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Published: February 4th 2006
First views of India
Waiting in Chennai for my train to Kerela, I tried to capture the intense street scene that greeted me.Hello everyone,
What a backlog (the true origins of the word blog...) of entries I have! It has been harder to access the internet in India, and one week here is packed with smells, tastes, experiences, and stories. I will start at the beginning, and see how far I get in this sitting.
I flew to Chennai from Bangkok one week ago, and despite the warnings that I could never imagine the chaos and intensity of India, I was nonetheless overwhelmed. I arrived at the airport, which felt like a field station set up in the dirt somewhere, tried to change money, but there were no ATM's (Bangkok's airport has one every ten steps...), and then went to information to get directions to the train station. Though I was also told that everyone in India speaks English (untrue), I was not prepared for the fact that I could not understand a single word they said! If they wrote it on paper, it was perfectly written, but the accent is so strong, I was near tears just trying to decipher how to get to the train.
I emerged on the street, where the woman had told me the city
High tech meets third world
My internet room in chennai train stop to Central station was just across from the airport, but there was about 180 degrees of just across it could be. So I started walking in the dusty, urine stenched air, and heard a parade going by on the busy road. Or, at least I assumed it must be a parade, because every car was honking their horns exhuberantly. I soon realized this was just the honking behavior I had also been warned about.
I asked every person I passed where it was, and each one gave a hazy wave with there hand in a vague direction. I followed until I hit that honky highway, where I stood in amazement (and amusement) and watched Indian's drive. No lanes, honking, speeding, passing wherever. The sun was beating down unbearably, and I stood and looked across the litter and filth to where the train station seemed to be. A highway in-between. Well, as a veteran of Thailand traffic, I boldly started weaving across when the cars lulled, climbed over the barrier in the middle, and waded through the rubble along the side of the road towards the building that must be the station. I arrived, recruited the help of
Waiting for the boat to the ashram
After my all night train ride to Kerala, I was finally ready to cross the backwaters to see Amma. a woman (it had been only the men who kept approaching and talking), and found out there had actually been an overpass over the highway (Chennai's busiest!), but no one would tell me that.
I began to realize that this was the way Indian's tended to give information; at least the men. Vague handwaves in a general direction. I spent the day at the Chennai train station trying to figure out what line to stand in, where an ATM was, etc, and it took five hours, of hand wavings to general dirty directions, where I would have to ask the next person and be waved to another place. By the end of the day, I was ready to fly directly back to Thailand, sign up for week three of massage school, and continue my adventure there. Luckily, someone finally waved me to the tourist info office where I bought my ticket to Kerela, then they told me of a clean restaurant in the station I could eat at. I made it in, found a table, and literally sat there for three hours until they kicked me out (I still had an hour til my train left, but I was
scared to go back in that big, dirty, bustling, smelly, crazy station!). After eating, sitting in the restaurant safely, and knowing where I was going, my mood improved greatly. I got on the train, met several incredibly friendly families who shared food and conversation with me, and settled in to the 15 hour train ride to Kerela.
Though its cliche, I will add my voice to the chorus to say it is almost impossible to imagine the amount of dirt, stench, poverty, and crumbling architecture and infrastructure that is most of India, and very strongly Chennai. This is one of the biggest cities in India, and yet it looked like a shanty town. The biggest contradiction was when I finally found a computer room near the bus station, and it was literally set up in a shack with a tin roof, peeling walls, and rubble and garbage all round.
Sleeping on the train and waking to the beautiful sights of Kerela was a breath of relief for me, and though my train stop was similar in essential ways to Chennai, it was also smaller, more rural, and had greenery around. However, I still had to watch everyone jump
down into the tracks to get to the station while I stood there and wondered if perhaps there was a better way to cross. Again a crossover showed itself, and India's systems became one step more clear to me.
I jumped in a rickshaw, said the name of Amma's ashram, and had my first harrowing experience being driven through Indian traffic. It also was fun too, once I let go and trusted that somehow there was a system to the chaotic, scary way we were weaving in and out of traffic, honking all the way. The system soon became clear to me; Might Makes Right. Buses and trucks are the big bullies, then cars, then rickshaws, then motorbikes, then bikes, then pedestrians. If someone higher on the hierchy beeps, you must move, but if you're the top guy, you can confidently throw yourself in front of the little guy and know they will bow to you. Insane, scary, but I'm still alive so far.
I was dropped off at the backwaters across from the Ashram, where I took the ferry amid flying raptors, staring beautiful Indian women in Sari's, and Indian men singing Bajhans (prayer songs) at the
top of their lungs.
I spent three days in the Ashram, which is a whole other recounting and story that I will share at another time with all who are interested. In brief, for those who don't know, Ammachi is a woman guri whose fame is that she goes around the world hugging people. This alone is admirable enough, but she also is hugely comitted to what in Judiasm we call "Tikkun Olam", or repair of the world. She collects money from her followers to build hospitals, schools, homes for the homeless, re-build from the Tsunami (which hit the ashram last year..), and models selfless compassion for others in a way that touches many people deeply. I enjoyed the three days I was around her (I had met her before), got darshan (my hug!) twice, listened to her give some teachings, did seva (service), and relaxed at the ashram. I was reminded again as I had been in the past that though her teachings resonate with me and I think she is an amazing and awake being, I am an admirer and not a devotee. What I enjoyed most was again feeling inspired to take the parts that touched
deeply and bring them home to my Jewishness. Sitting all in white singing devotional songs felt like shabbat energy, and I felt recommited to bringing shabbat more deeply into my life.
My friend Jeanne arrived on my third day there, and wanted to move on pretty quickly, so the next day we packed up our bags, I had a vedic astrological reading, and we left on a boat on the backwaters headed for a town called Kollam. The backwaters are a system of estuaries flowing in and out of palm bedecked islands, most with small villages of fisherpeople living there. It is a spectacularly beautiful place. Jeanne and I took the four hour trip to Kollam, then the next day took a bus back up North on the backwaters to a town called Allepey where we dug deep in the pockets and splurged on the adventure of renting a traditional houseboat made of bamboo and wood. This is the major tourist industry in Kerala, so you see these boats cruising in between the chinese fishing nets up and down the backwaters. Most of them are motor driven, which is turning out to be disastrous for the backwaters, but some
are pole boats where two guys actually push the boat with huge bamboo poles up and down the river. We opted for the quieter ecologic choice, and lounged on our beautiful boat while our two sweating Keralan men poled us around. We thought they'd be wiped after 24 hours of this, but after an hour and a half, they pulled over for what we found out would be the first of many stops. We ended up only spending 4 hours out of 24 moving on the river, so we were a bit disapointed. However, we had a cook who was incredble, and we ate like queens traditional Kerelan food.
We left our boat paradise and headed to a town called Cochin, though the Indian's call it Cochi. There is a Jewish synagogue there, and one of the oldest Jewish communities in the diaspora, though there are only 14 members left. The road is called Jew Street, the area is Jew Town, and it is a popular crafts market area now. We found one of the last remaining Jews named Sarah Cohen who makes and sells Kipot and Challah covers, and talked a while. She said all the young people
Poling the backwaters
The poling only lasted a few hours before we switched to a moter. have gone to Israel, and only the old people who don't want to leave the only home they've ever had are left. There's not even enough for a minyan. We toured the synagogue, and learned a lot about the history. The first wave actually came here in 70 CE when the second temple was destroyed, though many other waves have come since, including a huge one in 1492 during the Spanish Inquisition. We met a man named Jonny, and he was giving a tour of the synagogue. The wild thing is that he looked so much like my relatives, though his family has been in India since 1492. He even joked around in a very Jewish way, and looked extremely different than the surrounding Kerelans. I was amazed again at the tenacity of Jewish culture and how no matter where on the globe the Jews went, the traditions and culture was adhered to. I try to look back and see what it was that tied them so strongly in their hearts and spirits to hold tightly to this tradition and way of life. It is a wonderful feeling to know I can go anywhere on the globe and find family
who share my history and traditions, and yet have incorporated into so many different cultures. The synagogue felt very familiar, and yet, as we entered, we were asked to remove our shoes Indian style.
Yesterday after we left Cochin we took an overnight train to another train that slowly winds up the mountains to a town called Ooty. We are now there in Tamil Nadu. The train that wound up the hills is called the "Toy Train" because its an old coal run engine. It is incredibly polluting, but it is apparently hard to get the power into the mountains to run an electric track. Oody is four hours on the train, and the scenery is spectacular going up. I am actually wearing fleece tonight, its so cold! Its very akin to the NW, but Indian culture reigns.
At each little village along the way, the train made stops, and at one I noticed a group of Indian boys moving their hands in a familiar way. I stared and caught one's eye and instinctively signed "deaf?" in ASL. To my shock and delight he signed back! There is a Christian Deaf school up here in Ooty, and they
actually sign ASL! I think it was brought over at some point because of a lack of sign language and services for Deaf people here. At any rate, we were all so excited, hands were flying everywere. I learned everyone's name, that there were 20 boys in their school, that they spend a month at school and a month back home, and that several of their signs are different (no surprise). We exchanged addresses, and I will try to visit the school tomorrow if I can find it. I am so excited by this! I will keep everyone posted on the unraveling of my explorations of Indian Deaf culture.
Well, unbelievably, I have caught up to the present! So much more is in between every line, but I know you all have lives besides reading my blog, so I'll have to save some for many conversations upon my return (which will be all too soon...).
Love to you all, and please do send me updates on your life. I love hearing of the goings on at home to ground me and remind me of my life there.
Love,
Suzanne
PS If you've been receiving any emails with attachments, it is NOT from me. It is a virus; delete it!
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Raph
non-member comment
I did'nt realise you were Jewish Suzanne!