Bare Necessities

Ah, the secluded mountain life, a way of living many aspire towards. Sometimes, however, the novelty wears off and it simply becomes time to, well, get off the mountain.

After surviving a twelve hour long non-Air Conditioned overnight bus ride full of first class body odor wearers and non-stop starers, I decided to let my hair down (or my sleeves up for that matter) and do what any respectable Indian woman might do when she heads to a metropolis for the weekend with friends: shop. Rupees in hand and Hindi on the brain, I ready myself to bargain my way towards urban retail therapy.

The whole ride down I couldn’t help wondering if it was okay for me to justify an entire trip to Bangalore, formerly known as Bangaluroo, India’s third most populous city to accompany some Indian friends on a tour-de-force shopping trip (with maybe a coffee or two at Café Coffee Day in between). However, sitting in an auto-rickshaw again after so long, my heart yearned back for my former life in Delhi, and the answer came to me as an overwhelming “yes!”

One nice predictable thing about India is that when visiting anywhere, nine times out of ten, there will be a holiday. This weekend many devout Bangalorians were celebrating Lord Ganesha, the elephant god of prosperity, wealth, and good fortunes. Thus, it came as no surprise that throughout the city all weekend long, amidst colored lights and elaborately decorated Ganesha figurines, people were dancing, drumming, and celebrating Ganesha’s givings in true hallucinogenic style. Lucky for me, I was so delirious from my bus ride that while the others complained about the large groups of crazies causing serious bouts of traffic throughout the city, I enjoyed watching people being truly happy. I was especially mesmerized by an elderly woman no fewer than eighty years young, running and dancing alongside the parade and her comrades like a rebellious young teenager. Ganesha truly has done wonders.

By the end of this short trip in this bustling (and supposedly friendliest) Indian city, I am reminded how truly exhausting city life can be. On my way back up the ghat, I can’t help thinking how nice it’ll be to not have to fight with any number of auto-rickshaw drivers so they don’t, quite literally, ‘take you for a ride’ back up on my mountain. Rickshaws haven't even made it up there yet.

And then, I guess it seems, my wandering soul will never be truly at rest, as no matter what I do, where I go, and what my ambitions may be, I will always be looking for greener grass on some other slopey hill. Thus, why not let your inner passions come forwards every once and awhile, step into that pair of jeans and somewhat modest tank top and give in to those bare necessities? Only then may heart, body, and soul remain truly at ease.

Jai Hind

“Jai Hind!” Since being employed in endless political rallies and national campaigns, these two words have become the unofficial catchphrase for Indian Independence. Yesterday, India celebrated its 63rd year as an independent nation. With all the various upheavals the world has seen since 1947, this seems quite a feat. After attending a ceremony honoring both Indian and Korean Independence Day at school, I decided to head out into the Kodai community to see how the locals celebrate such a tremendous occasion.

Tamil music still blaring through the town from last night, I decided to follow the crowds. During the weekends, Indian tourists typically come to Kodai to go boating on the lake. Today however, hundreds of people seemed to be making a pilgrimage in the opposite direction, towards the Saleth Shrine. Lining the twenty-five minute walk uphill towards the church, families with children stopped along the way for balloon animals, ice cream cones, numerous other types of kitschy paraphernalia, and to here and there drop a few paisa in front of the poor. I started to wonder what kind of magical experience awaited me at the top of the hill. When I finally reached the top, I suddenly found myself waiting in an extremely long line. Feeling impatient, I maneuvered my way out of the standstill and walked around to see what all the commotion was about. Almost immediately, I saw what the crowds had come all this way for on Independence Day: church. Suddenly, I remembered. In all my anticipation for Independence Day, I had almost completely forgotten about St. Mary’s holiday. The crowds of people waiting in line had come all this way to see a shrine erected in her honor.

After they paid their respects to St. Mary in this uniquely Indian church, awaiting the churchgoers was a large fair complete with rides, snacks, and more people happy they made the effort to come up here on this special day. After touring the venue and drinking a quick chai, I headed back down the path just in time to see a colorful procession of St. Mary vignettes make its way up the hill. I now know, and will never forget, that up here on top of the mountains in South India, August 15^th is a day for St. Mary and also that up here, nestled deep in the protection of the mountains, Indian Independence feels exactly sixty-three years away. Jai Hind!

Dual Anticipation

It’s the night before Indian Independence Day and all I can say, is that nobody does holidays better than India, or even in quite the same way. Actually, tonight is the culmination of two holidays, which highlight the melting pot of traditions that is Kodaikanal, India. On this eve of the largest national holiday of the year, the Christian (and predominantly Catholic) citizens of this little town on top of the hill also celebrate the start of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

In order to celebrate the festivities in a truly unique Indian style, the center of town has been strung with long strands of palm fronds strings and blinking colored lights, all culminating around one very large image of the Virgin herself, surrounded in auspicious red lights and two enormous speakers, which, coincidentally enough have been blaring a lovely mix of Tamil music for the whole week. Things like these remind me that although I am living in a seemingly Western part of an Indian world, I am still in India. And for this, I feel truly blessed.

Shoes off in Candy Land

Descending down from Kodai into the plains takes, well, quite a bit of patience. Rumbling along in a fifteen passenger bus playing the latest Tamil tunes, the winding solitary road down the mountain takes no less than 3 ½ hours to navigate successfully. Luckily you can stop for a quick bite of extremely yummy masala dosa (if your belly’s up for it of course). Yet, after this transportational adventure, at last, you descend on into one of Tamil Nadu’s major cities, Madurai.

Stepping off the bus, I instantly am reminded that I’m not in Kodai anymore, as once again, every square inch of space around me is swarming with city life. I quickly feel my salwar kamiz cling to my person in that special way that only 110 degree heat can offer. My body, having finally acclimated to the cool wet mountain temperatures, does not like this heat, and I can feel my pores wide open, gasping for a breeze.

Jutting up through the entire city like an obelisk from Candy Land is the main temple of Madurai. Walking towards it, street vendors invite you into their sanctuaries, cleverly hidden away from the heat in shady alcoves. At the temple, I remember the naïve vulnerability of tourism as clouds of men with postcards, incense, and ‘stuff’ swarm like locusts around me, their latest prey.

I finally reach the temple, take off my shoes, clear security, and step inside this fairytale of Hindu mythology. The colors of the statues and frescoes are so incredibly vivid that I feel like I’ve literally stepped into a rainbow. Everywhere around me people are doing pujas (worships) on a number of mismatched statues of deities, covering them in white ash for purity, prosperity, and good luck. True, there is nothing equal to the colors of Hinduism. Yet, being inside the womb of such a vivid space does remind me, in a certain way, of all the happiness present in the world and with it not only the experiences but the living.

Last stop, temple market, a covered hideout where the colors from outside have been brought inside in the forms of bold textures, luscious fabrics, and colorful people. Although bargaining wears on both body and soul, in a way, it has this unusual charm in that it constantly forces one to live deep within their own morals and values and whether dueling for the lowest price with someone only trying to make a living is worth those one or two more rupees at the end of the day.

Back on the bus now flashing with rainbow colored disco lights, I am unequivocally exhausted, dreading the ride back up the mountain. Yet, remained impressed on my mind is, “ah, the people, the smells, the chaos, and the heat of India”, following with a smile.

Where the Wild Things Are

I spent this past weekend camping in a town about an hour and a half away from home base. You know, sleeping in a tent, roasting marshmallows, and going on midnight hikes and so forth. This little relaxing adventure took place in the little region of Pundi, an agricultural community teaming with women carrying bundles on their heads, men guiding cattle and water buffalo, and children running up to you and asking, “pen Miss?” On the way there, since our jeep kept blowing up in smoke, I got the opportunity to take a look around as we waited for the vehicle to cool down.

In this area of Tamil Nadu, India I saw, for the first time ever actually, the incredibly innovative style of land cultivation known as roof terracing. This concept is also used in other areas of the world for tea planting because the steppe-like effect on the hills keeps the soil (and thus the crops) from sliding down. Here in Pundi, however, they grow onions, garlic, and potatoes. Sprinkled into the mix of these vast hills of fertile hills are a number of very small towns which may be one of the few places in India where you can by a chai and a snack for just 3 rupees (that’s 6 cents in America dollars). Getting back in the jeep and rumbling along the one-lane stone dead-end road, who knows, you may even be stopped by an unusual roadblock in the form of a bison slowly grazing. No matter though, something stirs within, a combination of fright, curiosity, and awe. Out here, nothing stands in the way of you and nature, leaving you in a bewildered state of bliss.