“Oh, no,” I said, “they’re quite different.”
I went on to list some of the differences that I noted in my last posting. They were thoughtful about the fact that these little things could really change the whole fabric feel of each city. They also admitted that most Indians wouldn’t pay attention to these differences as points that significantly differentiate the cities.
TUESDAY
On Tuesday we ventured to Mahabilpuram, the temple by the sea.
Along the way my attention was drawn to the many extremely colorful dev (god) representations on the numerous temples. This one in particular fascinated me. So bright and lively.
As we moved on, areas heavily impacted by the 2004 tsunami were pointed out to me. This beach front area was completed covered up to and over the road we were driving on. Much of the vegetation is returning, but a good many fast growing ‘fuel’ trees were being planted as well.
Just past this beach front area was a tsunami settlement. There were several of these with large road sides indicating tsunami relief areas. However, many of theses places and signs were in poor repair and left me questioning how helpful, ultimately, the aid here was.
The answer our hosts gave me was: Not very much.
There was a fair bit of scamming that took place to get aid after the tsunami as little government oversight was provided in the relief effort. Before you jump to conclusions about India I have two words for you: Hurricane Katrina. I guess the U.S. and India have yet another thing in common.
After another 20 minutes on the road we pulled left down a narrow road that passed clay statues of dancing and musical women; most of which were missing various body parts. The road was in extremely poor repair so the drive was slow. This was good because it allowed me to really see those walking by.
Many of the south Indian women had yellow complexions on, as if they had rub haldi (turmeric) on their faces.
“Yes they do that so that their skin looks fairer”
Fairer, perhaps, but yellow? The desire to meet so worldwide beauty standard was reached a ridiculous new level here. I don’t entirely believe they want to be fairer as a result of Western exposure though. I’m fairly certain that much of the social pressure that these women internalize comes from seeing their Indian neighbors to the north. Such a shame really. The south Indian woman is just as striking in her beauty as any woman I’ve seen in this country. In a way, the darkness of her complexion makes her more compelling to admire because of the way it accentuates the features of her face.
A much more common feature than yellow tinged skin is the fragrant jasmine garlands that are hung from their hair. These tiny flowers are hand-strung together in a way as to not leave any gaps in the garland. The finished product is as pretty to look at as it is to smell. Imagine wet earth and sugar syrup mixed together.
At Mahabilpuran, we hiked our salwars up a bit as we navigated large and somewhat deep puddles on our way to the front gate. The smoothly paved path was seemingly insync with what lay at the end.
This temple wasn’t very large at all. It was well worn by the wind and salt air of the Indian Ocean which crashed nearby. Families sat on the wet lawns surrounding it to picnic and children climbed on the backs of the weathered and often headless lions lining its perimeter.
The overcast sky was such that an ethereal glow could be caught when looking up along the sides.
I ran my hand across some of the outer surfaces and thought how amazing it will always seem to me that something invisible to my eye (the wind and the sea air) would return this building to sand one day, while my nail couldn’t even chip the tiniest fragment.
After taking leave of the temple we had a late lunch at a nearby resort. Here you see a Nitu-didi along with Jo-jo-vrji, her husband.
The drive home left me feeling very tired from the heaviness of the weather, but I managed to find a second wind to go out to some handicraft stores and boutiques. I didn’t buy anything, but I sure do love to see the fineries on display.
WEDNESDAY
There was one main program for the day: visit Dakshin Chitra.
For those of you who have been the world village at Balboa park in San Diego or (very loosely) Epcot Center, it is something along those lines.
It is a full scale physical representation of homes, craft productions and exhibitions of south India.
Below is the intricately carved entryway to a merchant’s house from Tamil-Nadu.
There were number of wares on display inside as well.
One series of room featured artwork from various times, culminating in an modern art exhibition. It was very interesting multi-media work that seemed to me to represent to patching together of traditional and modern in India.
At a Ayyanar Shrine display, large terracotta figures stood waiting to provide transport for Ayyanar (a popular village guardian deity) at night.
At the Hindu House of the Calicut district of Kerala, there was this brightly designed wall painting near the entrance of the central room/courtyard.
Finally, a little fashion show from Karnataka. The south does not corner the market on color, but they do include a lot of sea-going elements (such as shells) which represent there region.
AND WHAT ABOUT THE WEATHER?
I know you were all wondering. This morning we were greeted by sunshine and clear-ish skies. This later turned into oppressive humid heat that threatened to suck the will to live out of us.
The sky over the ocean was menacingly gray as we made our way back home from Dakshin Chitra.
In the late afternoon we headed out for tea with some friends of the folks. The rain was coming down then, but I wasn’t too impressed by it.
After a few hours of socializing we began the drive home.
Now I understand what ‘monsoon’ is.
The torrential downpour was so thick it was like drive through a suspend sheet of water. This apparently had been going on for sometime as the small standing puddles and pools that we passed on the way in had become ponds and lakes. Literally.
The car, along with two-wheelers, autorickshaws, and pedestrians, struggled through the grueling traffic and bodies of water the were knee deep in many places (the walkers verified that).
Whenever we passed through the really deep ponds I put my foot by the door-jam to see if any water would leak in.
As we crawled to a stop just short of an intersection, the ‘smell’ started by-passing the air-conditioning system: the waters had mixed with sewage. An autorickshaw pulled up along side of us with five very wet people crammed inside. The young woman nearest me was covering her nose. I could only imagine how much worse it must be for her.
The sky was lit every few minutes by spectacular burst of white-gray-blue with only dull thunder. These burst of light illuminated the entire sky each time.
When we finally reached home the rain had subsided to a comfortable downpour. Toads croaked in chorus on the drive leading up to Nitu-didi’s house. There were even a handful making appearances at the base of the drive. The earth worms of south India…perhaps.
Even as I was writing this in the late evening I sat listen to the incessant downpour (which has turned torrential again), drown out the mighty sounds of the air conditioner.
Papa was right…the red sky meant heavy rains.
AS FOR THE NEXT MOVE…
Today we will hopefully make our road trip to Puducherry and Auroville. The plan has been slightly abridged due to scheduling mishaps and the monsoons.
We will be there for two full days and plan on returning either late the 28th or early the 29th.
In the meanwhile, be good to you neighbors and try to smile a little more each day.
Peace,
A Pink American
1 comment:
Jarucia,
What an awesome post. I'm still not sure how to gauge my emotional reaction to your journey, but this morning (it's about 6am here) I sat down with my coffee before what promises to be a particularly hectic day at the store, with six inches of snow on the ground, and I read your Chennai story. I can visualize the marketplace, the humidity, the monsoon, the laughter in the restaurant, everything. This is sooo much better than the Travel Channel. Love, Dad.
Post a Comment