A Very Holi Passover

Friday, May 29, 9pm

To all of my lovely Jewish friends I hope you all are having a wonderfully board game filled Passover, and to all of the Indian’s out there, if anyone knows how to get Holi color off of white skin, let me know. This is real life white people problems.

Anyhoo… I know it has been a while since I posted, but I will be making up for it in the next few days, So lets begin.

JEWS START HERE

My Passover/ Holi experience began Monday night, when I went to Chabad for the Seder, an all Israeli event, but pretty standard nonetheless. If you have been to one Chabad seder than you have been to them all. The only thing worth mentioning is that there were two friends there, one with a V neck Bob Dylan shirt that was far to low, and the other with a Jimi Hendrix shirt that was way to tight. Yup, Israeli men.

The second Seder however, was anything but ordinary. Assuming it would be much like the first, I showed up at 8:00, hoping to get there just as they were finishing up Mariv and moving to the seder. However, when I got there the gate was locked, and no one was around. It was yuntive so I could not ring the bell, though the Indian’s watching me struggle kept telling me to do so like I was an idiot. I knocked on the gate and the Rebbison, Aviva, came to the widow. She waved and let me in, informing me that the whole family had been sleeping, and they probably would be sleeping to morning if I had shown up. By this time it is 8:20, and she just starts to wake up the family, and prepare for the seder. We don’t actually start the seder until 9:45 (great for my 10:00 curfew).

Oh wait. Did I forget to mention that out of the thirty people who showed up the first night I was THE ONLY ONE TO COME TO SECOND SEDER. I had a Chabad seder all by myself, just me and the family. AWKWARD. Especially because the family sat at one table, and I sat at another. Why? not quite sure, but whatever.  They still did the seder in all Hebrew, and made me read out loud for the first time in years. At first the Rebbison assumed I did not know how to do mariv at all, but when she found out I could she made the assumption that I knew the prayer for the counting of the omer by heart. Seeing that I didn’t she assumed that I could not wash my hands without instruction, and gave me a lecture on the heathenism that is India, and about how Jewish souls do not like it when you go into Hindu temples. I chose not to mention that I would be celebrating Holi the next day.  At 11:00 I had to leave and we were still at the maror, but I had no choice.

It was by far one of the weirder Jewish experiences I have ever had. I felt like I was spying on the family from across the room. The thing that stuck me the most however, how causally the seder was run. Every paragraph or so that rabbi got up, walked around, got something else we were going to need that they forgot about, and simply chilled out. It seemed as though the seder was just no big deal to them, and they did it every night. The little ones singing the four questions was lovely though.

NON JEWS START HERE (You will not care/understand about the first half)

Boys in the streets

Holi, a very popular Hindu festival turns into one of the most dangerous events in Varanasi. It is universally recognized that it is not safe for girls to go outside after 6 on the first day, when there are huge bonfires all across the city, or before 3pm on the second day. Holi is celebrated by throwing colored power or liquid at your friends and family, but the liquid is sometimes scalding hot an made from weird chemicals. The men are all drunk and high off Bhung, and scary things that happened to people a lot more prepared for it then I would be.

Because of this, I spent the morning in my house reading on the roof, watching the boys in the street. I have never seen the streets so empty, and if the silver, pink, and purple that covered everybody was replaced with black and grey it would have looked like the scary dystopias of the literary world. There were gangs of boys yelling at each other, covered in liquid, with ripped clothes, running around banging on tin caps, shooting out of (water) guns, and throwing things at house wives. There were NO women or cars or even rickshaws on the street. The happy colors made it fun to watch, but it was kind of scary nonetheless.

Playing Holi with the Fam

At about noon my family called me down to “play Holi” and we went into the backyard to throw dry colors at each other. It was so much fun watching the dogs go crazy, and the grandkids who were in from university play with Grandpa Ji. We all got covered, and my skin dyed so bad that three days later I am still pink.

 After showering twice and a short rest it was 3:00 and finally safe for me to leave. I went outside was shocked to find the streets empty. The gangs of boys had gone inside for lunch, and no one else had come out to replace them. I had to walk 15 min just to find a rickshaw, when I usually get asked if I want one every 15 seconds. I was going to Twinkle’s house, a girl who works at the Gateway Hotel where Mom stayed at when she came, and wanted to be my friend. I had kinda rudely ignored her up to this point, but I agreed to come to here house for Holi.

 

Her house was the first truly Indian house I had been in, for the house I live in is fairly western. There were four tiny floors with even smaller rooms, and about 20 people of all ages lived there. The whole extended family lived together, and they all treated each other as though they were part of the same nuclear family. To say I was the guest of honor would be an understatement. They made me a huge plate of food, which they watched me eat, and all wanted to take pictures with me. We had a hilarious dance party, which was super funny until the 8 year old girl was showing off her dance moves that ended up being a mixture of Bhangra and stripper moves. I was a little uncomfortable.

Me and the girls at Twinkle's

The rest of the visit nice, but when they were walking me back to a place where I could pick up a rickshaw they kept on pointing me out to the people they had met. They would say things in Hindi like “look at my white friend” or “this is my guest, she is foreign”. I have never in my whole life felt like more of a spectacle, even when boys are trying to take pictures of me walking down the street. It kind of put a damper on the visit, but over all it had been a great day.

I am in Agra now, and about to go see the Taj Mahal, which you will hear about shortly, so I am off. Don’t worry, the lists and musing will be back.

Shiva Ratri

Monday, March 11, 2013 2:02 pm

Yesterday was Shiva Ratri, the celebration of Lord Shiva’s marriage to Pavarotti, and Varanasi is the city of Shiva. To put it simply, this means yesterday was a big deal. People from all over India went to the Kumbah Mela, then came to Varanasi in order to celebrate in Shiva’s hometown. In the center of town, there were millions people who waited all day for the chance to worship in the Vishunat Temple, the most important Shiva Temple in the world, and everywhere you looked there were young men high as the sky, worshiping in any and every way.

Not the best place for a small white girl. I stayed home for most of the day.

But don’t worry; I celebrated in style in my house, for Devin, Karen, and I were invited to the family Puja. Il’l give you the cliff notes

A merry band of five priests showed up at around 11:00, and proceeded to set up the massive amounts of materials required for the ceremony. At 12:00 the chanting began, and one of the younger priests helped Menu Ji and Vijya Ji, my host parents, put the right things in the right places in the right order, while doing in the right hand motions. I was lost five minutes in, and there was a long road ahead.

The bowl before the juice
and the youngest priest

We had moved the furniture in my sitting room, and were all sitting on the floor surrounding a small table with a gold bowl containing a Shiva Linga and a statue of Vishnu. Basically, we were making offerings to the gods, which is something that is done daily in temples, but on Shiva Ratir is was done in is epic proportions.

After about 40 minutes of preparatory chanting, blessing, and offering the main event was about to begin. (We were going from Kabbalat Shabbat to Mariv).

The youngest and fittest priest got up, picked a huge pot up off the table and set it down next to Menu Ji. She took off the cover and inside was 10 liters of green liquid. Me being the Indian crops expert that I am, was able to identify it was sugar cane juice, gaining mad brownie points from the family (Thanks village men). Menu Ji poured a few ladles of it into a horn-looking thing with a tiny spout on the end and they let the juice fall onto the statues. (They were bathing Shiva’s penis in what looked like pee. Wha wha. I am a thireteen year old boy.) After a little while Vijiya Ji gave the spout to Menu Ji and she took a turn pouring.

And then vijya ji.

That silver thing is what the juice
 was poured out of

And then Menu Ji again.

And then it had been 21 minutes of watching juice fall. The priests look bored

28 minutes:  The priests take something out of another pot. We are going to move on!!!

Nope. The bowl is not big enough for all of the juice, so he is scooping some out into an empty pot so we can keep pouring

32 minutes: Grandpa Ji is asleep.

40 minutes: Juice is still going strong. Priests, not so much

 47 Minutes: Take a break so Menu ji can pick up the phone. Nope, not a break, Vijiya Ji is still pouring.

64 mintues: We begin to pass around the horn so everyone can have a turn

72 Minutes: JUICE IS DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

73 Minutes: Oh wait, now it is time for the milk. The green of the sugar cane juice is being diluted with the white of the milk, and it may be the most vile thing I have ever seem in my life.

2 liters of milk later we are finally done pouring. I am exhausted, but I am not the one who has been chanting non-stop for the last two hours. There is still more to be done, but at least we get to stand up for a while, and the juice is over. We all take turns waving fire around the bowl, and throwing flowers into the alter (I get reprimanded for using my left hand) and then we pass out different kinds of sweets and food.

Pouring the sugar cane juice

At the very end everyone ties red and yellow string around their wrists, and the priest put mine on my left hand, which apparently signifies that I am married. I am okay with that.

Three hours after the chanting began it stops. It is time for lunch.

BUT WAIT! Shiva Ratri is a fast day.

 When I questioned Menu Ji about that she looked at me like I was an idiot, and told me we would be eating fasting food. Everyone knows you can have fried things, dairy, fruit, and sweets on fast days. How else would you do it? I choose not to mention that in her house we eat fruit, dairy, fried food, and sweets everyday. Instead I smiled and sat down to eat.

Assi Crossing at Night

10 liters of sugar cane juice leftovers

I want everyone to take a minute and appreciate the fact that these priests had just chanted for three hours straight, and they would the same thing at between 5 and 8 other homes before the night was out. I have no idea how they made it though.

Later that night, when most of the festivities had died down Tania, Devin, and I ventured down to the ghats, which were packed with people, and there seemed to be parties going on everywhere. The city was as aglow as a 6000-year-old city, which not completely outfitted with electricity, could be, and the vibe was energizing. We stopped into an Indian Classical Concert, and took pictures around town. We then went home for more fried food, dairy, and sweets. I went to bed a little nauseous.

Things we offered Shiva:

Marigolds

Purple flowers

Coins

Some of the dry offerings

Money notes

Rice

Oranges

Banana

Grapes

Bheer (a greet fruit thing)

Guava

Coconut

Pointy fruits

Other fruits I don’t know the names of

Sweets

Red, yellow, and white, string

Leaves

Curd

Sugar

Milk

Sugar cane juice

Water

Honey

Spices

Fire

Candles

Khajuraho- Living History and Mythology

Sunday, March 3, 2013 10:42am

Right now I am sitting in the hotel lobby in Khajuraho, the location of the spring break trip sponsored by the program, and I have been having the most wonderful time.

We left Varanasi Wednesday night, to take the twelve hour train ride to Khajuraho. The Indian train system is really good, but it is still Indian, so it is tightly packed and a little dirty. We were in the third highest class, so we have little booths of six, which convert into six benches that are to be used as beds. In this class you get two sheets and a pillow, and there is a curtain to close your compartment off. Because there are six girls in my program we were all together, and it was like one big sleepover, where no one slept well at all. We did watch The Aristicats though. That was great.

We got to Khajuraho at 6 in the morning, only 1 hour late, and walked out of the charming train station to the beautiful fields that surrounded it. Everywhere we looked was green, the dogs looked healthy, and there was relatively little trash. I was in heaven. We went to our hotel, slept until nine, had breakfast and went out to for the first sights.

Yeah. There are way more like this one.

Khajuraho is a small village, but a very popular tourist site because of the temples that are all around the city. These temples are from about 900 AD to 1100 AD, but are in very good shape, and have needed relatively little restoration. The real reason people come though, is because the temples have the most beautiful carvings and stone statues, including VERY erotic ones. On these temples you see everything from simple intercourse, to interesting sex positions, to threesomes, to homosexuality, to bestiality. Yes, bestiality. Men having sex with horses and elephants. In Stone. On temples. Right next to these are sculptures of war, society, and gods.

We went to the first group of temples, the Jain group, and had an interesting lecture from Professor Ojha, who we brought along for the ride. We had a great time looking at the temples, wandering around, sitting in the sun, taking pictures, and sketching what we saw.  Because we were all exhausted from not sleeping on the train, we decided to take the afternoon easy, so after lunch we went back to the hotel, napped, and then had a class about Tantric ritual.

Then it was off to the Sound and Light Show at the western group of temples. Right as the sun was going down we sat in plastic chairs in the middle of a field, and a booming voice came out of a speaker. It was a silly, but well-done, show about the history of Khajuraho, done through sound recordings and lighting the temples and the surrounding trees. It was so weird, but I did learn a lot.

Statue of a boar, with the 10 forms of Vishnu,
on of the three major Hindu gods, carved in

The next morning we were off to the southern and eastern group of temples, a lecture on Hindu religion at the time of the temple building and more beauty and laughter then I have had in a while. Also more photos.

After lunch we went to by far the most impressive set of temples, the western group, where the light show had been the night before. Walking in took my breath away, for in one compound was beautiful gardens and trees and six absolutely stunning temples, each one of which would have been an amazing tourist site by themselves. They were huge and beautiful, and very, very erotic.

The weird thing was, when walking into this compound I felt more at home than I have since I got to India, for it had the same feeling as a sunny day on the quad at Rochester. While the temples were more beautiful than anything you will ever find in America, they were all made of the same material as each other, like Rochester’s red brick, and the greens between them were the perfect mix of trees and grass, with people strolling down the sidewalks that criss-crossed them. It was so nice, to just sit on the step of a temple and breathe in the history and skill that filled the place.

Outside of one of the Western Temples

That night we went to an AWFUL, but hilarious, folk dance show. The dancers were like fifteen, and the all looked like they wanted to kill themselves more than they wanted to be performing. It was sloppy and not very interesting, and but funny in its awfulness all the same.

Monday March 4, 2:15pm

HAPPPY BIRTHDAY SAMMY!!!!

Well, now that I got that out of the way, back to the trip.

Saturday was the best day of the trip by far, because we spent the whole time in some of the most beautiful nature that I have experienced. The paths of Wisconsin or the mountains of Pennsylvania have nothing on India.

First it was off to the Pandav falls, where the Pandava brothers spent their 14 years of exile in The Mahabharata (You go Professor Brooks!). The waterfall was breathtaking, and it fell into a heart shaped lake surrounded by trees, trickles of fresh mineral water clean enough for an American to drink.

I was so excited to be in nature I spent the whole time climbing on the rocks and boulders that surrounding the lakes, scaring the crap out of the program staff, who though I was dumb enough to do that without checking the stability of the rocks, knowing how to swim, and knowing that Alex was a lifeguard. I climbed trees and got a little wet, and napped in the sun on a boulder. It was just like the hikes we used to do at camp, but 1000 times better.

Tania and I at the temples

Then it was off to the Panna Tiger preserve, where even though we did not see any tigers we did see all sorts of birds, trees, deer, and monkeys. We got to ride in a jeep like they do on safaris in the movies, and looked through binoculars in order to find the animals the guides had spotted. It was so much fun. We saw the sun set over the mountains, and took a nighttime joy ride back down it.

Amazing Italian food finished off the night, and we gathered together to watch a chick flick before bed.  That is what we call quality life.

Sunday was a relaxed day, for we had the morning off, and a folk dance workshop from the same people who were in the awful show. All the students and all of the staff participated, including Professor Ojha, which was one of the funniest things that I have ever seen. Everyone was a good sport, so it was just two hours of constant laughter. We were not very good, or very serious, but we all enjoyed ourselves.

After lunch it was back to the western temples for another look, then back on the train to go back to Varanasi.

Mission Khajuraho: Completed

Things learned at the Panna Tiger Reserve:

• Ladu, my favorite snack, is made out the ghost tree, a white tree that looks like a mosaic painting.
• Deer and monkeys tend to be friends.
• There are three types of deer of in India, and some lose their horns every year.
• The Ken River is the cleanest river in India, because no waste or garbage is poured into it.
• There are only 16 tigers in the whole reserve, but they mostly came from other places. 5 years ago there were no tigers left in the park, so they had to bring in more.
• The tigers are micro chipped for tracking purposes. There are elephants in the park, but they are domesticated, and used by the forest preserve people.
• Poachers are a really big problem, even in the reserve, especially in the villages that are in the reserve.