The Temple

Hello Everyone,

Yesterday evening was a lot of fun. After the market, lunch, and a nap, I get ready to visit the large temple for which Tiru is so famous. Priya, Pown, Durga, Ajith (not Ajith Kumar), and I went. Our journey started with a long walk down the main road waiting to be picked up by an autorickshaw. This took a little while, but I really enjoy walking along the streets here. I saw a herd of black wild pigs shifting through trash. I asked Priya if they ate them, and she gave me a shocked look, which I took as a no. We finally were picked up by an auto, but by that time it was a really short drive to the temple. We got out of the auto and waited about five minutes until there was finally an opening in traffic so we could cross the busy street. The little road we walked to the temple front was lined with people selling metal pots, plates, bowls, and other cooking ware. Everything was metal, and it looked like the street was lined in silver.

The closer we got to the temple, the more crowded it became. The front tower (of which there are four, one on each side) loomed overhead. I knew that the temple was tall, but saying tall does not do it justice. The tower’s height was not the only impressive thing about it; the entire massive structure was intricately engraved and decorated. I can’t even begin to imagine the work that went into making one of these, let alone four. We had to check our shoes at a stand outside the temple, and while waiting in line we were flooded by beggars. This was my first true encounter with the beggars here, before I had seen one or two at a time, but the temple was mobbed with them.

After removing and checking our shoes, we entered the tunnel through the tower, which led into the temple. The walls of the tunnel had very worn words and pictures delicately chiseled into it. In the middle of the tunnel we had to pass through a metal detector, which kind of ruined the vibe. When we emerged from the passageway we were greeted by an open court flooded with people of all ages. Large statues within stone buildings stood everywhere. The temple was also full of dogs, and monkeys. At first I was excited about the monkeys, and took a picture of a mother holding its baby. Then I saw how terrifying monkeys really are. They would run up to people and attack them until the person offered it something it liked. Good luck trying to carry a bag through the temple. A saw many games of tug-a-war between man and monkey, and not once did the human win. Whenever we passed a group of them, Priya would hide behind me. One monkey came and tried to molest me and I had to smack it away. I was too scared to be excited about the fact that I just touched a monkey. I don’t know why it was grabbing me, I had no food, only a bottle of water, and a camera zipped up in one of my pockets.

We entered one of the buildings inside the temple and followed a labyrinth of incense filled halls until we finally reached the back where an old holy man blessed us and then sprinkled a chalk like powder into our hands, which we used to mark our foreheads. We then used the rest of the chalk to fill in the engraved words on one of the pillars.

Upon leaving the building we weaved our way around lines of people formed in front of different statues. Everyone wanted to go and tell the statue their hopes and prayers. We went through yet another tower into the center of the temple. This was the most sacred part, and there was a two hour wait in line to see the main temple statue. We decided not to wait in line, and instead walked around other parts of it. We visited the huge reflecting pond, and saw the tall, narrow, golden tower in the center of the temple. For five rupees an elephant would place its trunk on you and bless you. We waited in line to see a giant statue of a bull. One by one we went up to the statue and whisper what we wanted to happen in our future into its ear. While we made our prayer, we had to cover the other ear so our prayer wouldn’t go straight through. By that point it was starting to get late, so we sat and ate the rice prasad, a holy food. It is tradition to eat it when you go to a temple or ashram.

We left the temple and picked up our shoes. It was now totally dark. We walked Ajith to his uncle’s shop where he is spending the rest of the weekend. It was a bakery, and it was now around eight and we still hadn’t had dinner, but we resisted filling up on sweets. After dropping Ajith off we roamed the streets for a little bit. The town looks so different with everything lit up. Since it was still early in the night, everyone was active and out and about, and I loved being a part of the cool evening’s hustle and bustle. I bought two lungis, the wrap-around skirt type thing that men here wear. Here children wear shorts, teenage boys wear pants, and then men wear lungis. Kumari said that to people here I look to be about twenty five (no kidding!!!) and that when she tells them that I am nineteen they are shocked. Because I look so old, it is more culturally acceptable for me to wear a lungi. The shop keeper tried to push these ridiculously gaudy satin and silk ones with bright patterns on me. I went for the plaid cotton ones, which everyone here actually wears, plus they look nicer. When I returned home with them, I think Kumari was grateful that I had gone more traditional, and we got a bucket to soak them since they were heavy and stiff with starch. This morning James taught me the proper wrapping technique, and I must say that in the heat it is much more comfortable than pants.

It’s the weekend, so now I’m going to go spend some more time with my kids!!! I hope you all have a good rest of your weekend.

Peace,
Robby

Devotees waiting in line to whisper their wishes into a statue's ear.

Yeah, it may look cute sitting there with its baby, but these big guys are vicious!

As we left the center part of the temple the lights were turned on, giving everything an unearthly glow.

Saturday Bazaar

Hello all,

Yesterday evening was very quiet, the children all tried to get their homework done as quickly as possible in order to have the weekend free. We ate and got ready for bed. All the children were asleep and I was in my room writing and reading when the power went out. It was pretty late at night and with no windows and now no fan, the Xavier’s could not sleep and had to leave their oven of a room. They congregated outside and I went out with them. We sat and enjoyed the night for about an hour, until the power came back on.

This morning was hotter than it has been all week, and all the children found games to play that involved as little movement as possible. Around 10:30 Kumari was leaving for the market, and I asked to go with her. She agreed, under the condition that I lagged behind and explored on my own, because she is able to get most of the food as gifts, but if they see me with her they would make her pay under the impression that she now had a lot of money.

On the way to the market we passed a huge group of Muslims protesting and marching. Kumari wasn’t really able to explain what it was about. She did say, however, that almost all of her free food came from Muslims; they are very giving and care for her cause. Also, she explained, Christians and Muslims are basically the same, so in India they get along very well. I thought her opinion that Islam and Christianity were almost one in the same to be very interesting. It also made me think about how suspicious the white, Christian majority has been of Muslim men in the US, especially after 9/11.

When we finally got to the bazaar, my initial thought was, “I have made a huge mistake.” It was crowded, dirty, and loud. Autorickshaws and trucks pushed through the narrow alley that made up the market, while cows and even people were knocked and thrown out of the way. I laughed thinking how Kumari said that she came at this time because it was less busy, and I could not even imagine it being more crowded or harder to navigate. My thought was that I would go and take pictures by myself since I couldn’t stay with Kumari, but the idea of pulling out a camera and drawing even more attention to myself seemed daunting.

I quietly navigated the maze of people, animals, and vegetables while pretending not to notice the stares I was receiving. In the first ten or so minutes I was there it did clear out considerably, which meant I stood out even more. Shop tenders and shoppers alike yelled out little tidbits of English at me, most of which made no sense. “Good night!” one person yelled, “What is the weather?” another asked. I do have to give them credit, though; they have a better understanding of English then I do of Tamil. At first I was a little uncomfortable about all the attention I was receiving, but I knew no one would try anything with me and that they were simply curious. I decided to bring out my camera to try and discreetly take a few shots. The camera, however, ended up being a blessing. So many people approached me asking me to take their picture. I would then show them the picture, and a conversation in broken English and Tamil would ensue. I actual made a few friends, and after talking to one shop keeper and his brother for several minutes, he gave me a free mango. I think he was disappointed that I didn’t eat it right away (they eat them skin and all), but I was told not to eat anything fresh, unless it was peeled. So I stuck it in my pocket and saved it for later.

Being in the market was one of the several times where I have been really happy that I took this trip alone. If I was with someone else, I probably would have hung on to them, making and sharing observations and never leaving their side. Being alone has forced me to interact with people. Why not talk to the old woman about cows? Or tell my story to the man selling ginger? I have no one else to talk to. I also feel like being alone has made more approachable. No one is intimidated by a lone, young, westerner. If I was with a group, would the two brothers so boldly approach me and ask me to take their picture, or would random people passing by feel comfortable enough to shake my hand and ask for “my origin”? I don’t know how many people today welcomed me to India, and though I am here alone, it certainly doesn’t feel like it.

About an hour into the outing (the hottest, dirtiest, sweatiest hour of my life) Ajith Kumar found me in the crowd and became my little tour guide. This little firecracker knows everyone here it seems, and somehow he got his hands on two cups of tea, and every time I looked away he was chomping on a new piece of fruit that someone had given him. When it was time, he and I flagged down an autorickshaw, which slowly took the treacherous route up the bazaar street. We loaded it up and rode home sitting on top of this weeks food; potatoes aren’t the most comfortable thing to sit on, especially on the bumpy roads of India.

Once home I immediately bathed, the water that ran off me was a dark brown from all the dust and dirt I had encountered on the street.

Oh, and I almost forgot, it is the Fourth of July! I didn’t even remember today until I saw Ajith wearing red, white, and blue (not on purpose). It is strange being somewhere where no one knows the significance of today. Then again, I don’t know when their independence day is, only that is in (early/mid?) August…

Peace,
Enjoy the holiday,
Robby

Me and one of my new local friends, Santosh Kumar. He is the one who gave me a mango, and on passing him a second time I had Ajith take this picture of us.

This woman kept pointing at cows and talking to me in Tamil, despite me protesting that I only speak English. She was friendly, though, and let me take this picture of her.

The bazaar was only food, there are other streets for clothes, shoes, jewelry, etc.

Approaching the market street.

Stay away from hotel food

Hello all,

What a quiet couple of days it has been. I have really fallen into a schedule here, and the days seem to be flying by. The weekend is tomorrow, where did this week go? The lifestyle here is so different; very calm, and relaxed. It is as if time is slowed down, nothing needs to be rushed; but at the same time the days seem to be sliding through my fingers.

Last night the children came home and finished their homework fairly early. Maha drew this beautiful picture, which Durga colored. I was very complimentary and soon I was flooded by a sea of drawings, all awaiting my stamp of approval. I asked Subala to draw one of me, and never before have I looked so crazed and on drugs. The sad thing is that she was being completely serious. A couple other kids drew pictures of me too, and whenever they went to draw my head they would take a bracelet and trace it to get a perfect circle. I didn’t think that my head was super round, but whenever they draw anyone else the head is a nicely shaped oval.

Right before dinner Priya got into a disagreement with her parents. Xavier’s back has been very swollen for a while now. At the beginning of the week it was so bad that he couldn’t even sleep. Wednesday night I gave him ibuprofen. I was reluctant to share medicine, especially if it were to have some side effect, but Xavier was in such pain, and ibuprofen isn’t that strong, so after talking to Kumari about it I gave him two. He was able to sleep that night, and wanted to move the heavy things out of this house and into the second floor of the new one (we have the second floor, but won’t get the first until September, which is a whole other story). It took a lot to explain to him that just because he felt better didn’t mean he was; it was just masking the pain so he should still be very careful. Anyway, Xavier needed to leave at four the next morning in order to get to a special doctor several towns over in time. Kumari wanted to go with him because she knows Xavier won’t ask any questions and will try to downplay what he is feeling, and that he will go along with whatever the doctor says. Since I don’t speak Tamil, it meant Priya would need to stay home to arrange the autorickshaws for the children. Priya, however, had mended a beautiful sari for her friend, and that morning she was supposed to give it to her so she could wear it on her birthday. She had made a promise. Priya sat in the corner with tears in her eyes because she is not allowed to speak up or argue with her parent’s choice. To make matters worse, she was then yelled at for not happily going along with her parents orders by James, the cook, of all people. I felt terrible and useless since I could not take care of getting the children to school by myself. A couple hours later, though, Xavier announced that he would like to see the doctor alone, and all the heartache was for nothing.

For dinner Kumari was going through all the different Indian dishes and came across one that I hadn’t tried yet. It was this tortilla type thing, but had layers and pieces that you could rip off and eat curry with. It is complicated to make, and apparently uses more oil than we had in the house, so we ordered it from the hotel up the road. I ate all of its oily goodness, and sopped up most of the two kinds of curries that it came with. When I was basically finished, Kumari commented that it isn’t good to eat from the hotel too often because the food isn’t always safe, and too much of it would disagree with the stomach. An hour later I had to use the bathroom, and again every hour on the hour for most of the night. I was miserable.

After dinner, between my trips to the restroom, I played that complicated number game in the boys’ room again (I wish they had a name for it so I can call it something other than “that number game”). They all take it so seriously, and I can’t help but thinking that we need cigars and glasses of whiskey to complete the picture.

I woke up super early this morning because the power had gone out and I was literally being steamed in my room. Also, I needed to use the bathroom. Waking up in India is the worst. Waking up in general is bad, be here it is terrible. When I wake up my pillow is soaked with sweat, which has also puddled into every indent in my body. My mouth is always incredibly dry and my lips sticky from dehydration, despite downing a bottle of water before going to bed. The humidity is its worse in the morning, and trying to convince yourself that moving is a good idea can be a battle that lasts over a half an hour. Speaking of sweat and dehydration, I drink five liters of water a day (no, I am not joking, it is kind of ridiculous). But looking at how much liquid leaves my system in any measurable way, you would think I hadn’t seen a cup of water in weeks. I must sweat literally four and a half liters of water. And by looking at my pillow in the morning, I guess I believe it.

We didn’t have electricity most of the morning, and a man came to the power lines outside our house and climbed right up the pole without a ladder or any rung type things. Without shoes, work gloves, or even a helmet, the man started fiddling with the wires. I gawked at how dangerous it was and made a comment about it. Kumari replied nonchalantly that last month the same man came here to work on the lines and got shocked and fell off the pole. But here he was today, still fearlessly doing his job.

Today I made the other poster for Kumari, and we talked and ate for a little bit. I tried napping outside where it is a little cooler, but tiny rain drops started falling, I thought they would feel refreshing, but instead the cold drops against my hot skin felt like needles, so I came back inside. After waking up so early, however, a nap is still in order.

Peace,
Robby

Prince and James patiently waiting and watching while some men fixed our rice grinder.

The crazy man that just shot up the electric pole without even thinking twice.

Separation

Hello all,

Life has been pretty quiet, and dare I say relaxing, the past day or so. Doing paperwork with Kumari became very methodical yesterday, and then I took on the job of creating posters. We need a poster that indicates the daily routine and another that shows the weekly menu, both are required for inspection. I finished the one for the daily routine, and it looks pretty good. Doing it reminded me of being in elementary or middle school again, back when a “big project” consisted of making a colorful poster.

While I worked, Kumari and I discussed the differences in family life in the US and in India. In India the son stays in his father’s house, even after marriage. She asked if it was the same in the US, and I laughed and said that son and daughters were typically expected to move out and start a life of their own after college. I think that may be why each generation in America is so different, while in India tradition is still strong and change hard to come by. In America we move out at a fairly young age, and at that time create our own, and sometimes new, way of life. In India, since the grandparents, parents, and children all live together for their whole lives there is never the chance to go out and create a new lifestyle or a new set of rules. I’m not saying that one way is better than the other, but simply commenting on the outcome of these different ways of living.

In the evening Pown and I took the motor bike to print out and make copies of the letters, spreadsheets, lists, and forms I had typed up the past two days. The sky was very dark with heavy looking clouds, and the wind whipped up dirt, leaves, trash, and fabric that had been ripped from the clothes lines. I hadn’t bathed in a couple days, and the idea of being caught in the rain was welcoming. The promise the dark clouds had made, however, was never fulfilled other than a couple light sprinkles. I made the copies and we ran a couple other errands, and I realized how comfortable I have become with not understanding three quarters of what is going on around me.

When we finished the errands and come back home, the headmaster of the school was having tea with Kumari. It is still strange to me how much power this tiny Indian woman has over the school system here.

We ate dinner, and afterwards the older payment boys and Priya wanted to play some games. For the first time since being here I actually entered the payment boys’ room. Before I did, though, they locked the door and cleaned for me. When they finally opened it, a cloud of scented talc powder whooshed out of the room. They were trying to make it smell good, but the powder was choking and added a haze to the already dimly lit room. The room was even smaller than I realized. When they sleep they must literally be on top of each other. I saw no way that they could lay, even if it was on their sides, without pressing against one another. We played some complicated number game, and the night was actually a lot of fun, despite the odor of urine that kept wafting in from next door.

Today was more of the same; writing letters, coloring posters, and filling out paperwork occupied most of my morning. Prasad’s brother, Prithivi, ran away again. He has been here two weeks, and has run away five times to his grandmother, who lives several towns away. Kumari can’t be held responsible for him if he refuses to be helped. If something were to happen to him, it is her neck on the line. Because if this, and because there are plenty of other children that need help, Kumari dis-enrolled him, and an hour later there was another boy here. His mother died last year of a snake bite, and his father can no longer take care of him. His father now needs to leave for a job hauling mud in Kerala. It was one of the most heart wrenching things I have ever had to witness. The boy cried the whole time his father spoke with Kumari. Kumari asked me to take a picture of the boy and his father for the boy to have, because he will probably never see him again. When it came time for the father to leave, the boy started screaming and clawing at his dad, and his father could not even look at him. Kumari grabbed the child’s waist to hold him back, and the father marched blankly out of the gate while his boy howled and convulsed for him. I had to go to my room because it was too much for me to watch.

Prince and I tried to distract to boy with food and games, and he calmed down. Even the washer woman, who has never seemed to show any emotion, cuddled him and tried to distract him from all the thoughts and emotions that must have been running through his head.

When everyone else went to take their rest, I decided to enjoy a little alone time. I made some tea, cut up a couple mangos (the mangos here are the sweetest, most flavorful fruit I have encountered) and created a little reading nook in the wall outside. The breeze was amazing and clouds blocked much of the sun’s heat. I dissolved into a book, and for the first time it felt like a vacation. The children will be home soon, though, and any feeling of a vacation will quickly be over.

I love and miss you all,
Peace,
Robby

The father wiping the tears off of his son's face so I could take one last picture of them together.

The wedding

Hello all,

Yesterday I got a good rest, and then helped the children finish their homework as quickly as possible. Then we all got dressed in our best for the wedding. When I emerged from my room after changing I was greeted with “super, sir!” from many of the kids, in respect to my clothes. The children all took a lot of time perfecting each other’s hair and making sure the scented talc was completely rubbed in. Then we waited. Right now Xavier is in charge of the neighbor’s autorickshaw, but he doesn’t have a license to drive it in this state. So the family of the bride was going to send a driver for us at 7:30. We waited, and waited. Finally the driver came around 8:45, the whole time the children were waiting they were itching in their nice clothes, and sitting as still as possible, so as not to get dirty.

It took only two autorickshaw trips, and one motor bike trip. For those who don’t know, an autorickshaw is meant to hold 3, maybe 4 comfortably. With children you can probably fit 5. We fit about 17 per trip. Children were stacked up four high on each other’s laps. Illegal, yes. Dangerous, a resounding yes. But in order to get everyone there before 10 it is what had to be done. I rode the motor bike with a neighborhood boy boy, who I didn’t know, and Xavier. We got there around quarter to ten, and things were just getting started. The marriage hall was hot, bloody hot, crowded, and noisy. The air was thick with the smell of jasmine and sweat. All the women were dressed in bright saris and had strings of flower buds looped in their hair. Everyone was staring at me; the bride was a half orphan and very poor, so many of people there were also not well off. Because of that, the last person they expected to see there was a westerner. Kumari had been in charge of the orphan-bride’s education, and as a thanks, all of Kumari’s children, family, and myself were invited.

A couple minutes after we entered, a band of strange instruments started playing and the bride and groom came in. They stood in the doorway and a large, strange looking camera took pictures of them. The flash on the camera didn’t “flash,” instead it stayed lit for several minutes. The bride looked very uncomfortable and shy in the blinding, unnatural light. She sparkled with jewels and gold, and was weighed down by pounds of flowers and layers upon layers of bright, draped silk. Not once did I see her smile. She was only 17, and was not ready to leave her guardian’s house for the house of her mother-in-law. The marriage was arranged, and stories about princesses bound into marriages while secretly there heart belonged to someone else came to mind, though I’m sure this was nothing like that. Later Priya and I went up and talked to the bride, there were tears in her eyes. The photographer came up and wanted to take a picture of us. Priya, the bride, and I arranged ourselves, and instinctively I smiled for the camera. I will be the only happy looking person in the picture (as if I won’t stand out enough already).

When a table cleared we sat down to eat. A banana leaf was placed in front of me, and I sprinkled it with my drinking water before the server could come and do it with water that came from who knows where. Slowly the leaf was filled with piles upon piles of strange sauces, curries, and vegetable mushes. I ate it greedily, by this time it was close to 10:45, and I hadn’t eaten since 2:00. The desserts were both served cool / room temperature, so I didn’t risk eating them and gave them to the children around me. While eating, a huge fight broke out literally right over top of me, between an old woman and a man probably in his middle to late thirties. It had something to do with the servant woman not clearing an old banana leaf. I don’t know. The man was leaning over top of me to get to the woman, fists were involved, and I was terrified and had no clue what was happening, but Priya was laughing so I knew that it couldn’t be that bad. They ended up carrying the man and woman outside, and everyone continued eating as if nothing had happened.

Several men came up to me, shook my hand, and introduced themselves. You both shake and eat with your right hand, so no matter how many times I went and washed my hand, it still had food on it because I kept meeting new people.

We left a little after midnight. The wedding celebration went all night, and in the morning the actual ceremony would occur, which I did not get the chance to see. Driving through Tiru at night is a must-have experience. The busy streets are quiet, only a few people are roaming about or cleaning up their outdoor stands. The air is cool and feels fresh. The heavy smells have cleared the area, leaving only a hint of curry and fried edibles. Cows rule the roads at night; they wander freely, untethered, and unwatched. I wonder how their owners find them in the morning.
Due to the late night, I slept in until 9:30, and quickly got to work on more paperwork and posters that need to be hung before inspection. Kumari has been very stressed, the people renting the bottom level of the new house were supposed to leave today, but they refuse to move until September, because in Hindu tradition, apparently it is only lucky to move in certain months. We don’t know yet if we will be allowed to stay here until then, and if we can’t, there is nowhere to go in the area. Because of that, Kumari and Xavier have their hands full, so I’m trying to take over all the little things that need to be done.

I miss you all,

Peace,
Robby

Waiting to be served

The bride and groom enter the hall

Waiting for the bride and groom to enter the hall (the pictures didn't load in order...)

The sun setting on Tiru while we waited for our driver

Paperwork mostly...

Hello all,

The past night and morning have been uneventful. Last night Kumari and Xavier had some things to do at the new house, so I was alone with the kids for most of the night. I did fine by myself, and Priya was in the house doing homework if I needed anything, so I wasn't to worried. For most of the time the kids were doing their homework. Whenever they finished something they would bring it up to me for me to check and sign. Several of the younger ones had to recite a song in Tamil without looking at their books. They could have been singing gibberish, but it sounded fine to me, so I signed that they had memorized the song. That is what a lot of their work is like, memorization. Memorization and repetition. Several of them had to write the number 1 through 100 five times. Others had to write the same sentences in English ten times. A couple had to memorize a song in English. This is all well and good, but many have no idea what the sentences they are writing mean. Subala was singing me a song in English, and when she got stuck on a line I pointed to it in her book; she just shrugged and shook her head no. It reminds me of how I am learning some of their rhymes in Tamil, but if I saw it written in Tamil I would have no clue, and if someone asked me what it meant I would have no clue.

When Kumari came back she brought freshly boiled peanuts with her, they were very good, but I think I ate too many of them. She then taught me to make dosais, which reminded me of pancakes. I explained pancakes to her, but she got really confused about the whole maple syrup part. I explained it was sap from a tree, and she just laughed and said "you come from a very different world, my friend." We've had two other moments like that. One was when I asked her if the leaves fell off the trees, and then tried to explain autumn to her. The other was when I was talking about snow. She had a lot of questions about snow, like do we need umbrella's? She said that she had seen pictures of the red autumn leaves and the white snow, but she thought they were just photo-shopped to look pretty. Then again, I have been pretty ignorant about Indian life as well. I took a while for Kumari to explain to me that the vegetable in the curry that I had eaten at the neighbors was actually the inside of the banana tree. Or the time that they explained to me that having squirrels and lizards in the house was normal. One time Priya said to me, "I think India is too different for you, no?" I replied that yes, India is very different, but I am enjoying it a lot. "Okay," Priya responded, "you come back every year then." I just smiled and shrugged.

After dinner I went to the bathroom, but the light was burned out. First a little bit about the bathroom, it is incredibly narrow, but is a fair length. The half the toilet is on is raised a step, and the other half has a spicket that goes into a very large bucket. The toilet does not flush, instead you fill a pitcher from the bucket and dump it into the toilet. The extra water in the toilet drains out, and you hope that your business goes with it. I mention this because it took me a while to get used to. You use the same pitcher to pour water on yourself when washing. Anyway, the light was burned out, so I told Kumari. She didn't have any light bulbs, so we decided to take one from a less important light. That bulb didn't work in the bathroom either, so we went to put it back in the back room, and it didn't work their anymore. So we started switching around light bulbs all over the place, and pretty soon none of the lights were working except one. Then, out of nowhere, the fan in the Xavier family's room stopped working. Kumari threw her hands in the air and declared that she was sleeping outside because it was going to be so hot without a fan, and because she was done with this out of wack house. We rearranged the lights one by one, until finally they all worked (which was strange because we were sure at least one of them was dead) and then the fan burst into life. I don't know what kind of ridiculous wiring they have in this house, but it had us juggling light bulbs for over a half an hour.

I woke up around seven this morning, and had breakfast with the kids and saw them off to school. Kumari and I talked about what would be needed to get an FCRA number. This is a number that you need to get funding from organizations outside of India. There is a lot of paper work and you need to show that your foundation has spent over 6 lac (600,000 rupees) in the past three years. While Kumari uses more than that, a lot of the food, clothes, supplies, etc., come as gifts or through agreements; she doesn't have enough receipts to add up to the 6 lac. She did, however, buy the piece of land (with a lot of outside help) for 5 lac. I discussed moving that land out of her name, and into the WIDE trust (it is being used for the orphanage in the first place) so all she would need to come up with receipt-wise would be 1 lac. She already has an application pending and we should find out while I'm here, so if it doesn't go through I will help her rearrange things and send in a new application. For the most of today I played secretary. There will probably be an inspection soon, and there are a lot of forms that needed to be filled out, and information that needed to be typed, including the history of each child. I took the typing jobs, and created spread sheets which include all the children's information, and typed up the daily schedules and meals, which are supposed to be posted on the walls.

While we did this Xavier went to the school to speak to one of the teachers. Friday Naveen came home with a lot of cuts and bruises. He had been beaten by one of the teachers. Apparently two younger children at the school told their teacher that they were afraid of Naveen, so the teacher pulled Naveen out of his class and beat him excessively. Physical punishment is accepted in Indian school, but Kumari and Xavier will not stand for it. Xavier basically tore the teacher, and the head master, apart and threatened to pull his kids out of the school. Schools depend on high numbers, so many schools in the area want Kumari and Xavier to enroll thier children in their school. This gives Kumari a lot of pull in the school system here. Xavier told the teacher that if he heard of any other instances like this one, he would send "the Mistress" (Kumari). This is a huge threat because a lot of the teachers are afraid of Kumari and she could easily get him fired. They do not hit the children in the orphanage, and they won't let the teachers hit the children in the schools, even if it is acceptable.

Kumari would have been upset if anyone came home bruised and bleeding, but Naveen is a special case. His sister Maha, one of the oldest and certainly the most responsible here, watched as her father and some of his friends beat their mother to death with steel rods and logs for the fire, and then hung her from the ceiling fan. Maha was four. They are terrified that Naveen will turn out like his father, and all last year they let him do what he wanted until he settled down. If he said he wanted his grandfather, they would immediately call him and off Naveen would go. This year, much to Kumari's relief, he decided that school and being with his sister is most important, and he hasn't left the home since. Kumari is afraid that because of this incident he will no longer want to attend school, and any possibility of him making something with his life and not going down his father's path will be lost. There more I hear about each child's background, the more I wonder how Kumari can handle it all, and the more I respect her for what she does.

I am going to rest now, I'm going to have a very late night because I am going to a wedding, and then to the wedding celebration early tomorrow morning. I am so excited!

Peace,
Robby

This is Naveen. The girl peaking into the picture is Sandhiya.

One of the two dogs exhausted in the heat outside the front door.

On the front porch.

Prince, Kumari's little trouble making son. He is the biggest cheater, and when I took the kids to the field Kumari lied to him and said she wanted to take him somewhere. He stayed home, thus letting the other kids play and have fun without being bothered by him.

Ashrams

Hello all,

Last night was fairly quiet. I took a pretty long afternoon nap with kids because we were all so tired from running around in the hot sun. The children slowly awoke, and we got some non-active games going. We played a lot of this memory game and also this number game, which I enjoy a lot. All the little ones that don't know how to play huddle behind me and whisper the pieces that I have to each other, and whenever I make a play they pat me on the back and say "ah, very good sir, very good," even though they don't really know what is happening. The game isn't too competitive, though, and usually all the players show eachother their hands and we help them figure out the best move. Naveen's grandfather came and visited him, and brought him a little bag of these seeds to snack on. Naveen shared them with everyone, and offered some to me. Normally I only take food from Kumari, but I had had these seeds before, and figured it was okay. They tasted like gasoline, and I barely ate one and it made me feel bad. One of the older boys tried one and got Kumari because they weren't good. Kumari threw them away (I felt bad for Naveen), but it was too late for me. Luckily I didn't vomit or anything. Apparently Naveen, who is five or six, has a habit of making other kids sick; one time he found colorful tablets on his way home from school, and gave them to the other children saying it was chocolate. He honestly thought it was candy, but it was medicine and several of the kids got sick.

Later I went to the kitchen and Kumari tought me how to make chappatis, which are kind of like tortillas, from scratch. She also showed me how to make palia. I am starting to figure out all of the foods, and hopefully when I come home I will know how to make it all too. Kumari has promised that first I can watch and take notes as she makes a dish, and the next time she makes the same thing I will help. I have also graduated to the full Indian spice level. At first Kumari used no chili in my food, and I told her that I was surprised the food was not spicy at all. When I found out she was holding back on me, I told her no, I wanted the full Indian flavor. So little by little she has added more chili to my food, and every time she is terrified it will be too hot. At this time I am even eating James' cooking, which sometimes Kumari complains of being too hot.

I had a hard time falling asleep last night, probably because I took such a long and late nap. I woke up a little later than normal, 9 am, and Kumari insisted that I must stay home and rest because I didn't feel well the other evening. I, however, had wanted to see the ashrams today, and convinced her that I was fine. I ate puttu for breakfast, which is my favorite breakfast, and got ready to go out. We called an autoricksaw, and we were off. This was my first time in an autorickshaw, and after the motor bike ride, it seemed very calm. I think I am starting to get used to the hectic roads here, which kind of scares me. The roads are crowded with people, bicycles, motor bikes, autorickshaws, buses, trucks, and large bulls pulling wagons. Technically you are supposed to drive on the left side of the road, but even that simple rule is ignored. Thus traffic jams frequently occur when two cars come right at each other, and then both refuse to back up or turn. Soon motor bikes are flying around them and autorickshaws are pressed against their tails so that they can't turn or backup even if they wanted to. In short, it is a mess.

The first ashram we visited was the Ramanasramam. This is the oldest and most famous ashram in Tiru. Ashrams are places for meditation built where holy men either reached nirvana, were enlightened, or lived their life. This ashram attracts a lot of rich westerners during the winter months when the weather is actually tolerable here. It is huge and right at the base of the mountain. It was like entering a rainforest, everything was green and the screeches of peacocks were omnipresent. There were flowers decorating everything, and it was incredibly clean, even by western standards. When we entered we were asked to remove our shoes, and we wandered barefoot past the tables where the poor could recieve free food. We looked through the library, and visited the main temple. All of the gods here are so strange, beautiful, and bright. We then entered the main meditation hall, which was made of carved white stone, and was very open and bright. This was the first time since being in India that I have seen other white people, and honestly it was a little angering. They came to India and spent all day in the ashram, many even all night since there are well kept huts you can rent. They came and stayed in a false India, the real India stopped the moment you passed through the gates. Even the beggars seemed beautiful when put in this setting. For that reason I felt a deep dislike for it, and I got angry with myself when I started to fantasize about retiring here in my old age.

We left and visited a newer ashram, the name of which I have now forgotten. Kumari had actually met the guru it was built for before he died. Outside there were men dressed in saffron clothes, the clothes of spiritual men. Kumari said that they are actually beggars, but when western people see them they are tricked into thinking that they are men dedicated to serving the gods, and then give them money. We had to take off our shoes here too, and at this point the sand / dirt was very hot. We went inside the silent temple, and walked around. There were pictures of holy men and gurus lining the walls. There was a picture of Jesus, and I contemplated the significance of his image being hung in a Hindu temple. Then I noticed that the guru next to him was "smoking the ganja" and realized that Jesus being up there probably wasn't that big of a deal. We then went to the meditation hall, and there were singers there, so Kumari and I sat for a bit. This hall was not a pretty as the other one, and kind of reminded me of a warehouse, but the singing was very beautiful.

We came home and I bathed and had samba for lunch. Then Xavier and I took the motor bike to get more water. He stopped and talked to a man, and I was proud of myself for being able to understand several of the words, and thus figure out what they were talking about. It was just about the weather, but still I was excited.

It is time to rest, and the power will go out soon, but I will write again tomorrow.

Peace,
Robby

This is the large tree outside of the first ashram, it is hundred of years old and very sacred. I didn't take that many pictures inside the ashrams, even though Kumari said I could, because it felt improper.

Inside my first autorickshaw. How touristy of me to take this picture!!! Still I was excited...