Priorities

I've had a frustrating past few weeks at school. There are several reasons for this, the most significant being that there is an inspection of the school happening this Friday, the 30th. It's not clear to me exactly who is doing the inspection--I think it's some people from the New Delhi Municipal Council, maybe some Navyug people or other Board of Ed bigwigs--but I know that it's a really big deal. The administrators at school are freaking out, having all kinds of meetings and trying to make sure the school is in tip top shape. Unfortunately, their idea of tip top shape is not exactly the same as mine. Before I knew about the inspection at our school, I had heard about the one at Tangi's school because the vice-principal had her bring in her laptop so she could do mad amounts of paperwork for them. She said the day of the inspection was awesome because the kids had been so scared into behaving well that she had very productive lessons.

I knew something was up at my school when all the bulletin boards started changing. The school consists of two square blocks with courtyards in the middle. On each side of each of the three floors of the blocks is a bulletin board, minus the floor with the primary school, making a total of twenty boards, plus a few extras here and there. After having the same displays up since I visited the school in August before I started, that looked like they were already well past their prime, the boards were suddenly cleared. Kids showed up outside to hang new drawings with themes and many a spelling mistake, on topics like global warming, corruption, and love for your parents. Pre-made borders for bulletin boards don't exist here, so the kids make do by cutting very large sheets of colored paper into long strips, accordion folding and cutting it to make one long snowflake that they place around the edges. In addition to the boards in the halls, each classroom contained two small and one large bulletin board which also had to be decorated. When I say the past week and a half has been dedicated to decorating bulletin boards, I mean that every single day since I came back from Mumbai I've had students borrowing my scissors, cutting paper during class and going back and forth between class and the supply room to get paper like ants scurrying to a picnic. For the past three days, the art teacher has been directing the decoration, with three tenth grade boys in tow. To be clear: these three boys spent three whole days out of their class and decorating bulletin boards. Because of the inspection.  The icing on the cake came yesterday when I was teaching a class of seventh graders. When I walked in, the class teacher was there, and the kids were in full decorating mode, drawing and snipping and gluing away. I told them they could keep working on their stuff as long as they were sitting in their seats and not talking (as much as they can reasonably not talk). I had planned a whole lesson about Hanukkah, and was excited to be able to share such a fun and important part of who I am to kids who have never even heard about Judaism at all. The kids were surprisingly interested once I started talking about it; I drew a timeline of BC and AD, illustrating how Jesus was born in the year zero and Judaism began almost 2,000 years before that, which is why I don't celebrate Christmas (the main point of confusion, as "all Americans celebrate Christmas"). I had busted out my menorah, passing it around and showing the kids, when the class teacher entered the room, with two girls who had asked to go see her. "Please let them do their decorating," she said, and left. As soon as she said that, the kids jumped out of their seats, took out either their crafting materials or their homework, and set about doing whatever they wanted. I was so frustrated--there was no way I would regain control of the class in time to finish the lesson, and the teacher had just made it clear to the students that my class was of no importance compared to the crucial task of decorating the bulletin board. I just sat down and stopped talking. After about five minutes, one girl, Anju, came up to me. "Ma'am," she said, "you're not going to teach us?" I gestured to the chaos around the classroom and told her there was no way. "But those girls aren't decorating," she said, pointing to three girls in the back who were unoccupied. I told her that if she wanted, they could pull chairs up to the teacher's desk and I would tell them the rest of the Hanukkah story. Sure enough, five or six girls came up and squeezed into a few chairs to hear me speak. It was so sweet and validating, which made the teacher's interruption that much more irritating. How can it be that in a school, making the board nice is more important than education?

Then on the metro on the way home, a lady wanted to give me her seat during rush hour, when people will elbow you in the face if it means they will get a precious place to sit down. I was confused until she said, loudly, in the packed train car, "But you're pregnant, aren't you?" Nuff said. Though what I should have done was taken her seat and then told her I wasn't.

Straight lines, class monitors in front

Anyway, another way of preparing for the inspection is making sure the assembly is totally up to the highest military standards. On Friday, the morning assembly, which rarely lasts more than 15 minutes and has never gone over 25 minutes since I've been there, went on for two hours, skipping the first two periods. Why, you might ask? First, every kid "not wearing proper uniform" was made to stand on the other end of the field. You might think this would be embarrassing, except that literally half the school had to move. Girls whose hair was in any style other than two braids were considered in improper uniform. While the rebel one-braiders and colored sneaker-wearers stood in separate lines, the remaining students responded to the art teacher's barked commands of "Attention! Stand at ease!" by shuffling their feet together and apart. Then, as they do every morning, they sang the national anthem. Only I guess they didn't do it with enough spirit because they were made to sing it again, louder this time. And then again. Apparently the third try was acceptable because it was the last of the day, and I hoped this signaled, as it usually did, the end of the assembly. Not so! The entire school was told to shift and stand in lines parallel to, rather than perpendicular to, the concrete. When this was still too squished, the students were moved again to stand perpendicular, only this time on the other end of the field where they could spread out. Each time they moved, fifteen minutes were spent getting the lines perfectly straight and in order from shortest to tallest students within the class. Eventually, the uniform rebels joined the others, leading to more line rearranging and standing. After an hour and a half, one of the teachers told me to just go inside and have tea, which I happily obliged. The war that had been waged on one braid had succeeded--every single girl came in on Monday with their hair in two braids, even the sixteen year olds who looked like they had forgotten how old they were when they did their hair that morning. This video shows the insane "exercises" the kids do as part of their We Are The Perfect School routine:

The emphasis on what I feel are superficial attributes of the school really drives me crazy. There are so many kids who are struggling, who want to learn or maybe don't want to because there is no effort to reach them. Kids who are deemed less smart or good or capable or willing, for whatever reason, are given up on without a second thought and taken out of class for three days to decorate boards instead of preparing for their (life determining) exams. There was a staff meeting Friday afternoon during eighth period in which every teacher was present. To be clear: every teacher in the school, on a normally scheduled day, left their classes to sit at this meeting. The first item on the agenda, I kid you not, was the principal going around to every class teacher with his observations about the boards in their classroom. "8th B, border incomplete. 9th A very nice job. 7th A incomplete. 6th C needs plastic covers," etc... I wanted to scream! Is it really possible that the inspectors will come and say, "Well the school is alright but the border on the bulletin board in 8th A wasn't quite finished," or, "Gee, we'd love to pass you but so many girls had their hair in only one braid!"It's so frustrating to feel like I have so much that I can and want to give and just can't because teachers are coming in to tell me to stop the lesson to let the kids decorate the board, or what happened in my class later in the day when the class teacher came in the middle to escort all the students to get inoculations (another weird cultural difference--kids get immunizations and check ups at school). There is such a different conception of teacher vs. student responsibilities. During the lunch period, 10th and 11th graders are made to patrol the halls, making sure kids stay outside. And don't get me wrong--anyone I worked with at Clear View can tell you that I love me a good bulletin board and will spend lots of time creating them. But to prioritize the things that are marginally related to the overall objective of the school, which I'm pretty sure is always education, is to do a disservice to the children, and it's hard for me to stomach.

Today during my free period, I walked by an empty room off the foyer and saw through the large window the majority of my 8th A class (which I LOVE). They motioned for me to come inside, where they were sitting with their books around them doing "copying" work, which consists of them writing down verbatim the answers given to them by teachers to the questions in the book. I sat cross-legged on the floor with them and chatted, especially with a few boys that are smart and sweet and goofy. I suddenly felt a wave of sadness when I thought of having to say goodbye to them in a few months, with little hope of seeing or hearing about them again. At one point, the principal walked by, and all the kids quickly hushed up, until they saw him smile at the scene of me on the floor schmoozing with them.  Later, when I was signing out for the day, he told me how nice it was to see me spending time with them like that, how good it was that they were getting to know me better. It was the first genuine piece of positive feedback I've ever received from him. In India, you win some, you lose some, and you do your best to keep your priorities straight in the meantime.

Diwali at School

I've been doing so much traveling that I haven't had a chance to update you on what's going on in my Delhi life! Last Monday, before we left for Mumbai and the day before Diwali, we celebrated the holiday at school. Of course, half the students and teachers didn't show up that Monday because they were preparing for the holiday, but that's neither here nor there. Diwali is a festival of lights--the Hindi word for it is Deepavali, deep meaning light and avali meaning a row. The holiday is a big deal, especially in Delhi, where people light so many firecrackers in the weeks leading up to the holiday that if you closed your eyes, you'd swear you were in a war zone. It was more than a little terrifying....but so is India, I guess. There are several stories about why the festival is celebrated, most having to do with various gods slaying various demons. If it weren't for all the terrifying firecrackers wielded by children ages 0-30, it would be a really lovely holiday. 

Jyoti prepares the Diwali altar for the stage

Diwali altar

The kids were all abuzz with excitement, those in the chorus wearing white with red scarves.

Some of my girls were wearing fancy, sparkly saris in bright colors, while an eighth grade boy was walking around shirtless, dressed as Hanuman, the monkey god.

The assembly consisted of songs and dances, and was, from start to almost finish, adorable.

Sakshi and Prachi twirl it

The tinies did a dance too!

A group of my students from eight, ninth and tenth grades did an AMAZING dance that they choreographed themselves, portraying many major gods and representing their stories. Jasmeet, in the yellow pants was Ganesha, the shirtless Jaswinder is Hanuman, and others include Kali, Ram and Sita.

Final pose, displaying all the gods.
From left, Kali, Durga, Sita, Ram, Hanuman

The last 30 minutes of the assembly was a steady procession of teachers going to the podium to call other teachers on stage to thank them. The self-congratulatory display seemed like it would never end. 

Who doesn't love patting themselves on the back?

 In the few periods left after the assembly, my students busied themselves painting the plain clay diyas, oil lamps used to celebrate Diwali. Sometimes those kids just rock my world.

Love these littles.

These cuties made a Diwali display and then brought in teachers one by one
to surprise them by shouting "Happy Diwali!" when they entered. 

Mansi appreciates Madpreet's artistry

Finished diyas

In all, it was one of the best days at school I've had so far, and made me appreciate those kids all over again. To see the rest of my photos from Diwali at school, click here.

Marvelous Mumbai

Our week in Mumbai was wonderful. Though Kolkata was the capitol of the British Raj for most of its history, Mumbai has the nicest European architecture I've seen so far in India. Though many of the buildings were rundown, the city has wide, tree-lined avenues and a very cosmopolitan feel. 

Our trip began on the train--Hannah and I took an overnight train, while Tangi flew in the morning and met us. Our first stop after settling into the hostel was....Starbucks! 

Starbucks, our home away from home...

They've just opened two in Mumbai, and one was around the corner from where we stayed. We had some awesome sandwiches (so cheap, too! who knew?!) and the first iced coffee I've had in India that didn't taste like liquid sugar. We spent the day walking around the city, enjoying the architecture and each other's company. 

Gateway to India

Prince of Wales Museum

In the evening we met up with the three girls living in Kolkata, who were also in Mumbai for Diwali, and had DELICIOUS seafood at a restaurant recommended to me by my friend Sim. Then we went and sat on Chowpatty Beach, watching the fireworks for the festival explode all along the shore. When we first got there, we saw that many families were sitting on straw mats on the sand and were covetous.  No sooner did we wish for a mat of our own, two guys came running up to us, offering to rent us mats for 10 rupees. Sometimes the abundance of labor here is a blessing. The girls got tired, but Hannah and I wanted to stay out, so we had some more food and sat on the beach and just enjoyed the lovely night.

Incredible seafood at Trishna

Diwali festivities on Chowpatty Beach

The next day we took a cab to Mani Bhavan, the house where Gandhi lived and set up headquarters in Mumbai at the height of his activism, and where the authorities came to arrest him. The museum was small but very heartfelt, with his quotes and writings everywhere you looked. Talk about a life well-spent...

Gandhi's room

We then hopped in a cab to see the Dhobi Ghat, where hundreds of pounds of clothing are washed every day. In fact, the vast majority of Mumbai's clothes are washed here. It's quite a sight, men beating the dirt out of clothes by hand, giant wringers and stands full of laundry detergent.

Dhobi Ghat

 The next stop was Victoria Terminus, site of the dance scene at the end of Slumdog Millionaire, and an incredible colonial structure. We met up with the Kolkata girls and walked from there to Crawford Market, an indoor bazaar over 100 years old.

Victoria Terminus

Crawford Market

The next day we hopped on a ferry to Elephanta Island, a UNESCO World Heritage site for its ancient temple carvings in the rock of the island's natural caves. It was fairly crowded, but the weather was beautiful and the carving was amazing.

Shiva Trimurti: His three faces as Creator, Preserver and Destroyer

 For some reason, so many people on Elephanta, Indian tourists, mostly, asked to take our picture. It got very irritating, especially when we sat on the boat back to Mumbai, stuffing our faces with the sandwiches we'd brought and a group of women with kids started photographing us. But I digress. The sun set as we pulled into the harbor after our long day of walking. 

Taj Palace Hotel framed by Gateway to India 

The Ladies

That night we were supposed to take a bus to Aurangabad, from which we would depart for caves at Ajanta and Ellora. But India, humbling as ever, had other plans. When we got on the overnight bus, we realized it was non-AC. Poor Hannah, who gets very claustrophobic, nauseous and panicky on buses at the best of times, could not fathom being on that bus for ten hours, and back to the city center we went. We spent our last two days wandering the streets, shopping in the "suburbs" and eating more delicious food than we could have hoped for. But the story isn't over.

On Saturday at around 4PM, as we were resting in our hotel, Kara, one of the girls from Kolkata, gave me a call and said that a major politician had just died, and all the stores and restaurants were closing. If we wanted food or anything, she said, we would have to get it now. Having just eaten, we lay down to take naps and went to meet Tangi at her hotel when we woke up. We watched the news first, though, and saw that the deceased politician was Bal Thackeray, a far right leader who founded a party called Shiv Sena, to the right of the opposition party, the BJP. Not only was he a Hindu fundamentalist, he was a Marathi chauvinist, committed to the belief that the people of Maharashtra are superior (especially to neighboring Gujaratis). He was one of the key players in the renaming of Bombay to Mumbai and was held responsible for not a small number of violent attacks against Muslims. He encourages his followers to take action on issues by any means necessary and reportedly had huge power in the Mumbai underworld. Emerging back onto the street in the evening was like walking out the day after a zombie apocalypse. Shiv Sena supporters had called for a bundh, closing, of every business in Maharashtra to mourn the loss of their leader. No buses or taxis were running. Every restaurant was closed, even though we were in the most touristy night-life-y neighborhood in the city and it was 8PM on a Saturday night. The cinema was closed. The convenience stores and paan stands were bolted shut. A few families had congregated to sleep in the park, presumably because it was so quiet for once. We found out the next day that the few places that had tried to stay open were vandalized, their front windows broken and inventory destroyed. The three of us hung out in the hotel, as all the clubs and bars were closed (there goes the famous Bombay nightlife). 

The next morning we packed our stuff and headed to Tangi's, where we ordered room service--the only place we could find food! Our flight wasn't until 4PM but we left around noon, worried about the traffic caused by the all-day viewing of Thackeray's body and his cremation in the evening. There were still no cabs on the road and buses weren't running so we thought we might have to walk a mile to the train station. We found a cab driver who drove a plain car, who offered to take us for 2,500 rupees, when it had cost Tangi less than 400 on the way from the airport by meter. By a miraculous stroke of luck, the one black taxi in the city drove by and agreed to take us for 1,000. As we were on the highway, a motorcycle carrying three guys on it drove right up next to the cab and told the driver threateningly to get off the road before driving away. We made it to the airport in peace and plenty of time, but I certainly said a prayer for the kind cabbie who took a risk to take us. It's very scary that a relatively small group of people can cause through violence so much fear as to shut down an entire city, and one of the biggest in the world at that. I'm sure part of it was that police would also be too afraid of the supporters to take any action against them, not that Indian police are known for their selfless sense of duty in the first place. In any case, we were glad to leave when we did, but I'd go back to Mumbai in a heartbeat.

To see the rest of my photos, click here.
All best from Mother India,
xoxox

Tide Country

After the madness of Durga Puja, we couldn't wait to get out of the city. At the early stages of planning the trip, Patricia found an organized trip to the Sundarbans, so the plan had always been to spend the last two days enjoying some nature. The Sundarbans is a national park and UNESCO World Heritage Site. It composes the largest river delta in the world, where the Ganges empties into the Indian Ocean, and straddles the border of India and Bangladesh. The forest is spread over hundreds of small islands throughout the delta, and the unique ecosystem has led to a wide variety of plant and animal life, including 26 types of mangrove trees, 260 types of birds, Bengal tigers, pythons, crocodiles, water monitors, dolphins and many more.

Mangroves at low tide.

Mangroves during mid-ebb.

Rising tide.
The line of color change indicates where the high tide reaches.

The water is mostly salty but not as saline as seawater, which makes many of the species endemic to that area. The mangroves are unusual in their ability to withstand saline water. There are several villages, mostly in the northern part of the Sundarbans, and the way of life there is very difficult. Many people still make their living through traditional fishing methods, and the isolated nature of the area makes these communities fairly traditional in general, with many people who have never left their villages. The Sundarbans are colloquially referred to as Tide Country, as the delta experiences not two but four tides per day. I'm not sure why this is the case, but every six hours, the tide is either at peak ebb or flow. When the tide is changing, the water level rises or falls six inches every hour, causing the landscape to change dramatically several times over the course of the day.

Scene from the drive to Gosaba from Kolkata

Lunch!

Sunset longboat ride

Our journey began in the morning, when we met up with the group and drove several hours to Gosaba, a village on the edge of the park. There were other people on the tour--several Indians, two Germans and three Belgians--who were very friendly and nice to talk to. The drive was beautiful, overlooking lush, green rice paddies, palm trees and thatched huts. In Gosaba we boarded a ferry, and enjoyed the two hour ride to the eco-village where we stayed. Consisting of a cluster of long, rectangular buildings, the village had been recently constructed by the guys who run the tour company, very sweet, fun, adventurous guys who are all related in some way (uncles, cousins, brothers), and just love that jungle so much that they wanted to find a way to be there every day. We put down our stuff and sat down to an incredible lunch of fish curry, vegetables and rice. Delish! By the time lunch was over and cleaned up, the sun was beginning to set, and we boarded these long canoes, rowed by one oarsman in the back of the boat with one long oar that propelled us through the quiet stillness of the water. We watched the sun set over the mangroves, and enjoyed the light dancing across the river's surface. When we returned to the village, we sat and listened to live traditional music, lounging on cushions and floor mats, watching one of the cooks do jaw-dropping yoga poses to the rhythm of the drum. We had some beers and listened to the night, enjoying the stars and sounds of the natural world. 

Sunset in the eco-village

High tide. The poles sticking out of the water have nets with bait strung between them.
Fish and crabs bite the bait and are stuck there for women to collect when the tide recedes. Brilliant!

We got started around six the next day, heading first to the park's information center to get permits and see the exhibit on the park ecology. The rest of the day was spent mostly on the boat, enjoying the sun and wind and views of the shore, glimpsing stunning birds, crocodiles and a water monitor. We didn't see a tiger, but our guide, who is there every day, said he has only seen five in his life. It was a beautiful, relaxing day, after the craziness of travel, Varanasi and Durga Puja. As the sun started to sink over the horizon, we headed to the village, where we took the most breathtaking rickshaw ride through a village, passing the most idyllic of landscapes, women in saris, children playing and innumerable goats and chickens. A ferry ride and a car ride with more than a few mishaps later, we were back in Kolkata, sleeping soundly and dreaming of mangroves and starry nights.
To see the rest of my photos, click this link and enjoy!

Goodbye, beautiful place

Durga Puja

Our plane from Varanasi landed in Kolkata late Sunday afternoon. After the hour and a half cab ride we took to our friends' house, we met up with Hunter, an ETA in Kolkata, who let us into the apartment he shares with three of the four other ETAs in that city. We were thrilled to finally be there, having heard so much about the festival for so long. Tangi was flying to meet us there on Tuesday and all five of the ETAs in Madurai were already there. In short, we were very excited to see all the other ETAs, whom we had gotten to know both at the pre-departure orientation in Austin and at the Delhi orientation we had when we first arrived. Though the groups in other cities seem to be having more social drama than we are here, I am very fond of all of the other people in the group. It's a great group of people to be a part of--everyone else is so smart and well-informed, adventurous and fun. Even though we were bracing ourselves to spend three nights in a four bedroom apartment with thirteen people, it was a great feeling of anticipation as we waited to see everyone else. When the rest of the group arrived at the apartment after their day of wandering the streets, the fun began immediately. Drinks were passed around and an impromptu dance party ensued. The best!

From left: Vaishnavi, Sandy, Sarah, Nicole, and Erin live it up!

After a while, we headed out to see the city in all its Durga Puja glory. Durga Puja is a celebration of the goddess Durga, wife of Shiva, the destroyer god, one of the most important of the hundreds of Hindu gods. The six-day holiday celebrates the yearly visit Durga makes to the human world, leaving her home in the heavens and seeing the people in the mortal world. They celebrate her by creating temporary shrines called pandals, decorated elaborately according to various themes and aesthetics. 

Inside the pandal

Same scene, but different

The pandals generally have a wooden frame and are covered with intricately molded styrofoam or fabric. Inside, every pandal depicts the same scene: Durga, holding a weapons given to her by other gods in each of her ten hands, riding a lion and slaying the devil and a demon in the form of a buffalo. She is flanked by her four children, Ganesh, the elephant-headed god of plenty and luck, Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth, Karthik, referred to by my teacher as "prince charming," and Saraswati, goddess of knowledge and wisdom. Each of these demigods has its own animal companion, including the owl, the swan, the rabbit and one other animal (goat, maybe?) that I don't remember and can't find information about anywhere! Each pandal is sponsored, either by businesses or by neighborhoods and communities. Each neighborhood in the whole greater Kolkata area has its own pandal, causing hundreds of these structures to be spread throughout the city. Some are simple and clearly made by individuals who are devout but not necessarily artists, while others are the equivalent of the Christmas windows at Bergdorf Goodman. 

These neon displays looked like giant Lite Brites!

As we walked through the city, we visited different pandals and admired the creativity and worksmanship of the structures, built several weeks before the Puja and taken down a week or two after. In visiting the pandals, the point is not just to see the goddess in idol form, but also to be seen by her. As a result, people wear beautiful new clothes when as they go from pandal to pandal, so everyone is walking around the lit up city in starched, colorful garments in silk and golden thread. Whole families are out and about, no matter how late, admiring the lights and artistry, communing with their god and each other. We stayed out several hours that night, enjoying the night and each other, cramming sixteen people in a minivan to get to the largest pandal in the city and taking it all in. The atmosphere was so festive and joyful, though it did get extremely crowded and it became less pleasant to walk through the throng. In any case, I was exhausted from traveling and ended up going home with more than an eyeful of pandals and decorated Kolkata, eager to enjoy a good night's sleep. 

The next morning I woke up before most, and headed out with Sean and Sarah, an ETA in Madurai, to get coffee downtown. We had our drinks and then had kathi rolls, Kolkata's famous street food--a fried aloo parantha (like a thick potato-based pancake), filled with curried vegetables and a fried egg, and wrapped up into a delicious, greasy burrito-like delicacy. We walked to the park and watched a man herd goats there while we ate what must have been twice our recommended calorie intake (and enjoyed every bite). Afterwards we met up with the rest of the group for a bus tour of some of Kolkata's oldest and most traditional pandals. 

This one smelled incredible. Look at all those flowers!

It was fun--a lot of time schlepping between sites, but it was nice to be together and not have to think of the logistics at all. These pandals were essentially shrines created in older buildings, rather than temporary structures, but were beautiful nonetheless. At one of the places we went to, we saw a young girl dressed in an elaborate white costume, while her relatives oohed and aahed around her, taking pictures and adjusting her trappings. We were told that sometimes young girls are selected to dress like the goddess and have people revel as if she were the real thing. 

Goddess for a day...literally

Pandal hopping in their finest

Tangi arrived the next day, and it was great to see her. We ate brunch at a fancy breakfast place that has been around forever, and then spent the rest of the day walking around, seeing pandals and admiring the decorations throughout the city. We tried to go to some big markets, but everything was closed for the puja. In the evening, we went to dinner with the whole group, found that the restaurants were packed but ended up at a restaurant where we could all sit together. Bengal is known for its seafood, mostly prawns and a fish called bekti, and I ate it every chance I could get. I never knew I would miss seafood so much! All the Bengali food I tried was delicious, from the fish to the luchis, fried bread similar to pouri but smaller and made with refined flour. 

Dunkin' Durgas 

Discarded Durgas

On the boat

 The morning of our last day was spent lazily, waiting for everyone to get it together and eventually heading downtown to Park Street for breakfast. We lingered for a while there, and I got impatient, as it was the last, most eventful day of the Puja. At the end of the six days, all of the Durgas from all of the far reaches of the city are brought to the ghat on the Ganges and immersed, releasing her from this world back to heaven. They used to throw the idols in the river and leave them there, but environmental concerns over the past few years have led them to remove the idols after dunking them, placing them afterwards in an unceremonious trash heap on the river bank. I made my way down to the river with Hannah, Tangi, and four of the girls from Madurai: Kelly, Sarah, Vaishnavi and Nicole. We were walking to the water's edge to watch the ceremony, when we saw on the boat moored parallel to the bank none other than Hunter and Erin, dancing on the boat with their faces painted red and microphones in their faces, asking where they were from! Like a sign from Durga herself, the MC on the boat invited any interested foreigners aboard the boat right then. We took of our shoes and hiked up our pants to wade through the ankle-deep mud, walking up a plank of wood to reach the ship's deck. Hunter and Erin only then saw us and were thrilled at the amazing coincidence of time and place. The people on the boat were from a neighborhood community that was immersing their Durga, one member of which happened to be the vice principal of Hunter's school. When Hunter had shown up at the ghat, they were invited on the boat not even knowing this fact! Sometimes even India is the smallest of worlds. The hosts wanted us to be front and center, placing drumsticks in our hands, commanding us to dance and smearing our faces with the celebratory vermilion, something usually reserved for married women but I think they just thought it was fun to put it on our foreign faces. At one point it felt like three pairs of hands were on my face, rubbing in the rich red powder. 

Dance circle! Followed by the paparazzi...

We watched Durga's dive into the river, and danced on the boat for almost an hour. The boat stayed anchored most of the time, then departed to sail ten minutes down the river, at which point everyone got off and we walked back to where we had started. The whole experience was incredible, something we never could have planned but that made the whole trip. It was exactly what I had hoped for when I came to India, the kind of spontaneous, adventurous celebration that only a place like this can offer. I always say that the Indians are not playing around when it comes to celebrating. Music and dance and festive joy is so integral to peoples' lives here, regardless of caste, race, religion, education and wealth. I felt so privileged to have been invited into this world, into this joy and celebration. The feeling of dancing on the river, my face painted red and laughing with friends and strangers is something that will stay with me forever.

The hilarious epilogue to this story is that the river bank and boat were full of television and newspaper reporters, getting footage for the evening news and stories about the last night of the Puja. As we sat around in our pajamas that night, coming down from the high of our day, the Kolkata residents relieved at the end of this intensive month full of Durga, none other than our own faces came up as "Breaking News." Sarah, Hunter and Hannah had interviews on the segment, and the rest of us were shown front and center, banging on our drums out of rhythm but so happily that it didn't matter. I don't want to brag but I'm kind of a big deal in Kolkata nowadays. If you haven't already seen my photos from Kolkata, or just want a refresher to go with the explanation, click here and enjoy.

Happy ETA family!