Today's Youth

Saturday I got the opportunity to help out at a children’s orphanage just around the other side of the lake. This particular shelter houses around forty children under the age of ten who have some of the best smiles in the world. It was amazing to see how everyone has their own role within this little community. Although these children are living in pretty basic conditions under fairly difficult circumstances with little adult supervision and care, they all seem so incredibly happy. It’s this youthful enthusiasm that makes seeing a place that could otherwise be very difficult truly wonderful. All these kids need is someone to share their stories with, hold them, and feign an interest in their lives and a pure love and happiness is sure to result (a cricket bat doesn’t hurt either). Nevertheless, I’m sure this is a place I’ll keep coming back to. I guess, in that sense, these children have certainly put a spell on me.

Road Block

Last night, walking on the sidewalk on my way home, I was suddenly forced to take a detour. In front of me, on the sidewalk, was an unusual threesome, feasting from the day's spoils. Looking closely at the cow and two dogs eating ravenously away, I decided to embrace the hungry diners. I stepped off the path and let them continue grazing.

Sunday Market

Overflowing with a dreaminess that only first day jetlag can provide, I decided to explore and make my way towards Kodai’s Sunday market. Walking down the steep hill, I am instantly reminded of the sensory overload that is India. Amidst all the bright colors, unfamiliar smells, honking horns, and bustling activity, I can tell that this is a place that I want to be a part of, and is a weekly activity I can fully embrace. For this special occasion, everyone dresses in their Sunday best, not necessarily for church, but for the weekly ritual of seeing all the people of the community. Walking along the countless stands selling fruit, spices, earmuffs, and who knows what else, I can’t help wishing I already speak Tamil. My Hindi skills won’t be useful here because the Tamil pride has been so fervently embraced that even India’s linguafranca, Hindi, is not applicable here. Needless to say, despite the language barrier, I am truly happy to be spending time in this little place in the mountains that despite its location still cannot escape the ever-present honking of car horns.

Indian Arrival

June 11, 2009

It’s midnight at Mumbai’s domestic airport. I have to wait  ‘til morning for my next flight, so I sit in a glimmering, shiny departures hall with other families with carts full of luggage, electronics, and children eagerly waiting to get home. A full day of travel, I suppose, does wear on you differently than other types of exhaustion. In a way, it has left me in a sort of trance where I can neither feel scared or unfamiliar. And although this long (and yet to be completed) rendezvous of travel has diluted my senses to some degree, my bewildered senses, I believe, still remain intact.

Walking out into the brightly lit darkness of the arrivals gate in Mumbai, I can smell monsoon season hovering like a warm blanket over the skyline. During the landing, it was clear that the entire terrain had just been soaked with a fresh, almost cleansing, rainfall. With the rain clouds still hovering nearby, the humidity kisses the skin on my forehead and arms. Soon I am overcome by a whirlwind of confusion, heat, and excitement. I’ve never been here before, yet, it feels somehow familiar, as if I can anticipate everyone’s moves. In that regard I suppose people always stay the same, simply take on the same roles. The masses of people waiting everywhere to pick up their loved ones are just as I left them. The people I meet are still just as eager to learn everything about me, my occupation, my salary, and everything in between within a few minutes. In return, I get the pleasure of learning all about them in short as well. So much so, even, that the mother of two dentists next to me on the plane told me about her angioplasty and showed me her leg wounds from a recent fall within the first ten minutes of the 13 ½ hour flight. Although I have not arrived quite yet, my body remembers what it is like to be in India, the sensory overload, the organized chaos, and the ongoing small personal victories that each minute achievement conjures up (making it through customs, not getting eve-teased on the bus).

And yet, although this first adventure back to India isn’t over yet and at this moment, Kodaikanal seems as far away a place as any, I can tell that this is simply one of those adventures. With this I mean that eventually this trip of navigating the chaos that is foreign airports will go simply go unnoticed in my memory, logged only as a brief whirlwind rather than what now seems like a long series of unfortunate events. All I can do now is hope that I reach my destination.

Peace and Love, Coco.