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Published: October 17th 2008
Pradhjot in what I think is one of his dads turbans.
It took a long time for us all to hold down Pradhjot long enough to get this photo. With his hair down we dressed him up in one of his dads turbans like a sari, essentially dressing him up like a girl. He's a really tough, squirmy little guy so getting the shot was hard!Written on Oct-17th, Paris, France.
I was surprised to wake up around quarter to eight on my first morning while staying with the Klair's. It turned out that Bahadur had gotten a hold of my mobile at some point during the previous day and had turned off my alarm, wanting me to sleep in. He had told me the night before that he usually got up around five in the morning, and I had told him I wanted to get up with him. Apparently he either did not understand me, did not believe me, or just had other ideas in general. I had an amazing sleep that night, most likely the result of my first night of silence since arriving in India. Shortly after waking up Mata Jee brought me tea and toast for breakfast. I think the question was asked of me regarding how many pieces I wanted; however, my answer consisting of two raised fingers proved irrelevant when eight pieces were delivered. Shortly after dropping everything off for me she soon reappeared, this time with some butter for my toast. By
some butter I mean a lump the size of my fist. I chuckled to myself looking at
Pradhjot in what I think is one of his dads turbans.
It took a long time for us all to hold down Pradhjot long enough to get this photo. With his hair down we dressed him up in one of his dads turbans like a sari, essentially dressing him up like a girl. He's a really tough, squirmy little guy so getting the shot was hard! the pale lump (it was obviously made by them) and quickly remembered that I was on a farm. She saw my eyes get wide when looking at the huge lump, and with my nervous laugh her face soon lit up and she started laughing as well. I couldn't help but just giggle away with her. I had no idea what exact thoughts were in her head while we laughed together, other than obvious generosity and kindness. My thoughts were hovering around an impending heart attack, and I just told myself that I would somehow work it off over the next few months. I was a guest, and my parents taught me that when you are a guest you eat whatever is put in front of you, so I just dove in.
After eating my butter sandwhiches I went outside and had a look at what everyone was up to. Mata Jee and Sarbhjit's wife Jaskaran were doing laundry, and Pradhjot was just coming out of the shower having just had his bath. I remember being amazed at how long and curly his hair was as I had only seen him with it braided and worn tied up the day
before. Soon Bahadur and Nirver ended up in the small courtyard as well and they quickly ushered me back into the bedroom out of the sun and arranged a series of fans around me. I kept telling them I was fine, I was comfortable, not to worry. They worked together adjusting the fans, and started taking turns trying to find the optimum spot in the room as far as air flow goes. Once they had determined where that was they basically dragged me into that spot and then proceeded to ask me questions in their best english. They wanted to know all the usual things like how old I was, what I did for a living, what I went to school for, whether or not I was married, etc. Whenever we would run into language problems we would start to draw pictures for each other in a small notebook I had brought along specifically for the purpose.
Soon Pradhjot joined Bahadur, Nirver and myself in the bedroom and our conversation stopped when I was introduced to one of their favorite pastimes. Bahadur and Nirver would take turns slapping little Pradhjot on the back of the head, and generally antagonizing
him until he would get fired up enough to retaliate against his uncles. Everyone soon ends up on the bed where things rapidly degenerate into a mock WWF match. We were joined in the middle of the match by one of their friends who had met me at the trian station the day before, and soon it was four grown men against one little kid. At first I felt bad for the little guy as he is only six years old, but after discovering how strong he is and how well he fights back it became apparent that he was into it just as much as they were. The wrestling continued for quite a while and I had a great time taking pictures and watching all of them play together. They soon became facinated with my camera, and all gathered around when I set up a slideshow of all the places I had been for them. They recognized some of the locations in my photographs, and I filled in the details of all those they weren't able to place. Pradhjot established quite quickly that he loved having his picture taken, and seemed thrilled to inspect himself in the screen afterwards.
He's an incredibly photogenic little guy, and I have about a million pictures of him that I am sure his family, both in Punjab and in Canada will be really happy to get a hold of.
I think it was right around then that I made another discovery. When you can't really talk to people to get to know them you start to notice other things about them. Its tough to explain, and I suppose it may seem obvious to a lot of you, but just imagine for a second what it would be like to spend a few days with some complete strangers, and not be able to really talk to them. You start to pay a lot more attention to peoples eyes, their faces, and their body language. Not just when they are dealing with you, but whenever they are interacting with anyone or anything at all. I had only been there for about a day and it was quite apparent how different they all were from each other, and yet how incredibly close their family was. Not only that, but somehow they had managed in only a day to make me feel like I was completely
at home, without speaking to me. Through their smiles, their gestures, and their hospitality I could not have possibly felt more welcome and its something I will be eternally grateful for. Traveling in India by myself has at times been incredibly lonely, and incredibly difficult. Their family completely erased all of that for me, and in the short time I had spent with them I would not have been any more comfortable in my own home.
When the wresting match ended Nirver led me back outside to his bike. We spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon cruising around the countryside. He showed me a few of the Gurudwara's (Sikh temples) in the area, and we sat down in one of the kitchens in one of them and had a cup of tea. We spent a lot of time just cruising the country roads and seeing the sights and places near his villiage. Being interested in his bike he let me pour over and inpect it in great detail. Its was actually a really, really nice bike as far as Indian bikes go (A 2005 Bajaj 150 shown in the photographs linked to this entry). It was
a big bike as far as modern Indian motorcycles are concerned, being a 150cc instead of the usual 100cc or 99cc. His jaw dropped when I told him the bike I sold to help pay for my trip was a 450cc Yamaha that only weighed around 220lbs. Indian motorcycles are quite practical, and to be honest other than the rural environment I was currently in, more power really couldn't be used too often. Indian traffic and roads are quite different from those at home, and most transportation moves along at pretty slow speeds (Relatively speaking it moves slow. In my opinion it still moves ridiculously fast). The milage and economy of such small powerplants makes a lot of sense as well in an Indian setting. When I was done looking at his bike he was quite insistent that I take a turn driving. Although it was really, really tempting to give it a go, and I couldnt ask for a better environment to start my Indian driving lessons in, the traffic, width of some of the roads, and the fact that I obviously would have to carry him as a passenger made me think better of it. I thanked him
for the offer, but politely declined. We ended up in the nearby town of Banga that afternoon and he took me to a really nice resturaunt for something to eat. We had a really nice meal together, and we got to know each other a bit better by talking to each other within the extents of our language limits, and taking turns drawing questions and answers on napkins. Afterward I had to wrestle the bill from Nirver and literally run to the cash register in order to prevent him from paying the tab.
We rode home shortly afterwards, and upon arrival I was handed off to Bahadur who told me in the form of a question "they are walking?". I eventually understood once we got underway that he meant "we are walking?", and for the rest of the afternoon I was treated to a foot tour of the villiage. Some of the highlights were when Bahadur showed me the old villiage Gurudwara which was in his words "finished", and in a state of partial demolition. We saw several of the villiages small stores, and I was introduced to many of its inhabitants, who always greeted me with a warm
Public Transportation
Its front wheel drive, with an engine smaller than that of my old dirtbike, and a completely missing suspension. It usually carries somewhere between 10-14 people at a time. There are quite a few of these running around between the towns and villiages in the area. Someone needs to find the Mech. that signed off on this and give him a very long talking to. Very long. smile and a most times accompanied the smile with a handshake. I noticed that there was a lot of new, quite lavish looking homes being constructed on various plots throughout the villiage. Bahadur wasn't shy once he realized I was interested in the construction, and just entered the nearest building site. He found a few guys working on the main floor and talked to them for a while in Pujabi, afterwards indicating that I could explore the site as I pleased. He explained to me that most of these newer, fancy houses being built in his villiage were being built by foreigners, stating that they were "holiday houses". When I had had a good enough look at the construction methods and had managed to find out approximately what the property and building costs were worth we moved on and eventually made our way back home. It was a really nice way to finish off the afternoon, and during our time walking around I got to know Bahadur a little bit better, just as I had gotten to know his brother Nirver a bit better that morning. In spite of the fact that we were not able to have a conversation
we were becoming fast friends, and I could tell, in the case of both brothers we were quickly becoming more comfortable with each other.
We made it back to his home just in time to load everything up on the back of Nirver and Jungs motorbikes, who were waiting to ferry everyone off to the evenings football game. Just as I had done the day before, I marvelled at their passion, and their love of the game. Young boys, and young men all playing together, without screaming parents on the sidelines, or coaches barking orders. It was just a game, reduced to its purest form, the community together just as it had been the evening before and would be the following day. I sat off on the side, and half watched the game, half played with Pradhjot (who was too small to play). I pushed him on the swings for a long time, and he seemed to be having a great time, always wanting to go just a little bit higher, jumping off from time to time only to urge me to push him all over again. The game ended, and we went back to the house and had
dinner once the sun set, once again gathering around the
At around eight o'clock it was explained to me that the men were going off to work on the Gurudwara. Something about it being "finished" and there being "work to do". I was motioned to stay where I was in front of the tv and do some "enjoying" of the football game. Since I had arrived I had not been allowed to do anything that even remotely resembled helping out around the house. I was well awar of the fact that it was a working farm, which I know always have a million chores piled up and waiting. Sarbhjit refused to let me help out though, always reminding me of my "guest" status. I had tried to do the dishes after dinner on both evenings, Mata Jee just half laughed, half chased me out of her kitchen both times though, telling me I was "in Punjab now, not Canada". Hearing mention of work I insisted that I be included, and before they could refuse and lecture me again about my "guest" title I followed Bahadur around the house and started helping him load up tools into an old wagon.
It turned out that I was made to understand what Bahadur meant earlier in the day when he told me the old Gurudwara in the villiage was "finished". They had built a new temple, and the small, old one was occupying valuble real estate near the center of the villiage. It needed to be torn down, and every brick and scrap of marble moved out of the lot, and over to a nearby scrap pile. Once again, in a strong showing of community, I was informed that every Sunday evening between eight and twelve o'clock all the young and able boys and men in the villiage turned up to work on the demolition of the old Gurudwara. It was evening time, and still brutally hot out, but that did not stop me from vigorously applying myself to the tasks at hand. I gave a few of the bigger guys a hand to get a prybar underneath the marble floor, and soon we had a large section of it torn up. Once they had it started I left them to it, and started carting off pieces of the floor as big as I could possibly carry down the nearby lane,
Time for boxing.
Bahadur looks a lot like a young Ali in this picture (if you ask me). and to the scrap pile which was about a hundred and fifty feet away. I didn't take long before I was completely soaked in sweat, and completely lost in the work. It felt good to use my hands for something productive, and to help these guys with something that was of benefit to their whole villiage. Sarbhjit saw how much water I was loosing, and how quickly I was loosing it, and in a much appreciated gesture he quickly trucked himself back to the house to get me a few bottles of water. Some of the guys present that evening had seen me at the football matches over the last few evenings, but the majority of the faces were new to me. They all started off a bit wary of me at first, but it didn't take long for me to win them over with a strong back and a helping hand wherever I could give one. Soon everyone was laughing, joking, and having a good time while we worked. Once again, without really being able to speak to anyone, I felt completely included by everyone and just like one of the guys. I am sure that hard manual labour
does not sound like a lot of fun to most of you, especially not in almost forty degree, very humid weather. I have to say that i was a fantastic evening though, and I really, really enjoyed myself.
Early into the evening, every fifteen minutes or so one of the guys on the crew would take me off to the side and order me to sit down and have a rest. I think they saw how much I was sweating and were a bit concerned about me. I honestly was fine, just not completely used to the weather, and after ignoring them a few times pretty soon they mauled me, three on each arm, ordering me to sit down and rest. Eventually, with a lot of pleading, I convinced them not to worry and just let me get back to work. I took a few breaks when I needed them, but all in all, like I said earlier, I spent the majority of the evening lost in the work. Half way through the evening a woman from one of the houses brought out a huge kettle along with a massive stack of cups, and we all had a chai
break around ten o'clock. During our tea break I asked Nirver if he would go back to the house and get my camera, and when he returned with it I managed to get everyone present together for a group picture, promising to post thirty or so copies of the print to their villiage once I had returned home to Canada. One for everyone present.
It was late and we were all thoroughly exhausted by the time we got home. I had a very quick bucket shower to get the majority of the grime off of myself before I collapsed on the bed where I fell asleep almost immediately. I got up slightly earlier the following morning, somewhere around seven o'clock. Still way behind everyone else, they laughed and teased me about sleeping so late for a while before serving me more tea and butter sandwiches for breakfast. Over breakfast I contemplated the fact that I did not have a train ticket back to Amritsar, and I really had no idea how long they expected me to stay with them. I asked Bahadur what he knew about the train schedule, or if he knew of a place where we might
find a train schedule, but the language barrier proved to be a bit too big. I remember he kept grinning at me, and asking "one week?", "one week?". I would have liked to stay with them for an entire week, but in the back of my mind that seemed to be overstaying my welcome a little bit. We all tried to sort out my plans to get back to Amritsar for a while before I realized that we were going to need a bit more help, and someone that could do some translating in order to sort out the way back to town.
I decided to take up Dr. Sandhu on his generous offer of "if you need anything at all" and I gave him a call with my mobile. He answered right away, and I was thrilled that he remembered me! I explained the situation to him, and asked him if he could relay the fact that I did not have a train ticket back to Amritsar, that I needed to know what the easiest way requiring the least hassle for them to get me back to the train station was, and aproximately how long they intended me
to stay with them for. He took down all of my questions, and then informed me that he was actually very busy in the hospital with a patient at the time. He asked me to give him a half hour, after which time he would call me back and take care of everything.
We all sat together under the shade of one of the trees in their front yard while we waited for the Dr. to call us back. About an hour later I figured that he had gotten too busy, or forgot about me, and so I decided to go down another route. It still being quite early in the morning, the time difference to Canada would make it early evening back at home. I asked Nirver if he knew the man who owned the STD/ISD shop (the equivalent of a phone booth) in the villiage, and although he didn't immediately understand my question he eventually got it, and managed to find the owner and get the shop opened up. I pulled out my wallet and asked Nirver if he could phone his brother Anoop, or his aunt and uncle for me in Canada. We managed to get his uncle on the phone, and after I explained my situation, and my questions to him, he managed to translate everything and relay all of the answers to me. He informed me that they were being polite by offering me a place to stay for the week, but that he had informed them that I was in India to travel, and that they needed to understand that I would soon be moving on. It was the truth, and I didn't want to overstay my welcome, but I wish I could have stayed a day or two longer after I realized that my travel plans back to Amritsar were basically set to go into motion today. With the language barrier, and the amount of trouble we had all gone through to get the plan sorted out I was too reluctant to change things at this point, so I headed back to the house to pack up my stuff and get ready to leave.
We had just returned to the house when Dr. Sandhu called back. He apologized over and over again for taking so long to call back, and even though I told him that I completely understood, that he must be a very busy man, and that I should be the one to apologize for disturbing him at work he still insisted that he was very, very sorry. He informed me that after he had taken care of his patient he had gone online and found out the entire train schedule for the Phagwara station, and if I would give the phone to whoever I was staying with he would relay all of the information to them. He spoke to Nirver for a while, and when the phone was returned to me he let me know which train to take, at which time, and what the fare would be in order to get back to Amritsar. He told me how long the travel time would be to get to the train station from the Klairs villiage where I was staying, and how early I should leave in order to make it onto my train with a bit of time to spare as a safety net. Usually things in India are a lot harder to accomplish, but the people I have been meeting since arriving in Punjab are so unbelievably helpful, and so willing to go above and beyond that at this point I was completely astonished. I thanked the good doctor over and over again before saying goodbye, and quickly finished packing up the rest of my stuff in preparation to leave.
We had around an hour to spare before I had to leave, so we passed the time drinking tea together. I routed around in my bag and managed to find for Bahadur one of my extra passport photographs. He showed me that he had put it in his wallet, and he went into the next room and found a similar passport style photgraph of himself to give to me. I showed him that I had a place for his photo in my wallet and we gave each other a big smile and a hug. I then got the family to gather together just outside their house and I managed to get a few good pictures of them together before I had to go. They all hugged me goodbye, and Pradhjot inisisted on carrying my canvas bag out to the waiting motorcycles. I couldn't resist a few more pictures of him wearing it before I left. It turned out that Bahadur wanted to come along to the train station to see me off, and to help carry my gear, so they had enlisted the help, and the bike of their friend Jung once again. Bahadur rode for almost an hour with my fifty pound backpack wedged between himself and Jung so that I wouldn't have to, leaving only my small canvas bag to manage during the trip. It was a fantastic ride through rural Punjab for the better part of an hour to get to the train station, and once again, it was over too soon. The guys waited for me on the platform until my train arrived at one thirty that afternoon, and they all gave me another hug and a big smile before I left.
In the span of just a few days, complete strangers had turned into great friends, welcoming me into their home, and treating me like a member of their own family. For the first time since leaving Canada, I had felt completely at home. Like I had a second home. All without any real verbal communication. This entry, and all the effort it required to create it is essentially just the best way I can explain how much their gift of hospitality meant to me. It was almost immediately upon leaving that I started to miss all of them. Especially Pradhjot with his limitless smiles and six year old energy. Sitting there on a train speeding quickly away from all of them I realized that my only regret about my time with them was not being able to tell them, with my own voice, just how much their hospitality had meant to me, and the fact that the time I had spent with them was, and would be without a doubt, the best part of my trip to India.
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Pritam
Pritam Konar
Hello Vince!
Hi! I'm an Indian. I live near Kolkata, It's eastern part of India. I've really enjoyed your blogs. I think you've spent a time time in India. Would you like to come here in future again? Thank you for sharing your experiences with readers. Warm regards, Pritam.