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Published: January 19th 2013
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Hosur Temple 006
Shrine offerings for sale outside of the temple It has been a while since I’ve written anything. I think this may be more of a weekend blog than a daily diary. (Just noticed that diary and dairy are so close in spelling.) So much has happened and I have so much to write about I don’t know where to start.
I feel more comfortable teaching. I am not sure how I will feel after a few more months, but right now, I could see myself becoming a classroom teacher in the States. At the beginning of the week, I was really frustrated with the standardized test my 12
th graders are going to take soon. The test leaves very little room for varied interpretation of the literature and some of the interpretations for with the graders are looking are in my view incorrect or at least incomplete. I was also frustrated because I felt like my students were so worried about the test that they weren’t willing to think for themselves. When I gave them a writing exercise, they wanted be to tell them the right answer. But as the week went on, I started to enjoy the challenge of leading them to the answer the test graders want
without telling them what to write. I think I am getting better about asking questions to guild discussion, but it is difficult. I remember great admiration the ease with which professors of mine directed conversations in class.
Another volunteer arrived yesterday. She is from Puerto Rico and seems really lovely. With her arrival, we have five nationalities represented in the staff. There are the permanent Indian teachers and volunteers from the States, Russia, Scotland, and Puerto Rico (which I suppose is technically an unincorporated territory). It is wonderful to be in one place with people from so many countries. It is curious to hear people’s perspective on America and to hear about their norms and ideals. I have tended to resist the notion that people’s place is greatly reflective in their personality, actions, values, and so on. Here this tendency seems absurd. Being here and talking with students, teachers, and other volunteers has shown me just how “American” or at least how “Western” I am. There is even a noticeable difference between the volunteers from the east coast of the U.S. and those of us from else were in the country. It makes me wonder how I would be
different if I had grown up in New York, Russia, or India.
Today we went into Hosur again, but this time visited a temple on the top of a hill looking over the city. It was an interesting and powerful experience. When we arrived, we had to remove our shoes and leave them near the gate. Perhaps what I remember the most clearly is temperatures and textures my feet moved over as we walked to and through the temple. The exterior of the temple was elaborate and colorful. The interior was dark and mostly stone. While I am glad we went, it felt strange to be there, especially as a tourist. It felt like a violation to be there just to look and see something new, when people were there to pray. The people offering gifts at shrines or bowing before a deity seemed to be involved in such an intimate act (I think it seemed especially private, because I am used to corporal worship). And there I was with my backpack and water bottle, not sure of what I was supposed or not supposed to do.
The temple felt like a contradiction, though not an unfamiliar one.
It was beautiful: the stones and shrines carved with care, the bells chiming, the smell of burning oil. The dim lighting, the cold under my feet, the echoing of footsteps and whispered prayers. This all made the place seem sacred. And yet. Guide rails like those in a museum prevented visitors from approaching the main shrines. Priests alone could go near. And as I was in the holy place, feeling self conscious and unsure of proper decorum, I couldn’t help think of all the labor, resources, and money it cost to build such a temple. I couldn’t help but think of the naked child I saw bathing near her shack just below the temple. I was revisited by an unease I have felt when visiting cathedrals. I appreciate the beauty and the sanctity of a shared holy place, but I question the expense. When I exited the temple, I was struck by the prettiness of the blue sky, the pleasantness of the breeze, the songs of birds. I wonder sometimes why we need temples when we already have all that on top of the hill.
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