Aurangabad, Maharashtra

Myself and 7 friends arrived in Aurangabad, in the western state of Maharashtra, at 5am by sleeper train out of Secunderabad. The trip took 11 hours. On the car ride to the train station, my friend Katie was very ill. I, in turn, began to feel more and more iffy every time we pulled over for her. By the time our big blue and yellow train was pulling away from the station, I was extremely nauseous. I tried convincing myself that it was all in my head, but I was already beyond the point of no return. Within 20 minutes my head was out of the emergency window, and I was spewing lunch all over the side of the train (and my arm, incidentally). The rest of the ride was a nightmare- between a huge seat exchange mixup, vomiting violently into a plastic bag in my lap, hyperventilating, as my friends scrambled to find the conductor to get us our seats back, and squatting over a hole releasing the demons within my gastrointestinal tract all over the Indian countryside. Everyone else managed to sleep soundly, while I watched the hours crawl by, curled up in a ball on the top bunk shivering feverishly with stabbing pains in my abdomen, getting up every 20 minutes to run to the little girls room. Unfortunately, my first train ride was not quite the re-creation of the Darjeeling Limited.

After sleeping for about four hours in our room at the Hotel Shree Maya, only minutes from Aurangabad station, we got up and hired a driver to take us to see the amazing Ellora caves. The caves are former monasteries and temples from Hindu, Jain, and Buddhist religions, carved at different intervals between 500-1000 AD. We spent most of the morning wandering around the rock caves, until we (they) had worked up quite an appetite and asked our driver to find us a neat local place. I was able to keep some paneer mutter down, and of course a bar of ice cream. Following lunch, our driver insisted we visit Daulatabad fort- a 12th century fortress with awesome ramparts, spiked wooden doors, and dark passageways where intruders would be trapped, led towards an open window, then whisked down a chute into the moat to be munched on by alligators. There were thousands of bats over our heads as we weaved up 500 steps, winding inside and out of the fort. It was exhausting being so dehydrated, but I am so glad Veena and I made our way to the top. The view was spectacular, and we could see the hills, farms and villages for miles. Even though it was a tourist spot, we were still basically the only white people there- which almost creates this celebrity status. Indians want photos of us, whether or not we are willing to pose for them. The teenage boys are the worst (they have no problem holding their camera phones in your face as you walk by, or hounding you relentlessly until you get up and leave). At the top of the fort, as I took in the view, a schoolteacher and his stuents approached me and asked to take a photo with me. I obliged, feeling like I didn't really earn the awe emanating from their stares, because the kids were adorable. Some of them hadn't seen an American before. It is an interesting feeling to be the minority.

We came back and ate at the hotel for dinner, which I couldn't stomach, and hit the hay hard and early. Getting up at a decent hour was a difficult but good idea, and we got a head start to the Ajanta caves. Our same driver, a lover of bumpin' good bollywood music from Gajhini and other recent films we'd seen, took us there in style. And I must once again reiterate that driving in India is like a constant game of chicken. I have gotten used to barreling down on oncoming traffic on the opposite side of the road, imminent death, etc. I was hoping to feel better on this day, but I think that the hike the day before set me back in my dehydration. I was still very weak and nauseous for most of the outing, and felt like a pathetic zombie dragging my dried, hunched body up and down stairs into 30 different Buddhist caves from the 2nd century BC. The caves had paintings, sculptures and pillars depicting Buddha's life. The entire area was cut into the sides of this C-shaped valley in the Sahyadri hills, and if it had been monsoon season, there would have been waterfalls cascading around us. It was a beautiful place.

The next day we decided to play by ear and explored Aurangabad city for a while. It is mostly a tourist town, with its close proximity to the famous caves. The city itself was very nice, with a slower, calmer pace than Hyderabad. We settled on first visiting Bibi Ka Maqbara, the burial place of this man Aurangzeb's wife. It is an imitation of the Taj Mahal in Agra, and due to its similar design, it is popularly known as the "Mini Taj." It was pretty neat, with the intricately carved marble designs, domes, and long reflecting pool. The stone felt great under our bare feet as we entered the tomb. Next, we proceeded to a shopping area, which we had hoped was an open market but what turned out to be western stores, and milled around. Settling on a place for lunch called "Smile," we enjoyed dosas and lussies (similar to crepes and yogurty milkshakes). Yum! I was actually alive finally, and could enjoy my meal! We made our way back by autorickshaw, and found a beauty parlor advertising Mehendi, the local version of henna. We thought it would be a quick stop, but with 8 people and one artist, it turned into hours at this woman's home. She sat us down in her living room after shooing her husband off his couch, and served us chai and snacks and put on bootlegged bollywood for us. Her daughter, about 7, flipped through photo albums of the family with us as the woman ran to fetch reinforcements. The whole ordeal took hours, but we didn't once feel uncomfortable or unwanted. As the mehendi caked of of our skin and left detailed designs weaving down our arms, we thanked the family for sharing their beautiful home with us strangers for hours.

We enjoyed our last dinner on a porch at the hotel that we didn't know existed- it was always full of surprises! Even when the final bill came, and it cost me less than 20$ for the 3 night stay with meals included. What a country! Leaving the hotel was no fun at 3AM, but I enjoyed walking down the dark, deserted street to the train station in the cool night air. There was a stillness in the streets that I had yet to experience in India- it seemed like the bustling never stopped! We boarded our train at 4:10 AM, and I knew that this ride could not possibly be any worse than the first. In fact, it turned out to be quite enjoyable. I slept for the first few hours, until I realized that there was a man on my bed. We were all separated this ride, and I was on a bottom bunk, seat 64. I looked at my watch and the man made sense. The time was 9AM, and and he was an older gentleman, probably too stiff to lay down anymore. He just wanted to eat his breakfast. Since I was occupying the bottom bunk, I was the person deciding when the other bunks could sit like normal people, opposed to hunchbacks. I groaned, wanting to keep sleeping, but I got up instead because it was awkward to have some man sitting on my bed and I felt bad making him hunch at his old age. I know he felt bad for waking me, but was relieved to fold up his middle bunk and stretch out his back. I spent the train ride reading, observing the older couple across from me (as the old woman stitched a saree blouse and her husband gazed at the rolling countryside rushing past), and fraternizing with a group of young yuppie men that my friends had met in their compartment. They made for an interesting ride between their "how do you perceive me" game, and discussing our differing views on relationships and marriages. Either way, the train ride went much quicker and we got a free cab ride home out of making their acquaintances. Albeit the cab driver did hit a motorcycle on our way home with two young boys on it (they were ok) and then run back yelling for his hubcap. All in all, it was an excellent first independent excursion! I was very happy to arrive home, wish my mom a happy birthday ;) and throw my pukey clothes in the wash. My computer is down for a while, so no pictures yet.. but stand by until next week or so!

Stepping out for a bit!

It has been a busy couple of weeks getting settled into classes and going on a few local excursions.  Highlights include the MVF School for children who have been taken out of labor and placed into school, and the Inaugural Ball in the city.  A friend also had a run-in with the Consulate when her parents received a phone call claiming to have kidnapped her and demanded millions of dollars ransom.  She was out at a bar, so I'm not quite sure what her assailants were talking about. Visiting the school was a great experience, and the children were absolutely amazing.  They went nuts with our cameras, and we played volleyball with them for hours.  As for the Inaugural ball, it was a bunch of old ex-pats getting drunk at the open bar and shmoozing hardcore.  Always interesting.  My friends and I got all dressed up in sarees, and the boys wore nice kurtas- dressing was quite the process.  Luckily we had no wardrobe malfunctions, and all of the safety pins held.  Even through the eight-minute techno dance party (which we dominated).   It was great watching the inauguration on the big screen, and I felt very proud to be an American after listening to Obama's speech.  

A group of friends and I have put together a trip to Aurangabad, to see some magnificent,  ancient caves and temples at Ajanta and Ellora, and a random replica of the Taj Mahal.    We will be living a scene out of the Darjeeling Limited, on our sleeper train in our bunk beds.  I hope to re-enact the movie during the 11 hour ride.  Since Monday is Republic day (and my mother's birthday!!), we will have a long weekend adventure!  Until Tuesday!

The Bus.

To actually find a seat would be a miracle.  Imagine the Green Line during a Sox/Yankees World Series home game.  Then multiply that crowd by ten, but replace the drunken sox fans with Indian people staring directly at you.  Occasionally, some sympathetic soul will pull you onto their lap, to both make room for more people to pile on, and to get your elbow out of their face.  By the third stop, there are usually about 60 people on the bus, with eight men dangling precariously out the back entrance.  All I have to say is thank God the front area is designated for women, considering the amount of physical contact.  There is no such thing as personal space in India.  There really can’t be with a population of a billion people.  I was graced with a seat the other day, on my way to Abids, and immediately had a large woman rest her gut on my shoulder.  Sweat is no longer something to be bothered by.  As the ticket man pushed and squeezes his way past, collecting rupees for tickets, the mass of people sways and lurches back and forth- into me, into each other, into the seats, onto the floor, until your stop finally comes. 

Finding that stop is another challenge, especially when you are pinned up against the wall of the bus with about 30 people between you and the door.  There are no maps or announcements for the stops, and rarely can you actually contort to the awkward angle to see out of the dirty windows to get your bearings.  It’s even harder when you’re with a group of girls and boys.  The boys stand in the back, and the girls in the front- so you have to arrange a series of hand signals or just shout across the bus when you think your stop may possibly be coming up.  Usually the best bet is to find the closest English-speaking Indian and ask them to tell you when you are about to reach your stop.

When the time has come to disembark, and your lungs cannot inhale one more breath of exhaust fumes, and the bus has almost come to a complete stop, and you have signaled the boys at the back of the bus that this might be “go time,” all you have to do is push past those 30 people between you and the door.  I’d imagine it’s something like squeezing your way into the sliding glass doors of Walmart at opening time on Black Friday to get an Xbox 360 or something.  But honestly, for 10 rupees, (~20cents) it’s not so bad.

Happy Makara Sankranthi! And the Search for Sarees

The saree is one of the most elegant and graceful garments made for the female figure.  The ~six-yard long fabric wraps and drapes in just the right places to compliment a woman’s curves and contours.  Every saree looks unique and is intricately crafted. The women of India emerge from the dusty brown and red rubble background in such bright colors and delicate stitching, complimented with bangles upon bangles on their arms, clinking as they walk.  The sarees flow smoothly around their forms as they walk.  A woman from one caste looks just as beautiful as a woman from another.  There does not seem to be the pressure to have an idealistic thin figure, and every woman looks equally gorgeous and comfortable in her saree. 

My roommate Veena and I had a mission yesterday:  Find sarees to wear to the inaugural ball.  Help was needed from her extended family, living in the city.  Her “uncle,” actually her cousin’s husband’s father, picked us up and drove us to their home in Hyderabad for a home-cooked traditional South Indian meal.  We were filled to the brim and then some, guiltily turning away the third and fourth helpings out of fear of bursting.  All the while we watched videos of her cousin’s wedding and looked through the three photo albums chronicling the event.  Indian hospitality is unparalleled.  And they sure do love their weddings.

Her aunt and uncle then took us to a saree shop after lunch, where hundreds of the garments were thrown at us by men standing on a bed.  It was all very overwhelming, but I tried to be a bit decisive, and settled on a green saree with purple borders and a loopy gold pattern woven into it.  Hopefully Veena can help me wrap it and pin it so it doesn’t fall off halfway through the night.  After our purchase, we made our way to this very smelly lake of what I think is sewage/runoff water and not actual lake water on the other side of Banjara Hills. 

Since yesterday was a Hindu holiday celebrating the harvest, known as Makara Sankranthi, we knew there would be some sort of festival there.  If you have read the book the Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini, you will know about the kite-flying festivals that take place on Indian holidays.  Veena’s uncle drove us to the lake where the huge stone statue of Buddha stands in the middle (fun fact- it’s one of the largest Buddha statues in the world, and when they were transporting it to the middle of the lake the boat sank to the bottom and it stayed there for like 2 years), and we watched the mayhem of the kite competitions. The sky was littered with kites, some lazily floating from side to side, others ready to strike at any moment.  A young boy next to us tugged and pulled and managed to easily loop his kite around the string of an older man’s kite, and dragged it right into his hands.  The older man was not very happy, and quickly went to reclaim his fallen kite from the boy. Children were running around excitedly, with brightly colored kites in their hands, and I was tempted to go for a camel ride.  After experiencing the kite festival, her family took us back to their home for tea.  On our way, Veena’s aunt got out of the car to go speak with one of their neighbors.  Minutes later, she returns to the house with the neighborhood tailor, to take our measurements for the saree blouses!  Once again, I must say that Indian hospitality just blows me away.  

Some Good Days

1/9

Today just about everything seemed to work in my favor, with the only exception of my gastrointestinal tract’s recent failure to cope with a certain special something in my diet.  I started the day off with some lovely yoga as the sun came up, instructed by two funny older gentlemen who contradict each other constantly and cause us much confusion.  I do need some good pants for yoga, however, because the ones I’ve been wearing have an ever-growing hole in the crotch.  And that’s not okay. 

After yoga I stopped at the library to see if the Internet was actually working, and it was! I then biked back to the guest house for breakfast, and made it just in time.  A few friends and I went back to the functioning library to plan our upcoming excursion to the Ajunta and Ellora caves in a couple of weeks.   After biking back (I probably bike about 6 miles a day getting around campus), and handing in our forms, I had my first WARM shower!  I removed the band aids from my poor toes, a wound from when I swerved stupidly into the curb, and I don’t seem to be getting disgustingly infected or anything, so that’s good. 

After a glorious nap, my friends and I headed to Banjara Hills for this advertised French jazz quartet, which turned out to be FREE with an open bar.  The show was fantastic, featuring an excellent accordion player and French lyrics.  While waiting for the show to begin, some of my other friends met a woman who offered us tickets to Hyderabad’s Obama Inauguration Ball on the 20^th.  We get to dress up in saris and celebrate a moment to be described to our children... in India!

 

1/10

After all of the excitement of yesterday, I took it pretty easy today and slept in, and did a lot of reading.  We did decide to see another Bollywood movie, though this one wasn’t as good- it was more of a chick-flick.  The best part was getting Dominos beforehand, to give ourselves a greasy bit of home.  After getting our hands on some American food, we sat down to enjoy our meal when a small boy began blowing large birthday horn- one of those that unrolls as you blow into it, only his had three rolls and was a bit loud and obnoxious, but nothing that we couldn’t handle after coming in from the street.   As we gazed at him, kind of wishing that he would stop, the ceiling tiles above his head gave way and a scrambling monkey clung to dear life and managed to squirm back into the ceiling.  As it ran across the other tiles, they sagged under its weight.  The fallen tiles missed the boy and the other people standing in line by inches.  The workers cleared the mess quickly, and one of them took a photo with his cameraphone.  Otherwise, nobody seemed too disturbed by the occurrence.  Only in India can a monkey fall through the ceiling and not one person screams.

After classes start and I get into an actual routine, I will be writing more themed posts instead of updates/run-throughs of what I did on a particular day.  Check out the photos to the right, also!  I hope everyone is well! :)

Final Catch-up

Entry from 1/5, hopefully my last out-of-date and incoherent post:

One of my favorite parts of the guest house is that we have full reign of the entire building.  I have been in the habit of going up to the roof to reflect and watch the sun slowly disappear in to the smog below it, burning a hot tangerine edge to all of its surrounding clouds.  The chemicals and toxins make sunsets just a little bit more interesting.  I like sitting up here and absorbing all of the foreign smells, sounds, and sights.  There is constant banging and truck engines growling and people shouting from the perpetual construction going on a hundred feet to my left.  The scaffolding is made of sticks and large metal wires shoot into the sky instead of iron support beams.  There is ongoing construction EVERYWHERE- in the slums, in the city, on our campus, everywhere.  There is usually a smell of burning, as people seem to just light fires wherever they want.  Occasionally I think it might be a tactic to cleaning up trash when enough of it piles up in a given area.  Then there's the occasional whiff of sewage, or the delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen.  From the roof I can look around and see rocks, power lines, and rolling hills for miles.  Our campus is a good 15 miles out of the City, and it feels much more rural.  Hyderabad is known for its "mushroom rocks," which are large round-ish boulders, often placed in such a way that they look like giants picked them up and balanced them on their edges on larger rocks.  They pile up precariously and get in the way of the various construction sites, resulting in large dynamite blasts to break them apart.  At least that's what I think those noises are.. 

Yesterday we met with our language tutors and they taught us how to navigate the bus routes- which was very intimidating considering none of the stops have signs or are announced, and depending on how crowded the bus is, you may not even be able to see out of the windows to get your bearing.  But they cost about 2 cents…  I think the 216/217 go from our campus to Koti, and the 8’s go to Charminar.  Beyond that, I don’t remember much.  We made stops in Medhiputnam, Abids, and Koti, followed by viewing a wild Indian Bollywood film, Gaghini.  It was basically a remake of the American film, memento, only in mostly chronological order and with a happy ending.  The acting was good, but there were definitely a few things I missed because it was in Hindi.  (The dance sequences are easy to understand.. they are ridiculously over-the-top and hilarious.)  The best part of the movie was listening to the crowd cheer and whistle when the main character, played by the famous Amir Kahn, took off his shirt to reveal his 8-pack abs and stab his enemies in the gut.  The crowd also went wild when he kissed his lover on the cheek- very scandalous for Bollywood standards!

It was interesting to see the westernization of the dress and even the movie themes and special effects- but most of all how “white” all of the major movie stars look and dress in comparison to the average Indian person.  This phenomenon is seen across cultures, and I would assume affects the body-image of the youth of a given people.  

Today was the first day of shopping for classes, and it is causing me much anxiety.  There is not much of a system here- at all.  Course times change constantly, and professors don’t show up to class.  Apparently the classes won’t really start for a couple of weeks because the students take time at the end of their break to celebrate a few more holidays before returning to school.  I had to fight my way into an art class, and I am losing hope that I’ll be able to obtain any of the credits I was hoping for.  The experience alone is fascinating, and I plan to visit the Psychology center, the first one established in the country, to see if there is anything I can do or learn there.

Beginnings of a Birthday and New Year's Day

(Notes from previously recorded entries, prior to internet access)

Jan 2

 

Today is my 21s birthday!  India is a great place to be- regardless of the birthday’s cultural significance.  The past few days have been surreal.  We have been on so many amazing adventures without even leaving Hyderabad.  Our orientation has included a wonderful dinner in the city at Southern Spice with authentic Andhra style in Banjara Hills for New Years, followed by cheering on the roof of our house watching the fireworks.  The people in the slum behind our house were cheering with us, and it was a very unifying and special way to enter the new year.  We experienced our first blackout at exactly midnight. 

On New Year’s Day, we took a bus tour past monuments in the “old city” of Hyderabad like the state legislature, police headquarters, museums, and other important structures.  We made a stop in the old city to see a famous mosque, MeccaMasjid, Chowmohalla Palace, Charminar, and 500-year-old Mughal tombs, followed by a trip to the top of Golconda fort.  At the mosque I was wacked multiple times by a man with peacock feathers and then expected to pay for the experience.  Charminar was neat, but we basically ran past it swept up in the crowds of people rushing around.  My favorite part was the tombs- they are comparable to the pyramids as far as cultural significance and grandeur.  Kings built the tombs for themselves, their wives, and their doctors.  The tombs themselves look like huge domes with pointy tops and the acoustics inside were planned for chanting within.  We wandered inside one, and as we stood listening in awe to the man chanting in the corner, someone stole our friend Keiko’s shoes from outside where we were supposed to have removed them out of respect.  She was a little disappointed, but wandered in socks for most of the time after that until sandals could be found.  My camera batteries died as soon as I stepped into the park, so I decided to sketch what I saw instead- a very good idea!  I remember things so much better if I draw them, and I was really able to examine the architecture better, and feel like I got to know the shapes and curves of the structures more intimately.  I am looking forward to examining this new world through an artistic and psychological lens, and portraying it in my impending painting class!

Accomodations, Orientations

Notes from previously recorded entries, prior to internet access:

From Dec 31:

There is so much room and open space in the new building that has been built for us international students in the Study in India Program (SIP).  We moved in recently, to this palace tucked about 2km from central campus.  There is still a bit of a sterile feeling to the building, even as pieces of furniture trickle in.  The last guest house was very homey, so hopefully we can break this new place in well during our stay here.  Overall, our accommodations and privileges which we receive as foreign students are overwhelming and do register a certain amount of guilt.  The other university students must harbor some at least some animosity towards our royal treatment.  However, it is very nice to be settled in and unpacked finally.  I am sharing a room with a wonderful girl from southern California who is actually of Indian descent and has family in other areas of India, particularly Chennai.  Her name is Veena, and she is sweet- I know we will get along just fine.  

 

Out of our window you can see the decrepit, temporary homes of the workers who are building the surrounding structures and who probably built our new guest house in their bare feet with their bare hands.  Their houses are constructed with tarps and branches and other found materials, and I presume that they are migrant workers, men and women, taking their families from one construction site to another.  Above their small, temporary neighborhood stands a large pink paper lantern in the shape of a star- probably about five feet wide.  I do not know its significance, but it lights their area at night, and I can only guess that they feel warmer when they look up at it, as I see it as something special. 

This morning we attended a fantastic lecture about womens’ movements from one of the activists herself- Dr. Rama Melkote.  She was fascinating to listen to, and she spoke of how women in India have come so far from the beginnings of their movement in the 60s and many strides have been made in the areas of dowry-related deaths/suicides, rape, and Parliamentary representation (still being debated).

Oh! And it’s New Years Eve today!  I do not think we will be able to celebrate much, especially since I am sure everyone is on high alert following the recent events in Mumbai, but I think we’ll still have fun. 

 

Early Impressions, quick notes

Here are my initial observations/reactions from when I first arrived in India:

(I am posting prior entries that I recorded before being able to get to the internet)

I arrived yesterday at 5 in the morning.  It was the longest day of my life.  We saw the sun rise twice- once in London and then in Hyderabad.  It is all a bit overwhelming at this point, but everyone on the trip seems very nice.  They make me feel much more comfortable being here, although my goal is to remain out of my comfort zone as much as possible. 

It’s unbelievable how well we are treated as Americans.  The Indian hospitality is almost uncomfortably subservient, although obviously very appreciated.  At our guest house we are cooked and served delicious meals from scratch and we can’t even clear our own dishes. 

We had a ten-minute romp in the local city, Hitech City, which was incredibly intimidating.  People everywhere, cars everywhere, and we stuck out like sore thumbs and earned stares from every passerby.  Ten minutes was a great big baby step into this radically different environment, a brief and progressive transition from yesterday’s calm campus tour. 

This evening we got the amazing privilege to have a renouned Indian fusion band, Unity, play for us.  The music was magical..moving, and beautiful!  The sitar is a fascinating instrument with about 80 strings, and the tabla is this bongo-like drum played with the fingers very quickly and with many ranges in tones and beats.

Tomorrow we get to register with the police and then go shopping at a nice Indian department store where the program will buy us traditional clothing.. so we can “fit in” a little better.  It’ll be a start!

Apologies!

My fellow students and I have been learning the gift of patience. We have not had internet since 2008! We are promised that it will happen when it happens, and that they are doing their best. That is kind of the way things work here, between the lack of schedules and professors not coming to class on the first day. I do not mind the peacefulness of an unplugged, less fast-paced lifestyle, but I wish I could communicate with my family and friends about all of the amazing adventures I have had in the past week, and ensure everyone that I am safe and sound and happy! I also hope in turn that things are going well back in the US.

I only have ten minutes before my Hindi class, so here are a few quick highlights:

- first autorickshaw ride- on my birthday. Anyone who drives in India has a deathwish.
- monkeys, peacocks, cattle, wild dogs, gigantic bats, and various other creatures roam the campus .
- we have covered most of the tourist hot spots in the city (Charminar, Mosques, Tombs, Forts, etc).
-the colors are fantastic, bright and beautiful.
-the food. oh my god.
-(I haven't even gotten TOO sick yet!)

I have to go to class, but I will try to make it to the library more often until our net's back up.
Miss you all!!