It's been several days since I've had either the time or, frankly, the inclination to 'blog'; we've been very busy, and have subsequently missed a great deal of rest. So, today's report might end up being a tad more synoptic than I'd have liked, in an ideal universe. Yet, I'll do my best not to skimp on the good bits.
John, Ninotchka's godfather (also Cheryl's husband), had his birthday on the 20th, but we celebrated the occasion on the 19th (which, incidentally, happened also to be my sister's birthday--hope you had a happy one, Jen). This was my first opportunity to catch of a glimpse of celebration in India, though I should note that, as members of the Christian demographic, the whole affair had a decidedly familiar character. A veritable feast of snacks (an interesting blend of typically Western fare, such as potato chips, as well as Indian delictables) adorned the room, shortly to be consumed by a large number of family and friends, who filled the home nearly to capacity. Alcohol and conversation to follow, with dinner, cake (the consumption of which very nearly descended into a marital food fight between John and Cheryl—entertaining I assure you), and song soon after. While it doesn't make for much of a story, it was nonetheless a charming and wonderful experience to actually participate in, you understand, and I was treated like an old friend far more than a new-comer (aside from, of course, the unrelenting tide of advice that inevitably follows from explaining that I am new to India). However, one highlight in particular is worth noting.
One of the guests, Jean, had had to make an unfortunate decision between attending the party and attending a soiree of a different sort back at her society. This last week marked the beginning of Navarātrī, a nine-day Hindu festival. In the province of Gujarat, a dance called the garba is a traditional part of celebrating this festival, and Gujarati populations that have migrated throughout India have brought the dance with them. So, at Jean's society [the name given to the close-knit communities that develop in the apartment complexes which constitute the living arrangements of most home-owning Mumbaikers] a dance was being hed, and while Jean had resigned to miss it this year, she had nonetheless conceded to making an appearance, if only for a few minuets. We were lucky enough to tag along. Sadly, I have no photos from our visit, but suffice it to say that it was quickly made apparent that standing on the sidelines wasn't really an option, and we shortly found ourselves swept up in the dance. Awkwardly at first, we were tutored in the steps and general approach of the dance in a small circle, whereupon we joined the main show. Essentially, the dance moves in a large, flowing circle to an intense, thumping beat in a rhythym that my Western ear, trained to think and move in 4/4 time, couldn't conceptually understand. Being the only white person on the scene, and a stranger as well, many more eyes were on me than I would feel comfortable under normal circumstances, a condition of insecurity that was worsened as I tried, in buffoon fashion, to deliver an impromptu performance of an unknown and utterly foreign dance. But before long my feet, at least, adapted to the unfamiliar pattern and my degree of comfort (not to mention enjoyment) rose dramatically. It was a wonderful experience and I was very grateful to have been invited, and of course to have been graciously welcomed into their celebrations with hardly an introduction.
As an interesting social aside, this dance is traditionally one of the few times teenagers are openly allowed to meet and greet across gender, and the ensuing fraternization has, in the current era and social climate, produced a very salient statistical increase in the number of unplanned pregnancies that occur over these ten days; significantly more that at any other time of the year, in fact!
The days since then have been awash in unbelievable food, occasionally too much drink and an altogether inadequate amount of sleep, as we have been visiting the very large number of family members that I did not have a month before. The number of inlaws I have gained quite outnumbers the number of blood relatives I have, you see, and getting to know them all has been an adventure. Everyone has been unquestionably charming and hospitable, and its given me a lot to think about. I was, I confess, initially slightly resentful; we're by no means done visiting yet, and by the time we're finished it will have taken almost two weeks to have gone and seen everyone. Before this campaign of introductions had begun, I had been jealous of the time we were going to have to invest, and had, I believe, imagined that it would somehow be work, as though it was some duty I regretfully had to perform. Quite aside from how obviously self-centered this logic was, it was also just wrong. I've had a great time, with laughs, anecdotes, unbelievably good (and plentiful) food all culminating in new relationships with dozens of people; newly-formed relationships with family members who are, it has been made evident, utterly ready and willing to act in that capacity--as family, not acquaintances. How such a thing could ever seem to loom on the horizon, rather than rise with anticipatory delight, is something on which I have subsequently spent much time in reflection. Detailing the process of pruning the garden of identity, and rooting out the weeds therein is an activity for a more private journal, but in brief, trust, responsibility and openness are delicate flowers that require much care to bloom. In short, India is providing the for my introspective appetite rather nicely.
I confess that this doesn't quite account for all that's happened these last few days, but that's the long and skinny of it. I'm off again for a few more days of visiting, but I've been collecting quite a few photographs (some amazing ones from last night, where I had the good fortune to witness a spontaneous resurgence of the monsoon precisely at sunset from a gorgeous sixth-story apartment building), which I will try and post before the week is out.
One of the guests, Jean, had had to make an unfortunate decision between attending the party and attending a soiree of a different sort back at her society. This last week marked the beginning of Navarātrī, a nine-day Hindu festival. In the province of Gujarat, a dance called the garba is a traditional part of celebrating this festival, and Gujarati populations that have migrated throughout India have brought the dance with them. So, at Jean's society [the name given to the close-knit communities that develop in the apartment complexes which constitute the living arrangements of most home-owning Mumbaikers] a dance was being hed, and while Jean had resigned to miss it this year, she had nonetheless conceded to making an appearance, if only for a few minuets. We were lucky enough to tag along. Sadly, I have no photos from our visit, but suffice it to say that it was quickly made apparent that standing on the sidelines wasn't really an option, and we shortly found ourselves swept up in the dance. Awkwardly at first, we were tutored in the steps and general approach of the dance in a small circle, whereupon we joined the main show. Essentially, the dance moves in a large, flowing circle to an intense, thumping beat in a rhythym that my Western ear, trained to think and move in 4/4 time, couldn't conceptually understand. Being the only white person on the scene, and a stranger as well, many more eyes were on me than I would feel comfortable under normal circumstances, a condition of insecurity that was worsened as I tried, in buffoon fashion, to deliver an impromptu performance of an unknown and utterly foreign dance. But before long my feet, at least, adapted to the unfamiliar pattern and my degree of comfort (not to mention enjoyment) rose dramatically. It was a wonderful experience and I was very grateful to have been invited, and of course to have been graciously welcomed into their celebrations with hardly an introduction.
As an interesting social aside, this dance is traditionally one of the few times teenagers are openly allowed to meet and greet across gender, and the ensuing fraternization has, in the current era and social climate, produced a very salient statistical increase in the number of unplanned pregnancies that occur over these ten days; significantly more that at any other time of the year, in fact!
The days since then have been awash in unbelievable food, occasionally too much drink and an altogether inadequate amount of sleep, as we have been visiting the very large number of family members that I did not have a month before. The number of inlaws I have gained quite outnumbers the number of blood relatives I have, you see, and getting to know them all has been an adventure. Everyone has been unquestionably charming and hospitable, and its given me a lot to think about. I was, I confess, initially slightly resentful; we're by no means done visiting yet, and by the time we're finished it will have taken almost two weeks to have gone and seen everyone. Before this campaign of introductions had begun, I had been jealous of the time we were going to have to invest, and had, I believe, imagined that it would somehow be work, as though it was some duty I regretfully had to perform. Quite aside from how obviously self-centered this logic was, it was also just wrong. I've had a great time, with laughs, anecdotes, unbelievably good (and plentiful) food all culminating in new relationships with dozens of people; newly-formed relationships with family members who are, it has been made evident, utterly ready and willing to act in that capacity--as family, not acquaintances. How such a thing could ever seem to loom on the horizon, rather than rise with anticipatory delight, is something on which I have subsequently spent much time in reflection. Detailing the process of pruning the garden of identity, and rooting out the weeds therein is an activity for a more private journal, but in brief, trust, responsibility and openness are delicate flowers that require much care to bloom. In short, India is providing the for my introspective appetite rather nicely.
I confess that this doesn't quite account for all that's happened these last few days, but that's the long and skinny of it. I'm off again for a few more days of visiting, but I've been collecting quite a few photographs (some amazing ones from last night, where I had the good fortune to witness a spontaneous resurgence of the monsoon precisely at sunset from a gorgeous sixth-story apartment building), which I will try and post before the week is out.
Can't wait to see some more pictures. If you can sneak some inside shots of your living quarters, that'd be awesome. ^_^
ReplyDeleteA few people have been asking about the address to my blog so I'll re-post it:
ReplyDeletewww.kaleidoscope-n.blogspot.com
I've got some pictures up as well