india insight...india afterglow

03.15 sita sings the blues

2009-03-15T12:28:00.013-05:00

question:

sita sings the blues, a feature-length animated film and "the greatest break-up story ever told", is unique because it is:
a) set against the backdrop of the hindu legend of the ramayana
b) a mash-up of three distinct 2-d cartoon styles
c) soundtracked by annette hanshaw, a 1930's flapper and blues singer
d) all of the above

d you say? ding-ding! you got it!

i gotta hand it to nina paley, a cartoonist and the one-woman film-maker behind sita sings the blues. the reviews say it all: points for artistic direction, animation, plot, characters, costumes, music and ingenuity! some are offended by cartoon depictions of the sacred sita and rama singing and dancing and by the film 'zooming in' on a small piece of the ramayana told only from sita's perspective... totally understandable.

but i have to comment that the film got me interested in the epic of the ramayana (which until now had daunted me because of its complexity). i think this film opens up indian culture and the history and legends of the hindu religion to a whole new audience. and in a totally endearing way.

the indian-accented shadow puppets quibbling over facts of the legend of sita and rama are hilarious, and sita whimsically singing annette hanshaw's blues songs, including 'who's that knocking at my door' stole the show for me (yep, despite the fact that i generally hate musicals).

copyright restrictions are currently preventing the film from theatrical distribution... the only place to watch it is at a festival, or for most of us, online.

check out part one here (click on the HD button at the bottom to watch in hi-def):

all 10 parts here... enjoy!!

01.04 slumdog - serving up some india

2009-01-04T20:02:00.009-05:00

i'm probably one of the last people i know to watch danny boyle and loveleen tandan's slumdog millionaire. for those who haven't seen it, there are hundreds of plot summaries online so i'll spare you.. i'm calling the film a 'classic underdog fairytale'. and don't get me wrong. the film is fantastic - but it ain't pretty.

the writers and directors have very courageously heated up the underdog fairytale formulas - creatively accomplished - and served them to us with heaping spoonfuls of spice and flavour. but when in india, how can any self-respecting filmmaker not? gory and glory alike, bombay and nearby locales like agra are captured in full colour, sounds and smell and taste even - from paan puri to outhouse excrement - all of which lift off screen right into your face.

even in the fairytale comes a moment of political poignancy: some food for the brain. i loved when dev patel (playing 16-year old jamal) is asked about a $100USD bill and leaning into a flashback he says, "it was when bombay turned into mumbai". how succinctly he manages to say that it's the US's turn to have it's way with india. brilliant dialogue.

but then we taste some cheese whipped up by whirlwind romance when the doe-eyed and loveable and latika (played by gorgeous freida pinto) asks jamal what they will live on if she runs away with him. he unflinchingly answers, "love". haha! but then again, it wouldn't be a classic fairytale otherwise, would it?

and yeah and there's some chicken soup for the soul, the film has its lessons in morality. when comparing to mirelles's city of god - another vivid and gritty coming-of-age film set in a massive slum, slumdog is a lead-by-example hero-in-the-making lesson, while city of god is a downward spiral of worst-case scenarios as seen through the lens of an aspiring photographer. both resonate well with young audiences through impeccable camera work and an ear-to-the-ground. we'll come back to the ear in a second... one of the lessons we learn is that greed can lead you down very dark paths. the other? when you want something that's good for you, go after it - the right way. but the road there even when laden with the truth - can be just as thorny as cheating, lying and stealing.

lastly, i have to comment on the likability of the film, not just for viewers in the english speaking world, but for indians alike. boyle sneaked a healthy 30% of hindi dialogue (promising producers only 10%) but it makes the film feel more realistic and likeable. apart from boyle much of the cast and crew are local - ranging from unknowns from the to very famous indian actors - and like city of god, the co-director is also a local woman. i'm interested in indians' reception. overall, i think the film delivers what most viewers long for - a believable plot, good acting, and solid direction that combine for a satisfying escape from daily reality. and it does - with much eloquence and style. one thing that is lacking however is the musical genre that indians love so much. one of the reasons i liked the film so much is that there are no spontaneous breaking out into song, except for when the credits roll (very stylishly done at that).

so that takes us back to the ear.... the soundtrack is phenomenal, with legend score-master a.r. raheman delivering a fast-paced musical pulse that matches the action of the slum underworld. m.i.a.'s tracks were a little distracting to me, but well suited to the film. i liked the stripped down version of her 'paper planes'. i would have loved to hear some nitin sawhney on the score but that's just me!

i am a little surprised that the film is being released in india so late (US release was november. the indian release, late january).

i have a sneaking suspicion that a lot of tech-savvy india has already seen it anyway via bootleg or online. or perhaps - with a film goliath like bollywood in their backyards - it's possible that slumdog could just get lost in the bolly-shuffle of 2009 releases. in any case, if you're hungry for a film that will deliver, slumdog satisfies.

[update jan 11 - slumdog won three golden globes tonight! best score (a.r. raheman), best screenplay (simon beaufoy) and... best film. really great way to recognize all who were involved with the film and pump up india for their theatrical release next week... congrats are in order!]

select scene from the film... enjoy!

12.15 9 is not 11 (september is not november)

2008-12-15T11:48:00.004-05:00

i just listened to this interview with arundhati roy - the booker award winning author of the god of small things, as she talks about the situation in south asia.

it's refreshing to hear her explain that the recent violence and killings in mumbai and other areas are not a new phemomenon, and point to south asia's sad and gruesome history.

in addition, that the violence was not just restricted to two five star hotels, but that more causalties were found at the local railway station, victims of which were local, ordinary indians.

she goes on to explain that this is only the most recent of attacks, that there are several 'elephants in the room' that need to be addressed.

she says that to instill peace, that people need to stop blaming... once a 'culprit' is caught, another 2 are created. some of these face death sentences when there is no evidence to prove that they are behind the violence.

she goes on to urge the media to start showing signs of hope. and for us to confront the "monster in the mirror"... how true.

the interview starts at 12 minutes and 14 seconds:
democracynow.org - interview with arundhati roy on the situation in south asia
this interview opens in windows media player.

for other formats, please visit:
www.democracynow.org

read roy's full article, 9 is not 11 (and september is not november), as published in the guardian uk (among other papers).

09.23 the swastika, a hijacked symbol

2007-09-23T10:30:00.000-05:00

so i was reading some "fashion" blog this morning - rare for me - and came across a post blog called "zara swastika bag" that immediately caught my attention. as a girl who likes a good bag, i was a little excited to see it adorned with the ancient symbol of peace and prosperity.

i looked at the bag and noticed immediately the swastika symbol on the left side.

as i read the comments on the bag-blog, i recognize how the pain that the symbol would cause to jews in the west, where the bag was to be sold. but i was a little struck how nobody recognized that there are also hundreds of millions of indians, in particular hindus, buddhists, and jains live in the west as well. to this day, they still use the swastika for peace, prosperity and good luck.

in fact, the swastika was used all over the world, pre-dating christianity in europe, in native american tradition, and even as far back as the bronze age. only in the last 80 years has it come to mean something entirely different, all thanks to nazi propaganda.

but this "symbol hijacking" was no mistake. the nazis intentionally took an emblem that was used by non-germans on the most holy and celebratory occasions and turned it into an icon of racism and horror, obliterating or reversing its original meaning and turning the world against the people (evidently non-german people) who had been most known to use it in the first place.

in the west (and perhaps also among america-followers living in the east), the swastika's original beauty and true meaning will forever be marred by thoughts of the nazi regime, white supremacy, racism and the holocaust.

because of the commotion it caused - and to avoid the even more commotion it would have caused, zara, spanish retailer and the purchaser of the bag have pulled it before it hit stores.

chances are, the negative connotations of the swastika will be doomed to follow us for years to come.

ironically, the bag is kind of cute.

08.30 young, gifted and brown 6.0

2007-08-30T03:15:00.000-05:00

wow i really needed a good laugh tonight.

i think i have that indian gene in me, the one that says, "vell, if yooou are feeeeling sad, then goh-to-the theeeatar and votch a filum!!!".

yeah, i seem to lose myself in youtube instead. i drown my sorrows in russell... he always comes through.

07.31 reintegration

2007-07-31T18:53:00.000-05:00

i just found my old notebook from my trip to india... i wrote this while on my way back to canada... and reading it now just makes me want to go back!!

going to india was like removing the vaccuum seal.

ffffftp!

off it goes... and you breathe. you expand. you feel something in the air.

india touches. it is absorbed.

india... once known, will never leave you.
it's the muslim call to prayer before even the sun wakes
the flash of a woman's eyes as she mentally chastizes you for baring your calves
the smoke billowing from an offering to a god of mythic proportion
the poverty in the streets, the desire to earn a decent living, the need to survive
the constant yearning for something more grand, more meaningful than what you've got

india is like an eternal movement....
all set to a bollywood film soundtrack

you can leave, but india never leaves you.

07.14 clickety-click, marriage trick

2007-07-14T08:28:00.001-05:00

ok... so i haven't posted in a long time... but there are reasons...

i work hard and i play hard... and then there is the thing about all the indian weddings to attend. they are 4-5 days long each... mehendi parties, sangeets, chundadi and other ceremonies, the weddings themselves (and it's very common to have two, especially to satisfy both families if it's an interfaith wedding), and receptions... thinking back to december 13th in india (there were 36,000 weddings in dehli that day!!) many of them were arranged.

i have told this to people before (they may still think i'm nuts, but) to me, arranged marriages have a bad rep.

probably because they are confounded with "forced marriages", where parents choose a partner for their child based purely on family connections, caste, class, and social mobility created through the match. the match is usually made before the kids turn 10 years old! when it's time, they get married. no excuses.

conversely, the "arranged marriage" is a lot more civilized: the match uses the same selection criteria but the kids are introduced to each another, spend time together and ultimately get to choose whether to marry each other or to "veto" each other! there is some major pressure there, but who lives without pressure?!

when i tell you i'm ok with arranged marriages, most of you think i'm koo-koo. but to explain: the idea is for the parents to make the best possible connection in terms of security and family ties for the family, for their children and their futures. i understand that. and.... in my personal example, i get along with my parents! i like them. we don't always see eye to eye on everything. but i know, if we lived in a culture where arranged marriages were the norm, given the choice, my parents would choose very well for me.

of course, i say this, hoping they aren't reading this post! at least i hope not!!

check this out! if only it could be this simple!

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06.24 nelly doing lata

2007-06-24T13:18:00.001-05:00

this was my favourite song when i was a kid. i'd sing it *everywhere*...
it was a highly popular song by lata mangeshkar (she and asha bhosle are sisters) - just ask any indian person on the planet born after 1970 and they will know it. ok, except for the dunce in the first row in this video.

nelly does it very well, despite mixing up "baanayaa" (created) with "bhulayaa" (forgot) and only knowing the first couple of lines.

lyrics:
kabhii kabhii mere dil mein
khayaal aata hai
ki jaise tujhko banaaya
gaya hai mere liyee

my attempt at rhyming while translating...
sometimes the feeling from my heart
crosses through my mind
that you have been created
to only be mine

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06.03 khadi - the fabric of freedom

2007-06-02T21:22:00.000-05:00

eight minute film that is worth every second... slow start but picks up suddenly.

ancient knowledge always amazes me...

06.02 take me to your thumbi

2007-06-02T09:20:00.000-05:00

there's a delay on the audio...

05.27 of tiffins & telecoms

2007-05-27T10:03:00.000-05:00

here's a lil excerpt from an e-mail to patrick on 01.13:

i got a chance to chat with a lunch delivery man the other day. these guys are incredible - deliver like 10,000 lunches each day. they get all the orders straight too. could you imagine if you had that kinda service in north america?

the tiffin men were incredible. patrick tells me it's their six sigma rating (fast and efficient). they were studied by multinational courier companies, who couldn't replicate their service levels. what's also interesting is their business model. each tiffin delivery man and each tiffin assembly woman is a shareholder in the company. it's in each employee's best interest to be efficient and exact. let's see if ups or fedex can match that.

it's because of cheap labour, and a huge workforce of largely poor and hungry which that india has been catapulting onto the world stage for the past few years in terms of business reach. arrey! national pride is lost to the savings from offshore labour. i once called air "canada" customer service, to get "rose" (aka 'rosina' from india) on the other end... not so canadian after all, eh? even the organization i work for was using a consultant who wanted us to outsource our fundraising calls!! i read in the times in india that two of the world's biggest companies: walmart and airtel (the world's largest telecom company) were signing a partnership.

but this progress comes with downsides and risks.

the economic divide is widening too fast. i was in a downtown mumbai dessert place with abbas one night. they wouldn't let a woman come in because she looked poor... just one of many times i witnessed bad class action. in most circumstances, a paying customer is always welcome. now india's rich (many of whom are not even indian) are getting richer, while the rest are left to their own devices. beggars even have become choosers. they will often pass up food and just ask for money.

what is scarier is the potential risk. the amount of foreign investment in india is at an all-time high. meaning that a large and growing proportion of india's population is reliant on this foreign interest. but how long can this last? it's only a matter of time before india's workforce gets up to market, and when that happens, well all that foreign dough goes out the window and back home. leaving india's workforce in a lurch.

but for now the boom boom is india and india's where it's at.
check out the hindu business line article, in which jayati ghosh reports on the amount of foreign direct investment into india. the numbers speak to india's incredible labour force, from to tiffins to telecomms. oh, did i hear someone say re-colonialism??

05.26 the algoza: two-timing on the flute

2007-05-26T17:23:00.000-05:00

i love this because he's not only playing two flutes at once, with different finger positions (we love that!) he's also inhaling and playing at the same time!

consider me "snake" charmed.

05.01 salima's kitchen diary

2007-05-01T01:02:00.000-05:00

so i've started 'cooking lessons' with my mom... kinda like wok with yan but it's more like karhai with mum.

i may be a bit biased, but my mom is the greatest cook ever. this is why i have learned everything from grilled cheese to lasagna, but have never studied the art of indian cooking. no matter how well i did any dish, my mother could always do it better. and without instructions.

so on my path to perfection, i've finally decided to learn from the master, mummy-ji! only thing, she's a terrible cooking instructor.

see, my mom does not believe that there are two parts to cooking: gathering/preparation and cooking/assembly. rather, a pot with oil goes on the stove, max heat. the cupboard opens, she calls out the name of an aromatic spice. i locate the appropriate jar. i must measure it from the jar into the palm of my hand, with each of the spices she calls, successively dumping each handful into the pot when they reach the perfect measurement... and regardless of whether it's a few cinnamon sticks or a few fists of jeera powder going in, she always says sweetly each time, "juuuust a peench!". so much for measurements!

spices jam together in the pot, heat still at max, the intoxicating smell filling my nostrils... there are no ingredients on the countertop. i must bring tomatoes and onions from the fridge, dice them in seconds flat and dump them in the pot, before the spices burn.

there is always a time when the cupboard opens, and more "pinches" of the same spices get added to the pot. further confounding any attempt at measurement.

next i'm asked to retrieve veggies from the fridge, wash them and cut them directly over the pot, pronto. "um. mum. should we turn this down?" "no, bettah, it's okay." so again i'm wondering how all this happens without anything burning. but somehow the stuff cooks nicely and tastes great. by the end of it, my notes look like grade 11 algebra class. i need to bring the video cam out to the next class.

so far, i know how to make a killer curried spinach, curried shrimp, and an amazing eggplant curry. i'm so-so with veggie pilau, and want to try my hand at roti.

it also helps to know what the names of things are. sometimes she'll ask me to get "rai" out of the cupboard... and i'll be like, "ok is that mustard seed?"....

i found a pretty decent glossary in mamta's kitchen diary;

a few chosen translations here:

English Hindi
Amaranth (leaves or grain) Chauli, Chaulai, Chavlerr, Chowli, Chowlai
Anise seeds Saunf, Patli
Aniseed (see also saunf) Vilayati saunf
Asafoetida Hing or Heeng
Basil Tulsi
Bay leaf Tej Patta or Tez PattaBetel leaf Pan or Paan
Betel nut Supari/Chali/Chalia
Black Cumin Seeds Kashmiri Jeera, Shahi Jeera, Kala Jeera
Camphor Kapoor or kapur
Caraway Siya jeera
Cardamom Green Choti or green Ilaichi/Ellaichi
Cardamom Large-Brown or Black Illaichi/Elaichi Bari/Badi
Carom seeds Ajwain
Cashew nuts Kaju
Chilli Mirch
Cilantro Dhania
Cinnamon Dalchini or Darchini
Clarified butter Ghee
Clove Lavang
Cobra saffron Nag-kesar
Coconut Nariyal, Copra, Kopra
Coconut oil Narial ka Tael
Coriander leaves Hara dhania
Coriander leaves (English word) Hara Dhania
Coriander, Cilantro Dhania, Kothamalli
Cumin Jeera
Curry Leaves Curry Patta, Meetha Neem, Kari Patta
Dried ginger powder Sonth
Fennel Saunf, Moti (Shatphool or Dodda jeera)
Fenugreek leaves, dry Kasoori methi
Fenugreek Seeds Methi dana
Garlic Lahsun
Ginger Adrak
Ginger Powder Sonth or Saunth
Green cardamom Choti Ilaichi or elaichi
Hemp Bhang
Honey Madhu
Indian ice-cream Kulfi
Indian Wok Karahi
Juice Ras
Lemon Nimbu or Neembu
Lime Nimbu or Neembu
Liquorice Mulahati or Mulethi
Mint Pudina
Mustard seeds Rai or Sarson
Nigella or Onion seeds Kalaunji
Nutmeg Zaiphal
Oil Tel
Onion Pyaz
Poppy seeds Khas khas
Rose Gulab
Safflower Kusam or Kusumbo
Saffron Kesar or Zafran
Saffron Coloured Kesari
Salt Nimak
Sesame Til
Star Anise Anas phal
Sugar Shakkar
Tamarind Imli
Thyme Hasha
Turmeric Haldi or Huldi
Vegetable (generic) Sabzi
White pepper Safed mirch
Wok Kadhai

04.10 badi macchi, the whale shark

2007-04-09T15:29:00.006-05:00

i just watched an incredible film called sharkwater last night...

the shark trade is a scary, scary thing. in the film, surrounded by sharks who nuzzle up to him like happy dogs, torontonian rob stewart, director of the film, reveals the shocking reality. only 5 deaths each year are attributed to sharks. ten times that are attributed to elephants. in fact, sharks aren't interested in eating people, they predate dinosaurs. they are docile and highly intelligent creatures possessing more senses than humans do. the oldest living predator on earth, and the most important predator in the sea, sharks are critical to the regulation of plankton, responsible for 70% of the earth's oxygen production.

the scary truth? only 10% of the earth's sharks remain. and they are in danger.

why?

largely due to the chinese delicacy, shark fin soup. i compare the soup to diamonds, a totally fabled luxury. falsely believed to contain healing powers, shark fins (and other parts) sell for a ridiculously inflated price. the soup sells for $200 per bowl, even though the fins have no taste whatsoever. chicken and pork are the flavouring agents. sharks are hunted around the world for their fins, a billion dollar industry, and a deathwish for anyone wanting to make a film exposing it.

i did a bit of digging and found that in india, shark liver oils are being used to preserve boats.

i found this good article about another film made about the shark trade - in india. the article is entitled, of sharks and bigger sharks, about mike pandey's film, shores of silence, nominated for the green oscar at the wildscreen 2000 festival:

The gut-wrenching film documents the slaughter and trade of whale sharks on the Western coast of India. And Mr Pandey is the first Indian film-maker ever to focus on a large marine species. ``The film which was shot under extreme conditions took almost three years to complete and aims towards creating policies to support a ban on the killing and trade of whale sharks in India as well as finding sustainable alternatives for the fishermen,'' says Mr Pandey.

...as a 10-year-old boy he had sailed from Africa to India by ship and throughout the voyage he was mesmerised by huge creatures that swam alongside the ship. ``Now nearly 40 years later, while shooting a film on coastal India in Gujarat, the memory of those creatures urged me to look for them again. I travelled all along the Gujarat coast asking fishermen if they knew of the badi machhi, the whale shark.''

But what Mr Pandey and his crew saw made them shrink in horror. And what started as a feel-good film on these gentle giants would turn out to be a tale of blood and gore. Hundreds of these sea giants are butchered on the shores of Western India every year. There is a great demand for shark meat and fins in South Asia. The oil from their livers is used to waterproof boats. Shaken by the senseless killings, Mr Pandey decided to make a feature film on these creatures. As the crew filmed in the area and met local people, the magnitude of the problem became clear.

Though the prime concern of Mr Pandey and his crew was the conservation of the shark, they saw a different aspect of the dilemma that ran deep into other issues concerning mainly the socio-economic status of fishing communities.

Shores of Silence makes an impassioned plea for the setting up of a whale shark sanctuary. Given the frequent sightings on the Gujarat coast, these waters are of international significance and declaring them as a sanctuary would help protect this vulnerable species. Fishermen could augment their income by doubling up as tourist guides for visitors eager for a shark sighting.

Mr Pandey is in his elements when he talks about what should be done to save whale sharks from perishing at the hands of mankind. Says he, ``The ocean is relatively a new horizon for humanity. Management of marine resources at this point is critical to avoid abusing what mistakenly appears to be a limitless resource zone.'' ``Man,'' he says, ``has interfered with nature's delicate balance. We have ruptured the system and if it continues, we may pay the price with our own extinction.''

copyright © 2001 indian express newspapers (bombay) ltd.

original article here

sharkwater is in theatres now. go watch it.

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04.08 young, gifted and brown 5.0

2007-04-08T00:20:00.000-05:00

for those who don't know, russell now has a dvd called outsourced.

he has moved to america [sniff], performing sold out shows in major cities. canada wouldn't give him the break he needed though he rose to become the top canadian comedian over 15 years... he is coming home though! his sold-out canadian homecoming tour kicks off this spring. missed toronto tickets, but i'm hoping to see him in montreal july 20...

04.08 young, gifted and brown 4.0

2007-04-07T23:44:00.000-05:00

his accents slay me!

these from the african continent!

russell peters on "!xobile":

russell peters on south africa, indian slaves:

04.08 young, gifted and brown 3.0

2007-04-07T23:30:00.000-05:00

i've officially fallen from my chair.

check out russell peters's 'tap sum bong':

04.08 young, gifted and brown 2.0

2007-04-07T22:17:00.001-05:00

more russell peters
apparently i haven't had enough of this guy!

russell on the english accent:

04.07 young, gifted and brown

2007-04-07T00:45:00.000-05:00

so i've been a bit down lately...

i know. i'm me. i'm not supposed to be down. i'm supposed to be the happy bouncing boundless me. but yeah. even i get down sometimes. and if it was one problem, no sweat. but there are four major problems and without getting into details, let's just say they are all lingering, all out of my personal control.

so. today i took matters into my own hands. after all, my happiness is my responsibility, right! nobody is gonna make me happy but me. so i pulled up my laptop. i logged onto youtube. [yes i am a bit addicted to youtube!] and in the 'search' box, i typed in two words: russell peters

and bingo!

in seconds i was distracted. laughing so hard my stomach muscles were hurting. love this guy. and i love that he's young, gifted and brown.

russell on the indian accent. watch it now:

03.30 history of the world

2007-03-30T20:42:00.000-05:00

sometimes i scour the internet for information about weird things. before i popped a dvd into my laptop, i randomly googled "condensed india history" and came up with A Condensed History of Everything.

876 CE: Some Indian invents the ZERO, making math homework even more difficult and frustrating. At this point in time, Christian Europe is home to the most degraded, least advanced, most backwards-ass civilizations on the planet.

i had no idea an indian invented the zero. or that the zero was that old!

....and now i'm thinking to myself: i never did find the condensed history of india.

03.25 from mississippi masala to new york namesake

2007-03-25T12:46:00.000-05:00

i just came from watching mira nair's the namesake.

if her name sounds familiar to you, it should. she is the director of the highly popular films salaam bombay, mississippi masala, and more recently, monsoon wedding.

i had forgotten how visually stunning that film was. tonight was no different. nair blended incredible cinematography with a solid cast, a very realistic - and all too relate-able - storyline, and a brilliant soundtrack courtesy of none other than the man himself, nitin sawhney.

the namesake is the story of a young newly wed indian couple starting life in new york together, having two children who grow up as new yorkers, who in turn learn about their parents' culture as non resident indians. i was drawn into the story of their son gogol (also known as nikhil), who learns so much about his parents after a visit to india and the major life events that follow.

i have to say that the lead female in the film, ashima (played by tabu), was outstanding. she reminded me of my own mother. a certain type of indian woman has this unwavering grace, a type of elegance that transcends time and place. my mom has that same quality and it made me appreciate the film even more.

go see it. trailer:

03.18 the bates debate

2007-03-17T14:31:00.000-05:00

i've been really really bad.

haven't done my eye exercises in more than a week, due to the same old same old thing: too busy, rushing around, don't have time etc. well. that's going to stop right now!!

i've been talking about the excercises called the "bates method" (discovered by william bates), which have make a remarkable impact on my vision and on that of thousands of people before me.

understandably, the scientific community cannot stand this. the entire vision care industry is at stake, including optometrists, glasses manufacturers, contact lens manufacturers, and the laser eye surgeons. all of these are very lucrative businesses. if what bates has discovered catches on, depite living proof like me, who have improved their eyesight past what anyone could imagine, the industries that cater to corrective eyewear will plummet.

i've found bates challenged all over the place, including this wiki entry.

two more of my friends have just finished their stay at the school for perfect eyesight in pondicherry and have also had incredible success in just a week of following very simple instructions twice a day. it does take some dedication but it works. hell even for me with me semi-dead-ication.

03.16 books on the brownside... back!

2007-03-16T00:52:00.000-05:00

i've been doing some reading and am resurrecting "books on the brownside", a commentary i used to write on indian literature. although i think i only had about three entries...

so here's the fourth!

the latest i've read is arundhati roy's the god of small things - a brilliant novel that takes place in ayemenem, a village in the backwaters close to kottayam and alleppey, where i stayed in kerala over the holidays.

roy is a bit of a genius.

her writing style is very dense, making the reading a bit distracting, but through the story filled with drama, class struggle, sex, murder, and a lot of the local language of kerala, malayam, she is able to provide the reader with historical, social, economic and political context of the area. this was a welcome read as it helped me understand kerala's communist past, the noticeable absence of homeless in alleppey, and the contrasting high suicide and literacy rates (as commented on in god's own country).

it's a classic micro-macro story, where the struggles and stories of three generations of the Ipe family are direct results of the framework of the social structures in which they are forced to live. it describes caste clash mainly through "love laws": who can be loved, and how, and how much.

the thing i didn't like was that roy kept the deep dark secret until the end. but her style and descriptiveness kept me going. it's a tragedy, yet a major comment on feminism and colonialism. india has its own problems, but the solutions have to come from the inside, not from colonialisation, indian self-hatred, and india's ridiculous love and unconditional acceptance of the west.

i totally identified with ammu and rahel, the two central women characters. they refused to accept the oppression that was served to them, and as indian women, acted contrary to society's expectations, of course bringing on the harsh but expected punishments from their oppressors!

after completing the novel, i felt a bit drained and so the geek that i am, i read this great dissertation on the book from the university of utrecht. it explores colonialism, feminism, politics and the literary style of the book. of particular interest were pages 7, 11, 13... despite a few flaws, i highly recommend it. only of course, after reading the book itself.

goes well with keralan tea, nitin sawhney and a long hug afterwards...

four stars
handy dandy study guide

03.01 bollywood dance craze

2007-02-28T17:59:00.000-05:00

last night some high school students from lawrence park high put on a benefit for the NGO i work for. it was a dance night called "urban", featuring dance and music from urban centres around the world. among these were nairobi, paris, and yes... mumbai.

the indian act was near the end of the night. my curiosity was piqued when i caught a glimpse of lycra-clad girls with brightly coloured sequins and jingling bells giggling on their way backstage.

well it was a bolly-hit.

500 teenagers and lucky chaperoning parents in the uptown toronto crowd screamed and shouted and moved their bhangra-shoulders to the bolly beat. the girls on stage were even incorporated the indian head wiggle (ihw) at one point! the kids went wild. the parents went wilder. it was an eye opener for me. i had no idea that bollywoood dancing was that popular. it always seemed so cheesy to me: the bollywood dance numbers on saturday morning television hindi films was (is?) as required as a morning chai. i cringe and laugh watching lovers dancing around in the park, raising one eyebrow at one another and coyly hiding their faces with sari silks. [oh, and the 'let's get our faces as close together as we can without actually kissing - the hallmark of the bolly dance sequence]. it was either that or the sound of fake taamashaas (slaps) and punches in the compulsory bolly-brawl scene.

funny enough the bolly dance thing really is a bit of a craze. today i was on BBC and came across this "in pictures" section... it's about bollywood dancing catching on like wildfire in yorkshire, uk. who knew it would get so hot?

01.15 worlds apart

2007-01-14T15:30:00.001-05:00

i have neglected my ipod in india.

there were so many fascinating sounds that kept me alert, alive, aware.. i didn't need the ipod. actually i didn't want it.

coming back to toronto was not easy. i should mention that my father, in tarzan style, sprained his knee jumping from a wall a couple of days ago. i know: he's almost sixty; what is he doing jumping. i know. i know. but boys will be boys. so he jumps. sprains his knee and because of an old soccer injury the thing is now the size of my head. seriously.

does he go to a clinic? a doctor? a healer? um. no. would tarzan go to a healer? no. this is the thing about boys. i know they say that women are irrational (they even coined the word "hysterical") , but when it comes to ego, men's ability to think logically evaporates. and they are left with a cantaloupe for a knee, hobbling in and out of cabs to get last minute stuff done...

at the mumbai airport, i order him a wheelchair. he doesn't realise it but that wheelchair man is coming for him. that's his wheelchair. he scowls. looks at me. i grab his camera bag and lead him into the chair by the elbow. once seated, he shrinks to the size of me. i suddenly feel a pang of empathy for him. he's getting old. my mom, on the other hand is radiant.

i order a roomy seat for my father. the flight is long. and delayed. at heathrow, there is no wheelchair ready and we have 1 hour to connect. near-impossible with security checks. somehow, we and our luggage make the connection. once in the plane i finally pull out my ipod and float into sweet oblivion.

reality check comes at toronto pearson international arrivals. it's 1am. after collecting our immense baggages, i head over to my father and his wheelchair attendant is in a heated discussion with her coworker about a third coworker. i hear the words "fuck" and "bitch" and think to myself... so this is what reverse culture shock is all about. after waiting for about a minute while the two gossip like teenagers i ask the woman if i can take my father. her eyes bulge in reaction, as though i grabbed her boob on a packed mumbai train or something.

i smile.

...it is possible to recognize anger in this world, to understand its sources, without getting angered yourself...

still smiling i pull an ipod bud from my pocket and put it in my left ear.
i pat her on the shoulder and with a little indian head wiggle turn toward the exit, "chalo!".

and of course she follows.

01.14 poverty

2007-01-13T23:46:00.001-05:00

poverty taught me a lot in india. i have not experienced ultra-poverty first-hand but before leaving for india i heard a lot about it. i was actually afraid of how it would affect me. i was constantly warned about beggars and touts. people complained about them nonstop, saying how they are everywhere, persistent, annoying. bad for your peace of mind.

question: if you were utterly broke, hungry, with only the clothes on your back and no one to turn to, would you ask for help, or would you curl up into a ball and die from pride?

hmmm?

exactly. that's the spirit that makes me love india so much.

a quick word on dukaans...
i've been to indian shopping malls and large westernised department stores. miserable places. nobody cares whether you buy something or not. there are too many staff and if you ask for something, they might pause to look at you. and then continue talking among themselves. juxtapose this with the man whose family depends on what he sells that day. if he sells nothing, his kids go hungry.

i'd support him over a department store. any day.

we should stop judging. people end up in situations. some enter into poverty. so many are born into it. i'm just gonna say this: in india you will get asked for stuff. you may even get tricked. you will use your common sense. buy stuff if you want it. don't buy stuff if you don't want it. look at what's going on around you. but do not complain about how annoying people are because i will have no sympathy for your privileged ass!

try giving away your last rupee to the lady who lives on the sidewalk. it's a great feeling. and it will mean more to her than it does to you.

ok enough rant. check out these kids. we gave them a bag of pakoras and money to buy milk. of course, they kept asking for more:) whether or not they "scored", it really doesn't matter...

01.12 love

2007-01-12T13:21:00.000-05:00

pyaar, mohabbat, ishq... all mean the same thing. love.

i was just thinking about the man of my dreams.. and must comment on expressions of love in india.

in pondicherry, over lunch with three friends, vik, hari and patrick, this topic came up. they were annoyed at the "hassles" that single female travellers (sfts) in india inevitably had to deal with. it wasn't obvious any time i was hanging with my parents or inside hotels or going around with drivers. i've been pretty lucky. but there were moments...

tibetan bowl massage, my lady?
i had asked raja, a lousy squat pondi shopkeeper, about some tibetan bowls i saw in his shop... a trained healer, raja decided to "show and tell" me their powers with an impromptu tibetan vibrating bowl massage in the store. cool. at first. but in minutes, good vibrations turned into a pervy groping session à la pepe le pew. just to be clear: he was groping me, not the other way around.

the risky business of mumbai trains...
rather than a nice, neat "grope and run" on the street, today i was full-up fondled in a man-packed mumbai train. i felt fingers mashing up my left boob, and noticed a dude's left hand, which he had snuck across his chest, peeking from behind his right bicep, rubbing me up. sensing the laser rays from my pupils burning a hole in his knuckle, he quickly removed his hand.

excuse me, i say to the guy standing on my left
silence.
EXCUSE ME - my face right in his. everyone is looking at me. silence.
PLEASE LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU. I SAW YOU TOUCHING ME.
his guilty eyes still avoid me. two other dudes claim his innocence: he can't touch you with that bag in his right hand. they continue campaigning after i explain he's got two haath and one was just on me. some old man is now yelling at the dude. bingo. yes. now i get it. sad. but true: this is what women-only sections are for. swelling with anger at this fact, and this guy's cowardice, i finally boom in his ear:
DON'T. TOUCH. ME. i consider snapping his photo right there but suddenly feel sorry for him. probably never seen a girl like me this close up in his life.

wheel you maarrry me?
in india you will get asked for your hand. that's just how it goes. even lovely old aruna from the school for perfect eyesight had been chatting to me all week, and finally asked me my last day whether i was single, would i marry a man in india, and was i ready to get married... but by far the funniest marriage proposal was on the street yesterday in bandra: "maadaam... yoo soo beoootifool, moowie shtaaar! are yoo maaaried? i will like to maaarry yoo!" he skipped alongside me as i walked, telling me he'd do anything i ask, but didn't leave me alone when i asked him to.

it's a bit of a shame, because i write all of this off, but i can see how an sft - especially western women - would get really mad. it's an adjustment coming from a society where people don't even look at each other walking down the street to a place where everyone and everything is out there, on display, and up for grabs. boobs included.

ranjith, a really decent, stand-up guy in pondi had warned me about mumbai. i remember him shaking his head, and telling me how embarrased he was. that this kind of behaviour from some indian men gives all indian men a bad reputation. sadly, he's right.

but that's india for you. wherever you turn, in a park, train, museum, peeking at you like in a bollywood flick from behind a tree, eyes burning through your salwaar, there it is: love...

01.12 floating friday

2007-01-12T10:05:00.000-05:00

this evening we saw the floating wonder... the ali haji durga.

the mosque was built in honour of the sufi saint haji ali, a big-time merchant. he had renounced his wealth and material life in favour of his devotion to god and his meditation. the legend says that he died during a pilgrimmage to mecca and that his casket somehow floated back to this shore, at the spot where the durga is today.

the durga includes his tomb and a mosque. the whole complex is built 500 metres from the shore so you have to walk along a narrow path to reach it. today it's fine to cross because it's low tide, but during monsoon season, and high tide the walkway is completely submerged, so the durga appears to be floating away.

01.12 mmm... leafy greens

2007-01-12T10:01:00.000-05:00

so i have a slight addiction.

i've been sneaking to the paan-wallas every day (sometimes more than once a day). i only do it when no one's looking... i guess that's a bad sign, huh?

i don't know what it is. they are just so good and so fun to eat. traditionally eaten by high-society, paan are the things that everyone can eat when out at night, after dinner at the paan-wallas. i've tried to give them to friends back in toronto and all have had the same response... they couldn't handle it! some people described it to chewing a mouthful of candied insense. yes it's true, when you eat the stuff you can feel the aroma of it swirling in your mouth and out through your nostrils. very much an acquired taste. they taste the exact same here as they do back in toronto's little india. but back in toronto i didn't have a paan habit.

paan is the indian after dinner mint... it's chewed to give you an aromatic, refreshing taste, to sweeten your mouth and breath. it's made from the betel leaf, onto which the paan-wallah spreads some syruppy lime paste, then covers with coconut shavings, dollops of sweet cherry paste, rose paste and sprinkles with little fennel seeds, anise seeds, tiny little red candies and some other miscellaneous spices and stuff. i love watching as the paan-walla's dextrous fingers wrap the leaf with all this inside into a little triangle and bam! you got paan.

my mouth is watering just thinking about them... and i've already had one today.

the thing that makes paan more illicit is the traditional method - most people have paan with betel nut shavings. some say it's not betel nut but another related seed. both are really hard rock-like things. some, like my great-grandmother, also take their paan with chewing tobacco, which they spit out. actually i think she opted for just the chewing tobacco alone, without the paan! but that dark, lovely, sweet and heavy aroma....mmmmm!

personally i prefer 'virgin' or sweet paan - what is called 'mitha' paan. it's supposed to provide good digestion and clear the blood, the betel nut has been banned back in canada because it's been linked with mouth cancer. i think it's mostly the chewing tobacco that does that, but that's just my guess. i hope a few mitha paan won't kill me!

01.11 mirror mirror on the ceiling....

2007-01-11T09:25:00.001-05:00

today's mumbai cab had drrrrty mirrors.

on the ceiling.

01.11 mystery fruit

2007-01-11T07:28:00.000-05:00

mumbai market. this fruit was coal-like on the outsite (even left black smears on stuff like coal), but pear-like and yummy inside. he told what they were but in my haste i didn't write it down. mystery fruit!!

01.11 bolly

2007-01-11T02:49:00.000-05:00

being in mumbai - aka bollywood, home of the world's biggest film industry, i just had hit the cinemas satisfy my flick-fix. here's what i found...

get off the kabul express...
ok. how can any self respecting director, producer, actor, actress, hell - set designer, makeup artist, key grip, gaffer, extra - put their name to this and let this dribble make it out the editing studio, out here into the real world?? john abraham, i was expecting more from you! to think this film made it to the festival circuit. there must have been a shortfall of made-for-the-foreign-market desi flix last year. basically three journalists travel to the afghanistan border and find what they are looking for: a taliban. they realise he's a human being - how poignant. but the movie is so predictable and the acting is so brutally bad that i can't say it's worth it. not even a good ole dance sequence to mix it up.
my rating: skip it

om for omkara
another retake of shakespeare's othello but omkara is a dark jewel. gorgeous sets. good music. well conceived characters. of course excellent plot (thanks william!), on-point acting. ajay, vivek, salif, kareena and the gorgeous bipasha - each one of the actors give it - and that makes this film what it is. a masterpiece and true to shakespeare's vision. inherent caste divisions are a perfect replacement for omkara's "moorishness", because he's mixed, which makes him "different". a totally engaging tragedy.
my rating: do it

gandhism in lage raho munna bhai
and on the lighter side.... the second comedy about munna the thug. gandhi is the coolest dude in the film. it won awards for promoting gandhism and still stays true to bolly convention: boy chases girl, boy gets girl, singing and dancing scenes ensue, when along comes big fat problem, boy loses girl, gandhism takes root, a showdown goesdown, boy gets girl back. no... gandhi is not gettin with any women in the film, in case that's what you thought...
my rating: do it

still gotta catch canadian director deepa mehta's water. it's been shortlisted for the academy awards. i'm not surprised, since the other two in her trilogy, earth and fire are solid.

all in all my film foray was pretty satisfying. i haven't seen anything up to par with lagaan, but i'd put omkara and munna bhai up there with monsoon wedding and taal...

01.10 hindi 101

2007-01-10T00:56:00.000-05:00

i had to pick up some hindi while in hindustan.

i'm not 100% courageous in using what i've learned, but i'm working at it. it's been funny being with my folks because they didn't grow up speaking hindi, only hearing some other people use it, and in east africa no less... but immersed in it now, they sound like true hindiphiles.

if anyone's up for a little hindi lesson, i'm laying down some key phrases here...

hello = NAMASKAR
hello (in a rajasthani village) = RAM-RAM (hands in prayer pose)
ok = ACHHA (best with the ihw)
please = KRIPYA
thank you = DHANYAVAD / SHUKRIYA
how are you = KYA HAAL HAIN
my name is.... = MERA NAAM HAI....
your name is? = AAPNA NAAM KYA HAI?
no problem / my pleasure = KOI BAAT NAHI (best with the ihw)
i like it a lot = MUJHKO BOHOT PASAN HAI
where is the bathroom? = MEN'S /LADIES NA TOILET KAHAAN HAI?
it is nice to meet you = AAP SE MIL KE KHU-SHI HUI
take me to my hotel = KRIPYA MUJHE HOTAL LE CHLIYE
how much does this cost? = YEH KITNE KA HAI?
it's expensive = YEH BOHOT MEHENGA HAI
this = YEH
to make a phone call = PHONE KARNAA
where's the phone? = PHONE KAHAAN HAIN?
what time is it? = KYA SAMAY HAI?
help = MADAD
doctor = DOCTOR
police = PULIS
taxi = TAXI
tea = CHAI
water = PAANEE
do you speak English? = KYA AAP ANGREZI AATEH HAI?
i don't understand = MERI SAMAJ MEI NAHIN AAYA
one, two, three, four, five = EK, DO, THEEN, CHAR, PANCH
six, seven, eight, nine, ten = CHEH, SAAT, AAT, NAU, DAS
come here = IDHAR AAO
don't touch me = DON'T TOUCH ME

when in doubt, use your hands and gesticulate wildly....

01.09 beautiful people

2007-01-09T04:30:00.000-05:00

today i meet up with abbas, another torontonian in the 'bai.

at india gate, he appears with his sister. he's in head-to-toe electric "talk-to-me" blue, a massive camera dangling from his neck. with the tou-rist 'tude, we head for lunch.

after, we walk down what must be "madaaam" street for a session of nodding and smiling and politely waving "no thenkyoo" followed by the ihw. at the keychain-walla, abbas orders 40 keychains engraved with the names of all his staff, and one for me, my folks, and my sister. i get mine in arabic, curious to see how it looks. it's kinda pretty...

at jehangir art gallery, painter gautam vaghela's exhibition knocks me out. his ancient fortresses and monumental mughal architecture along with such ferocious, vivid colour and dreamlike mystical creatures floating high above in bright reds, greens, oranges and yellows are pure genius. the old dude at the desk yells over and tells us to stop taking pictures. dude. it's gautam vaghela himself. abbas chats him up and snap snap snap takes his picture. i'm floored. the two other galleries inside are equally as impressive, but gautam's visual style is unmatched.

next off to the market for abbas-style charity work, also what i secretly call "robin hood" action. he buys twenty bags of rice from two shopkeepers, who load them into cabs. off we go, shopkeepers and all, to pick up crates of chai and then finally reach the mother theresa home for the disabled. 400 people live there. they have no families, no supports except for tireless sisters who run this place. amazing to hear three blind girls with facial disfigurations sing so beautifully. one girl, komal, makes purses and greeting cards to sell and make enough money for nursing school. i "buy" a card from her before we go. another girl follows me, trying to tell me something and pointing to her cheek all the time. i stop and give her a kiss but she keeps following me finger pointing at her cheek. i say, "ok - you give me a kiss now!". uproarious laughter. i didn't realise then that she was asking for help. she has a really bad toothache and was in a lot of pain.

i'm really moved. there are so many people in mumbai but none of them appear to be jaded, cynical and negative like so many people back home. on the contrary. so many indians, the poor, the homeless, even the disabled - may not have a shot at any rosy future, but they do what they have to do, what they can, to survive. and that's simply beautiful.

01.08 santa cruz sandwich-walla

2007-01-08T09:07:00.000-05:00

some people think "mumbai" is the reclaimed name of the city that was once dubbed "bombay" by the brits. they are wrong.

"mumbai" apparently, is the hindi word for "shopping".

while i am very interested to spend my first day here sight seeing, the folks kidnap me to spend the day dressing me up like a desi doll.

santa cruz: shopping capital of mumbai-burbia. every form of life is bustling down the narrow road, flanked on either side by street vendors selling saris, dresses, dress material, salwar-khameez, kurtas, purses, shoes and yes, suitcases. just in case you can't help yourself buy up the whole 'hood.

i dart out of a sari shop where bright saris are being tossed at my folks from every direction. i am hungry. shopping is serious sport - you work up an appetite.

there is one lonely street stall - and it's swarmed. it's the famed sandwich-walla. radhika told me about this legendary place but i never thought i'd find it in a city of 25 million people. yet, fate brought me here. at the counter, i order three hot masala sandwiches, two juices and a soda. the kid butters the bread, puts masala and aloo inside and puts everything to toast in a sandwich maker. i don't wait. i swallow down my sandwich and contemplate eating the other two in the bag meant for my folks. seeing as my plan of losing a coupla inches in india hasn't worked out, i decide to head back to the shop.

of course, first day we get a bit swindled. but it's ok. my mom got some nice stuff to satisfy her sequin craving. and i got my sandwich from the sandwich-walla.

01.07 bright lights, mumbai city

2007-01-06T20:33:00.000-05:00

chennai-mumbai. not so hot flight. no, not turbulence. i sat next to an insanely egotistical tennis 'star'. he wants to see his name in my blog - after i explicitly said i don't write about people. well chirag - this is your moment of fame.

[btw, air deccan has no reserved seating! it's chaos. a total khichro!]

ok - my folks. the sweet people that they are, meet me at the airport. we hop in a cab for south-central mumbai. looking out the window, mumbai is slick. dark. damp.

which makes me realise i have not seen rain in my 4 weeks.

mumbai is polar oppostite to pondi. so many people about, wide and well paved streets, loads of tourists, old colonial buildings decked regal flags, so many curious places and faces.

i'm a bit sad - i miss pondi. i've only got one more week here. i'm gonna relish it. as we pass by cinema with thousands of people swarmed outside, i get that excited feeling of being someplace that throbs. the "oonch-oonch-oonch" of the underground club that you stumble upon by mistake in a back alleyway and go in to this whole new world have the time of your life. well it's been a while for me. bring it on.

i'm up for anything. i'm in the 'bai. mumbai baby!

01.06 what's your dosha?

2007-01-06T00:30:00.000-05:00

i begin my day with a swig from the bottle of good ole safi syrup.

also known as liquid hell.

safi is a blood purifier made with 24 natural essences, and the most vile tasting concotion ever. i've been instructed take it every morning by the doc at the ayurvedic centre to help fix the trouble he found in my solar plexus during my reflexology treatment...

according to the label, safi cures skin blemishes, rashes, nose bleeding, eruptions, measles, burning fiery pee (the label says micturition!!), and general lassitude (also known aas a state of comatose stupor). yes, that's right! safi to the rescue!

the label omits any mention of my poor solar plexus. but i'll forge ahead. aside from tasting like tar and gasoline, i'm sure it can't do much harm.

the dosha
i found an interesting introduction to the three main categories of body type according to the ayurveda. ayurveda, the science of life, focuses on mainatining a healthy spirit, body and mind. the categories are called doshas - there's vata, pitta and kapha. each one represents a combination of two elements, from air, fire and water. most people have one or two dominant doshas and one or two 'recessive' ones.

i'm mainly vata (air and space), with some pitta and less kapha, so i'm vatta-pitta-kapha. according to the most revered ayurvedic text, the Charaka Samhita, the characteristics of vata dosha are:

:dry and rough (rookshaha); cool (sheetoha); light--lacking weight (laghuhu); very tiny, penetrating molecules (sookhshmaha); always moving (chalota); broad, unlimited, unbounded--akash means unbounded space (vishadaha); and rough (kharaha).

....vata tend to be thin, with a slender frame and prominent joints, delicate skin that is naturally dry, and dry voluminous hair. They are quick and lively in thought, speech and action, and make friends easily. There is an element of airiness to their step, a quality of lightness in their laughter. Change is usually their second name. They are light sleepers and gravitate towards warm environments. Creativity and enthusiasm are hallmarks of balanced Vata.

it goes on to describe the lifestyles and the diets preferred by my fellow "vatans". normally i would pooh-pooh all this but as i read more, i'm agreeing with a lot of what it says. i'm like a kid learning about electricity and conductivity for the very first time. shabash!! no more the ayurvedic virgin. i'm hooked.

to find out your dosha or your natural state of "prakruti", use this great online test.

the dosha descritptions, lifestyle and balancing diets are also interesting.

there is a separate "vakruti" or imbalance test and lifestyle, exercise and diet on how to get you back to your optimal state.

amazing stuff... just no mention of the magical safi syrup...

01.05 desi thriller

2007-01-05T13:22:00.001-05:00

bollywood has nuthin on this.
telugu version of mj's "thriller" - the indian thriller.
be very afraid.

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01.05 wiggle it - the ihw

2007-01-05T01:57:00.000-05:00

it's taking time but i'm finally decoding the indian head wiggle (ihw).

no matter where in the world you go, you will always know someone who grew up in india by this telltale movement of the head. it's like a bellydancing head, only it's from india, with love.

i found a useful article called Tilt Your Head Like an Indian, that comes as close to anything i've found to not only descipher, but to master, this gesture that has puzzled so many .

but why would i need to learn the ihw, you ask?
elementary my dear. it's a catch-all for so many things. just think, with an easy wiggle of the head you can convey "yes", "no", "you gotta be crazy", "vah!!" (or "this is utter bliss, don't stop") , "you are so right", "mmmm", or "how the hell should i know?!". it's an entire language unto itself.

learn it. incorporate it regularly when you are in india. only then will you be able to understand it when it's wiggling in your face.

and you will be an instant hit...
kinda like this;

01.04 oro in auroville

2007-01-04T08:29:00.000-05:00

yesterday i went to auroville, a town which lies 12 km north of pondicherry. ranjith gave me a lift there on the back of his motorcycle. now i want a bike for myself!

back to reality. auroville is a manufactured town, designed in the vision of "the mother". the goal or purpose is to realise human unity in diversity. of the 1,700 people who live in auroville, 1/3 are from india, the rest from all over the world. i had envisioned auroville to be a massive hippie commune, even though its endorsed and backed by UNESCO. my perceptions were bang on.

the layout of the town is a microcosmic representation of a galaxy, the matrimandir - or the soul of the city - at the centre. the path to the matrimandir begins at a humungous banyan tree, which has many pillar-like branches that have grown back down to the ground. the tree will eventually be one solid mass of wood.

emerging from the path of plants from all over the world is a giant amphitheatre, with a cement urn podium containing soil from 124 countries (ah diversity). what looks like a giant golden golf ball, the matrimandir itself, floats up, seemingly held in place by the red stone beneath.

the matrimandir is closed so off for the beach! back on the bike for a trecherous ride. ranjith slowed to a snail's pace to negotiate the bike over and around giant rocks and got caught in mud fields. thoughts of cracking my skull on the rocks or being swallowed up in quicksand floated through my head. but ranjith is an accomplished motorcyclist. we made it to aurobeach totally intact.

here is where i decided to skip my afternoon at the school for perfect eyesight. having raided nehru street in pondi earlier in the day, i came prepared with my boy-shorts and tank. any woman in the ocean will get ogled like crazy. blind bat that i am doesn't really care, but i had been chastized by some rude indian women at the ashram guest house for wearing a knee-length skirt (they talked about me out loud as they stood right next to me, so obviously bending to give my skirted ass some old fashioned cut-eye). now that's what i call shameless!

but i wasn't going to give up the salt water for some old hags. the water was divine. the waves, kind. i stayed until the sun started to come down and hunger set in. i swear my eyesight improved that afternoon in leaps and bounds!

01.03 q and a...

2007-01-04T00:15:00.000-05:00

even though i have decided not to write about specific people, today i got the funniest e-mail from taz, my sister. it was a series of questions that had me laughing like a madwoman in the icafe a few seconds ago... probably because i can practically hear her voice as i read them. i've decided to post it here with answers...

just when i think she's a regular girl, she surprises me with the most imaginative lingo... this post is dedicated to you babes!! miss you tonnes!

arent u glad ur chillin in the motherland?
arrrey! batchhi, you don't know how good we have it at home. food to eat, hot water on tap and none of these ridiculous macchars - no need for mosquito spray! ok ta admit, i'm loving it.

how are the eye workshops?
all's well on the eye front. day 4 or 5, and i've been retested, successfully reading the next smaller line on the eye chart! woohoo! took the cam in today to snap still photos and record video. they love me. but then again, who doesn't??

how are the men in their dhotti pants?
i know you love those natural, cultured types.
dahhhling. they are more cultured than you think! and they are called "luuungis". pretty much full length sarongs, and when they get to be a pain around the ankles, they are folded halfway up and tucked in, exposing the knees a la miniskirt! mmmm. verrrry sexxxy!!

don't you love your week of freedom from peeeps asking about your sanas and loud snoring at night?
'peeps' is referring to my parents. 'sanas' refers to regular bowel movements, and the loud snoring. well, that's my mom to be exact... sharing a room with her was so painful! yes i'm thoroughly enjoying my new found freedom. but the first day it was very noticeable that there was no one checking up with me on my 'sanas' status!!

have you met any cool people?
yes. a few really cool ones. it's like anywhere else in the world. there are some very cool people. there are some that like to dress like very cool people, but are not cool. and then there are some that are cool until they become uncool, often just when you get up close to them. i've been lucky and been mainly hanging out by myself! and i'm seriously cool. i even dress the part!

do you have the indian head wiggle when you speak?
omg yes i noticed i was doing that today! on my daily walk to the vision centre, i always get approached by the autorickshaw drivers asking me if i want a ride. today i think i did it. i didn't even know i was doing it. but afterward, i had this weird feeling because they were not persisting as per usual. i think the indian head wiggle (IHW) sealed my firm, "no thank you" with an extra bit of "and don't ask me again"!

gotta say that i love the indian head wiggle. more on that in another post...

do you say 'HAI?' with a loud, nasal, high pitchedsound if you dont hear or understand what somebody said?
(giggle) yes.

are you wiping the sweat of your brow with your dupatta?
i don't wear a dupatta!!!

are you dhasering your champals around in the dirt?
'dhasering' is dragging, 'champals are sandals, or flips... and yes. although i didn't bring any with me, i succame to the heat and picked up a pair at the fashionable store in the market. they set me back $8 and are good enough to wear home. although today they came in handy at the beach...

are you sneeking out and eating pappadams and gulabjambu from street vendors at night?
i try not to. pappadams are not readily available at night. gulabjambus either. i have taken a strong liking to the ginger and coconut cookies. the street vendor i like the best is an old lady near the vision center. she sells me banana and oranges, which are deeeeelish and cost roughly 2 cents!!
[update: i did find hot and fresh gulabjammus at a sweet shop one night and they were pure heaven and covered in sweet syruppy bliss......]

are you having a passionate love affair with a hotbodied, smelly rickshaw driver?
awwww! wouldn't that be fun!!

do you spit the paan juice as you cruise down the streets?
did you read the blog on spitting? it's requisite, babes.

have you seen hanuman?
i visited his tomb, does that count? i think he came to me in a dream one night after i parted with the parents. not for a love affair, more as a fatherly figure to remind me to be regular with my sanas...

01.02 la gastronomie

2007-01-02T07:17:00.000-05:00

a few words on food.

i've been in pondicherry a few days now and i am beginning to see an indian-french food connection. allow me to explain.

a typical pondi breakfast is masala dosa and chai.

a dosa is made of rice, but essentially, it's what the french would call a crèpe!

a masala dosa is filled with, well, masala (curried and spiced potatoes), so that's a lunch crèpe, rather than a sweet crèpe.

add a cup of masala chai from the nescafé machine (i want to get one of these machines for home - it makes a sound like an espresso machine and then bam! you've got yourself an espresso-size shot of amazing deeelish spiced chai) - so add a cup of masala chai and you've got crèpes with cafe au lait... or thé au lait to be exact!

just as the french like their pastries, indians like their sweets.
i've encountered in pondicherry on my forages west of the canal, around nehru street and goubert market, dozens of little and big "sweet shops", where i make almost a daily pilgrimmage now. the one on the corner of nehru street and canteen street is my usual spot.

it reminds me of the little pastry shops in europe - people lined up to buy all sorts of fattening foods! i purchase a salty snack mix, sesame balls (kind of like sesame snaps but in ball shape and less sweet), ginger and coconut cookies and two gulabjammus, hot and sweet, which i devour in seconds, before even leaving the premises.

mmm. in the course of the day, especially when you're in the maddening crowd and in the market, this little pit stop hits the spot! vive la gastronimie!!

01.01 meditation with the masses

2007-01-01T20:45:00.000-05:00

the first thing i do this year is meditate.

i have been invited to bring in the new year at the global meditation at the ashram - at 6 am. at a regular new years, i'd usually be in bed or just be getting to bed at this time. so i wake up super duper early and walk 15 blocks to the ashram, eager to see what the global meditation will be like.

this is not a strange concept, though, i must explain. i am ismaili. it's ritual to meditate from 4-5am each morning. i have to admit, i haven't been to the mosque in the morning since forever. when i used to go regularly, it was great. when you meditate in the morning you bring in your day with such peace. and your days seem to go by with little conflict and trauma. there is something about meditation that i haven't fully explored yet but i will.

the ashram is full up. tonnes of people cross the street to meditate inside the educational centre. i decide i don't want to remove my shoes so i install myself with the throngs meditating in the street between the two buildings.

quick note: it's quite a strange sight to see for the first time, but indians sit everywhere on the ground. you go to the train station or the airport even and there everyone is, en masse, sitting on the ground having a snack. same thing with the sidewalk. or the street, or just behind a parked truck, exhaust pipes overhead. this is my first time sitting like that. i gotta be honest. it's really a yucky feeling.

then, organ music floods the street from the ashram and i wonder - how can you mediate to this?! for as far back as i can remember, i have somehow associated organ music with horror movies and sinister moods. my attempt at embracing the ashram is not proceeding well!

latecomers are now relegated, due to the increasing lack of space, to the periphery of my visual and hearing boundaries, therefore my consciousness. i close my eyes and attempt to center myself. the organ music continues, and then a lady's voice starts talking. it's the mother! but she's dead! wait - she's talking in french. she's telling me to relax, clear my mind and feel calm. i suddenly wish i was in my bed, but ok.

after 10 minutes, i get over the amplified organ music, the voice, and the dude sitting next to me craning his head to look at me. i begin to feel very calm.

after a half hour the music stops and people start to come back to life. i feel jipped. half an hour!! i have to admit, i did feel good after the meditation. i am used to the full hour at the mosque. half an hour is not bad, but the organ music has to go! as people begin to get up and dust themselves, a feeling of warmth comes over the crowd. its my first smile of the year - all sorts of people are wishing me and each other a happy new year. i walk to the far end of the ville blanche and come back to the guest house via the beach.

it is a magical morning. i spend the first hours of 2007 watching the bright red sun come up over the bay of bengal. there are dozens of people on the beach welcoming the new year with me this way, but i am happy to be alone with my thoughts. as i walk over to park guest house to get a cup of tea and ginger cookies (!), i notice a few old men doing yoga in the park. they smile at me and wish me a happy new year.

today is going to be a beautiful day.

12.31 new years

2007-01-01T13:29:00.000-05:00

tamils know how to celebrate! there is a nightly carnival / fair set up near the beach road since christmas, which i'm told and won't close down until january 14th, the day that the tamils celebrate their new year.

for me, new year's is today and my wish is to bring in the new year peacefully. after a scrumptious dinner at the guest house (they make thaali especially for me!), i check out the bands playing along the beach. i cannot understand anything they are doing but it is a pretty funny spectacle: a bunch of guys up on the stage singing in a very animated way to the crowd. i suddenly wish that i could understand what they were saying. after the show, i head to the beach to hang with a bunch of really cool guys from kashmir. the beach is gorgeous and there are so many people out, some hanging with thier families, others causing a drunken ruckus, and others still, chilling and looking out to the sea with friends.

we talk about everything - one of those types of conversations - just loose and go with the flow... at some point i luckily ask them the time. it's 10:20 pm. i'm in a panic - gotta be back at the ashram in 10 minutes!! i "happy new year" the kashmir crew and run down the street (quite a spectacle for the pondi crowd - more on this later). a zippy autorickshaw driver gets me back just as the guard is closing the front gates...

i spend midnight sitting on my candle-lit balcony and taking in the sounds of fireworks, the pondi locals and the waves crashing on the beach. my first "new years midnight" ever that i spend alone... but i accomplish my goal of a peaceful new years. there is something very special about this new years. something calm, unreheased, unhurried and above all, healthy. i feel very blessed to be here, grateful to see what i am seeing and to have all the things i have, that so many people, in their quest for more more more, seem to take for granted. i am happy to have my health, my crazy family (i mean this in the best possible way), my brain and my friends. it's a good feeling to bring in the new year utterly humbled and happy. i like it.

12.31 reflexology

2006-12-31T08:58:00.000-05:00

so the vision therapy is going well and today after my yoga class, i decided to book myself in for a reflexology treatment at the ayurvedic centre. they have an ear treatment that they will perform after to help me get well and hopefully unplug my poor little ears.

reflexology is the art of using the pressure points on the bottom of your feet to identify parts of the body that are out of balance and need healing. i've surprisingly never had this done before, so i am excited to see what i will find out.

i get interviewed by the doctor and then he and shreeja start the treatment. lying on the table, i am supposed to tell shreeja when i feel any pain as she proceeds to skewer spots along the bottoms of my feet with her fingertips.

i occasionally yelp and each time it's documented in a little notebook. the painful spots are really painful! at the end of the session, i get the results: right foot: top of the head, sinuses, eye, ear, stomach and solar plexus. left foot: top of the head, eyes, ear, stomach. solar plexus?! on google i learn the solar plexus, or 3rd chakra is linked to the abdomen, diaphragm and stomach.

i leave the presribing to the doctor, who brings shreeja and another therapist to work on my ears and throat.

ear procedure...
i am lying back on the table, for another hot oily massage, this time restricted to my face, ears, and throat area. as shreeja works on me, the other therapist is heating something on a fire at the other end of the room. out comes a long wooden tube resembling a wooden flute. my head is turned so that i am looking to the side and one end of the tube goes in my ear, extending straight up to the ceiling. the thing that was being heated is a special oil. a mound of tight cotton is dipped in this oil, and the dipped end is set on fire. the fire goes out, leaving the end smoking.

two drops of heated oil are put into my ear, and then the smoke is then applied or blown into the end of the stick and forced down into my ear. shreeja begins massaging my ear and surrounding area rigourously. more smoke, more massage. the same thing happens on the other side. i wonder if this can possilbly make me deaf. then they lift my head and put a couple of drops of this oil into each nostril, and massage my nose and throat before making me inhale the thick grey smoke curling out of the cotton. i almost choke, it's too much. before i know it, it's all over.

the doctor walks over and asks me how i feel. trying to be polite, i say, i'm okay, but that my throat is burning from the smoke. the three of them smile and shreeja takes me into the ensuite bathroom, hands me a bunch of tissue and tells me to blow my nose and cough up the smoke. i expunge all that i can from all orfices, eyes tearing and throat like sandpaper.

i head back to the guest house and take a nap before dinner and heading to the beach... surprisingly, after just an hour of sleep, my ears feel so much better!

12.30 oil me up - but hold your fire

2006-12-30T13:28:00.000-05:00

still feeling crappy (my ears are blocked since yesterday morning's flight so i worry), i book myself in for yoga and a massage tonight at the ayurvedic centre in the french quarter.

after yoga, i meet a young venezuelan woman who has just gotten a massage - very good, she says, i am in for a treat.

shreeja is my massage therapist, and takes me into the massage room where i am asked to undress. off go the clothes, i go on the table.

shreeja begins by pouring what feels like a barrel of heated oil on me and rubbing me all over. the ayurvedic massage boosts the body's natural healing systems (rather than working the knots out of tired and stressed out muscles). it's all about circulation, working along the body's long meridians and boosting the immune system. let's just say that shreeja is very thorough - i didn't know that certain areas of the body had anything to do with healing! she is under the impression that i am 24 years old - a compliment coming from someone who is presiding over your naked 32 year old ass!

after about an hour i am a hot shining mound of brown clay. i ask shreeja to take a photo of me (fully intending to have her shoot me shoulders up). i am amused. she looks simply horrified! i need the doctor's permission for her to take my picture! i would have done it myself if it was easy enough to do. but feeling the urgent need to de-slick myself, i showered with three rounds of soap (the shampoo never did cut the grease on my head) and called it a night. looking back i could have snapped a shot before showering, but i was afraid of the camera getting yucky or slipping from my hands.

so did it work? well i don't exactly feel better yet. i'm considering coming back tomorrow if the ears don't unplug themselves.

12.30 la vie en pondi

2006-12-30T12:57:00.000-05:00

pondicherry is charming.

the city has been growing steadily for 10 years. i am staying in the french quarter. this neighbourhood is marked by clean buildings and wide streets, and stretches about 15 blocks north up the coast of pondicherry, bordered by the canal to the west, and the beach to the east. driving in yesterday, i saw puducherry (the indian name reclamation process is well underway!), which i intend to visit soon.

today the vice president of india is paying a visit pondicherry. i take some time after my morning eye session to explore the city, the best way i know how - on foot. i walked for more than 5 hours.

the whitewashed walls of the buildings reflect the colonial french enclave's history; some being restored, with the blaze of bougainvillas climbing over walls. i am reminded of the decadent french quarter in new orleans (all my memories being pre-katrina). known as "ville blanche", the french quarter has many boutiques, french hotels and guest houses and even some french restaurants. much of this part of town is operated by french expats and affiliated with the city's most popular attraction: the sri aurobindo ashram, which i decide to visit today.

i may as well have gone to the moon.

after removing my shoes, switching off my cell phone and camouflaging my camera, i enter the main building where throngs of people shuffle in silent mobs toward the samadhi. the samadhi lies in a greenhouse-like courtyard within the ashram walls, the centerpiece of which are the marble tombs of sri aurobindo and his right-hand, french expat mirra alfasa (known to all as "the mother"). a large sign warns visitors: "please refrain from bringing flowers for the samadhi".

the place is full. does jim morrison's tomb at pere lachaise cemetary get this many visitors? i get caught up in the mass that is moving feverishly toward the tombs. radiating in every direction, followers from all corners of the world have scored prized seating on the courtyard floor to meditate facing the tombs. approaching the samadhi, teary-eyed visitors are lowering to their knees, kissing the marbled tops of the tombs, whispering prayers, eager to spend as much time as possible with the departed despots before being urged to move on or are forcibly wrenched free. i feel like an alien, a stranger to the mass outpouring of love and devotion to two mere humans who i know nothing about. my time has come. i walk past the tombs, more interested in people-watching than paying my respects. without muttering even a single anything, and careful not to touch the tombs or trip over barnacles latched on for dear life, i continue past, wondering what else there is to see here.

my answer came quickly: not much. i walk through the congested bookstore, photo shop (where you can buy limitless posed shots of aurobindo and the mother as personal souvenirs), and the preserved living room of the two, before collecting my shoes and emerging into the relative normalcy of the street.

i feel as though i just crashed a funeral. eager to shake off the weird feeling i have, i take in a visit to the pondicherry museum. it contained a mishmash of artifacts from excavations at the nearby ancient indo-roman port village of arikamedu, an extensive collection of french colonial furnishings from the time of general dupleix, and statues of mythic vedic gods and saints from hindu mythology.

in the midday heat, i return to the guest house, shower, change and have lunch. i inquire about organizing a car or rickshaw to show me around the larger city, perhaps go to arikamedu and auroville, the much-famed town built by the mother (this is also where the nice beach is - my real reason for going). apparently it's dangerous for a single female tourist (sft), to trust any old driver to take me outside this part of town. the young man at the ashram says he can arrange something for me but not today.

thankful for sound advice, i spend the afternoon checking out more of the city. i begin to wonder as i encounter several shops, the revenues of which support the ashram. part of the mother's vision as she took over control of the ashram and related departments when aurobindo went into seclusion before his death, was the creation of income-generating departments to support the ashram. but visiting expensive ashram shops like "aurofurn" designer furniture (very sleek and stylish stuff i got to admit!), "auroshoes" (leather shoes), "aurobati" (designer candles and incense), "aurotextiles" (designer clothes, handbags) and so on, i begin to think that the place is making a mockery of sri aurobindo's name... auro-this and auro-that.... would he be turning in his grave? or perhaps not, i wonder? we will never know. several locals tell me about the ashram, how they dislike the french, indulge me in the politics and corruption of the ashram itself, tell me of colony of locals and expats who have surrendered their lives (livelihoods) to live and devote their service to the ashram in the styled village of auroville 12 kms north. i conclude the ashram is a business after all, and has systems that make it function. in any case, i decide not to delve too deep into anything "auro", to maintain my own sensibilities.

tomorrow, however, i am going to auroville to check out the beach!

12.30 oh! da toilette!

2006-12-30T02:28:00.000-05:00

it's been a coupla weeks and i've not mentioned anything about the toilets... yes toilets are different all over the world and india is no exception!

although i'm no stranger to the squat, i am highly adverse to the wash n go. india's toilets always have two things: a hole in the ground and a faucet. and if you are in a hotel (hoteliers notice how long tourists spend in the john), no matter what type of hotel - from a cabin to a 5-star, you will always find a phone on the wall behind the toilet bowl!

to tp or not to tp....

when arriving at the ashram guest house i was given a choice of whether or not i wanted a western toilet, so i opted for the western style. why not? everyone likes to feel at home on the john and i'm no exception. i happily marched up to my new home to be greeted by the word FRANKNESS on my door. sandwiched between ELEGANCE and INTENSITY on the other, for a second i thought to switch to the indian toilet room. my better judgement prevailed and i stuck with the frank room. i was greeted by another sign on my bathroom door, PLEASE DO NOT THROW PAPER IN THE TOILET THE LINE WILL JAM. like it or not i was gonna have to wash n go. i decided to go with the flow. did i mention i hate the drip dry??

every time i entered the bathroom, i couldn't leave before taking a shower. i eventually got used to the cold water (refreshing in the middle of the day), fetching hot water in a bucket when i felt like indulging. no matter what, you learn to adapt to your environment, which i did. i even started to like my little space of FRANKNESS where i woke up each morning...

i do marvel at how women use these squat water toilets, managing handbags and children while keeping their silk sarees and salwar khameez dry... layers of slippery fine fabric falling prey to a fountain of manual flushing...

[update: i did luckily come across an article called "how to use a squat toilet", which would have come in handy when i was performing my one-woman squatting act... for anyone needing some coaching, an excellent read! be fearless and just do it!!]

12.29 pondi for perfect eyesight

2006-12-29T06:29:00.001-05:00

i got into pondicherry midday yesterday and was on death's door. with two sleepless nights under my belt and a heavy cold, i flew at dawn, almost bursting my eardrums on the flight. after a 4 hour drive from chennai, with a stop in mahabalipurnam to boot, i finally made it to the sri aurobindo ashram's new guest house in pondi. at check-in i was in a state of hot, sweaty, runny nose, burning eyes, incredible ear pain, deeply blocked ears, headache, and exhaustion. utterly pitiful. i got my keys and then the guy at the check in told me that it was a 3km walk to the bazaar where i could buy a towel (the guest house has none)!

after studying the city map for a half hour and a change of clothes, i took off walking to explore pondi. not only did i find myself at the school for perfect eyesight, i checked in and did my introductory eye exam and first round of exercises. my body was in autopilot...

at the school for perfect eyesight...

located in a very nondescript building, the only way i recognized it was when i looked up to see people on the balconies with their eyes shut swinging from side to side. i checked in and proceeded to get my eyes examined.

the exam was different than the regular eye doc's. i was asked to look at some regular eye charts, then red, green and yellow lights, and backwards numbers in mirrors across the room. the place is totally outfitted for this - they must see hundreds of people each year.

the mind, the body, the heart... and vision
in my state, i knew i would do miserably - and i did. i had to explain how run-down i was feeling. what most people don't realise is that eyesight is a reflection of the entire physical and emotional health. your vision happens mostly in the brain, not the eyes. when the body's run down, eyesight will suffer slightly. when the body is in a good physical state, the mind is clear, and the heart is happy, vision is optimized. in my state, i was doing even worse than my whopping -6.50 and -5.75 prescription would have indicated. i was given a little yellow card indicating all sorts of activities and sent upstairs to begin my exercise regimen.

this may become a long post but as soon as i tell anyone what i'm doing with my eyes i get the inevitable question "what exercises do you do?". if you are one of these lovely people, and have not yet read the book i have told you to read, then continue on. this will de-mystify everything!

sunning (2m): while i usually got saline drops, the first day they started with a drop of honey in each eye. don't try this at home! it hurts like a bastard. then, i proceeded to the balcony, closed my eyes, feet hip-width apart, facing the sun and swung side to side for all below to see. and ridicule! this lasted to the count of 20.
this exercise is a good "yogic" warm up, using the warming and healing properties of the sun.

eye wash (2m): after the sunning, i took a small eye wash cup and wash out each eye. as much as i was looking forward to washing out the honey, my eyes just stung more with the introduction of the water! even with the saline, i never got used to it.
the exercise washes out foreign objects or impurities that may be lodged beneath the eyelids.

palming (10m): this is the most important exercise of all. sitting tall at the huge circular pillow-top table overlooking the sea, i rubbed my palms together to release the magical healing properties locked inside. i crossed one set of fingers in front of the other, and covered my eyes with my palms, elbows resting on the pillows in front of me and feet flat on the floor. i began deep breathing. this i did for 10 minutes.
this exercise relaxes your eye muscles, which are constantly being used and strained.

reading fine print (10m): following this, i went into a dark room where i lit a candle and read "diamond type print", which is very small. i read with both eyes, covered the right side after i read a third of the way through, and then switched and covered the left side for the last part. the content is always the same: a collection of quotes from sri aurobindo (founder of the ashram) himself. i made myself blink after each 3-5th word.

i emerged from the dark room to read the same fine print, in the same order with both eyes, then left and then right. only this time i read it in daylight.
this exercise keeps eyes in constant motion, improves memory, and encourages blinking

tennis ball (5m): this is a fun exercise where i bounce a tennis ball, making a V shape, from one hand to the other, following the ball with my eyes, and remembering to blink each time i catch the ball. then i had to do the opposite, throwing the ball from one hand to the other, so that it would cross me eye level as it went. i did each of these 40 times.
this exercise keeps the eyes in constant motion, while working on hand-eye coordination

bar swing (2m): i go back outside to the balcony where there are iron bars on one side, fairly close together. with feet shoulder-width apart, i sway from one side to the other, eyes moving across the bars in front of me.
this exercise improves the eye's natural saccatic movements

visualizations (5m): in the palming room, i go back and pick up a card with the OM mantra symbol and trace the lines as if i have a paintbrush on the end of my nose. i do this with my eyes shut, moving my head in the largest motions possible, i visualize the figure in bright red, then bright green, then bright yellow and finally bright blue.
this exercise improves the mind-eye coordination and improves the mind's ability to visualize

eye cooridination (2m): i hold a pen tip up to the end of my nose, and with both eyes on the tip, move the pen in one hand as far as my arm extends up and to the right, i blink and breathe, and slowly move the pen past my nose, switch hands and extend the pen tip as far down on my left side, still blinking breathing and with both eyes on the tip of the pen. i repeat the same in the opposite so that i am making a giant X shape. repeat three times.
this exercise coordinates both eyes - especially when one is stronger or dominates the other

eye chart (10m): i go downstairs and sit in front of an eye chart on the wall. i have a matching eye chart card in my lap. before starting, i close my eyes and think about things that make me happy. this releases anxiety that could arise from seeing eye charts (the feeling of going into an exam). when i start, i look at the largest letter on the card in my lap, blink three times, and find the same letter on the wall chart, blinking three times. this i continue with each letter in diminishing size on the card on my lap.
this exercise improves the eyes seeing power, memory, and recollection

vapour and cold pack (10m):i go back to the main floor, where there is a vaporizer emitting an earthy steam of vaporub and eucalyptus oil. i sit down at the vaporizer, head covered, and breathe deeply for 30 seconds. then go sit in a chair and someone puts wet gauze s over my closed eyelids. i sit, relax and breathe for a while.
this exercise relaxes your eyes after the regimen, much like "savasana" or "corpse pose" in yoga. helps to loosen tension in your eyes and body
so that's it! the entire regimen takes one hour and should be performed twice a day, in the same sequence.

at about 5pm i was done and free to go, my train wreck of a body somehow walked through pondicherry up to the market on nehru street: a hurlyburly pedestrian death-trap. i asked at three places before i found towels for sale. while normally i would be picky about this sort of thing (absorbency, colour, size, etc) i simply purchase a powder blue towel and walk back to the ashram guest house. it was about 7pm now so after a scrumptious dinner, i fetched some hot water in a bucket to shower with and jumped into bed!

on my first night in pondi, i slept like a sunken ship.

12.29 planes trains and automobiles

2006-12-29T02:31:00.000-05:00

transportation in india is a bitch. i think it will be an indian who will make teleportation a reality.

so far i have been driven around spoiled silly with a personal driver. i've taken two overnight trains, neither of which even had first class seating. and i've flown indian airlines. with a cold.

the "rail ghadi", (rail car in english), is an adventure. book early. for overnight trips "1A" is your best option. "1" being the class, and "A" being short for A/C. in my case we booked 1A but when the train appeared, there was only 2A. you have to go right up to the cars and look for your name on pieces of paper taped to the train outside! it's the most disorganized system ever! we found our names on the 2A list. 2A has two bunks, one on top of the other, pretty crammed, but i also saw a 3A car. the word sardines comes to mind. 'A' cars are not only air conditioned but safer i've heard than non-A. i found there were bunches of indian business travellers in the A cars, all of them who i spoke to were very cool and were very helpful. they really understand the NRI (non-resident indian), and give you the kind of good advice that only someone who cares about their country's economy will.

the ride is surprisingly smooth, but noisy. there is no closed 'compartment', only curtains separating you from strangers walking by. there are 'western' (seats) and 'indian' (hole in the ground) toilets for each car. one sink, outside the toilets. bring sanitizer! forget fresh air. the rail cars look almost greenish on the insides, and on a couple of occasions i almost pulled aside all the curtains in our car to find the elusive 2am chain smoker.

i went against the rules and between cars, i opened the door so i could catch some railside action. as the sun came up, i saw the most amazing things. train tracks and train stations are almost always in the seediest areas of towns. no exception here. many 'homeless' people make their beds by the tracks, some in tents, some in open air. i even saw a real bed out in the grass under a bypass bridge! like so many other speeding by moments i didnt' have my camera ready to capture it! in the morning, these people are all doing their matinal abolutions (ie blowing their noses without paper, horking and spitting, urinating or taking a dump) in plain view of locomotive passgeners.

the coolest part is that you are never thirsty. there are a multitude of 'chai-boys' pedaling hot tea. they climb on at one stop and walk up and down selling their stuff. and the chai is soooo good. even gets your mind off the stopper-poopers outside for a few minutes...

as for planes, i took a horrific air india flight from cochin to chennai. the flight itself was fine (they still hand out candies before the take off; even BA has stopped doing that!), but after two sleepness nights and a head cold to boot, i underwent the most acute ear pain since i was 12 (that was the last time i flew with a cold). apart from the massive power out at the airport, and heavy security checks (in a curtained room a guard smears the metal detector ALL over you), the trip was fine. i was even distracted from my ear pain by a croissant puppet thanks to my charming travel companion who i met prior to the flight.

i must mention that the east coast road trip from chennai to pondicherry is the most beautiful route i've taken in a long time. during the 3 hours, my driver stopped so i could visit the ruins in mahabalipuram. these are a series of ancient rock carved structures that were built by the pallava dynasty in the 7th century. like the taj mahal and lal q'ilah, the red fort in dehli, there is a stretch of tourist shops lining the entrance to the monuments. i spend 20 minutes visiting the structures, 10 minutes chiling at the beach. by the time we reach pondi, i am so tired and hot that i am nodding off. i wrestle myself awake, taking everything in as we enter the french enclave where i am to spend a week improving my vision... and very glad to not be in transit mode for a full 8 days!

12.27 deep dark secret!

2006-12-27T12:35:00.000-05:00

so we're on the houseboat for 24 hours.

what began as delight has now become doldrum. kerala is lovely but there are only so many rice fields to look at, only so many backwaters churches and ashrams to take in, only so many times to guest-drive the boat. let's face it. skipper and gilligan had it right - all you need is a three-hour tour. ok, and a professor.

as night falls, i start to hate houseboats. boat crews work most of the year away from their families. for a half-decent living they toil away in the burning sun, cooking, cleaning and lugging our crap around, so we can lounge out on a boat? if i had to repeat this, i'd choose a zippy motorboat, thank you very much.

sun descends and the crew brings us the most scrumptious dinner crowned with kerala fish. we ask them to join us but they decide to eat in the kitchen. for 15 minutes, the captain joins us for chai, telling us about his wife and teenage kids at home. i admit, you can't get this on a motorboat.

afterwards, as we dock the boat for the night, my father says: do you know your great-grandfather was murdered?

jackpot!

suddenly i'm grateful for being shipwrecked with my parents! i guess it took being stuck with him for a couple of weeks for my father to finally talk about his family. tonight i get to hear some deep dark secrets! it's no wonder he's been hush. my grandfather would never tell him who poisoned my great-grandfather... or why. back then it was usually one of two things: greed or revenge. a good story, in any case!

my great-grandfather was from gujarat. a general in the british army, he left his family in india and served in africa for 10 years. 10 years is a long time. it was only natural that my grandfather (an only child) suspected he had some half-siblings in africa. after her husband's death (murder), my great-grandmother left her home and farm, took whatever she had and traveled to africa with her son, who in turn spent his life building businesses, gambling like a fiend, marrying and divorcing, and... scouring the continent for his siblings.

he lived an amzaing life. in africa, he was a risk-taker. he bid on a road-building contract, which he won with no experience and not enough capital to start. he was a networker, though. he somehow found a fleet of trucks, supplies and staff within five days and started building his first business. after the road-building, he kept his fleet of trucks and had a transportation company. he opened up stores in east african cities, giving them over to locals with the understanding he'd need to collect some profits and use their guest homes every once in a while. he was also a religious man. he never missed going to the mosque in the evenings. despite that, he loved gambling and took his driver around with him everywhere, including clubs with member only access. he'd get away with anything. people knew him as "chacha panda", which means "uncle panda" [panda is a city in east africa...]. my grandmother left him and their three sons, when my father was only two years old. my great-grandmother - the sailor - ended up raising the boys. eventually they each went to boarding schools, colleges and even joined the army themselves. by the time my father got married and moved to toronto, my grandfather was loan-sharking. he kept my father updated on his banking accounts and businesses in case anything happened to him. but my father began to fear he'd get murdered too, and he and his brothers convinced him and his wife to move to toronto. my grandfather lived a more sedate life in canada, but a good life...

at 68, my grandfather was diagnosed with cancer and given 6 months to live. he bought himself and his wife a world ticket and took off. while out gambling one night in london, he met a top oncologist from mumbai. on hearing that my grandfather had cancer with only a few months to live, the oncologist invited him to visit. so my grandfather went to mumbai. he was treated by the oncologist and lived for another 8 years. he got a flat in a complex inside hassanabad, where his friends lived in mumbai, where he stayed with his wife and enjoyed his time there thoroughly. after he died, he gave his wife a truckload of cash and built her a very nice house his old gujarati village. her brother, a very nasty, evil, crooked, and notorious man, began stealing and controlling her money and moved his family into her village and into her house. eventually she died and her brother took over her wealth and property.

a couple of years ago, my uncle went to india to meet the family. he was confronted with hostility - the man-in-the-house thought my uncle had come to claim the property. see, the deed was in my grandfather's name, so the property could very realistically be claimed by his son now that his wife had passed away. the man-in-the-house did everything to hide the fact that he stole the house from my grandfather's wife. he had a fake deed issued and caused a scene outside the house, trying to chase my uncle away with it. in fact, he reported my uncle to the local police and tried to get him arrested on false charges of abuse. luckily, he is notorious in the village and so my uncle was tipped off by a sympathetic cop. my uncle fled before being arrested. [this is why my father used a fake name when we went there...]

but there's more. what nobody knew was that before he died, my grandfather planned on adopting the man in the house's son to provide his wife with a 'family' after he was gone. my grandfather didn't like the idea of her brother raising the boy. the boy would be safer and raised properly with her. the-man-in-the-house found out about the process and decided it was a good idea: his natural son would then inherit my grandfather's property, making it accessible to him. the adoption process stalled and papers are now missing. the man-in-the-house is looking for them, so he can get them "notorized" and find my dad or his brothers to demand financial support for his son, their "adopted brother"! i don't know if any of this is actually possible but it's what my dad is telling me. i wonder: if he got a fake deed, why couldn't he get fake adoption papers?

the story goes on... in the distance, i hear fireoworks popping. it's well after christmas and not yet new years, but indians are obsessed with fireworks. i decide to go lie down. i feel as though i've just watched an old movie. i'm happy that my father has decided to tell me some of his deep dark secrets.

i remember the last time i saw my grandfather. he was so thin and sick and i hugged him so hard. i suddenly miss him very much... i'd like to visit his grave in bombay before we fly home.

12.27 on the water

2006-12-27T00:54:00.000-05:00

today we hit the water... to explore the backwaters of kerala on a houseboat!

our captain meets us on the dock in alleppy. he's an older man in a blue luungi and looks like he's spent his entire life toiling in the sun. he smiles with his eyes. crewmembers take our bags and escort us to the boat. we board via a wobbly plank that is wide as my foot.

i've never seen a houseboat before. a giant gujarati shipwrecking town supplies hardware for keralan houseboats. the bodies i hear are made without nails or screws. ours has light hardwood floors, a lounge and dining table right out front. a framed jesus follows me with his eyes: "i am holy. i love you... but i am watching you!"

i ignore him and explore...

open air windows surround the boat and a hallway leads to bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen and crew's quarters. stairs lead up from the dining room through the ceiling. like a kid i scurry up, and find an elevated lounge, with an open-air sunbathing perch up top of that, looking out onto the waters ahead. this is my spot!!

and ahoy. we are afloat.

`
the backwaters are a little dark. there are numerous other boats out on the water and tourists size up each's watercraft: size, design, upkeep, speed, driver, crew and so on. it's a bit annoying. locals keep little boats instead of cars to scoot around in.

we cruise along a stretch of the 200km waterway and india is happening by the shore. people make their homes along the backwaters. a concrete built up "sidewalk" lines the water, houses behind it, farmlands and sunken lime-green rice fields extending into the distance.

the water sees all: bathing, dishwashing, clothes washing, teeth brushing, and who knows what else. it's kind of refreshing in a weird way. i feel like a voyeur watching everyone knee-deep performing their daily water-chores.

one degree of climate change
every once in a while we see bunches of greenery with purply flowers shooting up from underwater. this infestation of growth is new: the direct result of climate change. it's less than one degree of global warming, but the ecology of the backwaters is changing rapidly. i wonder if backwater lifeforms are coping, adapting, to this infestation and who knows what other changes. do people here care enough to do something about it?

my answer comes quick; a canoe floats by, full of recycling!

the crew are working really hard and bring us all sorts of food to eat. it's divine. i gobble it up and return upstairs to my sun spot. a little after lunch nap never hurt anyone!!

12.26 god's own country

2006-12-26T10:22:00.000-05:00

what strikes me about alleppy (or now, allapuhza) in opposition to other parts of india i've seen - is the most apparent absence of hunger in the streets.

nowhere do i see anyone asking for money. not in the markets, on sidewalks, in night spaces, outside temples (a most popular spot as visitors usually give generously to the poor outside places of worship = perhaps to be seen in a brighter light by a higher power....). it was really a contrast compared to the north... i'm curious to see whether this is the same in the keralan capital, cochin, or other parts of kerala, or other parts of the south, ie. pondicherry in tamil nadu, where i go next.

in any case, i do know this: the economy of kerala is the best in the country and the literacy rate in kerala is 100%. kerala operated as a socialist state, which would explain how the standard of living seems strikingly balanced. there are rich land-owners here but there are no signs of ultra-poor. conversely, i've also heard that the suicide rate in kerala is the highest in india. i wonder if this has anything to do with the lack of ultra-poor? this leaves me questioning what standards of living are based on... a healthy economy and high literacy rate, or the number of suicides. of course, there is a lot of controversy over kerala, with many people who believe it's only a matter of time before kerala's statistics align more closely with the rest of the country...

i do know this: kerala is called "god's own country", which most people believe is because of the lush jungles, tropical climate and lovely beaches. the origins of the title, "god's own country" is probably urban mythology... the warrior god vishnu went on a killing spree, exterminating warrior kings to take over their land. confronted by his conscience, he prayed a top a mountain. a sea god appeared, forgave him, and offered him land equal to the distance he could throw his spear, which was from the mountaintop down to the southern tip of india. land suddenly rose up from the sea, now known as kerala or, "god's own country".

lucky me, i get to see more of this 'country' tomorrow on a houseboat... i've been wanting to get on the water for a while and this will be a great way to see the natural beauty of kerala... through its backwaters.

12.25 coconuts

2006-12-25T00:55:00.000-05:00

the coconut is no mere fruit. it's food, medicine, shelter, clothing and music all in one.

no part of the coconut plant will go to waste. in fact, you are said to be blessed if you have coconut trees growing on your property. the coconut tree lasts for 10 years or more, and will produce 10 or more coconuts each season.

i'm amazed at what you can make with coconuts!! the coconut water is probably the most pure source of water you can find. aside from eating and drinking it up, you can use the liquid for intravenous fluid... the leaves for shelter, baskets, clothing, storage... the outside shell to make shirt buttons, musical instruments, floor buffers, canoes, women's bikinis... the husk for string, rope, fuel... not to mention the tree itself as source of wood or a kid's playground!

here's the wiki article on coconuts. i'm not lying, you can see for yourself!

today i'll get a coconut massage. can't wait!

12.24 kerala and kritters

2006-12-24T13:07:00.001-05:00

kerala is a paradise.

everything is green and lush. and alive.

seriously. turtles appear by your feet. geckos play tag on walls and ceilings. birds swoop into the open-air bathroom to peck in grasses and stones surrounding the shower. sometimes, bugs crawl into your ears and lay eggs in your sinuses and cheekbones...

by day, alleppy - this sleepy little town - is quaint and peaceful. our cottage is in a secluded area, where the beach meets the backwaters about 50 feet from the shore. salt water and fresh water separated by a thin stretch of sand...

as night falls, the town seethes. it's christmas season and that means the streets are packed. music pours out of giant speakers in the streets. roads are closed off to motorists and thousands of people are smushed up against each another, shuffling along the two main drags. it's hard to breathe. at times, the crowd gridlocks. there are NO other tourists in sight... this is a keralan party all the way! families and packs of young men (no packs of young women out at night) visit temples, watch the elephant make its rounds, make offerings to the lingum and yoni statues (representing shiva and skakti, man and woman respectively), take in the devotional singing, eat at roadside stands, partake in candle-lighting ceremonies, watch booming fireworks (indians have a firework addiction), people-watch and visit shops lining the streets.

a bumpy ride back through thickets (we have to 4X4 through forest) and i finally get back to the cottage. i am hot and sweaty and happy. i clean up and want to pass out. on my bed, a giant frog pops into the air and scares my face off. with jangled nerves, i call front desk and perma-smirk guy comes to remove it for me... how embarrasing.

i lay down for a few minutes, the bed claiming my body like a big bear hug. i suddenly hear my mom's urgent voice from the doorway suggesting i sit up fast. on my headboard a bright green gecko peers down at my face.

which means another restless night for me! many people come to kerala to unwind and relax, but not me. i love that this place is so fresh, so green, so alive. i just wish it wasn't so alive so close up in my face...

12.21 licence to drive

2006-12-22T00:19:00.000-05:00

streets in india are a mess: cars, trucks, motorcycles, autorickshaws, people, cows, goats, dogs, bicycles, and the excrement of all the above. there are lane dividers, but i am the only one who notices. i think the brits painted them when they were here! apart from the directional segregation, there appears to be zero organization to traffic.

sanjeev, our tour operator for the north, said this on our first day in the car. "there are three things you need on the road in india: 1- a good driver, 2- a good set of brakes, and 3- good luck".

nowhere was this more evident than on the night drive back to gandhidham from malia. our daredevil driver, ganga-rama, almost gave me a coronary. and i wasn't even in the front seat with him!

after a long visit with family, we piled into the car and ganga-rama set off for the 2 hour drive back to our hotel. full from a scrumptous dinner, i was nodding off in the back seat.

bad mistake!

i was woke up screaming a handful of times (i'm sure this is bad for my vision improvement, of which relaxation is a key requirement), mainly as ganga-rama swirved violently back into his directional lane - usually averting a head-on collision by an inch or two. the headlights and blaring horns of a couple of massive "tata" trucks barrelling past made my life flash before my eyes. i was grateful to be alive. it was during this drive that i wrote a text message to my sister, digitally declaring my last will and testament, of which she would be the sole beneficiary. i'm sure a text message will is not binding but hey, that's all i had!

12.21 pass the salt

2006-12-21T22:36:00.000-05:00

today we visited my mom's family in malia (pronounced 'maariya'), gujarat.

the road here from gandhidham where we are staying is nothing like the road we took yesterday. it's very developed and industrialized, with a multitude of trucks carrying goods across the province.

i ask the driver to stop and back up the car for a photo. when i get out of the car, i am in front of a mountain of white powder (funny enough, there is a sign out front that says: "gujarat coke ltd". no, it's not cocaine. it looks like snow but it's not snow either. it's salt. mounds of refined salt that comes from the salt flats we pass a few kms ahead. this area is a shallow tide region. when the shallow tide comes in, miles and miles of salt water are trapped by manufactured square plots. over a few days, the salt dries in the sun and is scraped away to be refined, finally ending up on the tables people across the southern part of the province.

out from nowhere, we see a tribe of indian bedouins leading their brightly dressed and laden camels down the roadside. they actually construct entire beds on top of the camels, capable of carrying up to six people on a journey! unike other folks who don't like to have their picture shot, they smiled as i insisted we stop to take pictures.

the family visit was pretty cool. i got to meet my mom's cousin, akbar (better known as 'biku'), his sons and their families. the littlest one was his granddaughter, unika (pronounced 'ooneeka'), who i got to spend the day playing with before sitting down to a traditional dinner. funny, there was no salt shaker at the dinner table.

12.21 thaali with truckers

2006-12-21T02:21:00.000-05:00

if you've ever shared a meal with me at some point, you know very well that i love love love food. this is one meal i gotta tell you about!

while we were out for our full day of driving and visiting small villages in my ancestral stomping gounds, we naturally worked up an appetite. there was no where in sight to eat except this one remote truck stop our driver recommended we stop at.

in north america, i grew up traveling on interstate or national highways (the time before roadside MAC and Wendy's), so i'm no stranger to the truck-stop. i was a bit curious, wondering what type of food they would be serving up.

the food was the most amazing i've had yet. for about 50 cents we had traditional thaali for lunch. the thaali is a north indian concept of eating, mostly vegetarian, where your food is served in a large metallic platter. inside the platter, individual dishes are served in small matching metallic cups. along with papadam and chapattis (an indian flatbread), i had curried okra and curried mixed veggies, daal, the most increidble curried spinach, rice, mango puree (to die for), all served with a small shot of chai.

the waiters loved us, and kept coming back with their hanging tins filled with yummy food to refill. i think i had about 6 chapatis in total. they came around with ladoos - the type of indian after dinner sweet thing that you get at very traditional weddings.

mmmm. pure heaven.

12.20 who's your daddy?

2006-12-21T00:36:00.000-05:00

for the first time in india, i am sweaty.

we're driving through the countryside in my grandparents' home land of gujarat. it's a mix of semi-arid, semi-desert, semi-farmland. amid rocks and rolling hillsides of cacti, you suddenly find a tropical 'oasis' of date palms and small village enclaves.

in a moving car, you can always catch glimpses of women in beautiful traditional gujarati saris, carrying large pots of water on their heads . the local dresses are adorned in mirrors and bandhani patterns in the brightest of colours. the women inspired me: i had a couple of bandhani outfits made for myself!

we visited anjar, bhuj, nangalpur, sinongra and mandvi, the places where my dad's family are from. many of the buildings are new, having been rebuilt after the killer earthquake of 2001, in which a million buildings collapsed. about 20,000 people in the region died.

my great-grandmother grew up on a farm in nangalpur, before heading to anjar and catching a train to the sea-side for a boat that would transport her to a new life in africa. today, that farm is a jungle, sold to family friends long ago. in nangalpur, we visited a pristine kindergarten school across the street from the house my father's father built for his wife when they returned to india before he died. painted on the wall of a classrooms: "live as if you will die tomorrow, learn as if you will live forever".

while visiting with leaders of the mosque in nangalpur, my father was very careful not to divulge his identity. they were naturally curious why we would travel from canada to visit this 'remote' village with only 250 people in the community. my dad told them he was orphaned and grew up in a boarding school, not knowing his family. when asked, he said his name was abdul raheman kanji (instantly dubbing me salima abdul kanji!!!). though desperate to correct him and even more desperate to see the house next to the mosque, which i knew belonged to my grandfather, i knew my dad has important reasons for keeping us hush hush. i kept quiet. even though salima abdul kanji has a most terrible ring to it.

the day was topped off with a visit to the sea-side beach town of mandvi. it was here that i woke up a sleeping camel, snapped some shots of kids on the beach and bid the sun good night over it's watery bed. all in all, a good day - can't describe how it feels to know one's homeland. a good feeling, but no words can capture it.

12.17 pure jaipur

2006-12-17T03:20:00.000-05:00

ah jaipur!

we are staying at a boutique hotel called the shahpura house, a converted residence of an old royal family. the cool thing about the place is that every night, on the rooftop patio restaurant, there is live folk music and dance performances in old rajasthani style. men sit on the floor playing dholkas and women wearing heavy embroidered dresses dance up a storm, people clap in time with the music. it's a bit fun.

despite being crook capital of india, we have been dying to go shopping so this was where we did it. the place is a buzz. you cannot go down the street without someone yelling "madam, madam!!" and trying to get you to part with money. whether it's the calls from the shop keepers, the jingling 'jhumkhas' of women's anklets, horns of speeding drivers, there's never a quiet moment in this city. all set against the backdrop of indian music. i've already recorded some fantastic stuff including two young kids playing flute and drum at a re-created rajasthani village fair called chowki dhani.

one pretty cool palace we visited was hawa mahal, the palace of winds. the tiny windows in the front are made so that the courtly women could look out onto the city without themselves being seen. the rock used for the construction is part of a larger palace complex that was all done in pink, making jaipur the 'pink city'.

other monuments we saw included the amber fort, a beautiful mix of mughal and rajput architecture and is part of a larger complex of buildings. at the top of the main building was another queen's window, where a gorgeously carved window screen would ensure her privacy as she looked out over the square.

12.16 naughty

2006-12-16T05:35:00.000-05:00

so here we were touring up in rajasthan and my mom thought it would be cool to go on an elephant ride. part of me feels sorry for these animals, the other part of me is more like "when in rome..." except we are far, far, far from rome.

our driver stopped an elephanteer on the road and haggled with him so we could get atop the beast and be carried around like royals for a few minutes.

lucky us, we met up with bubloo - the naughty baby elephant!

only 10 years old, the wicked bubloo decides to knock my dad off a stone wall (he had to grasp the harness for his life while his feet left dangling over the edge of the wall!). always wise, dad decided not to do the elephant thing after all. i climbed up and off we went, me and my mom.

the most boring mode of transportation i've encountered yet. and slow!! so that was the much-hyped moment in the sun. although it felt like forever.

12.15 victory city, pink city

2006-12-16T02:04:00.000-05:00

on our way to jaipur, the pink city, we stopped at another important historical site, known as fathepur sikri.

fathepur means 'victory city'. this was the new capital that the moghul akbar built at the old city, sikri. this was perhaps my favuorite history lesson, probably because rather than a fortress, fathepur sikri was the residence of akbar and his wives, and contained residences, halls, stables, masjids and other interesting buildings, all laid out in a whimsical pattern rather than symmetrically.

the other important thing i learned in this history lesson was that akbar was not narrow-minded. only one of his wives was muslim from turkey. the other was a hindu from rajasthan, and the last was a christian from goa! the architecture of each of their separate 'havelis' or houses, reflected in thier design their own religious background. for example, the christian wife's haveli had crosses in the carved stone. the hindu wife had flowers and flames, while the muslim wife had q'uranic ayats. they each had their own kitchens, so their meals could be prepared according to religion and taste. there was an entire hide-and-seek building in which women would be blindfolded and try to find one another. the courtyard was floored with beautifully carved squares, in the centre was a square bench on which akbar and his wife or wives would sit. the women of the harem (in addition to his wives, he had 300 girlfriends, talk about a player!) would dress in one of two colours and stand on the squares in a game of medeival chess!

despite being scammed by a guide who had approached us on site (never pick up a guide on site in india, it's best to pre-book one yourself!) it was a magical visit. i could imagine the sound of music coming from the various buildings, girls running around playing and beautiful fabrics covering each archway of each of the buildings, behind which, who knows what would be happening!

i'm amazed at the genius of architecture of this place, and the other monuments we have visited. what a shame that after such extravagance, such incredible workmanship and such immense expense that that the main family line has died out; their homes are now deserted. well, except for the millions of annual tourist visits, of course...

the day was topped off with our arrival in jaipur... as we arrive in the dark, i can make out a very unique architecture and cannot wait for sunrise to go explore the pink city!

12.15 spec-less india

2006-12-16T01:23:00.000-05:00

i've been trying to go without my glasses to prepare myself for the school for perfect eyesight in pondicherry but it's been extremely hard. i want to take in everything i can and with a prescription of -6.25, you need to wear your glasses.

i've been here just over a week and am quickly realising that it's not just my western dress that sets me apart from my fellow indian. it's the spectacles.

so i stand out like a sore thumb... unlike north america, india doesn't need glasses. there are very few people that i come into contact with who wear them, perhaps giving weight to a study i read about involving different cultures and their comparative loss of vision.

the theory is that cultures where children and adults spend a large amount of time outdoors and maintaing a very physical lifestyle have good eyes. cultures where kids and adults are chained to desks either in front of textbooks or computers, begin to rely heavily on corrective eyewear.

it's a shame that india and many other countries are trying so hard to become westernized. there is a lot to learn from traditional cultures, and i feel that they are slowly being lost in favour of the north american model of life...

12.14 trip to the taj

2006-12-14T08:29:00.000-05:00

we see two monuments in Agra today - the first one is lovely but i cannot remember what it is... i hate to admit it but it has been outshadowed by hours spent at the taj mahal.

we meet our guide in the afternoon after lunch and are on our way. the road leading in is smaller than i imagined. per usual at most monuments, the street leading to the entrance to the taj is a bazaar where shopkeepers send their hawks to prey on tourists, unrelenting in their quest to get us to visit their shops. i am triumphant as we manage to get through without stopping even once. i am with my mom, i may remind you!!

our guide is great. he goes to purchase the ticket and shoves my mom and me almost in front of the security check line, cutting in front of 100 people. gotta love india! inside, we find my dad and our guide, who warns us to ignore the "photographers" who will stop us inside the taj complex. our guide is our photographer too!

inside the gates we walk to a central square, flanked by giant arch walls to the north, south, east and west. we are told that shah jahan, mughal emperor who had the taj built to house the tomb of his favorite wife, mumtaz, had built two other tombs in this complex for his former two wives. how sweet.

we walk towards one of the giant archways and once inside, where we have to surrender our video cam, we see the great white taj. it looks like all the pictures i've seen. we pose for some shots and walk towards the building as the tour guide retells the story he must have told a thousand times.

the taj was built entirely of white marble, brought in ships from italy. it is a giant architectural masterpiece, a very photogenic building. we get more snaps in front of the fountains. i have a really bad cold and at this point i want to run inside and lie down on the tombs. but i continue.

from the arch entrance to the taj is 500 feet or more lined by immaculate gardens, pools and fountains. the four pillars of the taj are leaning a few degrees outward from the central building, in the case of an earthquake. if the pillars fell, they would fall outward and not touch the building that houses the tomb. pretty smart. as we get up close, the two pillars at the back of the building disappear, and only the two in the front are still visible. a bit of an optical illusion. the giant dome in the centre is topped by a controversial pinnacle about 35feet tall, with "allah" carved in arabic. the controversy comes from some reserach i did over whether shah jahan had the taj complex built or whether it was a hindu temple complex that had been purchased and refurbished. either way, it's still genius and (i say unfortunately because of how i feel about monuments being places of death versus being places of life) it's now a tomb.

the guide then gives us little sockettes to put on our feet over our shoes. although we look like we are going into surgery, it's better than leaving your shoes outside to be stolen.

as we climb the giant stairs to the building i emerge to see a thin strip of metal running the height of the building. you can't see this thing from a distance. thinking it must be to hang lights at night to light up the building, i ask our guide. wrong! the metal strip has been there for ages, a ground in case lightning strikes the place. not bad, i say.

inside, it's a quick trip. keeping our belongings close to outwit pickpockets we take a walk clockwise around the intricately carved fence protecting mumtaz's and shah jahan's white marble tombs in the centre of the building. these are just replicas. the real tombs are actually under our feet, in the basement of the building. the remaining light of the day coming in through the immense vault of this room is stunning, as are the red and green inlaid stone patterns on the walls. and out we go.

outside, we take a clockwise walk around the building itself, where we get a closer look at the white marble pillars, the immaculate redstone buildings to the left and right of the taj, and the yamuna river, almost completely dry now. the sun is setting and the place is magical.

our guide stops us as we are directly behind the taj. there, across the yamuna river, the guide points to a garden and concrete platforms. this is where shah jahan had intended to build a black stone replica of the taj for his own tomb, to overlook his wife's tomb across the yamuna river. oh what poetry! unfortunately, the family would not commission this building to be completed and so shah jahan was buried next to his wife in the basement of the taj itself.

back at the giant arch we stop to look at the taj in twilight. this is supposed to be the taj at its most magical. unlike what i thought, there are no lights on the building, no fireworks and music and people selling peanuts and coca cola by the gardens. just a hauntingly peaceful monument ensconced in the dusk. i remember thinking i'd forego the trip to the taj but i'm glad i came. i take one last snap before calling it a day.

12.13 wedding anyone?

2006-12-14T00:11:00.001-05:00

walking down the street tonight and we get caught up in a procession of loud music, drums, fire, lights and someone being carried around in a carriage atop horses. we are in the middle of a wedding procession.

it's december 13th and apparently its a very lucky day in dehli. there are 36,000 weddings in the city today. indians take astrology very seriously. when a young couple wants to get married, they are sent to the family astrologer, who will choose their wedding day for them. the astrologer will look into the stars of the bride and groom to be and choose a suitable day that is aligned and is especially lucky for a happy and prosperous destiny.

sounds romantic, but could you imagine trying to find a caterer for your wedding day, knowing there are 35,999 other weddings on the same day??

the procession itself was pretty cool. the poor groom though. everyone gets to sing and dance in the streets, and he is stuck up there on the back of a stinky animal in a ridiculous getup!

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12.12 from temple to temple

2006-12-13T01:12:00.001-05:00

ahhh i've been a slacker. so i'm transposing what i've written (most of it by moonlight as that was the only time i had to myself) so a lot of it is useless rubbish and i'm going on memory!!

one thing that sets india apart from the rest of the world as i see it is the proliferation of devotion to god or the gods. so many religions and so many followers. down any street in any town, large or small, you will see several temples, churches, a mosque or two and even little roadside altars, complete with lights and insense burning offerings to a higher being.

our first full day in dehli we paid a visit to the akshardham temple complex. a replica of a temple built on the ganges river, this temple is a massive complex, complete with indoor shows of the srinayaran's life and a boat ride along its waterways. its so new that all the romance is overshadowed by an eerie feeling i'm in a religious version of canada's wonderland, with it's ticket booth outside, metallic wait-line railings to heard its thousands of daily visitors through, and even the look of the buildings themselves. it took us a few hours because after eagerly checking your shoes before visiting the main building, they make you walk all the way around so you encircle the temple before coming back down the steps, pick up your shoes from the "shoe-check", then walk around the long way to the exit, past the amphitheatre, library, research centre, gardens, at which time you are so thirsty you could drink spit, so you gotta stop in the cafeteria and have something to drink and eat, then finally see yourself out. kharak was waiting at the ambassador with a knowing smile.

our next visit was my introduction to the mughal empire. kharak gets us onto two bicycle rickshaws (a carrier that is driven by a cyclist in the front) we hit jama-masjid. now in a state of utter downtrod, akber (grandson of babur if i got this correctly), built this mosque several hundred meters from the red fort (where the family had taken up residence after leaving fathepur sikri because the land was drying up), had built this mosque where the family would come for daily prayers each day on horseback, to be carried by servants up and down the dizzying stairway ascent. as we approach the mosque, the stench of urine permeates the place and my throat stings. all form of decay is on display out front leading to the main building. local beggars are asking for food or money. merchants are yelling out their wares in the labyrinth of stalls that surround the place, all the way to the infamous chandi chowk lane. to rabid dogs are trying hard to breathe and not get hit by motorcycles that beep and zig zag through the crowds. hippie tourists and us are the ones climbing up the stairs to once again take off our shoes and go inside the vererable mosque. once through the massive archway, it is true to me that this is india's largest mosque. there is a huge massive square, with buildings on either side, and in front the main prayer space. i pay my respects and sneak photos from the camera phone. no cameras are allowed inside. this layout, with its huge archways, tall and steep steps, quadrangle symmetry and the tallest of stone archways inlaid with quranic ayats, i am to learn, is the foundation of mughal architecture...

back outside, we are cycled 'across the street' to lal q'ilah, the red fort of dehli. this place is huge; a complex of several buildings, this was the mughals' residence housing at least three generations. going from buildng to building, it was amazing to imagine the place in its heyday. there must have been hundreds of servants for a handful of family members and nobility. along with the residences themselves, there was Khaubat Khana (the drum house - that would have been where I'd hung out), Diwan-I-Am (a congress), library, Rang-Mahal (residences of the wives), Mumtaz Mahal, Tosh Khana (the robe room), Diwan-I-Khas (another congress), to the Hammams and the Moti Masjid (Akbar's private prayer hall). akber built it, along with other major mughal architectural masterpieces like the tomb of his father, humayun, and the capital city of fathepur sikri, another mughal residence.

our last pilgrimmage of the day was the tomb of humayun. he was babur's son, the second in the line of great mughals. upon entering the place there are two buildings, one down a long lane directly in front, another behind a half-demolished and ancient wall. this place was built as a tomb for humayun, although i believe his actual grave is in what used to be persia. i'm happy to see that the premises are under restoration by the aga khan development network. for example, a main facet of mughal architecture is an advanced system of water irrigation. so far, all the places we've visited have had no water in what would be beautiful waterway channels. there is so much of intersest in the mughal family that i cannot explain it all here, but check the wiki entry if you are interested. a really fascinating family story.

somehow in the tomb of humayun, i felt the most peaceful i have since we arrived. i felt as though we were not even in a bustling city, but had escaped to a farway place and back in time.

all in all, a good day. it took a handful of temples, but i am finally feeling at peace.

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12.12 take a spit

2006-12-12T23:59:00.001-05:00

people in india love to spit. it's like a national passtime. when you've got nuthin to do, just spit.

the popularity of this activity is evident by the dripmarks i notice down the side of a city bus in dehli. then i notice more of these, and come to the realisation that it's not a morning coffee poured out the window, it's dried spit.

everyone does it. it's the crazy amount of smog and pollution that's built up in the streets. no matter how classy someone looks, walk alongside them for a while and eventually you'll either hear a warning hork, or it will just happen. i think some folks just hold it in as long as they can until they can't handle it anymore. you see a long squirt of liquid torpedo from someone's face. a big spit.

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12.11 what's the dehli?

2006-12-12T01:00:00.001-05:00

i've arrived!! safe but with a cold, we were welcomed by the bright face of sanjeev, the owner of nexus tours and travel, with whom my father has arranged the first several days of our trip. i'm instantly thrilled to see the gleaming white ambassador - not a man, but the penultimate tourist vehicle of india! this thing looks like a true vintage, a lada or trabant - always in white for the tourists!

our driver is kharak bhadur. he sounds exactly like my uncle. you listen to him and you want to go smoke a cigarette and play some pool with the man. i was thrilled. sanjeev piled in the car with us and we drove off, i have been equally interested the whole time in listening to him tell us everything the first time traveller to india would like to know, plus taking in the sights: the abundance of everything on the road, from cars to beggars, the roads with their roundabouts, the temples, and mostly the people. everyone is brown! i'm finally in india!!

the one cultural thing i notice right away - dehli-ites don't say "dehli" the way we westerners do. to be a true delhi-ite, you gotta say "dilli", as in "yo, what's the dilli!". that's right. say it now. out loud a few times. yeah. you'll get it... you'll get the dilli.

after we got ourselves settled and warmed. dehli is cold at night this time of year. i didn't realise how far north we actually are. evening time, it was off to dinner, but not before a night time visit to the beautiful and lit-up laxmi's temple (a must for the first time visitor, laxmi is the goddess of wealth and prosperity, and good luck as i believe). bring it on i say!

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12.08 prepping for india

2006-12-08T08:54:00.007-05:00

for anyone who hasn't heard me raving about my trip, here's some background. i'm a regular canadian girl who always wanted to go to india. in my head i dreamed i'd go to india with my husband, perhaps for a honeymoon, to start married life with a bit of adventure and exploration. reality check! i'm 32, nowhere near married and certainly not waiting for a husband to take me to india!

my first reason for going is more than just for travel. unlike max, the kid in one of my fave books, where the wild things are, i travel towards, not to 'escape from it all'. on this trip, i want to see the places my grandparents lived, and left, to relocate to africa. i was born and raised in toronto and have traveled around north, central and south america, europe and east africa, but never been east of that. i'm also very intrigued about how culture evolves, which has historically been by conquest or through survival instinct. listening to swahili on my first adult trip to east africa in 2004, for example, i was stunned to hear the portuguese influences and equally stunned to hear words my parents use when speaking kachhi or gujarati, languages of their indian anscestors. words like "haya" or "kaabisah". words i never knew they stole from swahili... not to mention the foods! 'vitumbua' is way african!! additionally, i have always wondered about my own family history. in school we were taught about the champlains, the windsors, the washingtons and the kennedys. never the singhs, the patels or the piranis to say the least. and my parents never told us much so... i'm off to see what i can see for myself.

the second reason for going to india is to see, literally. to improve my eyesight naturally. two years ago i gave up the idea of laser eye surgery and decided to naturally improve my vision. i vaguely recalled reading about it in a sociology class during my undergrad (mostly laughing about it with my classmate kiran). i raided the library. Take Off Your Glasses and See by Jacob Liberman was like an arrow to the heart. i started seeing Elizabeth Abraham, a vision educator in Toronto and had remarkable improvement in my vision in only a few weeks of exercising and relaxation with the Bates Method. after a couple of years, though, my improvement has slowed. this is where india came in. at the sri aurobindo ashram in pondicherry there there is a place called the school for perfect eyesight and i'm hoping that spending a week or so there will help me get my vision improvement back on track.

so those are my two big reasons for heading to india. my parents have now decided to come with me, and they are the close-knit types. so the third thing i will be doing is a crash course: learning how to get along with them, 24-7 style.

without valium.

wish me luck...

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