The Return to Delhi

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Case Western Reserve University, Deendayal Research Institute, Delhi, Delhi International Airport, DRI, France, India, Jaipur, Moscow, Motherly Love, New Delhi, Poland, Russia, Slovakia, solo, student, summer, tour, travel, United Kingdom, Warsaw

Today is the day the group goes home.  Some professors are staying behind, two students are going together to south India, two international students are going back home elsewhere, and I have a 4AM flight tomorrow to Warsaw via Moscow.

I woke up early to pack and was impressed that, even with all I have and bought, I really don’t have that much stuff.  One friend is taking a painting I was given at Motherly Love and a book I was given at DRI.  When I arrive in Slovakia, I plan to ship a box home with my saris and gifts.  After France, I may ship my hockey gloves and skates back too because I won’t need them when my friend and I hike in the UK.

My India swag – wearing some of my new Harem pants.

This morning was a mess, though.  I was packed and ready but my roommate was not.  I waited for her but we ended up holding the bus up by about 45 minutes.  The others all fly out around 10PM tonight and, with rush hour coming at 5PM, we’re under a real crunch.  The drive is about seven hours between Jaipur and Delhi.  We were thus rushed when, after a few hours, we finally got a break for lunch.  After lunch, we were requested to remove the curtains from our bus, making the bus that much hotter.  Ever since a recent raping here, curtains are apparently not allowed.  We continued in our warm tin box and the construction continuously diverted us.

We had a quick lunch break at a restaurant in a random, tiny hotel along the route.  We beat the rush hour traffic after and arrived at Delhi’s International airport at around 5PM.  Everyone else had a flight at around 10PM except for me and three others.  I had an international flight at 4AM, one girl had an international flight at 1PM, and two girls had domestic flights at 5AM.  We thought we could all stay together until we were told we couldn’t enter the airport until six hours before our flight.  We had to say goodbye to the others and wander into the visitors section.  Just then, the domestic flight people were told they had to go to a different terminal and couldn’t wait for us.  We split into twos.  I sat with the one girl as she slept on very uncomfortable chairs until about 9PM.  She went to check in four hours before her flight, not wanting to wait anymore.  Then I   was left alone.  I waited until it was within six hours of my flight and walked inside.  I was warned that I couldn’t go back out if I went in.  I went in.  I asked where to check in for Aeroflot.  “You can’t check in for three more hours.”  And thus I laid across three horrible chairs and my lumpy book bag for three hours and woke up to my alarm with bruises on my neck from my vertebrae grinding into the plastic and metal.  I could finally check in.

 

My henna as it turned out from last night.

Inside, it was miserable.  I was bored shopping as soon as I started.  The bar I went to didn’t have food I wanted and it had only Budweiser and Corona for beer, none on draught.  I settled for a bizarre Bloody Mary, bottled water, and gave up.  I sat for over an hour in my waiting area, staring at the floor and daydreaming because I couldn’t stand to sleep on the chairs anymore, and finally was called inside.  I watched as rude Indians just shoved and cut people off in line.  It was a mix of Indians and Russians.  Finally, I took my seat in the most uncomfortable airplane chairs I’ve ever sat in and was anxious to listen to Taylor Swift on the monitor.  My flight was six-and-a-half hours, I could hardly sleep, and I only had nightmares about flying and skydiving.  Finally, I could see Moscow below.  Just like when I was in India, I could neither read nor understand anything…but now I was alone and it was intimidating.  June 4^th was just beginning.

Rural Projects of Central India

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Case Western, Case Western Reserve University, culture, Deendayal Research Institute, DRI, India, Nandita Pathak, programs, projects, Rural India, rural villages, solo travel, student, travel, Water Conservation

In the morning, my roommate and I brought our things to breakfast, ate with the group, and quickly left for good.  Ever since we arrived in Chitrakoot, we had our own personal caravan of white minivans that drove us everywhere we went.  They escorted us all day today as well.  Today, we first went to the Entrepreneurship Development Training Centre to give feedback to DRI on their projects and to snack and say goodbye to the speaker, etc.

Me and the speaker Nandita Pathak who is often invited to even UN events to speak.

When we arrived, we were stopped outside of the gates and escorted inside by men with large parasols, a crowd, musicians, and flag bearers.  We were presented with bindis and orange cloth as we came inside.  The people at DRI had clippings of our picture on the front page of four or more national newspapers in India.

We had to get going after awhile of giving feedback to the site.  After our closing session at Udaymita Vidyapeeth, we departed for Majhgawan.  The ride was about 30 miles of winding, swerving, potholed roads with cattle and people crisscrossing everywhere, cars dodging us in the opposite direction, etc.  We even passed a large, overloaded tractor trailer that had rolled across the road and spilled its goods in a wreck at a sharp bend on a hillside.  The area was rapidly becoming more and more remote and we wound through several villages full of awestruck people staring after the sight of us.   I finally saw a cow carcass in a field and a cow that had been hit on the road.  We were told villagers would chase down a driver who kills a cow and beat him.  Someone later reported having seen a tiger.

WATERSHED MANAGEMENT/AGRICULTURE FARM SCIENCE CENTER MAJHGAWAN
When we had finally arrived, we sat through a presentation on the agricultural and water conservations efforts made by various sustainable techniques through self-sustaining projects in the rural regions where we were (Satna region in central India).  The project grows organic foods and also has cows with a manure/compost process.  The research closely monitors productivity and has seen a significant increase in milk production, etc., while practicing sustainable and natural efforts to yield crops.  The water conservation has also significantly improved the region for irrigation.  We were given lunch after the presentation and then escorted to the next project, just down the road.

TRIBAL GIRLS RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL (KDBBAV)
This project is a tiny boarding school that hosts about one girl from several tribes across the region.  These girls are hand-selected to be educated and trained as a model for others in their villages to follow after the successful completion of their schooling.  What was amazing was, when we met some of these girls, they told us what they wanted to be and why: teachers, because they want to teach children like themselves; social workers, because they want to help people like their own; and doctors, because they want to improve the living conditions of their people.  Not once did anyone want money, profit, fame, etc.  They were shy children, but they were goodhearted.

After touring the campus a little (meant for girls in grades 1-8), we departed for Khajuraho.  The ride took about three hours of the same windiness as before.  We did get a break at one point when we stopped in a village and got out to see across the barren landscape where there was a conserved waterhole with buffalo drinking.  The village people greeted us, including the head of the project who lived where we pulled off.  The children were fascinated by us foreigners, and, although people tend to stare and seem scary and unwelcoming, all it takes is a slight bow, clasp of the hands, “Namaste”, or even simply a smile and the people lighten up immediately, smiling and returning the favor so pleasantly.  I have yet to meet an unwelcoming Indian.  We were sad to go, but soon the people followed us to our caravan and we disappeared to our Clarks Group hotel for the night in Khajuraho.  We ate dinner, but it wasn’t the same as that done by our personal chef in Chitrakoot.  I swam briefly, met with some of the others for awhile at the bar where we tried different local drinks, then we went to bed to prepare for an early morning the next day.

Day in the Indian Rural Village of Chitrakoot

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boat rides, boats, Case Western Reserve University, caves, Chitrakoot, cows, Deendayal Research Institute, demons, DRI, Govansh, Gurukul Sankul, Hanuman Dhara, holy site, holy water, India, legends, museums, Nanhiduniya, poverty, Ramdarshan, religion, research, river, rural villages, Siyaram Kutir, solar energy, solo, student, travel

Our picture in the newspaper.

I thought I would sleep better on a nice bed and in air conditioning, but it wasn’t the case.  The temperature kept changing, for one, and then the power would cut out periodically as it will.  If I weren’t such a light sleeper, it wouldn’t be a problem.  My room mate was able to sleep through the cut outs; however, I woke up to them and had trouble falling back asleep.  Nonetheless, I woke up and went to the 6AM yoga session.

The yoga wasn’t what I was used to, partly because it was already so hot.  We did less intensive poses, mostly just focused on stretching, breathing, and getting limber.  We chanted a lot, too, like “Om” and phrases in Hindi.  After yoga, I went back for a short nap until breakfast.  We had breakfast in the professors’ kitchen, as always, and continued afterwards in our caravan of white cars to go see Hanuman Dhara.

HANUMAN DHARA
This site is actually a spring located in a cave inside a hill and is considered sacred.  I thought it would be more of a hike.  Instead, there were stairs leading to it, a room for our shoes and bags, and beggars at the top and inside trying to give bindis for money.  We went through the first part of the cave and were disappointed by how manmade the walkways, railings, and lighting were.  Inside, we saw numerous bats clinging to the ceiling, unafraid.  We passed through some places were we had to duck and descended into some areas where we could view holy figurines and stands with burning incense and money collections.  There were two points to the spring which were being guarded.  At the first, our professor took three cups of water and threw it over our heads.  I then joined a couple students in stepping into the spring, dipping my hand in, and placing the holy water on my head.  We were also shown a room with a stalactite that rattles and is supposedly the frozen figure of a demon.

The second part of the cave required us to exit the first and climb down some steps past another beggar.  This time, we had to roll up our pants (and us girls couldn’t wear shorts because they were too short if they came above our knees for us to wear in public).  I wore Gauchos that I could easily roll.  In our bare feet, we carefully stepped into the murky water and made our way with a line of people to the back of the cave.  At one point, as we reached the end, the passageway became almost too narrow for two people to pass.  The bottom under our feet became very jagged and I had to grip it with my toes so as not to slip.  A few girls in front became claustrophobic and panicked for us to turn around, but I insisted on passing them with a few others.  We made it to the back room where there was a stone pillar and a circular walkway around it.  We went clockwise around this walkway.  At the back of the circle was a man with a small shrine.  We didn’t give him any money, but he still did his ceremony: he picked up some rupees and threw them towards a figure on the wall, then he dipped his finger in red paint, pressed it to my forehead, asked my name, then slapped the wall with the rest of the paint after I spoke.

When we finally left the cave area, we passed through the shops leading up to it and back out through the scattered huts to our next site.  As usual, we had to dodge auto-rickshaws, cows, people, and potholes as we wove our way back towards our next stop.  The surroundings were very barren with mountains visible through the haze in the background.  The huts were stacked bricks with stick frames supported a straw cover and handmade clay shingles.  Most huts had a stack of dried cow patties to be used as fuel for cooking.

GURUKUL SANKUL, NANHIDUNIYA
This visit was short: an educational project designed by our tour guide that allows children to walk and play on the inside.  There were large life-sized sculptures of wild Indian animals, like bears and tigers and elephants.  It reminded a little of the creepy, abandoned Grimm’s scene in the movie Hanna… but it’s a great place for kids to come and “say how they feel and realize the animals have a lot of the same feelings that we do,” as my professor explained.

There was a small cave-like walk-through and even a room with an enormous topographic map of India and the areas around it.

RAMDARSHAN
The next stop was a museum.  We could only take pictures from the top of the inside steps, then we had to leave our cameras in a room.  We walked through and learned the story of Ram and some historical figures in India.  The museum was very pretty, with large paintings, life-size models in 3-D scenes, and even some hangings made of clay depicting scenes.  My one Indian professor said he wished he could have photographed every quote and subtitle because he thought the lessons were beautiful.  That’s what I’ve learned here so far: In India (and Asia in many cases), traditional morals of respect, family, and selflessness are so deep-rooted and everything centers around educating these points and building from the branches out.  We walked through the whole museum before taking some cold basil drinks in the room with our cameras and packing up for lunch on campus.  After lunch, we took a short nap before meeting and heading out again.

GOVANSH
This site was in fact a cow research center.  Our first stop was to see some medicinal herbs being pulverized, tumbled, etc. into packaged products for use.  They made us wear booties on our feet and caps on our heads, but there weren’t enough to go around.  We entered anyway, rendering the ones that were already distributed as somewhat useless.  At the end of touring this particular building, we were shown the final products.  A lot of people bought jars of aloe vera gel, honey, etc. all made at the site.  Then we left the building and walked down the road where we were greeted by some people and two small children.  The children presented us with bindis.  We had to stoop down to let them do it.  They used their right ring fingers, allowing them to connect to god in some way.  Once inside this center, we walked past a long pavilion filled with cattle.  There was Indian music playing which we were told helps keep the cattle happy.  The particularly rowdy cattle were pierced through the septum so that a control rope could be threaded across the face and through the nose.  The cattle was tied up tightly but allowed to roam every morning.

A professor holding a bottle of the urine.

We were given molasses cubes to feed the cows, feeding them with flat palms as if they were horses.  Some monkeys including a small baby were swinging through the rafters.  They watched us until one jumped down at a student, barring its teeth and screaming at her.  The monkey was quickly chased off.  Next we were shown where the manure is laid out to make compost in less than two months.  I was too busy watching my back from these monkeys who took to trying to eat sawdust from a machine.  They kept getting in trouble for going into the barn.  As we gathered where they could watch from the roofs, we were told again how the center finds ways to use every bit of the cow, including its milk, cheese, cow patty fuel, urine for medicine, etc…..  Several products (for sale) were presented.  One of these was a bottle of medicine made from cows urine.  Many of us, including myself, took a “shot” of it.  I think it didn’t taste much like what it was if you didn’t think about it.  Mostly, to me, it tastes like smoke.  Almond milk was offered and we soon made our way to the next location.

GANGA ARTI AT RAMGHAT

When we got out of our vans, we were surrounded by children with trays of dishes with burning candles and flower petals.  We were instructed to ignore them.  Pushing past the shoving children, we organized into three groups and descending some steps towards the river in front of us.  There, we boarded one-by-one and alternating sides onto small boats with a roof made of arched branches, decorated with leis, and a seat for the oar master up front.  We cautiously distributed our weights and leaned against the pillows behind us to begin our voyage.  We didn’t go very far downstream, but it was slow and we could take in all of the people bathing, the debris in the water, and the festivities occurring on the streets above.  We passed an area where the water was dredged away from some repairs on the staircase.  Machines pumped water in sprays around the area and we were threatened to get soaked.  Soon, our boats pulled to the side of the street and we got out.

On shore, we were confronted by a man dragging himself on the ground with an outstretched hand.  More children attacked us with trays.  We shoved past them and up steps that smelled like urine until we reached the dusty road above.  We scanned the shops along the waterfront for about 15 minutes before night began to fall and we were called back.  Suddenly, the children were shoving candles in our hands and disappearing.  We learned that some teachers had bought a candle for each of us, for the upcoming ceremony.  We all took our candles to the water and placed the bowls in, pushing them out.  There was a sea of two dozen glowing bowls before us.  We were urged to come back up the steps and waited there for a moment, ignoring the children and the man who had managed to follow us.  Before long, we were put back on the boats where we idled in the water, watching a ceremony involving a large tree-like holder of dozens of candles burning in the night air.

People rushed around it and followed it as a elderly man carried it back and forth.  There were drums and music, then we drifted away to a point much farther downstream than from whence we had come.

SIYARAM KUTIR

Next we went to a building along the river with some beautiful lights and large, cool rooms inside.  The building we visited hosted people of DRI who work on projects such as solar lighting in rural communities.  It was late at this point and many of us were falling asleep despite the (per us     ual) excellent hospitality and snacks with drinks.  Afterwards, we were given a choice of returning to campus or seeing a cultural event similar to what we had seen the night before (and with the same children).  For once, I decided sleep was a better option, especially because we had to pack so we could leave Chitrakoot in the morning after breakfast.  I went back, ate dinner, hand washed some clothes, and went to bed, skipping yoga in the morning to assure that I would feel good the next day.

Project Visitations in Delhi

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Case Western Reserve University, children, Deendayal Research Center, Delhi, DRI, Gopal Dham, India, New Delhi, orphans, poverty, projects, rural communities, schools, self-sustainability, Sewa Bharti, slums, solo, Street Children Project, student, sustainable, tourism, travel

Today was the start of our academic sessions.  My roommate came in the middle of the night, I had a nightmare that someone was trying to choke me (probably my malaria pills doing it to me), and I yet again failed to sleep properly.  It was one of the professors’ birthday, too, so we had traditional breakfast along with birthday cake.  Then we loaded our suitcases into the bus and left Maidens Hotel for another part of the city.  Our first stop was Gopal Dham, a place for young boys without parents or the financial means in their households to live with their families.

Gopal Dham
When we pulled into the walled complex and got out of the bus, we were greeted by a line of children, organized by age.  The littlest boy in the front must have been about five years old.  That tallest one, the leader who kept them in line, was in Grade 11.  When we stopped in front of them, the little boys rushed to kiss and bless our feet.  They were told to stop.  I saw them do this to another man walking along the dorms and he hastily dismissed them as well.  We peeked in to see the cows in the building beside us, which the boys care for, and then we were lead into an open building with a stage at the back.

We took seats along the sides of the building and the boys sat tightly in lines on the green mat between us.  We did a series of greeting and introductions and were given bindis of red paint.  The boys served us orange cookies and tea sweetened with condensed milk.  Then the professor with the birthday was presented with a chain of marigolds, another red bindi touchup, and a coconut.  We returned this gift with packages of pens.  The boys immediately opened their pens, clicking the top and drawing on their hands.  Next, some boys then went on stage and sang a song to some drums.  Six boys followed them doing complex yoga poses, yoga being something they practice in the facility.  After the greet, we saw the kitchen, the crammed dorms, and said goodbye to the boys.  My friend and I thought the eldest boy was cute, so we went to talk to him.  He taught himself English and wants to go study at a University.  He asked for my e-mail address.  Hopefully I’ll hear from him!  We headed out for the next site.

Sewa Bharti (Street Children Project)
Our bus drove us by the slums.  Before we knew it, we were out on the street, dodging begging people and passing through tight alleys with trash and pigs all over the place.  We slipped into a gated doorway and found ourselves in the center of the Street Children Project.  There, we saw where children from the streets are trained at a young vocational school-like facility.  There was a beautician room, soft toys and purses made by the children, classrooms where the students sang to us, a computer lab, and an electrical technician training room where boys were tinkering with wires, circuits, and light bulbs.  Other children stood with their faces pressed in the gate, begging for money and trying to come inside.  We were again presented with bindis.  This time, they were red with grains of rice placed on the dots.

We scuttled from the facility to the train station, passing through a fairly sketchy part of the slums.  We had opted to experience the metro rather than take the bus.  Standing in the station, everyone stopped and stared and surrounded us until their buses came.  We were given small tokens which we used to pass the security and to leave the station.  There was a ladies only car and the train was fairly empty when we boarded.  By the time we reached the transfer, we were in a mess of people.  We were escorted into the control room and shown the switchboards and computers running.  Then we had to rudely shove people to make it to the right platforms on time.  We then walked to our next center in the dead heat of the afternoon.

Electronic train token.

Deendayal Research Center (DRI)
When we arrived at the research center, we were greeted with chains of marigolds and orange bindis that looked like they were made from the flowers themselves.  A few bugs and caterpillars fell out of the chains and we were reminded how real and fresh the flowers were.  The DRI was a series of speakers talking about how India works as states and how to keep India healthy and functional.  They preached keeping tribal groups because those groups were environmentalists of their own sorts and lived sustainably.  The session was interesting, especially the tribal details (from my standpoint), but it was more directed at health students and the rest of us were too tired.  Every hour or so, we were fed more food and every speech, most of us nodded off again.  We felt bad, but we were very happy to leave when it was done.  We also threw out our flower chains so as not to attract “unwanted attention”.  We walked out to find our bus and fell asleep riding to the train station.

Everyone was exhausted, that was evident.  We headed straight to the train station to catch an overnight sleeper car to Chitrakoot.  We arrived at the station around 6:30PM and were immediately agitated by the locals who refused to acknowledge a line as we waited for security.  When we finally got through, we stood at the first platform and waited to reorganize.  People blatantly walked up to us and surrounded us so they could stop and stare.  Some wouldn’t leave for 20 minutes at a time.  Some walked by more than once.  We then realized we had to go to Platform 7, which required hauling our bags up three flights of stairs, across six platforms, and back down again on the other side.  We sat and waited for our train until 8PM.  We had to rush to load onto the train and, despite our seats being reserved, some cabins were occupied by the wrong people.  Now we are on our train, which won’t arrive in Chitrakoot until 7AM, and these compartments are ridiculously tiny, cramped with all of our bodies and our luggage, hot despite the “A/C”, and the bathrooms are apparently a nightmare to use.  Oh, and a stranger left a bag in the students’ compartment next to my and my roommate’s.  We will see how this goes.

Some of my classmates across from my hallway bed.