Charities

Amongst the travelling, daily electrical problems and such, I have managed to get involved with some charity work. I volunteered to be on the charity committee of the Overseas Women's Club. We meet once or twice a month depending on the need and decisions that must be made.

I've attended two meetings and I am impressed with the professionalism of the group of ten women. The OWC currently helps fund 22 charities. Right now we are revising the list, bringing on some new charities and letting go of some that do not need our assistance anymore.

We are looking at six new charities and have gone out in groups of two or three to visit each one. The two I visited were interesting. The first, a home for mentally ill homeless women. There is one room for 35 women to eat and sleep, and a tiny kitchen. I was shocked to learn that the women sleep on the floor but my co-workers explained this is quite common. So many people in India sleep on the floor in their homes. That is what they are used to and that is what they will go home to.

The second charity I visited is a home for children who used to be sex workers or are children of sex workers, ages 5 - 20. Some of them are HIV+. There are 70 children living in three houses. They are given all the basics, medical care, counselling and are sent to school or home schooled - depending on their state-of-being.

Three of us visited each house and met the children. They were so happy to see us and each one stood and said their name and what grade they were in. Given their circumstance, I was surprised at the confidence in their voices. Some of the older children are going to college and proudly showed us their uniforms and blazers. A few of the other older children are learning a skill such as weaving or tailoring so they will be able to support themselves.

Those of us on the charity committee will meet and present our findings. Once we decide which charities meet our requirements we will have their financial statements looked at by professionals. As I said, the committee takes their responsibility seriously. We go to great lengths to make sure the charities use funds appropriately and make a difference in the community.

Time Stands Still

The apparant lack of seasons is an interesting thing. Late October in Vancouver, Canada means the leaves have changed color and are falling from the trees. The weather is turning cool and rainy. Summer clothes are regretfully put away, as long sleeve shirts and winter jackets are brought out. Flower baskets and gardens are cleaned out, not to be seen again until spring.

Here in Bangalore I open the curtains and walk outside to blue skies and sun. The monsoons have gone - what little there was of them - and the skies have cleared. The temperature has not changed. It's a steady 28-30 degrees and not much cooler at night.

It is strange to think it is Halloween in less than a week and Christmas just a couple months away. I didn't realize how little the calendar links me to these events - moreso, the seasons. The calendar says it is October but it doesn't register.

Warm weather indicates summer to me. Here, flowers and trees continue to bloom and I sit outside and have my coffee each morning - bliss. How can Christmas be just around the corner without the potential for snow and scarves and mittens? It doesn't make sense. For me, without seasons, time stands still.

Diwali

Diwali is the most festive day of the year for Hindus. The "festival of lights" is celebrated with families decorating their homes with lanterns, festival lights (Christmas lights), and garlands.

We arrived home from vacation on Diwali and everyone at the airport was greeted with a Diwali gift box. We each received two diya and a toran. The diya is a lamp (candles) used to light the entrance to the home. The toran is a garland used to decorate the doorway.

From the moment we got home we could hear the fireworks going off. We felt like we were in a war zone until midnight when the sounds died down. We walked around the complex admiring the decorated houses and lantern displays. On any festival day rangoli artwork brightens sidewalks and doorsteps.

Our neighbours had lots of fireworks, big and small which we all enjoyed. But I must admit it was the Dad's who had to keep lighting "just one more."

A Week with the T's (Part 3)

Just a quick note to say I probably won't have internet access for the next week or so. Have a look back at the archives. Happy Thanksgiving to all in Canada!

Back to Bangalore on the train. This time we arrived with only 15 min. to spare and it was on time. Sat in second class sleeper so had lots of room and the kids liked the bunks.

At home Lynn has taken to making fresh papaya/yogurt smoothies and I add a sprinkle of pomegranate seeds to make them look as spectacular as they taste. Taras is eating his way through town and is determined to be the only person to come to India and gain weight.

The auto rickshaws are a big hit, especially when all six of us try to cram in. Or when we decide to splurge and take two, we race each other down the street – the drivers think it’s pretty funny too.

Lynn and I had to get the top for our sarees and the petticoat made and we found a tailor in the Commercial area to make them – inexpensive.

Two restaurants we tried out on Commercial – Woody’s, where Taras felt he should order two meals: a dosa and the “mini meal,” which turned out to be huge. The food was excellent. Next we tried Shiv Sagar which has cool murals on the walls of camels and Indian people. The food wasn’t as good but it was ok.

Now Lynn and Taras are off to Darjeeling and to tour the north for a couple weeks. We are “back to normal” and catching up on life.

A Week with the T's (Part Two)

The day after Dasara, Lynn and Taras toured the palace and the four of us went to the Deveraja Market in Mysore. This is probably the best market I've ever seen. Gorgeous displays of flowers, fruits, veggies, incense, colored paints piled high and so much more. It's almost like a big department store: an aisle for housewares; another for bananas or garlic; men sit and string flowers for garlands in another section. And the deliveries coming and going - guys with 100 lbs of bananas on their backs. The market is big and colorful and clean.

Alanna and I met up with Lynn and Taras and we were off to a Mysore silk shop to try on sarees. It was fun to see the colors and fabrics and have them draped on Lynn and I, while Alanna and Taras took photos and drank the "best tea ever." We both bought sarees for our big evening out later in the month.

Now I just have to practice draping the saree and wear it around to get used to it. I'd hate for it to unravel at an inopportune moment. For anyone wanting to learn or just have a good laugh here is a great video on "how to wear a saree.":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgXFCYSyiQI

A Week With the T's (Part One)

Our first guests arrived early in the morning Sept. 26th from Canada, and Michael was there to greet them - in Germany! It so happened he had business in Finland and came home via Frankfurt. So he arranged to surprise Lynn and Taras and got the same connecting flight they were getting. Even though Lynn saw him first (that blue MEC jacket gave him away) they were surprised.

I must say, these two are machines - not a sign of jeg lag. They are up early every morning and ready to go, go, go. Within the first two days they had toured the village near our house, Lynn bought herself a salwar kameez and had her first dose of Cipro (Bangalore Belly). They got to experience the festive atmosphere of Dasara as well as puja for all mechanical things. Everything from cars and tractors to rickshaws, buses and trains were decorated with flower garlands and palm/banana leaves and taken to temple to be blessed.

I described the Dasara festival in the last blog but there were a few things I left out. Like the train ride. First of all it takes an hour to get to the train station and we arrived an hour early. Then there was a two hour delay (you do the math). We did a lot of people watching - good thing the people here are interesting!

The funny/crazy thing that happened while we were waiting on Platform 9 was when someone came over the loudspeaker and said something about our train, the Tippu Express. We didn't understand but all of a sudden everyone around us start jumping down onto the track and climbing over and up to another platform. Evidently the train was coming to another platform.

We were lucky an Indian lady told us to follow her to a safe place to cross. We could see a train coming so hurried to cross before it got there. But then another announcement and she confirmed the train was coming to Platform nine after all. All these poor elderly people and people with huge boxes and luggage going back and forth - chaos.

The train ride was pretty good, 1st class AC chair, basic seats but comfortable for 2 1/2 hrs. Only about $12 Can. Got to Mysore in the evening and walked to the hotel. Lynn and Taras got their first lesson in crossing the street. As Lynn took off I'd yell "look right" and then when she got to the middle of the street, "stop, look left!" There is a certain rhythm to crossing and they mastered it quickly.

The next day we all had a good time with the troupes (you have to read the previous blog). Taras and I got pulled over to one group to have our foreheads painted while the others were mesmerized by a group of drummers and dancers. There were some pretty wild costumes and the cats were the best with the amazing body paint.

Alanna still has not embraced India so the experience with the mob put her over the edge and she started crying which prompted us to come to our senses and get out of there. And as we were jumping off the truck Taras felt a tug at his pack that he had over his shoulder. He pulled it around to the front to find it had been slashed with a knife. Luckily he didn't get hurt and the MEC pack was thick enough they weren't able to slash through it or steal anything.

That night the four adults went to the palace and we were able to see the elephants, still painted from the days event. They were quite spectacular, but chained up. Always a sense of sadness when you see those great beasts unable to move about - much better to see them in the wild, on safari.

Mysore Dasara: Magic or Mayhem?

The Dasara festival is celebrated all over India but nowhere is the pomp and circumstance more revelled in than Mysore. The Maharaja, the decorated elephants, the grand procession - the six of us couldn’t wait to see it all.

My sister and brother-in-law flew in from Canada Friday at midnight and Sunday afternoon we were on the Tippu Express to Mysore. Sunday evening we joined throngs of people in front of Mysore Palace to watch traditional Indian dancing. The palace, lit with thousands of lights, made a wonderful backdrop.

Monday morning we were on our way to source out a spot to watch the grand procession. Along the way we happened upon many of the groups in the procession gathered in a courtyard. It was like being backstage at the biggest festival of the year - in fact I guess we were. It was a riot of sights, sounds and colors.

Drummers and dancers worked themselves into a frenzy perfecting their acts. Others added last minute touches to their makeup and costumes. Stilt walkers leaned against trucks and those dressed as Indian Gods and Goddesses got into character.

We wandered from group to group always greeted with big smiles. We were wowed with the costumes and creativity. Full body paint was used to turn one group into an amazing array of tigers and wild cats.

Some men in bright yellow turbans painted each other’s foreheads with three horizontal white lines– the sign of Shiva. Before we knew it they pulled us over and painted the same on us. We felt lucky to have experienced the magic of all these participants up close before the procession started.

As with all things in India there seems to be a balance. If the morning was magic, the afternoon could only be mayhem. The procession started in the early afternoon. We tried to get through the crowd but it soon turned into a mob, pushing in all directions. We held hands and retreated to a safe spot.

Oddly enough a small truck pulled up next to us with a few potato sacks in the back. The driver let us climb onto the open back and we could see the procession route. But a bunch of guys started to pile onto the truck. The weight was too much and it actually tipped backwards. The guys jumped off and the truck righted itself, but we all jumped down and back to our safe spot.

At that point we felt defeated. Three of us caught a rickshaw to the hotel and went straight to the restaurant for a good stiff drink. Well, Alanna had a coke, Lynn and I had the stiff drink. The others stayed and the only one who ended up seeing anything was Craig who got to sit on his Dad’s shoulders. But after a few floats and some of the almighty elephants they exited, worried about getting caught up in the mob at the end.

Magic or mayhem? Well, that’s obvious I guess. Not seeing the procession was a disappointment – it was mayhem. Next time I would see about buying tickets to view the procession in the stands on the palace grounds. But I would also want to talk to someone to make sure it is worth it and there is a good view.

Meeting the groups in the morning was a great experience. Everyone was so friendly and we couldn’t have been closer or got better pictures had we been in the front row of the procession. Luckily we had the magic of the morning to balance out the mayhem of the afternoon.

Magic or Mayhem? (Published Article)

Click for the most recent post Magic or Mayhem? 

Here's an article that I wrote for the Rangoli magazine (Nov. 2009):

Magic or Mayhem?

The Dasara festival is celebrated all over India, but nowhere is the pomp and circumstance more revelled in than Mysore. Royalty, decorated elephants, and the grand procession: the six of us (four adults/two children, 12 and 10 years) couldn’t wait to see it.

My sister and brother-in-law flew in from Canada Friday at midnight, and Sunday afternoon we were on the Tippu Express to Mysore. That evening we joined throngs of people in front of Mysore Palace to watch traditional Indian dancing. The palace, lit with thousands of lights, made a wonderful backdrop.

Monday morning we were off to look for a good spot to watch the grand procession. By chance we came upon many of the troupes assembled in a courtyard, readying themselves for the big event. It was like being backstage at the biggest festival of the year – and I guess we were. It was a riot of sights, sounds and colors.

Drummers and dancers worked themselves into a frenzy perfecting their acts. Others added last minute touches to their makeup and costumes. Stilt walkers leaned against trucks and those dressed as Indian Gods and Goddesses transformed into their characters.

We wandered from group to group and everyone greeted us with a big smile. Men in bright yellow turbans painted each other’s foreheads with three horizontal white lines: the sign of Shiva. Before we knew it they pulled us over and painted the same on us.

Head-to-toe body paint turned another set of performers into wild tigers and cats. The costumes and creativity wowed us. Many of the performers posed for us. We took their photo and they took ours as well. It was an all around good time.


As with all things in India it seems there must be a balance. If the morning was magic, the afternoon could only be mayhem. The procession started in the early afternoon. We tried to get through the crowd but it soon turned into a mob, pushing in all directions. We held hands and retreated to a safe spot.

Oddly enough a small truck pulled up. The driver let us climb onto the open back where we could see the procession route. Some other guys tried to pile onto the truck but the weight was too much and the truck tipped backwards. They jumped off and the truck righted, but we’d had enough. We jumped down, out of harms way.

We felt defeated. Three of us caught a rickshaw to the hotel and went straight to the restaurant for a good stiff drink. The others stayed and the only one who ended up seeing anything was ten-year-old Craig who sat on his Dad’s shoulders. After a few floats and four mighty elephants, they too left, worried about getting caught up in the mob at the end.

Magic or mayhem? Well, that’s obvious. For us the procession was mayhem. Next time I would see about buying tickets to view the procession from the stands within the palace grounds.
However, the magic of the morning clearly balanced out the mayhem of the afternoon. Spending the morning “backstage” with the performers was an unexpected and joyous experience – an experience we will never forget.