then there were lamb paste patties that were out of this world, fried and crunchy on the outside and soft paste on the inside. We also had a potato dish, chutney, chick peas, and a lentil mixture. It was superb. I know Naveed’s family has reduced the spices on purpose for us and I am most grateful. The food is tasty, always freshly made, and mildly spiced. I feel like every meal is a new wondrous experience. Azra also lent Karin and me jewelry to wear to the wedding celebration tomorrow. I was stunned by her jewelry! She is wearing a shimmering gold and red/burgundy sari tomorrow and has ruby jewelry to wear with it! Chandelier ruby earrings and a matching dangling ruby necklace will be her accessories. She lent me one of her heavy gold necklaces to wear and chandelier earrings to match. She also lent Karin a set. Last night we went to a bangle dealer in the trading bazaar area of Hyderabad and I bought what is called a “complete set” of fancy ornamental glass bangles. They are exquisite with many colored glass particles imbedded in them. They are hard to describe but they cover my arm from my wrist to about five inches up. Some of the bangles are simply blown glass bracelets; some of them are exquisitely detailed glass “gems”. They will look beautiful with my burgundy sari. I think I will look quite elegant and I know I will feel beautiful! We also went shopping for gold jewelry yesterday, and shoes. We also bought Nora a special outfit to wear and Karin and I got our matching petticoats for our sarees. It was a wild day! Every store we went in had about twenty men working who could not stop staring at us. At least now that I understand why they do not smile (that would be considered inappropriate, rude, and offensive) their staring doesn’t bother me as much. Still, it is hard to take, even though I understand it is culturally acceptable to stare. The salesmen were again all men, the customers were mostly women. I bought myself a gold ring to commemorate my trip to India, realizing only later that it cost almost as much as one of my sarees! Gold items are 22 karat gold, sold by weight and mine was over 10 grams (however much that is!) However, it is handmade, looks it, and is quite beautiful. Karin got a ring also, as a gift from Azra to commemorate her marriage to Naveed. Buying shoes was amazing. The store was air conditioned, which in itself is unusual, but with hundreds of people inside, it hardly mattered. Still, I enjoyed the experience very much. As usual there were lots of male employees, those who brought the shoes and others who cleaned up the shoes. The selection process was interesting. You explained what type of function you wanted the shoes for, and then they brought out about twenty pairs of shoes to pick from. From those you select about three to consider, they bring out twenty more pairs, etc! I loved it. I selected my shoes first, getting fancy dress sandals to wear; one beaded pair to match my burgundy outfit and one gold beaded pair for my green/gold sari. It was fun. Then while Karin was waited on I just got to sit and look around. Again I saw the wonderful affection shown so easily among men who had gone shoe shopping together. They were so relaxed and at ease with each other, sitting close together, their bodies touching each other, or one man with his arm draped over the shoulder of another man, or others holding hands as they waited for their shoes. In this store where everyone was there for a purpose, even though people stared at us, it did not feel offensive or intimidating. Again, I think it was also because the ratio of women and men was more equal, with children there also. And the women there were beautiful! As always, the variety of sarees and shalwar pants suits (I was spelling it wrong before) with their variety of colors and fabrics, looked exquisite. Even the women in their burqas smiled back at me when I smiled at them. It was just a great shopping experience. And this morning I got to travel for the first time in a motorized rickshaw! It was great! It felt just like a carnival ride! Asma, Juvaira, Shazaib and I all traveled in one auto while other family members traveled in different ones. I loved the experience and think it is my favorite way to travel. Talk about being one with India, “being India”, this was it! There are no sides on these cars, they are actually little more than three-wheeled golf carts with a lid on top, or bumper cars, but they are just right for the extensive city traffic! It was a great experience and I enjoyed myself immensely. This afternoon Asma’s husband is arriving to join in the festivities tomorrow and then she is going back with him, her two sons, and daughter; on Tuesday. More than anyone else here I have bonded with her and I will miss her greatly when she leaves. Somehow, even though we grew up in different cultures, and we never met before, I have felt a special bond with her. Although she is only 39, we seem to have kindred spirits in some way. She is the oldest sister and the one others turn to for guidance and direction. She is also kind and gentle and understanding and open to both hearing and speaking what is in her heart and thoughts, and in mine. Who could ask for finer qualities in a person? Plus I have spent the most time with her since Naveed’s other sisters both work and are away during the day times. I will miss Asma. She is wise and patient, and helpful. Even if our paths never cross again, knowing her had added to the quality of my life and my life is richer simply for having known her. I get sad when I think of her leaving. News flash! I have just been told that the women who are going to apply the henna have arrived. I’m so excited to have this done! Now I will have the chance, sharing in one more family experience, as all the women in Naveed’s family will have this fancy dye applied, designed just for us, and painted on our hands. I’ll take pictures! Gotta go! Love, Carol Current Mood: excited (8 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, January 28th, 2006
8:39 am	Preparations for the BIG Celebration It’s 3 AM, I slept “late” this morning and just returned to my room after being outside on our walkway. It is so beautiful out; the weather is cool, the sounds of the city muffled, a dark teal colored sky with remnants of night hanging on it, twinkling stars and the sickle shaped moon of the USSR or Islamic countries still in the heavens. I remember when I was principal at RRS, we used to take our sixth graders camping to Fahnstock and often I would wake at about the same time as this and walk around the camp reveling in the beauty of a new day, feeling the sacredness of being alive. I remember how often LeRoy would be doing the same thing and how we would greet each other with gladness as we saw each other, both pleased to experience the blessings of a new day. For me, one of the wonderful gifts of being alive is how memories can flood my heart unexpectedly at times that seemingly have no relation to where I am at the present. So LeRoy, wherever you are this day, know that at 3 AM, in India, my thoughts were appreciatively, of you! The routine of life here has become known to me, and I am grateful for that. I like knowing and being able to forecast what will occur with some level of predictability. Since I am an early riser I am the first of our smaller family unit to shower and start the day. There is a special water heater I have to turn on in our bath house to heat the water. Then I wait about 15 minutes until the water heats. The first two days I didn’t know about the water heater and just thought I had to shower with cold water. It was ghastly! Then, ever the bright person, I mentioned it to Karin who asked why I didn’t heat the water first! Duh. Now I like to shower here. There is a big bucket that I fill and a smaller pitcher that comes with it. It is not hard to shower this way and I really like the cool air of early morning mixed with the sensation of the warm water on my skin. Reminds me of when, with my sister’s family, we would go to Bethany Beach and use the outside shower at the Wadley’s house after being at the beach all day. Boy, I’m beginning to wonder if I’m a little homesick – the image came to me of “Heidi” who climbed into the bell tower of the church when she was in the city, to see if she could find her beloved mountains! Thankfully, all those years I’ve spent working with Marsha has taught me that having mixed feelings is normal, that a multitude of different feelings can exist in concert with each other at the same time, and it’s all OK. So, I acknowledge that I am missing the many people whose presence comprise the essence of my everyday life in New York while I still am relishing the opportunity of being here. To all of you who are dear to me, thank you for helping to make my life so full and rich, for sharing who you are with me, and for allowing me to be real with you. I have a truly blessed life! Here, preparations have begun for the upcoming family celebration of Naveed and Karin’s marriage, and the fête of the birth of Nora. It is very exciting! Naveed and Manzoor went to rent a function hall, arrange for the caterers and attend to the special details of the event. How different that is from our country where women would be the ones who traditionally do that! Then Karin and Naveed went shopping yesterday with Asma and Juvairia for their special clothing. I stayed home to care for Nora while she slept. Naveed bought himself a special type of Indian suit for the occasion. Karin said he looked gorgeous trying it on! The particular type of suit he bought has a special name but since no one else is awake yet, I can’t ask what it is! Karin also bought a fancy, decorated sari for herself. Actually, she bought three sarees but one was purchased especially for this celebration. Nora will also wear festive clothing, but it has not yet been determined what that will be. Karin and Naveed brought home a special outfit for Nora, but Nora hated it! Afraid she would tear at all the decorative beading, they decided to return the one they purchased and look for something, still fancy, but more child-friendly. The tailor will make the bodices for Karin’s sarees and then we will all be ready to party! I received my bodices back; they fit well and will look beautiful under my elegant sari fabric. I know I will feel lovely and so feminine when I wear them! This upcoming celebration is a VERY big deal! It will be Karin and Naveed’s fourth marriage reception! How lucky are they! Naveed’s sisters are taking Karin and me out shopping today to get specific sandals to wear with our sarees, to purchase special petticoats that will go under the silk, and to purchase an assortment of bangles to wear. I wish I had brought mine from home! They would go so nicely with the burgundy sari I’m going to be wearing. Actually, my lack of jewelry here makes me stand out. Gold jewelry seems highly prized and the total grams of gold in each piece are part of ordinary discussion. Naveed’s sisters and mother all wear several heavy gold necklaces of varying designs and gold bangles. Adornment for this special occasion seems to be of paramount importance. All the women in Naveed’s family, including Karin and me, will spend hours on Sunday getting henna applied to our hands. Specially trained women will come to the compound to do this for us. We then must remain still to allow the henna designs to dry, for about two hours! Depending on the type of special sandals we buy, we might get our feet done too. The party itself is scheduled for Monday. I will share more details I know them. And so, another day begins in India. The sun is not yet up but soon the call to prayer will begin, and the city will become alive once more. I will take my shower, braid my hair, and don one of my new, hand tailored suwar suits. Many thanks to all of you who keep us in your thoughts and prayers. With love, Carol PS, I have had a chance to go back through some of the individual posts and answer questions. Current Mood: peaceful (34 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, January 27th, 2006
8:30 am	(Longwinded) Bits and Pieces It’s 2:30 in the morning and the city sounds are strangely quiet, just an occasional car or motor scooter. My computer is set for NY time and I see it is 4 PM there. That knowledge makes me ache on the inside. My thoughts are of work, well not actually work, but of the people I know and love there. I wish I had access to the family computer so I could IM people but that room is used for sleeping and I cannot enter there. Still I am grateful for where I am staying. The apartment area we have is private, upstairs, and I have my own room. I think I have the best room in the house! Although it is small, my bed is right below the window and I can do sit-ups to see what is outside whenever I hear a noise I don’t identify. Once I heard a rumbling that sounded like a tank, and it almost was one. In the middle of the night one of those huge asphalt rollers went right by the house! Another time I heard cow bells and saw that an ox (or buffalo?) was going by with a cart and man heading somewhere (by the way, did I mention that it is buffalo milk we drink?). The variety of experiences here is really remarkable. So, as I sit typing on a word document, that I will save to my memory stick that I will then insert into the card reader on Naveed’s family computer, and post later; I think I’ll take some time to reflect on bits and pieces: The weather is much nicer than I expected. The nights are cool (I sleep under a fleece blanket) and the days are balmy. We are here at the best time, weather wise. It is not humid! In fact it is dry. So far the temperatures have been in the 80s and most comfortable. Naveed’s family has ceiling fans in all the rooms and I have not been hot and sweaty as I expected to be. The Indian women’s clothing is wonderful and perfect for the climate! The cool cotton pant suits are light, airy and non-restrictive in their bulkiness. The sarees are open and breezy. I feel very comfortable wearing the Indian clothing and like the colors which I can’t seem to ever get used to seeing. Actually, the longer I’m here, the more beauty I see in the clothing the women wear! I truly believe that women in India are the most beautiful women there could ever possibly be! The fabrics are so extraordinarily stunning that they are what I focus on. I know every person here can’t be physically beautiful (could they?) but that is how it seems to me. Everywhere I look, if there is a woman nearby, she looks gorgeous to me in the clothing she is wearing. The ratio of men to women is probably 100:1 when we are in the general population. That does not feel safe or comfortable for me. Most men here stare directly and intently, and they don’t smile with their eyes or make me feel welcome in any way. In fact, the staring causes a chilling effect on me and I don’t like it. I hadn’t really thought about the actual ratio until yesterday when I responded to Shana’s post about feeling intimidated, and then I thought initially that the ratio was a lot less. However, last evening when we went out as a family, I actually counted while we were driving. Now used to the way driving is done, it was easy for me to count by fives (since the streets are so crowded) and get a more accurate ratio. The ratio I listed above of 100:1 was accurate both driving to the formal gardens we visited, and for our return trip also. It is an unnerving ratio. Urinating, men do it everywhere! I guess because the streets are predominantly filled with men, and because the city is so populated and in ways third world”ish”, it appears many men feel that they should just urinate wherever they are. While they may urinate against a wall, or turn away from the street as they urinate on the walkway, they pretty much just urinate as they will – and no one acts as if they notice! In the short time I have been here I have seen more men urinating than I have seen in my entire life, and I’ve been married twice! It is startling to see. Open affection in men is something else that is unusual by our standards, but something that is pleasing to witness. I do not think people are openly homosexual here, and have not seen people who are overtly gay or lesbian. Instead, it is common for men to be outwardly affectionate with each other. Naveed explained that if men are close friends, it is considered appropriate for them to walk arm in arm, holding hands, or with their arms draped around each other. I have seen men kiss each other affectionately too. Men, young and old, show affection easily toward each other and it is nice, if startling, to see. Last night, for instance, when we were visiting a famous landmark here (fancy, beautiful, formal gardens), many men and teenage boys were walking, talking and animated, traveling in groups and holding each other’s hands. Interestingly, when we were in the gardens (with many women and children also there), the whole atmosphere felt different, much more “normal” by American standards, and the stares of people did not feel obnoxious because women and children were also there in abundance. Eating food without utensils is easy. Naveed’s mother maintains a traditional Indian home. The food the servants prepare is complexly planned, created, and served. There are at least five or six different things to eat at each meal, and it is eaten the traditional way, using one’s right hand (well, Karin is left handed and that is fine with the family). Naveed’s family has silverware, and offered it for our use, but we all eat with our hands like the rest of his family and it seems right to do so. And it is easy! There are either flat breads similar to a fajitas, that I tear apart and use to scoop up the food, or there is traditional “pan”, a puffier type of bread; or “poppers”, a rice flour puffy, crunchy, light large potato-chip like structure to eat. The food is specially prepared for us in a light spicy way, and other versions of the same dish are prepared with the traditional spices for Naveed’s family. I tried one of the spicier versions once and tears came to my eyes and my tongue stung. Since then I have stayed with the special versions that are made for us. I have found the food wonderful! The variety and skill with which it is made is superb. I have gotten into the habit of only eating breakfast (8:30) and lunch (2 PM) here because the food is so good and I certainly don’t want to gain weight while I am here. Supper is traditionally served around 9 PM and by that time I am ready to call it a day anyway. It is impossible to adequately relay the preparation that goes into making this food. However, one small example might suffice to give a hint of the complexity. Yesterday we had sesame chutney as one of the accompaniments. The sesame seeds were ground by hand into a paste (think about how many sesame seeds it would take to make a pint of this chutney), the garlic was chopped, fresh spices ground, and other freshly prepared items were added. It is remarkable, the variety and quality of food we eat every day! Servants are wonderful. I understand it is not politically correct to feel this way but I do! The servants Naveed’s family employs number from 2-4, depending on the type of tasks required on a specific day. I do not know how that is determined but I imagine Naveed’s mother handles that detail. I think it is the traditional term “servants” that throws people into a state of self-consciousness. I view them as valued employees who perform a much wanted service and I am delighted they are here. With them there are no foods that we need to prepare, no clean-up that needs to be done, the courtyards are swept and washed daily, errant leaves that fall from the tropical trees are gathered and disposed of, errands are run, laundry is gathered, washed, dried, and returned; garbage is collected, special needs addressed, and tea, wondrous hot, sweet tea with milk, is served on trays just when it might taste the best! I do not know why being served tea pleases me so much but it does! Somehow it is like a jolt of gentility that is unexpected and it feels like an act of kindness. It’s just wonderful and I know I will miss the experience when I leave here. It is just so pleasing to me. Sleeping and room arrangements are functional and unique here, compared to how we use rooms in America. Naveed’s family’s home has a large front courtyard where visitors would enter the house through the main front door. Servants go through the courtyard on the side of the house, through an arched, gated walkway, to the back where our servants would normally be. The main entrance to the house if usually left open and looks inviting (the compound itself is closed off from the streets by heavy, large, high gates). Inside the house, the main entrance has a seating area and off to one side is the parlor where formal entertaining is done. On the other side of the entrance is the women’s sleeping and sitting area. This room has two large king size beds on both walls. A large quilted covering similar to a bedspread is on the floor between the beds but it is not a rug. Instead, it is a sitting area. This is the room where people generally are located. The women and Naveed, since he is the son and brother, gather here throughout the day to talk and spend time together. Naveed’s family members are comfortable together and we all lounge easily on the beds, and floor. Sitting Indian style is the norm. Naveed’s mother, who is frail and not well, lies on the bed and is the central, pivotal person of this home. Her daughters, grand daughter and Naveed seem to love her dearly and ensure that she is well cared for. On the two occasions she has left the compound (when we arrived and last night when we went to the formal gardens) everyone is solicitous and kind to her, doting on her and ensuring she is comfortable. She is weak and cannot walk for any length of time. Going to the gardens was a strain for her but it was something she likes to do, so she came with us and was able to enjoy the gardens sitting on benches as we all walked around. Later she was able to take a train ride around the gardens with us before returning home. In the house is also another bedroom which is the male bedroom. In here is another large bed, the computer, and a variety of family storage cabinets and bookcases. People freely congregate here also. During the day, it is the play room for the children but they freely play throughout the house as well. Next to this room is a large dining room with associated pantries. This room looks out onto the large back courtyard. In the far corner of the courtyard is a small free standing house. This is the kitchen where the servants prepare the food and where the kitchen sinks and stoves are located. There is also a family sink on the house side of the courtyard where people wash up before and after eating. The family house also has three toilets and two showers, counting both downstairs and upstairs. Upstairs there is a separate living area and that is where Naveed, Karin, Nora, and I stay. There is a separate house that is the bath house and toilet. We also have a large covered veranda and our separate house which includes two bedrooms. There are exotic, potted plants along the balcony that looks down onto the street and front courtyard. This balcony area also allows us to look down onto the back courtyard, as well as across other people’s homes and other areas of the city. It is a lovely location and I enjoy where we are staying. It is private yet attached to Naveed’s family. I like it very much and feel safe and happy here. Mosquitoes, supposedly this is the season for them, but there are hardly any. We use bug repellent when we go out but we have not been bothered by them and frankly, I have seen just a few each day. We have netting on our beds, but I removed mine. I have seen no mosquitoes inside our bedrooms. The windows in our bedrooms all have screens, and even with the doors left open, there are none. I am thinking about not taking the rest of my malaria medication, it seems very unnecessary. Nora is thriving here. She is acting like a big kid! Having four male cousins who find her fascinating, and a teenage girl cousin to supervise them all, has made Nora the center of attention. They delight in her and we do too. Nora is starting to speak! Besides beep-beep she says papa, mom-ee, Oma, bottle (she likes to play with the water bottles) and something that is supposed to be thank-you. Nora is delightful! She now comes over to me, even in the middle of her playing, just to hug me! Boy does that tear at my heartstrings! She signs wonderfully and is able to communicate her needs effectively. She knows and uses the signs for help, water, milk (when she wants to nurse), more, cat (there are feral cats here) and no (the universal sign of shaking her head and pushing you away). Nora loves to have me sing to her and will sit on my lap as I sing, signing “more” whenever I stop. That works well for me because I like to sing and this gives me a great opportunity to do so. Many times, after I sing Nora’s action songs, I switch to lullabies and as she is sitting on my lap facing me, she will reach around me and hug me to her. I hug her tightly back and rock back and forth as I continue to sing and she falls asleep. Then I carefully keep singing softly, climb onto my bed, and let her sleep lying on top of me. It is so wonderful! When Nora sleeps on me like that it overlays with memories of Karin doing the same thing and loves pierces me through and through. Even writing of the sensation brings tears to my eyes. It is the most wondrous gift! Karin is a remarkable mother! I am so proud of the way she cares for Nora. Karin is kind and patient, understanding and attentive. At first I think Karin missed Nora as Nora started to play with her cousins and didn’t seem to need Karin as much. However, Karin is the person Nora needs the most, and the one who provides her with the sustenance and safety she needs to be independent. Karin is always there for Nora and by her very presence, nurturance, and guidance, helps Nora to thrive. Being a mother of the quality that Karin is, requires true sacrifice of self and it is a privilege and honor to witness the skillful parenting Karin provides. Naveed is happier and more animated than I’ve ever seen him to be. Here he is outgoing, helpful, kind and social. He plays easily with Nora and his nephews and obviously is close to his family. His mother and Naveed seem to have a special relationship and I am so glad we were able to come at this time. Seeing his mother so weak must be hard for him, but he spends much time with her and frankly, I think his very presence helps her! I enjoy hearing Naveed laugh out loud when Manzoor is here and they are discussing whatever it is they are talking about, or when he plays with the children. Naveed seems happy, lighthearted, relaxed, gregarious, unfettered and very much alive! It is good to see. Me, I’m doing well. I feel safe with Naveed’s family and glad to have them filter my India experience. I am surprised by my sense of unease when I am surrounded by strange, unsmiling men when we are in public. I do not feel safe then and am always glad for the companionship of Naveed’s family at those times. I like that I have a good automatic response system that makes me appear more confident than I sometimes am. Years of honing that skill is useful here. I like Naveed’s family and feel a particular bond with Asma who sat quietly and compassionately with me yesterday afternoon when I wept telling her how much I missed my father and how he and I had picked out his gravesite together and how honored that made me feel, and how I miss and long for his tenderness and merciful guidance. It’s funny how grief can steal into my heart so unexpectedly, how I can miss my father in a place so far from home, how I can cry with Naveed’s sister whose kindness toward me leaves me vulnerable and open. And I struggle to find the right balance with Karin. I want to help, to care for Nora and yet not overstep Karin’s role or authority. I want to find a balance that feels good for Karin and for me. I want there to be ease and comfort between us and characteristic of both Karin and me, we are working hard together to find that balance. The other night when we were at the exhibition, I left with Asma, taking my purse with me that also had Nora’s water and cheerios in it. While Asma and I were gone, Nora was hungry and ate some food bought at the fairground and then yesterday became really sick, vomiting throughout the morning, I feel really upset that Nora became sick and blame myself for leaving with her food and water. Karin wasn’t happy either, and even though we both learned from the experience, it is hard. A little one should never have to pay the price of my carelessness, and my behavior of wanting to see the exhibits negatively impacted both Nora and Karin. I will do better in the future I know, still, that was a hard lesson and it was Nora who paid the price, not me. Thankfully, one of Naveed’s sisters is a doctor and when Nora became ill, just like she did for Karin, Azra left work, came to our house and took Karin and Nora to see a pediatrician. Thankfully, Nora recovered fast and is healthy once again. With Azra in the family, we seem to have direct access to appropriate medical care! Karin said that both when she went to see a doctor for herself, and for Nora also, they saw the doctors that were the heads of the hospitals and walked right in since Azra knew them both! There are so many things for which to be thankful. One is having a doctor in the family. Another is redemption and second chances. (26 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, January 26th, 2006
9:08 am	The Exhibition I am making two postings today, this one and another about mosques and burqas preceding this one. Hope you enjoy reading what I have to say. Love, Carol By the way, I tried posting pictures? Click on my name and you should be able to see them. Good morning! Today is a “holiday” (I don’t know what type; I just remember that yesterday Manzoor, Naveed’s brother-in-law who is married to Azra, told me so). You might wonder what the significance of a holiday is, well, so far, I’ve noticed that loudspeakers have been playing since about 4 AM! When I first heard the music I thought it was coming from the mosque but then the music didn’t stop, and there are predominantly women’s voices singing with the men’s voices, and it still continues! Even now the music has been blaring in some type of muffled way, for two hours. So, as an outsider to this country, I can conclude that a “holiday” means music playing for the populace. What I’ve also noticed is that except for the music, the regular sounds of the city are missing. The usual blare of vehicular traffic is absent outside. Occasionally, I might hear a car or a scooter but the typical pandemonium is not present. So, except for the blare of the loud speaker music, India is quiet. That in itself is an oddity. Here the noise level is astounding in the outside-the-compound world, like all aspects of life here; the sounds are usually ever present. In fact the cacophony of sounds is part of what I now recognize as “being” India. Ahhhh, the music suddenly stopped. It is 6:30 AM. Now I am hearing people’s voices as they walk by my window. Wait, the music started again! It must have been time to change the CDs. But it does not matter, I am an early morning person anyway, and as usual, I am grateful to be alive and excited to be starting another day. My life is truly blessed! Last night we went to an “exhibition”. The “we” included, Nazima, Naveed’s youngest sister; Karin, Naveed, Nora, and me; Asma, her children Juvairia, Abdur Rahman and Abdur Raheem; and Azra, Manzoor and their children Shazaib and Shasaif. Naveed’s parents Mahmood and Khalida stayed home. (Those of you with a linguist background, can you differentiate between the female names and the male names?) Getting to the exhibition was an experience in itself. In a car, that by American standards would fit four adults, went Manzoor (who drove courageously, aggressively, and “safely”); Azra, Shasaif, Karin, Nora, Naveed, and me. ! The others went by rickshaw. The ride was its customary wild exuberant experience, only this time Nora was awake. She sat on Karin’s lap in the middle of the back seat and thought we were on a roller coaster ride of some sorts (and she was correct). Nora was so happy and excited she could hardly contain herself, and soon was saying “beep-beep” in unison with all the cars! So we all started saying beep-beep and laughing and having a marvelous time. It was fun! The image even now of us doing that is tender and precious. I find myself thinking of dear Karin who brought Nora’s car seat all the way from America who now travels with Nora on her lap! People are by nature survivalists, and we get used to new cultures and ways of doing things, rapidly. Even the driving experience I now view differently. In the short time I have been here, I realize that the crowdedness of India, particularly this city, necessitates driving the way it is done here. People have to get where they are going and pedestrians, bicyclists, rickshaws, cars, trucks, and buses all compete for the same space. Although it is terrifying by our standards, it is what is necessary if people are to move around. And so we adjust our thinking and our standards, and life continues. When we got to the “exhibition” we started off walking together but soon Asma and I decided to travel on our own (Thank God!). Naveed’s family is very polite with each other and if one person wanted to stop to see things (mostly cloth from various parts of India) everyone would stop and wait. After about half an hour of this slow travel Asma told the others that she would see to it that I got home safely and so off we went. It was great! Asma wore a pink head covering of traditional Muslim women, speaks with a low, lilting voice and can bargain like I can’t believe! (Toby, you two would get on famously and I would love to see you both bartering in the same place!) We walked for what seemed like hours and enjoyed each other’s company. What was most joyous for me was not only seeing the different wares, but seeing women and children! They were everywhere, and for once, outnumbered the men. I felt relaxed and comfortable and free! What a difference WHO the people that are staring at me makes! Here, instead of feeling uncomfortable by the staring, I smiled easily and freely. Compared to the people who habit this land, I am different! I do stand out! And here it was OK, even fun. Children hustled for position to see me better and my smiles reassured their mothers that I was safe! Asma was comfortable with me, I was comfortable with her and life was good. I had a wonderful time looking at the women in their beautiful sarees or suwar suits, or decorative burqas and just breathing in the flavor of India. I had my camera but took not a single picture. Somehow it seemed like this was sacred ground and it just wouldn’t have been right. What struck me most was how much I missed seeing women and children. The ratio of men to women typically out and about must be 20:1 or maybe 40:1. I cannot adequately describe how a mixture of people makes everything feel right to me whereas, the preponderance of men makes me anxious and uncomfortable. It must have been great for the women and families too, to have such an exhibition in town since they don’t get to see many other women or children either. I want to go again and will see if Asma can take me. What was funny (no coincidences in life) was that with all these people, and so many hours passing, as Asma and I were heading to the gate to leave, we ran right into our other family group who had traveled together throughout the time Asma and I traveled alone. We chatted, they ate some specialty foods (like corn dogs only with a large long light green pepper inside instead of a hot dog) and then we headed home. It was a wonderful evening! Current Mood: happy (27 Comments |Comment on this)
9:02 am	mosques and burqas Today appears to be a catch-up day with no special events planned, so I’ll use it to catch-up on details I’ve forgotten to mention before. One of those details includes the Muslim faith as it is practiced here. This morning as I lay awake at that semi-quiet time before sunrise, I heard the calling to prayers from the mosque near by. It has such an eerie sound, almost like a lament. It occurs five times a day but usually the city noise drowns out the singular sound of the call to prayer. The loudspeaker voice drones out repetitious-sounding words I don’t understand. Asma, the woman I spend the most time with, told me that in India only men go to the mosques. She was surprised to hear how women and men were together in the same space when we went to the mosque for Karin and Naveed’s second wedding ceremony. She also told me that in Saudi Arabia (or just Saudi as they call it here) men and women have separate areas but women can actually go into the mosque before being separated. Here in Hyderabad Asma said that women are not allowed in at all. As I’ve come to understand, the women’s place is in their homes and even though Naveed’s family is liberal in their beliefs, women still stay mostly in their homes, unless they go to work. Once out in the general population, women are vastly outnumbered by men. Also here, men are forthright in their manner while women are taught to be submissive and quiet. Asma told me how she likes to wear her burqa when she goes out into the general population because it makes her feel safe. She reports, and I have seen and felt it myself, that men are very obvious in their straight forward staring, and the fact that there are so many of them, feels intimidating. Asma says that when she and other women wear their burqas, men do not bother them, or look at them, that culturally men are taught to respect women in burqas and so she feels safe that way. In Hyderabad Asma does not wear her burqa since her family does not have the practice of wearing one, but she says in Aurangabad, near Bombay, where she lives with her husband’s family, Muslim women all wear burqas. Asma says it is her choice to wear a burqa, she wears one when she feels comfortable to wear one, and doesn’t if she doesn’t want to. She says her husband does not pressure her one way or the other. She also said she can disappear in a burqa, something I can imagine. If that is true, I would have gladly worn a burqa yesterday buying the fabric for my sarees. I can really understand how one could want to be invisible in this densely populated country. Asma let me try on her burqa last night and who I was, my identifying features, except my eyes and eyebrows, just vanished! Especially in this place of vibrant colors black looks like the anathema of the norm, something to stay away from, so maybe the burqa does what it is supposed to do. Still, I think I would have liked having it on in the fabric store. I also hope that my description does justice to Asma and other women who wear burqas. I would not like to be disrespectful to anyone who has shown only kindness to me. One of my goals for this trip was to return to New York kinder, wiser and more compassionate. I hope that those qualities are demonstrated in the way I write this entry, even though so much of what is practiced here does not match with how I would personally want the world to be. I still strive for understanding and gentle judgment. Surely anyone could be harsh with me and how I choose to live my own life. I do not wish to be that way toward others. I never respond well to harshness but compassion and kindness feel like gifts. I hope to “gift” Naveed’s family with the way I interpret what I see and experience here. Current Mood: contemplative (9 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 25th, 2006
1:44 pm	Going Shopping! I’m feeling frustrated as I write this. I lost an entire post that I wrote previously and my anger at my carelessness is so extreme that I can’t seem to shake it. What I had written was a detailed account of my shopping experience to buy sarees and I had paid particular attention to my writing because the experience was so vivid and important to me. As I was just re-reading the post one last time before sending it, I highlighted one word that I wanted to change and must have inadvertently hit some monstrous key that deleted my entire article! Nothing I could do to retrieve my writing worked and I cried bitter tears with my frustration. Now it is hours later and I am going to attempt to re-create what I wrote although the spontaneity of that original post will necessarily be missing. But before I begin, I would like all of you who have written comments to me to know how much those comments mean to me. While I enjoy writing and creating a live journal for its own intrinsic value, it is encouraging and pleasing to know others also find it worthwhile and informative. Thank you, all, for your kind words. Your comments have a huge impact on me, even as I am half way around the world from you. Please keep your comments coming, you cannot begin to know how truly I value them. My heartfelt thanks. Now I will work to re-construct my shopping experience… The day started out like an ordinary day, well, as ordinary as any day could be when visiting India. The perpetual sound of horns honking, motorized scooters scooting by, vendors calling out their wares as they shuffle down the streets, people talking – the bright sun, cool morning, servants cleaning up and making breakfast, being served tea. But soon all of that changed. One of Naveed’s sisters, Asma, and her 16 year old daughter, Juvairia, asked if I wanted to go shopping for sarees. I said an immediate yes! Karin was still too weak to go so Asma called a taxi and the three of us went off on our adventure, me taking 10,000 rupees to spend. A white, old fancy car came for us. I was surprised that it was not one of the three wheeled motorized rickshaws and only learned later that Asma had ordered the taxi, at three times the expense, because she didn’t think I would have been comfortable in the rickshaw. I told her that in the future a rickshaw would be fine, (what difference does it make in what vehicle one rides when death is imminent?). Anyway, the ride was as outrageous as the one we took the previous day. In your wildest dreams, you can not imagine the driving! I wish I had a video camera to tape it. Everyone literally goes wherever they choose to go! It is so crowded that speeds are not higher than maybe 20 mph but the driving is crazy by western standards, yet it is the only way to travel here. It’s really motorized “Chicken” with the bravest and most daring people getting to go where they want. I was fascinated and not nearly as frightened or shocked, it is really amazing how quickly one can adapt to one’s new environment! When we got to the place Asma had selected, I knew it was going to be “different”, and it was. As we approached the store, a doorman, in uniform, was waiting for us. In this wild, teeming place, as we entered inside, the world changed once again. Everywhere I looked was fabric, and men! There were no women, other than the customers and there were about fifty men working inside a moderate sized store, all of them dressed in shirts and ties and fawning over the customers. I began to feel anxious, almost like reverse culture shock. Why would I want men helping me to buy a sari? It was intimidating and I am not easily intimidated! Asma and Juvairia seemed nonplussed by this, however, and led me upstairs where the more exclusive fabrics were. (I had told Asma I wanted a quality sari.) There things were even more intense! There were bolts of fabric lining the walls and on shelves around the entire room, and these were all silk fabrics, some embroidered, some with ornate baubles. Low counters and upholstered chairs were scattered around the elegant room and Asma led us to a grouping of three chairs where I gratefully sat down. The visual stimulation was overpowering, as were all the men looking at us and coming over to help! There was some jockeying for position among the salesmen and finally the four that were going to wait on us were established and the showing of fabrics began. Bolt after bolt of material was spread onto the counters. At one point one of the salesmen even took the material and draped it over himself to show how the folds would look as a sari is worn! I began to shrink on the inside, panic spreading throughout me. I forced myself to look comfortable and calm on the outside and later Asma told me she had no idea I was anxious while I was there so my acting must have been pretty good since in reality I was intimidated, confused, frightened by the intensity of the men and wanted to “bolt” myself. I found that by focusing on Asma and the low, soft, lilting sound of her voice, I was able to hold onto my façade of being ok. The main salesman was forceful in his speech patterns (I couldn’t understand him, it just seemed that way to me), Asma would counter with her soft voice, he would respond loudly, she would turn to translate for me, and I worked to tune out the world and focus only on her. I was so grateful for Asma! She reminded me that it was the salesmen’s job to sell, and it was our obligation to ensure we purchased only what we wanted, not what they were pushing. Asma was a Godsend and slowly I begin to come back into my own skin, motioning some fabrics away, nodding to consider others. We were there for what seemed like hours, but as I got stronger, with Asma’s kind support, I selected two wondrous fabrics for sarees, one gold/soft moss green shimmery fabric with a gold embroidered band, and another burgundy ornamental soft light weight silk with baubles sewn onto the fabric. I spent all my money! Next we went to another store where we bought fabrics for three sulwar suits but those three cost less than one sari, but the sarees were worth it. I will never forget the fabrics I saw, and the ones I purchased will bring me delight for the rest of my life. Later in the evening, the family tailor came to discuss the particular details of the clothing he will make from the fabrics. Since the material was so expensive, he will stitch prototypes first from cheaper fabric, check to see how those clothes fit, and then once I am satisfied with the results from the prototype, he will make the real ones using the fabrics I purchased. Today I am wearing western clothing, and even though they would be fine in NY, I am feeling so out of place. Next, I am going to try to upload pictures. Love to you. Carol (31 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, January 23rd, 2006
6:53 pm	Goat and Lamb and life in the "compound" Ok I've been eating goat and lamb everyday since I've been here, I just didn't know it! I have been told that goat is the preferred meat of Muslims who can afford it and that beef is eaten by the poorer Muslims. Hindu are vegetarians. I'm actually glad I've been eating the meat before knowing what it was, it still causes a gag reflex if I think about goat so I must stop thinking about it and I will. I continue to be healthy and well but Karin became violently ill yesterday, vomiting, etc. We did not go shopping. I continue to enjoy the exotic foods and Karin is working to become more hydrated. Naveed and Nora are well and healthy like me. I also have learned a bit more about Indian life according to the way Naveed's family lives. Before I came here Naveed asked me not to leave the "compound" unescorted and I now understand why. Culturally, women stay mostly in their family compound. For Naveed's family this consists of a large portion of area (by city standards) that is enclosed by a stucco wall, maybe 10-12 feet high. There are gates that open to admit people but it is the servants who greet the other servants who come to the compound. Visitors of the same standing as Naveed's family come in unannounced. No phoning ahead, no knocking, they just arrive. Food is delivered to the compound daily. A servant from the meat market delivers the fresh goat and lamb. A man wheels fresh vegetables along the street and our servant goes to the gate, opens the gate just a bit, buys the vegetables for this day, pays the man, and brings the groceries back to the kitchen area. Another servant from a milk place (?) brings milk in plastic sacks that must hold maybe two cups. The milk is also delivered fresh each day. Additionally, the newspaper is delivered and other items that the family may need is either brought to the family compound, or, if necessary, one of Naveed's family servants, goes out to purchase what is needed and then returns. The creation of meals is a daunting task. Preparation goes on continually throughout the day. It would be impossible for a family to function by these standards without servants. Food is always fresh, always made for that specific meals, and is eaten when served. The family compound is interesting and I am beginning to understand aspects of it that escaped my notice originally. Naveed's father is a respected chemist, a retired professor from one of the high tech universities here. He has his own studio where he tutors men working on advanced degrees (I think) People who want his services just show up, and when they arrive, he works with them in his private office house. I have not noticed any particular pattern or plan but there certainly might be one. Behind the front gates there is a garden that has mango trees, flowering plants and other items. This veranda-like setting continues to the side and there is a courtyard in the back. I believe these courtyards are important for Naveed's family and signify status of some kind. There are separate apartments up some stairs where Naveed, Karin, Nora and I stay. There are also an abundance of potted plants there which must be watered daily by the servants. Upstairs there is a covered porch and a separate bathroom house. The apartments we stay in are two rooms with a balcony overlooking the street. High walls continue around the entire property so this place is a sanctuary of sorts from the hustle and bustle of the outside citylife. I do not think Naveed's mother leaves here often. She came to see us when we arrived at the airport, but mostly, the women stay inside their family compound and are visited there by other family members. The tranquility of the family compound is in stark contrast to the activity beyond the gates. Outside, which can be viewed easily from our rooms upstairs, the third world reality of a changing India is apparent. Poor people push carts filled with produce to sell. Men ride bicycles, homeless people sleep on a stoop of an elegant house across the street, The sounds of the city are ever present except for a brief time around 4 AM when all is quiet for about a half an hour before the day once more begins. I am sure I will absorb even more of this place as we continue to live here. For now I feel safe inside the compound, happy that Naveed's family treats us well, and excited about all that I am learning. Oh, by the way, today I am wearing a lime green and orange pants set that I bought in Queens before I left. Naveed's mother has not yet inspected my bead work so I am not sure of the actual origin of this outfit but I look festive for sure and I like it. More later... Current Mood: content (9 Comments |Comment on this)