Back in Bangalore

This past month was nothing short of amazing! I was extremely busy, and so incapable of updating. I mainly traveled in northern India, first visiting the northwestern state of Rajasthan. We spent about four days each in Jaipur and then Jaisalmer, excluding travel days. Then, I headed to Agra to see the majestic Taj Mahal. Afterwards, a couple friends and I went to Rishikesh, in the state of Uttaranchal, at the foothills of the Himalayas. After so much traveling, I feel like I've experienced a totally different India from what I know in Bangalore. I fell in love with Rishikesh and plan on returning as soon as possible. Unfortunately, I was so busy I didn't have much time to write about what I was seeing, but in the next couple of weeks, I plan to produce numerous essays about my experiences. The only negative about the trip was I no longer have a camera, and so I won't be able to share the thousand of photos I took (I'll try to get some from friends who were with me).

Before I left, I wrote this about Dandiya, a dance that takes place at the festival of Navratri:

Red and green covered her tiny body. She stood motionless as we took pictures of her, no doubt uncomfortable at all the attention she was receiving. Bangles gently jingled up and down her tender arms like waves and a headdress fell down the course of her back which gracefully moved with the nightly wind. Her two piece garment was completely adorned with jewels and ornaments. Near her petite feet the skirt was green as a forest, with topaz, turquoise and magenta gems keeping the fabric company. Moving upwards, the hue changed to a deep cranberry red mingling with silver designs and tiny mirrors besides the precious stones. The belt returned to a green color, this time lighter in its shade. Over her upper body hung an equally extravagant and colorful garment, the same majestic red as before. At her elbows were what appeared to be bracelets made out of the same cranberry and silver fabric. Her neck showcased a cowrie shell necklace which her earrings matched. If one looked closely, they could notice the existence a tiny silver nose piercing. And of course, a bindi completed her attire, resting between her eyebrows.

We were so hypnotized by the sight of such excessive color and jewels that I found myself envious of the night this little girl would have. At 10pm, it was already far past her bedtime but this was no matter. She had come to dance. In a city where dancing is officially banned, the Hindu festival of Navaratri not only brings to life the spellbinding colors of the Rajastani North but also allows for traditional dancing styles to be exhibited and embraced by the public. For nine nights and for only 150 rupees (less than $5), residents of Bangalore can meet at the Palace Grounds for an enchanting evening of music, dance, and festivity. As we walked past the main gate, a statue of the elephant god Ganesha greeted us. Seconds later, we approached the pavilion where the celebrations were to take place and quickly took notice of the stately building we were entering. The exterior displayed a pink flower design against a white and gold backdrop, subtly illuminated by the tinkling lights hanging close by. But below, it was the sight inside that enraptured us. We walked into a large, spacious room with a colorful green floor and bleachers filled with spectators lined up against the walls. It looked as if sporting events took place here on regular occasion, but right now, everyone could be a participant in the game of dance if they so wished. Like many Indian experiences, in the first few moments of entering the pavilion, our senses were overwhelmed. Hindi music sprang forth, attaching hold to our ears for the rest of the night. My eyes were immediately directed towards a group of Indians dancing in a circle. Some were dressed as beautifully as the little girl I saw earlier, and still, some Indians looked as if they had just came from work. But together they leaned and swayed with equal amounts of intensity. Western forms of dance are nowhere near comparable to the languid movements these dancers demonstrated, where the bodies were slaves to the melody. They looked like they were all in a trance, themselves mesmerized by the music. And there we were, mesmerized by them. Smiles fleeted across their faces and as they danced clockwise in the circle, their bodies bending and bowing and twisting and turning. It was a movement far beyond what I could hope to accomplish but watching them was thrilling enough. I decided to walk to the side and take a seat in the bleachers amongst other Indians to have a better look.

Most everyone had come for dandiya, a type of interactive stick dance which is specifically designated for this festival. But before that would commence, there would be a puja and various dance contests. As the night went on, more and more Indians arrived and we seemed to be the only foreigners in the room. My group and I had especially come to take part in dandiya, whose steps we had learned earlier in the month. So when a enormous circle gathered around 11:30pm all across the floor, my peers excitedly raced with their sticks to take part. Ailed with a stomach ache, I chose instead to be an observer. For the next couple hours, I watched as hundreds of Indians moved in a circle, dancing with friends and strangers alike, each individual exuding the same amount of exhilaration. The dance is fairly simple: each person holds a stick in both hands and faces opposite a partner. Every individual hits their own personal sticks together as well as the sticks of the other person in about a five step count. Two circles are therefore formed, and after the sequence is completed with the person facing them, they move on in opposite directions to meet the next dancer. In the course of an hour, a person would have interacted with a hundred different people, sharing mirth and sharing missteps. Dance was bringing together the sexes, connecting the young and the old, and bonding the native to the visitor in a way language fails to accomplish. In this environment, identities were stripped. The only label which existed was that of the dancer.

As we departed, the little girl who so enraptured our eyes earlier in the evening stood beside us, our lifestyles connecting like two hands shaking. She wasn’t a child and I wasn’t a foreigner. We were just human beings with legs and arms meant for movement’s sake.

An Update

My life began at the age of eighteen. Two months shy of my nineteenth birthday, I left American soil and crossed the Atlantic ocean to see the world. A world I had prepared to embrace and longed to see through my own eyes, eyes which had seen life through tinted glasses, providing only a narrow and colorless view of human existence. For nineteen years I was pregnant with anticipation, awaiting the moment the glasses could be taken off, awaiting a new definition of perception to be realized. In my home I am almost an adult but here I have become a child once more, encountering senses that had only been previously imagined. I find myself tripping as I learn to walk on foreign land but am constantly inspired by the view standing offers. A view that did not exist in America but could only be visible in the territory of the unfamiliar. And I was immediately prompted to write of the sights to share what many of my fellow Americans can never see. They are stuck with the glasses glued to their faces, unable to take off what has been on for years. Through writing, I can offer a glimpse of the little I have seen. And slowly, through the discourse of culture, the glasses all humans wear can disappear. And then we shall see the world without the shadow of bias and the silhouette of stereotype.

**

I have lived in India for about a month now. I’ve met countless of people, Indians and other foreigners alike, I have withstood daily power outages, countless mosquito bites, constant attention
(including random young Indian men whom I never gave my number to sending me borderline stalkerish text messages), overpowering noise and pollution, and innumerable misunderstandings. My apartment is home to not only myself and my roommate but also a lovely population of ants. The bottom of my feet have become so utterly disgusting from all the dirt that I can’t help but laugh as I shudder. And yet, I’ve come to love it all. Perhaps not the details, but the fact that they are occurring. That I am experiencing all of this. Here, every hour is reserved for education. School is twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. I’ve gradually become quite accustomed to the annoyances I initially had and they fail to bother me any longer. I’ve created a happy balance between living with what the familiar and the unknown. I still listen to NPR’s All Songs Considered Podcast, I download my favorite TV show from Itunes after it comes out each week, and I have grilled cheese for dinner every night. I go to bookstores and buy western classics but also novels by Indian authors. I wear my western skirts and Indian dress alike. Many of my peers are struggling with living in India but I’m happy to say that nothing could be further from the truth for me. I truly couldn’t choose to be in another place at this time in my life. I loved College Park with all my heart but what could I write of there? What information would I truly retain? So much of what I learned last year I have already forgotten. There was no choice between the 300 person lecture hall and the classroom of India. And to think, next year I have Japan and South Africa-how utterly unreal.

This Saturday I will be leaving for the northern state of Rajasthan. We will be spending ten days in both Jaipur and Jaisalmer (Jodhpur, where the recent stampede occurred is in Rajasthan but I won’t be going there). Rajasthan is located in the northwestern part of India, and borders Pakistan. It is primarily known for its desert landscape. On our trip, we will be taking a camel safari and sleeping on the sand dunes! In Egypt, I was only on the camel for ten minutes so this will be much better. If anyone reading enjoys Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations, I would highly recommend seeing the Rajasthan show. And recently, I saw a piece Tom Friedman did on Bangalore called “The Other Side of Outsourcing.” I imagine anyone who is reading this is already aware that whenever there is a problem with your computer or phone or whatever, you’re usually on the phone with some one from Bangalore. Most of the people working at the call centers have to work during nights to match the time difference.

Anyway, after Jaipur and Jaisalmer, I have a four day break which will be spent doing independent traveling with friends. The main priority is going to Agra to see the Taj. But there are a couple of other locations we’re going to try to see…ah, I don’t feel like a 9 months in India is enough to see everything! It’s so large!!! There’s so much in southern India that I wish to see….I want to go to Goa, to Kerala, to Chennai (Madras) and Kolkata (Calcutta) and Mumbai (Bombay). And then there’s the rest! I’m highly considering going to do my independent study next semester in Dharamsala…I always wanted to volunteer there. And how different it would be to live at the foot of the Himalayas!