The Great Kebab Factory

I'm going to dedicate this post to my dad, who introduced us to this restaurant and is a huge foodie.

We visited the Great Kebab Factory on our last night in Bhubaneswar. My father was quite excited about going to this restaurant for dinner, so we ended up eating a light lunch, in order to prepare ourselves for the dinner. At 7:30, we reached the restaurant. Most people in India don't eat dinner until 9:30-10 ish, so the restaurant was empty. We ordered the non-vegetarian kebab platter, which came with five different types of kebabs. First was a delicious mutton (which is basically lamb) kebab served with roti. Side note: I normally hate eating anything related to lamb, but this was delicious. It was extremely rich and a bit spicy. The roti was used to wrap up the lamb and eat it like a burrito. Next came a chicken kebab, called the malai kebab. The malai kabob looked something like this, and was pretty mild, a nice change from the mutton. Next came what I like to call, the fish-and-chips fish kebabs. The fish-and-chips fish is succulent on the inside and is crispy on the outside (as the fish is dipped in beer batter and then fried). This was exactly what the kebab tasted like. Next came a kebab that tasted like baby back ribs (which I don't like at all), so a few nibbles and I was done. And lastly came another chicken kebab, but I do not remember what that tasted like, other than the fact that it was a bit spicy. Then came time for seconds. Obviously I ate seconds, but only the stuff that I liked-namely the mutton (which was getting difficult to eat on account of the fact that it was really, really rich), the malai kebab, and the fish and chips fish kebab.

One would think that dinner would be over. Nope. In fact, the kebabs were only the appetizers. Afterwards, as part of the non-vegetarian platter, there was rice, daal (lentils), roti, and vegetables. My already full stomach couldn't turn down food (after all, kids in Africa were dying from starvation), so I had a helping of rice, daal, and roti.

Cue next course: the unlimited dessert course! Yes, I used unlimited and dessert in the same sentence. My now bursting stomach decided that it still had room for some dessert. I had gulab jamun. It was scrumptious, delicious, and a piece of heaven (or as my dad would say, "heaven on earth") My only regret was that I only had one dessert, and that too, only one serving of that dessert. The other desserts included kulfi (which is Indian ice cream) and gadjar ka halwa (a sweet dish made from carrots and lots of sugar). My parents sampled all three and proclaimed that they were all pieces of heaven. Oh well, there's always a next time. And I believe that we will be eating at the Great Kebab Factory in Delhi, as my cousin really wants to go. Can't wait!

Note to self: Make sure to fast for 3 days before you eat at the restaurant.

Monsoon!

As I am writing this, the heavens have opened up, and it seems as if the the monsoon rains have finally come in all their glory. This year's monsoon came extremely late, leading to thousands of water shortages and power cuts around India. Delhi was especially hard hit, with temperatures soaring to 45 degrees Celsius and power cuts in many parts of the city.

Before I continue, let me just say that I love rain. Drizzles are fine, but pouring rain is better. So when one of the women in the office announced that it had started pouring outside, I jumped at the chance of getting drenched in the rain. However, my sensible side took over before I took one step out of the sheltered area outside the office. Instead, I only stuck my arms out in the rain, feeling an immense amount of pleasure as the warm rain drops hit my skin. As I was living in my own world, feeling extremely happy, a rude honk interrupted my thoughts.

And that set off a chain of honks: honk.....honk honk honk....honk ho-honk (repeat about 50 times). Now, the thing with Indian traffic is that if even the slightest thing goes wrong, a traffic jam occurs. So obviously, when it rains, there was a traffic jam. It wasn't completely the fault of the rain; the rain just aggravated the traffic jam. At the front of the line of cars was a truck that was emptying out boxes. Cars kept honking, apparently thinking that their honking was going to magically speed things up. Hello now. Your honking is not going to speed things up. In fact, it will probably irritate the rest of the car drivers and innocent bystanders enjoying the rain. You will move only when the car in front of you moves. The car in front of you will only move when the car in front of them moves. And so on and so forth. Instead of honking, you should probably cultivate some patience.

Quite irritated with the lack of patience, I came back inside, shivering as my wet skin hit the air-conditioned office. And not a moment too soon. It began to thunder a few minutes after I entered. Rain, I like. Thunder, not so much. As soon as I get home, I'm snuggling in bed with a historical fiction/mystery/action/romance book.

Gol Gappe

For someone who adores food, I'm surprised that I haven't written a single post about the delicious food available in India (it's the reason why you should never, ever check your weight after a trip to India). But fear no longer, this post will change everything.

Thanks to pitfoods.com for this image

Gol Gappa, also called Pani Puri (and affectionately called water balls by my cousin who can't speak Hindi), is one of my favorite snack foods. Most often eaten by the side of the road from tiny stalls that have stacks and stacks of the hollow, fried puri (the round, yellow spheres in the picture), this is probably the most delicious thing I have eaten in India during the entire trip. Although many people don't eat on the road because of concerns from where the water for the filling comes from (in India you can't drink water straight from the tap, because it's hard water), I personally think that those ones are the best. Case in point: In Bhubaneshwar, we had gol gappe (plural of gol gappa) in a stall outside a store (they used mineral water for the water, so my parents were fine with it). In Delhi, we had it in a restaurant known for its snacks and desserts. The ones out on the road tasted better. Maybe it was because it was raining and we were all huddled in a small area, trying not to drop the gol gappe and laughing at how spicy it was. I don't know. But they were delicious. Unfortunately, we had to have dinner after that, so I could only eat five of them. 

But anyway, the key to eating gol gappe is being able to fit the entire sphere in your mouth. This sounds easier than it is, because when it's filled with everything, having to fit the sphere in your mouth and chew is quite difficult. The image shown above shows various things on the plate: the puri, the potato filling, the chickpea filling, the chili sauce, and the water that has various spices in it. To construct the gol gappa, you first make a hole at the top of the puri, so you can put the fillings in. You have to be careful not to poke the sphere too hard, because if the hole forms at the bottom of the sphere, the water that you put into the puri at the end drips out, making eating a gol gappa a very sticky action. After the hole in the puri comes stuffing the puri with the fillings. I normally only half fill the puri with potatoes and onions, but chickpeas are often put in as well, and some people (like my brother) fill the entire thing up. After that comes the water (water in Hindi is pani, so that's where pani puri, the alternate name for gol gappa, gets its name). I used to hate the water, preferring to eat the puri as soon as all the fillings were put in, but the taste grows on you. I only put a spoon or two in the gol gappa, but my parents, who have fond memories of chowing down gol gappa after gol gappa during their college years (and by chowing down I mean eating like 20 of them), fill the space not filled by the potatoes/chickpeas with water. 

The real fun, however, comes when you eat the gol gappa. You have to eat the entire thing in one bite, otherwise it gets too messy to finish (the water and fillings spill out, and the puri, already soggy from putting water in it the first time, refuses to cooperate, forcing you to eat the fillings and puri with your hands). This makes for some very fun competitions. My brother and I generally share a plate of gol gappe, and have a competition to see who can't eat the entire thing in one bite. So, being the older one, I start, taking the smallest one. The contest progresses until one of us loses or we run out of gol gappe. I have an extremely small mouth,  meaning that towards the end of the contest, my parents (who are watching the contest) generally crack up at the sight of a small Indian girl trying to stuff a gol gappa in her mouth, almost dislocating her jaw in the process.

There you have it, a description of one of my favorite snack foods. I'm a huge foodie (seriously, my Google homepage's background is a delicious pizza), so don't be surprised if all the posts suddenly turn into posts about food.  

Don't buy a Ferrari in India....

because you will very rarely be able to go above 30 kmph (which is about 18.75 mph, less than what school zones in the US require you to drive when the yellow lights are flashing). In fact, the only vehicle you should buy in India is a motorcycle.Let me elaborate.

After returning to Delhi from Leh, I began my internship with BBC World Service Trust, the part of BBC which focuses on trying to solve various problems by creating radio programs, TV shows, mobile ringtones etc using the information they have gathered from interviews. I am currently analyzing transcripts of interviews taken by Afghan people relating to illegal immigration in Afghanistan. It's quite interesting, as reading the transcripts almost transports you to the room in which the interview is taking place, so you can see the expressions of the participants when they describe the fact that they know many people who have died on their trip abroad and hear their voices when they describe the lack of opportunities available in Afghanistan. But I digress.

Every morning, at around 8 o'clock, my aunt, uncle, and I all leave for work. They stay in Dwarka, which is like a sub-city inside Delhi. The ride in should not take more than 30 minutes, but there are days when the ride takes an hour and a half. Like today. Part of the reason it took so long was the fact that it was raining. There aren't really sewer systems in India (or at least, none that I've seen) so when it rains, water just collects in various places.

However, the other reason was the traffic. We would move at 30 kmph for a solid minute, then hit another traffic jam. There were cars everywhere. People in India also don't drive in straight lines or in lanes. So on roads in which there are 3 lanes clearly demarcated, there will be four or five "lanes". And because Indians don't drive in straight lines, as soon as one car moves, another one from a different lane that you didn't even know existed until two seconds ago will take its spot. Not to mention that there are also some people who will drive on the wrong side of the divider or will be in the left most lane and then try and take a right turn.

But fixing the problem requires a lot of effort, that the government is unwilling to expend (at the moment) especially as the Commonwealth Games are coming up (all the nations that were once ruled by Britain compete in this sporting event, minus the US, so the government is currently involved in building stadiums and other Games's related infrastructure). And this problem is multifaceted. The most pressing issue is the population. India's population is growing, especially in the rural areas, where mothers continue to have huge families. Because the family's land has been divided over many generations, many of the sons are forced to move to cities just so that they can eat. According to my aunt's helper, during the last week, 20 people from her village came to New Delhi. Imagine the amount of people migrating monthly into the city. And frankly, the city's infrastructure isn't built to handle the influx of people coming in. It can barely handle the population already here, it can't take much more. The problem with population is that there really is no effective way to deal with it. China's one child policy has caused many problems, including an aging population and negative population growth. Adding to that is the fact that in some rural areas, this policy is relaxed, allowing parents to have more than one child. China was able to maintain this policy due to its strong government, but India has no where near as strong of a government as China has.

Linked with the problem of population also comes the fact that there are just too many cars on the road. There is a metro system that is being expanded, as well as an extensive bus system, but many people are unwilling to use them because they often get extremely crowded. On some of the buses, there are people hanging out of the buses while the buses are moving, simply because there isn't enough room in the bus. To keep their comfort, many people choose to drive cars. The cheapest car in India, the Tato Nano, was unveiled with a price tag of 100,000 rupees, much cheaper than many other cars, fueling the exponential increase in cars on the road. I'm not saying that people should completely stop buying cars. That would be detrimental to the economy. People should be able to have cars, but with restrictions. Today, over half of the cars that I saw had only one person in it. Carpooling should be enforced, with heavy, heavy fines on those who don't comply. Or, there should be a policy similar to the policy in Singapore, in which people who wish to drive their cars during the week have to pay a certain amount and during the weekend have to pay a different fine. However, the amount that needs to be paid should be so high that most people resort to carpooling and splitting the cost required to drive during the week. Or, public transportation needs to be increased. However, this all takes a strong, transparent government, which sadly, is exactly what India does not have.

As I am currently taking a summer course in AP US History, I can see that there are several parallels between  Indian and American history regarding this huge population boom, the migration to the cities, and the dramatic increase in cars. However, America was able to eventually solve the problems. Why shouldn't India be able to? Many will recognize that India has only been around for 63 years, while the US has been a nation for about 234 years (almost four times the time India has been around). Maybe time is what is needed to solve this problem. However, to play Devil's advocate, India should be able to utilize the advanced technology present today to solve the problem in a much quicker time than it took the US.

The moral of the story: Don't buy a Ferrari in India.

Stories from India, Part 2

Our tent at Sumoor, Nubra Valley

This was a story told to me by my grandmother in Nubra Valley. On the first day of our arrival in the valley, there was no power, so I decided to have a “story time” before we headed off to bed. This is what came out of it:

Once upon a time, there was a great king who had seven wives. The first six were childless, but the seventh one was pregnant. Jealousy and envy filled the hearts of the first six, who knew that as soon as the child was born, the youngest wife would be the king’s favorite. The eldest came up with a plan that would depend on the six being present at the time of the delivery. So when the king arranged for a midwife to aid the youngest queen with her birth, the six persuaded the king that no midwife would be necessary; instead, they would be more than happy to help her.

The day came when the queen was due to give birth to her child. To the surprise of the other six queens, the youngest didn’t give birth to just one child; she gave birth to seven boys and one girl. The other queens quickly took the children, put them in a dirt pot, and then buried them in the earth. They then brought 8 young dogs, and showed them to the king, saying that that is what the youngest queen delivered. The king, outraged, banished the youngest queen to the forest on the outskirts of his dominion. The youngest queen, wondering what had happened, resigned herself to her fate, and built herself a small hut and lived off of the fruits and berries from the trees.

Meanwhile, the kingdom was slowly deteriorating. A drought affected the crops in the kingdom, leading to a great famine in the kingdom. The crime rate exponentially increased, with robberies and murders becoming everyday affairs. The war in the southern part of the kingdom was at a stalemate, and lives were being lost each day. The king, praying that his kingdom would be saved, decided to perform a pooja (a religious ceremony) to appease the Gods. The head priest told him that he needed 7 champa flower and 1 naga flower (not really sure if that’s how you translate it from Hindi to English) and that the flowers had to be picked by the queens. These flowers were only located in the forest at the border of his kingdom. So the queens went on an expedition to find the flowers. When they finally found the tree with the 8 flowers, the eldest queen went up to the tree to pick the flowers when the tree grew slightly bigger, leaving the flowers slightly out of reach of the queen. Out of nowhere, someone said, “Tell the king to come.” The queens and their bodyguards looked around, but there was no one there. The second oldest queen came, but the same thing happened, with the statement repeated. Each successive queen had the same thing happen to them.

Finally, the queens brought the king to the sight of the tree with the 7 champa flowers and 1 naga flower. When the king went to pick the flowers, to his surprise, the flowers turned into 7 boys and 1 girl. One of the boys told the story of how when they had just been born, the queens buried them under the earth. They turned into these flowers, hoping that one day, the king would come and they could become children again. The king, furious at what his queens had done, banished them from his kingdom, and together with his 8 children, he went to find his youngest queen.

And they all lived happily ever after.

All Good things must eventually end....

July 15^th

Unfortunately, today was our last full day in Leh. I was starting to actually enjoy this place, even though it was quite disconnected from the rest of the world (World War Three could have started and I wouldn’t have known). Something about the Ladakhi people’s attitude made me want to stay a bit longer. They are extremely hard-working and humble people, always ready to help a stranger. They greet everyone with smiles and cry out, “Ju Le,” which is hello in Ladakhi. And not everything was completely different. The food was the same, the music was the same, and perhaps less superficially, the values (regarding family, education, etc) were almost exactly (if not exactly) the same as mine.

Our first stop was the military museum of Leh. Although it described Ladakhi culture, it mostly focused on the military presence in Ladakh, and the offensives that they have launched in this region. Many of these offensives took place in the late 1990s, and were fought against the Pakistanis. Thankfully, India won these battles (hence retaining control of Jammu and Kashmir), but it was due to the sacrifices of the young soldiers that they won. As William Shakespeare once said, “Cowards die many times before their death; the valiant taste Death, but once.” The soldiers who fought were the epitome of courage. They fought in some of the highest, coldest places that wars have ever been fought (Siachen Glacier being one of these places), and showed extraordinary bravery in every assault they launched. Many of the soldiers received the Param Vir Chakra, the highest military award given. Many of them also received it posthumously. One of the letters on display was written by a soldier who knew he was going to die the next day, and he did. Being in this museum and seeing the courage displayed by various battalions really made me want to join the Army. I know that it is not as glamorous as seen in the movies, and that it is an extremely tough life, but something about serving your country is appealing.

Speaking of the army, one of my mother’s cousins was a Para-Commando. Each regiment in the Indian army has a different name, mostly based on the name of the state that regiment is from. However, there are some regiments, like regiment 9, which are for the Parachute Special Forces, or the Para-Commandos. The two most formidable regiments are the Gurkha regiment and the Punjab regiment. The Gurkhas are from Nepal, and they are supposed to be the toughest soldiers in the entire army. The Punjab regiment is supposed to be the fiercest, and they have a minimum height requirement of 6 feet. That being said, if I could join the Indian military, I would try to join regiment 9 (the Parachute special forces) or the Air Force (their motto is “we do the difficult, the impossible may take a bit longer”). My mother’s cousin was a Para-Commando, and he actually parachuted into the Golden Temple, the holiest place for the Sikhs (imagine parachuting into Jerusalem).

The rock with the impression of Guru Nanak

Our second stop was coincidentally a Gurudwara, which is the holy place for the followers of Sikhism, called Sikhs. The men wear turbans (unless they are Cut-Sardars, meaning that they cut their hair) and many of the women also have extremely long hair. Sikhism had 10 Gurus, who dictated the doctrines of the religion. The first was Guru Nanak, and the last one was Guru Gobind Singh, and all the Gurus lived during the time of the Moghul Empire, who’s most famous emperor, is Shah Jahan, as he built the Taj Mahal for his wife. It was because of Guru Nanak that this Gurudwara was built. He was sitting on a hill, meditating, when a demon appeared. The demon rolled a giant stone down the mountain in hopes of killing Guru Nanak. When the rock hit Guru Nanak, it turned to wax, and Guru Nanak’s body actually left an impression in the rock. When the demon saw that Guru Nanak wasn’t dead, he actually punched the rock in frustration, but his hand also left an impression in the rock. He realized that Guru Nanak was a truly holy person, a messenger of God, he prayed for forgiveness, and it was at that spot that a Gurudwara was built. In the Gurudwara, everyone had to cover their hair with a handkerchief, as a sign of respect. We saw the rock that truly founded this Gurudwara, and at the end, we had to climb up a set of stairs to a room where the “mantras” of Sikhism are read aloud. While climbing up the stairs, my mom explained more about values of Sikhism. Sikhs believe in the idea that all work is honorable, which is why you will never see a Sikh begging. They will do any work, be it sweeping the floor, cleaning the toilet, or driving a truck-they truly believe in dignity of labor. And if by chance they are unable to find work, they can stay in a Gurudwara until they find a job. While leaving the Gurudwara, we saw many military personnel sitting in the Gurudwara. It was then that Karma told us that this entire Gurudwara has been funded for by the military (the repair, renovations, etc).

After the Gurudwara we went to a place called the Magnetic Hill. A car in neutral is supposed to crawl up the hill. According to Karma, the magnetic field in this place is supposed to be greater than the force of gravity, which is why the car crawls up the hill. However, it didn’t happen for us, and honestly the entire place was a letdown. After the Hill we went to a place where the Zansakar River (with brown, muddy-colored water) merged with the Indus River (with clear colored water). The point of confluence could clearly be seen (we were sitting at the top of a hill); after this point, the river would be known as the Indus River.

After that we went to the Ai Chi monastery. It was an hour drive from the previous point, and we reached at 12:45 pm, 15 minutes before the monastery closed. And so in 15 minutes, we saw four temples. This is the way all monasteries should be seen (after visiting four monasteries, I didn’t feel the need to see another monastery-I would have much preferred to trek to the top of a mountain-but this was a monastery of archaeological importance, as it was the oldest monastery in the region, so we decided to visit). After that came lunch (vegetarian chowmein), during which Karma told us a bit about colleges in Ladakh. His chosen major, Tibetan medicine was a small major, with only 30 people in that department. Before college, he was studying in Dharmshala, a school in which most Tibetans go to study (in fact, all his siblings were studying there at the moment).

After that we went back to the hotel (to pack) and then visited to the bazaar, to do more shopping. We brought dried apricots and almonds for my grandmother and grandfather, and then went to buy a mandala painting (one of the two types of Tibetan paintings-the other being a thangka). A mandala is always in a circular shape, and in the middle is a picture of a God, be it Buddha or someone else. The first shop we went to was an actual shop (a room with air-conditioning), and we saw mandala paintings. However they were quite expensive and the women there didn’t seem to want to negotiate (they wanted 3600 rupees for an 8 inch by 8 inch painting). We then went to the Tibetan refugee market and looked for paintings there. We eventually bought two paintings (one mandala, one thangka) from the Tibetan man, paying 3100 Rupees for both. I think that part of the reason we bought the painting from the Tibetan man was because he was extremely humble in his work. While we were looking at the paintings, he was sitting, working on another painting. He was content with what he had gotten in life, and was content just painting for the rest of his life. Aaah simplicity.

Tibetan singing bowls

Leh was our destination for today. We were leaving Nubra Valley for good. We left at 9 am, and on the way to the mountain ranges (that we would have to cross to get to Leh Valley), we saw a lot of children in school uniforms. Karma told us that people in Nurba Valley were extremely concerned with education, more so than in Leh Valley. In fact, in the winter, Karma and many other college students would come to this valley to tutor the kids. According to Karma, these families were very cooperative, often giving the tutors food, oil (for heating) and other things needed to survive the cold, harsh winters of the valley.

My parents and I at Khardung-La

Getting to Khardung-la Pass was uneventful. The roads were still bumpy, with some places being less road, more rock and water. It was warmer today than it was two days ago, so we were able to spend more time on the peak. In fact, my brother and I had a mini snowball fight. In July. It was a lot of fun, although we got a lot of weird looks from other people on the peak.
 The journey down to Leh was the same, and I ended up sleeping for most of the ride. According to my mom, when I was really little, my grandfather would rock me to sleep on his rocking chair (which my grandmother still has). From that time onwards, I wouldn’t go to sleep unless I was rocked to sleep every night. The habit has stuck. I can sleep in a car anytime, anywhere, but in a plane, not so much.
Once we got to Leh, we ate lunch (which was pizza and pasta because a group of Westerners-Russians I believe- had arrived), and then began shopping in the bazaar. Actually, we first went to the local monastery. In that monastery, there was a quote from Albert Einstein, which said that in the future, religion will transcend all rituals, and the religion most suited to this change is Buddhism. In a way its true, for Buddhists believe in the idea of a personalized God, which is exactly what Albert Einstein predicts will happen in the future.
Shopping in the bazaar was a long, tiring process, but fruitful. I bought a turquoise pendant from one shop, and getting a lapis lazuli never-ending knot pendant from the Tibetan refugee market. In Leh, there are about 11 camps for Tibetan refugees, and each camp holds about 80 families, which are mostly extended families, so the Tibetan presence in Leh is quite noticeable.

 But possibly my most favorite item that we purchased was the Tibetan singing bowl. The concept behind the bowl is similar to when a wine glass is filled with water, and then someone dips their finger into the water and runs it around the rim of the glass to make a sound. Except with a Tibetan singing bowl, there’s no water, and a wooden stick is used instead of your finger. The lady who was selling us the bowl could strike the bowl softly and increase the sound a significant amount. Once, she didn’t even strike the bowl, just ran the stick around the rim, and produced a growing sound. I wasn’t able to produce the same sound in the store, but as soon as we got to the hotel, I sat down with the bowl and attempted to reproduce the sound I had heard. I eventually got it, and was able to do it without striking the bowl as well. I don’t think there are words to describe the sense of pleasure and achievement I attained when I first produced the sound. Such a simple concept, but the pleasure received was ineffable.

Camel rides and more

Sleeping in a tent wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. It was pretty warm and quiet. Or at least, I thought it was quiet. Apparently there was a donkey braying outside. I didn’t notice. As soon as I woke up, I was ferried first to our bathroom, to brush, and then to the communal bathroom, to take a shower. Half-asleep, I stumbled to the bathroom. It was clean, but the water was not nearly as warm as it was in Leh, and it was colder in Nubra than it was in Leh. Somehow, I took a shower, and headed back to the tent. Breakfast was at 8:30, so that’s when we went. From our tent to the dining hall was only a two minute walk, but there was a huge garden in the middle. I was walking with my grandmother, and she pointed out all the different vegetables. There were potatoes, tomatoes, beans, peas, cabbages, cauliflowers, broccoli, basil, garlic, and lots of other flowers. According to the hotel staff, vegetables only come from Leh once in a week, and they’re quite expensive, so people learned to become self-sufficient. In fact, almost every hotel has a vegetable garden of the same size, and most families have vegetable gardens.

After breakfast, we went to a monastery in Diskit. The climb to the top took 120 steps, after which I was completely out of breath. Although the altitude to Nurba is less than Ley (10, 500 feet to 11, 580 feet), it was still quite taxing. I guess that’s why most travel agencies recommend carrying around oxygen cans (which we also bought-it looks just like an air-freshener can). The monastery was quite similar to the other monasteries, except for one main difference. At this monastery, many, many people were working, either dusting, painting, sweeping, or doing other household-type chores. Why? Because his Holiness was coming. To the Ladkahi and Tibetan refugees (which there were about 5,000 of in Ladakh, all who lived in camps consisting of 80 families), their God was coming in front of them. Imagine the amount of pleasure that these people must be feeling that they volunteer to spend their time preparing for his visit. All of us believe that God exists; to these people, their God is coming in front of them. And in fact, his Holiness is a great man. A few years ago, he went to Turtuk, a predominantly Muslim village. He saw the poverty there, and decided to give 20 kids a scholarship to his school. Not only is he a spiritual leader for the Tibetans, but he has become a social, political, moral leader as well.

Statue of the Future Buddha

Sprucing up the monastery for the visit of His Holiness The Dalai Lama

After Diskit, we went to another place in which there was a statue of the Future Buddha. Unlike the typical statue of Buddha, who is sitting in the cross legged position, this Buddha was sitting in a chair. This was because the future Buddha is getting ready to come to this Earth and spread his teachings. As soon as his calling comes (which is supposed to be in about 2,500 years), he will get up from his seat and come to Earth. Here we also saw people working to clean the place for his Holiness’s visit. There was more work here, because the people here were actually creating a courtyard for his Holiness to come and speak to all the people of the surrounding villages. Most people working were girls, as most Ladakhi boys would go to the Siachen glacier to work as tour guides and other similar types of work.

We then went to Hanbur. In Hanbur, my mom, dad, brother and I went on a camel ride. It was an interesting experience. I’ve never ridden on a camel, so as soon as the camel got up, I screamed (because the camel straightens out its front legs first and then its back legs, I felt as though I was going to fall off). It was a 15 minute ride to the sand dunes (yes, this place had rock mountains, snow-capped mountains, rivers, waterfalls, trees, and sand dunes-everything was here) and back. When we got back, we were told to sit straight up, again because the camel bends his front legs first, which means you could potentially fall off). Camels aren’t indigenous to this region; during the time of the Silk Road, these Central Asian camels (from Turkmenistan, Azerbaijan, etc) were left. Eventually, the population of camels grew to 200.

After that we had lunch, and came back to our tents. Surprisingly, there was power in our rooms. Of course, at 4:30 in the afternoon, you don’t really need light, but still, now I know that it exists in this valley. Dinner was at 7:30, so we had about three hours to kill. After doing sudoku for about 30 minutes, my dad, brother, grandfather, and I decided to play Black Queen. We played outside our tent, and probably because we were making so much noise, one of the camp’s managers, Sunny, came over to see what we were doing. He was blasting music from his cell phone (Hotel California, to be exact). I was surprised that he was playing songs that I actually recognized, but apparently this valley is more connected to the world than I thought.

As we were playing Black Queen, Sunny told us a little more about his life. For 10 months he stayed away from his family, 5 months in Ladakh (this was his first time working in Nurba Valley, he was previously working in Ley) and 5 months in Goa. Between his time in Ladakh and Goa, he went home and celebrated some festivals (like Diwali). One of his biggest complaints was that there was absolutely nothing to do in Ladakh. In Goa, he was working as a bar tender till about 3 am, and then from 3 am to 5 am, he would drive his motorcycle from disco to disco. Nothing like that happened in Ladakh (for the most obvious reason that power was a huge problem). Although he said that he was saving more money here than in Goa, he also complained that there was nothing to do with that saved money-essentially, this was an extremely boring place to be. He hoped that next time, he would be able to go to Hong Kong or Singapore instead of Ladakh.

After playing for almost 3 hours, we went to dinner. Surprisingly, there was still electricity in the camp. It was amazing to actually see what we were eating. Even when we went back to our tents, power was still there. With light in the tent, it wasn’t as bad as it was on the first day. Because there wasn’t enough light to do anything productive, 9 pm was when the lights were turned off (we had a choice to do that-aah, freedom).

Camping in Nubra

Last night was the World Cup Finals. The World Cup happens only once in four years, and this time, the team that I was supporting was in the finals-Spain. So at 12 am (which is when the game starts in India) I got up and turned the TV on. I was all set to see Spain beat the Netherlands (at least, that’s what I hoped to see happen). At 12:01 am, the light went out. It never came back. The prayers to Vishnu, Shiva, Allah, Jesus Christ, and all other Gods remained unanswered. I missed the only game I really cared about in the entire World Cup.
Moving on, Nubra Valley was the destination of today’s trip. The Ladakh region has a few valleys: Leh Valley, Nubra Valley, and Zansakar Valley. We were currently staying in Leh Valley, now we were going to travel to Nubra Valley to see some other famous sights of Ladakh. We left at 9 am, and because of what happened yesterday at Lake Pangong, my mother, brother, and I only ate a Nutri-grain bar for breakfast. The route was as follows: 40 km to Khardung-la Pass, which is the highest mountain pass in the world that can be traveled by car, and then 80 km down to the valley. Before Khardung-la Pass we would cross South Pullu, a village and military checkpoint, and after the pass, we would pass North Pullu, a military checkpoint. Karma ensured us that only the road from South Pullu to North Pullu would be bad. Nevertheless, my mother and brother took Avomin (nicknamed Vomit-stop, for what it supposedly should do). While driving up the mountain, Karma showed us the medicine he had brought for himself (to improve blood circulation and breathing). It consisted of 13 herbs mixed together that were formed into a ball. I had already taken medicine this morning (Panadol, a cold medicine 20 million times better than Dayquil), so I declined the offer, but my mother tried one. It was extremely bitter, but she said later that it was helping her breathe at the high altitude.

After hitting my head a few times on the glass window, we finally reached Khardung-la Pass. It was 18,360 feet above sea level, which was higher than the Chung-la Pass, but somehow, breathing was easier today than it was yesterday. As I climbed out of the back seat, the cold immediately hit. Even though I was wearing a sweatshirt, it was freezing. In fact, after about two minutes, it began snowing at the peak. Snow in July, in the northern hemisphere as well. Amazing.

After that we began our descent down the mountain. I drifted in and out of sleep; something about the bumpiness of the ride was quite sleep-inducing. We reached North Pullu, where my parents and grandmother and grandfather had chai. I’m not a big fan of chai (I like coffee better), so I decided to pass. That was apparently a mistake. After drinking some of the water that was flowing through the stream in the back of the restaurant (straight from the Himalayas, so I’m pretty sure it was pure water), we headed out to the town of Khalsar, where we would be having lunch. As we got out of the car, I was so nauseous that I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to hold it in until I got a bag out of the backpack. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. I took Vomit-Stop, and proceeded to eat lunch. We ate at a small restaurant, the size of a stall, and I shared Maggi noodles with my brother. Maggi is the Indian equivalent of Ramen, except much better. I felt better afterwards. Lesson learned: always eat breakfast.

We finally got to our hotel, Mystique Meadows (located in a village called Sumur). Outside our hotel was a stream that was running through the streets. I’m almost positive that that water comes from the Himalayas, as almost every stream here originates in the Himalayas. Our hotel wasn’t really a hotel. It was more like a series of tents that were set up next to each other. For someone who has never camped before, I was slightly apprehensive about living in a tent. We had two tents, a “girls” tent and a “boys” tent. I opened the flap of our tent (there were no doors, just flaps of cloth that could be zippered to the main fabric of the tent) and peeked inside. There were three single beds, a small table, and a small mirror, and a single lantern hanging from the top of the tent. As a precautionary measure, there was a candle and a box of matches on the table. At the back of the tent, there was another zippered flap. It was the bathroom. The floor was made of rocks, but at least there was a toilet, a sink, and a shower type set-up. That shower was only a cold water shower; to have hot water (which was again starting from 6 am and ending at 9). Seeing as I was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, lying in a bed with a comforter and hoping that the wind would die down, I would probably be taking hot showers. Oh, and power would only come from 7:30 pm to 11 pm. We reached the camp at 4:30, dinner was served at 7:30, so for three hours, my family and I played theen-do-panch (translated to 3-2-5, an Indian card game) and Black Queen (which is like Hearts).

At 7:30, we went to eat dinner. We thought that power would come, but nope. It didn’t. As we learned, there was no way of regulating how people used power. The government would just turn the power on, and electricity would flow through the wires. Our camp managers through a hook over the wire and that’s how we were supposed to get power. It was windy today, so the connection was loose. We had a candlelight, completely vegetarian dinner. His Holiness, the Dalai Llama XIV, was going to come to Nurba on the 21st, so until then, everyone had to have vegetarian food. After dinner, we headed back to the tents. It was 8:30 at this time, to early to go to bed, but there was no electricity. Everything had to be done with candlelight: changing, brushing, etc. Going to the bathroom in the dark was a terrifying experience. At 9 pm, the candle was blown out.

Lake Pangong and Tanzi

Today again began at 6 am, again due to hot water reasons. At 7:15 am, we left for Lake Pangong. For those of you have seen the movie 3 Idiots, Lake Pangong was where the final scene of the movie was filmed (when Aamir Khan reveals that he is actually PhunsekWangdu). It was a five hour journey that would take us through the world’s third highest mountain pass in the world.
The first hour took us from Leh to Karu, which was at the base of the mountains. There was a military checkpoint that we had to go through, as our journey to the Lake would take us very close to the border with China. The second and third hours took us to the Chung-La pass, which is 17,586 feet above sea level, and is the third highest mountain pass in the world that can be traveled by car. The road started out smoothly, but the farther up we went, the closer we got to the snow and ice, which melted to form streams across the roads. In fact, as we went farther up the mountain, we weren’t sure if an actual road had been created. Our guide, Karma, ensured us that there was in fact a road that was built by people from the state of Bihar, which is one of the poorest states in India. The road itself was quite narrow, approximately 1.5 times the lane size of the US, but it was a two-way road. In fact, we actually had to pass a few military trucks on the way up, and it almost felt as though we were going to fall off the mountain. After two hours of perilous journey (in which my brother threw up twice, and my mother gained a splitting headache courtesy of the rocks), we reached the pass. As I clambered out of the car, I immediately felt dizzy, due to the lack of oxygen.

At the top of the mountain, the Indian military had created a sort civilian rest station, complete with a first aid center, a temple, and a complimentary tea station. After the first few minutes passed by, I felt better, but by the time I climbed back into the car, the lack of oxygen reared its head again, this time in the form of headache. Thankfully, as we began our hour journey down the mountain, it subsided. My mother and brother, on the other hand, had to move from the back seat to the front seat, as the bumpiness was becoming unbearable. I would like to say that the road got better the farther down the mountain we went, but that would be a total lie. The road only got worse. There were fist sized rocks scattered over the road and our car seemed to travel over every single one. Finally, we reached the bottom of mountain to another military check point. This time, we had about a 15 minute stretch of flat road through multiple villages, only containing two or three nomadic families who lived in white tents. Surprisingly, almost every village had solar panels and one even had about 15 windmills. The government had provided them for the villagers so that they could reduce the amount of electricity that had to be sent to the village. Going through the villages was nice, not only because it was a flat road, but all around us there were little streams running through lush green grass with yaks walking through them, and above the streams, there were huge, sandy mountains. When we got closer to the lake, we passed through another military checkpoint, and then began our journey to the lake. This road was probably the worst of all. At one point, we were traveling a narrow road between two mountains, with boulders that were leaning precariously on the slope of the mountain. But the sight of the lake made it all worthwhile.

Lake Pangong

Lake Pangong is in two countries: 25% of it is India, and 75% of it is in China. It’s about 138 km in length, and the water from this lake comes from an underground source. But possibly the most beautiful part of the lake was the fact that there were three distinct colors of water. Although officially the water color is turquoise, there was a turquoise patch, a light blue patch, and a dark blue patch. We sat at the water’s edge for a good 45 minutes, occasionally stepping into the water, taking a picture, and then hopping out, as the water was much, much colder than the water of the Indus River. Interestingly enough, no fish live in this lake, and scientists believe that there are huge magnesium deposits at the bottom of the lake. My question is, how was this lake formed? Not many places have huge amounts of magnesium deposits, so did a meteor containing significant amounts of magnesium hit the surface of the earth, creating the lake?
Speaking of the lake, there were many, many other tourists who were just sitting with their feet in the water, skipping stones across the surface of the water, and just generally chilling. However, there was this one group of tourists that came to the lake that came in a bus that looked like it could fit about 20 people. All the tourists were old women, maybe 75-80 years. After touching the water, they decided to blast old Hindi songs on the bus’ speakers. While the sight of them dancing was quite cute and it was nice that they were having so much fun, I think it was slightly inconsiderate towards the other tourists there. The Lake was a calm, peaceful place; the blasting of the music kind of ruined the ethereal character of the lake.
We then began our journey back, this time stopping for lunch. We had lunch in a small restaurant; although it looked like it was a tiny place, was using solar power to cook the food and heat the water. A girl who looked about my age was serving the food, and I immediately knew that I wanted to take a picture of her. I wasn’t sure that she spoke English, but it turned out that she was trilingual-she spoke English, Hindi, and Ladakhi. Her name was Tanzi, she was in 10th grade, and she wanted to become a doctor. I took a few pictures of her and showed them to her; she laughed seeing herself on the screen of the camera. It was then that I realized that yes, seeing all these tourist places are fun, but to truly learn the culture of a place, you have to step outside the boundaries of the “tourist places” and talk to the people who live there. It’s one thing talking to our guide Karma, and another talking to a Ladakhi girl who prepared all the food that we had for lunch. I helped her serve some of the food for the people who came after us, and then left.

The ride back was exactly the same as the ride going to the lake: bumpy, and nausea and headache inducing. I normally don’t get too affected by bumpy roads (unlike my brother and mother, I didn’t have too severe a headache and I didn’t throw up), but by the time we reached the last hour of a journey, I wanted to take an Advil and walk the rest of the way to the hotel. Tomorrow we’re going to travel through the highest mountain pass in the world. Bumpy roads and lack of oxygen here I come!

Three monasteries and a river

As I’m writing this blog post, the power has just gone out for the umpteenth time. And when I say umpteenth, I really mean that. All throughout dinner the power was flashing on and off, so much so that we just resorted to having a candlelight dinner. Our tour guide told us that electricity is Leh’s biggest problem, so looks like everything from charging this laptop to taking a shower is going to have to be done when the power is there.

Today began at 6 am, when I was woken up by the sounds of Tibetan/Ladhaki being spoken in the courtyard of the hotel. All though that does sound terrible, there is another rule that one must follow while in Leh: the hot water only comes from 6 am, and stays till whatever time it gets over, only coming back at the 6 pm. If everyone takes a shower at 6 am, then the hot water will be finished with by 6:30; staggered showering will let it last longer, but even then, the hotel staff (who all seem to be related-family business perhaps?) said that it will only last until 9 am. Seeing as most people here are Indian, who take showers in the morning, it was likely that the water would be done closer to 6:30 than 9. And, seeing as my entire family is also Indian, we decided to take showers as early as possible for two reasons: one, so that we could have hot water, and two, so that we could eat breakfast and have time before we went out sight-seeing for the day. Luckily, we all did get to shower with hot water, and we had about an hour before we had to start our journey. That hour was basically spent outside on the balcony, taking pictures of the snow-capped mountains and their neighbors, the completely dirt covered, barren, brown mountains.

We started our tour at 9 am, when our English-speaking guide and the driver came to the hotel. Today’s plan was to visit 3 monasteries and the Indus River, one of India’s holiest rivers. We would start with the farthest monastery first, and make our way backwards. Along the drive to the monastery, we passed a couple of Indian military camps. As our guide explained, these mountains offered the military a chance to practice parachuting covertly, as well as rock-climbing and other activities that soldiers take part in. In fact, our tour guide (who’s name was Karma) told us interesting facts about Leh all throughout the drive. The population of Leh is about 200,000, about 30% make their living from agriculture, 50% from business (the tourist business is a big part of the economy) and 20% were nomads. This was a land of extremes, with temperatures in the summer being about 30ºC, and temperatures in the winter reaching negative 20 ºC. And all though there are snow-capped mountains, this area receives very little rainfall, hence the barren lands. Speaking of snow, the last time this place had snow? Last month, meaning June. And religiously, about 95% of the people in the Ladakh province are Buddhist, and about 5% were Muslim. Surprisingly, there was a huge Tibetan presence in Ladakh, so much so that even though the border with China was only a stone’s throw away, the Dalai Llama was a highly admired, highly respected leader.

Young monks at Hemis monastery

We finally reached the Hemis monastery. This monastery not only had many statues of Buddha (who were told had about 1000 manifestations-everything from medicinal Buddha to the Buddha you pray to for prosperity), but also many pictures of the person who founded the monastery in 1624. I am Hindu, and even in Hinduism we believe that Buddha was a real person who achieved Enlightenment, although we believe that he was an avatar of Vishnu. What’s different is that Buddhism seems to be much more liberal in what you can offer to the God. In most Hindu temples, you can only offer raw vegetables/fruit and milk. Here we saw everything from pearl earrings to Coca Cola to chocolate bars being offered. In the center of the monastery there is a large open space. Every year, during the month of January, a festival takes place (the dates are based on the Tibetan lunar calendar, so the dates vary). Everyone from the Chief Minister of the State to the villagers come to the monastery. Most come to see the monks dancing with devil-like masks over their faces, however, in the middle of the performance, two monks (who have meditated for 3-4 months before this festival) who claim to be possessed by God’s spirit, run around the roof of the monastery. In the ancient times, they used to jump of the roof, but (probably due to safety reasons), they now use the stairs. They then begin to run around the courtyard while cutting their tongue with a knife.

An old monk with the Prayer Wheel at Thiksey

The next stop was Thiksey monastery, where we also had lunch. During lunch I began to feel that I my breaths were becoming shorter and shallower, and I was running out of air. Seeing as this is a sign of altitude sickness, I took an oxygen pill, which is apparently supposed to help expand your breath. Most of us only fill up 25%-30% of our lungs with each breath; this would increase that percentage. This monastery was much like the other one, except more monks were present. There is actually some logic behind the color of the robes that the monks where. The red robes signify that you are praying for yourself, while the orange robes signify that you are praying for others (mankind in general). The latter of the two also signifies gaining some amount of enlightenment. Around the temple there were many Tibetan prayer wheels, which were in essence silver-looking cylinders on wheels that were to be rotated in a clockwise manner. Needless to say, I spun every single one. But the thing that surprised me the most was that there was also a huge lamp, perhaps 4 feet in height, which if filled with oil, could be burned for the entire year. I looked into the lamp-it looked as if the lamp had just been lit, as the level of oil was quite close to the top.

Prayer wheels at Shey Palace

Next stop: Shey palace. The story behind this palace is as follows: One day, the prince of Shey built a 3-story statue of Buddha (which we went and saw) for his father. When he went to his palace, he realized that his palace was actually higher than Buddha’s, which he considered as being sacrilegious. He promptly destroyed his palace (the ruins of which we could see), and built a new one below the Buddha. As we were walking around the palace, we noticed that people had stacked stones of top of each other to create little stone towers. According to the villagers, the higher the mountain, the better your luck. Hopefully that works-I built a 5 layered tower.

Finally we went to the Indus River. This river starts in the mountains and trickles its way down to a point slightly north of Leh, where it splits into two. We put our feet into the probably zero degree water, as that’s the most we were willing to do. See, when you visit most holy rivers in India (like that Ganges) you’re supposed to submerge your entire head under water. It was slightly too cold for that, and we were all exhausted.



After that, we reached the hotel. With 2 hours to go before dinner, we just lazed around the room, playing card games, listening to iPods (which was actually the only piece of technology we had used all day). After dinner, we sat on the balcony. Because Leh doesn’t have many tall buildings or many outdoor lights, the sky was clear. We could see Venus and Sirius, along with many constellations like Orion and Ursa Major. It was something that I hadn’t been able to do for a while; in Princeton, although there aren’t many lights, more than half the “stars” are actually planes. Although I’m not sure if I like being this disconnected from the rest of the world, just sitting on the balcony and looking at the stars made me feel at peace.

Arriving in Leh

Today began our week long trip to Leh, which is located in the Ladakh province, in the state of Jammu and Kashmir. Leh is located at 11,500 feet above sea level, which is higher than the base camp of Mount Everest, and is only about 140 km from the Chinese border. The entire state is currently in a period of turmoil, due to the fact that various regions in the state are disputed by various countries. The Ladakh province is currently a disputed territory, as both China and India believe that it is part of their country. So when we landed at the Ladakh airport, which can only take two or three planes, my father was about to take a picture of the beautiful mountain scenery (even in the summer the mountains were snow-capped), the soldier quickly came in front of the camera and said that pictures weren’t allowed. In fact, right after our plane landed, an Indian Air Force plane landed.
Leh, located 11,500 feet above sea level, also has a lower air pressure (and lower oxygen content) than Delhi, which is located at sea level. I could feel the lower oxygen content as soon as I stepped off of the plane. Immediately, my heart began to beat faster and the breaths that I took were shorter. Most tour guides in Leh advise that for the first day, you do nothing but rest. Which is exactly what we did when we reached the hotel. It was about a 20 minute drive from the airport to the hotel, climbing through the mountains and driving through local bazaars. The people here look like a mix of Indians and Chinese, although many people also look Tibetan (in fact, right outside our hotel there was a small stall that said, “Tibetan refugee market”). The local languages are Ladakhi and Tibetan, but because of the huge tourist economy, many people also know Hindi and English. When we reached the hotel, we slept for almost three hours. The waking up at 4:30 for a 6:30 flight, as well as the low oxygen level, took a lot of energy out of all of us. That being said, for the entire three hour nap, I was freezing! Yes, in India, without fans and air-conditioning, I was cold. My feet felt like they were going to fall off, and I was wearing three layers of shirts (the last one being a sweatshirt). The temperature in Leh was about 20ºC, which is 64ºF. After coming from over 100 degree whether, this was cold. After our nap came a simple, home-cooked meal at the hotel. While we were eating, a little girl (who we assumed to be the daughter of the hotel manager) came running in wearing a school uniform. She had bright red cheeks and looked Tibetan. Throughout the meal she would come in wearing different clothes, sometimes Indian clothes and sometimes the traditional Tibetan dress. Her behavior and attitude just reinforced the small-town, disconnected-from-the-rest-of-the-world feel of Leh. In Leh, none of our cell-phones worked, and we didn’t have Internet access-something unheard of in the 21st century. The lack of connectivity is due to security reasons, because satellite communication is very easy to break into and disable-which would cripple Jammu and Kashmir, and could create a security vacuum in the state. Yet the withdrawal symptoms I felt from being disconnected from the world wore off after a few hours. It was nice to not constantly be tweeting or texting. For the next seven days, it’s going to be sight-seeing and looking at the beautiful mountain scenery. I’m looking forward to this vacation.

Lack of Posts

For the past week, I have been in a place called Leh, which is in the province of Ladakh in the state of Jammu and Kashmir. Unfortunately, Leh does not have accessible Internet service. As a result, I haven't been able to upload all the posts that I have been writing. However, they should all be up in the next few days!

Thanks,
Nikki

Stories from India, part 1

In one of the posts, I had mentioned that when we visited the temple, we were unable to see Lord Juggernath because he was "sick". There is actually a story behind this, which I got to know from my grandmother as we were resting in our home in Puri. To begin with, in the Hindu religion, there is one God (and myriad forms of this God, which is why almost every day is a holy day). Three Gods, however, make up this one God; they are Brahma (the Generator), Vishnu (the Operator) and Shiva (the Destroyer). Yes, their initials spell out God. Lord Vishnu has come to Earth 9 times, in various avatars (one of them being Lord Buddha). It is said that when he comes to Earth for the 10th time, something bad is supposed to happen, like the Apocalypse is supposed to occur with the 2nd coming of Jesus Christ. Anyway, Lord Juggernath is one of Vishnu's avatars. And, as Vishnu comes to Earth as a mortal, he must also go through everything that mortals go through. That is what this festival of Rath Yatra essentially celebrates. The giant statue of Lord Juggernath in Puri temple first is married, and then gets "sick". He then goes on a trip to his aunt's house, along with his brother and sister. This trip starts at the Juggernath temple, which is on one end of the main road in Puri, and stops about halfway. The three statues of the Gods are carried on long wooden chariots, called the raths, hence the name of the festival. While we were in Puri, we saw people constructing these massive raths. In fact, it took approximately 9 people to carry a piece of wood that was probably 7-8 feet in length. These raths are massive. Anyway, his aunt gives him some food, after which he continues on to his destination, which is the other end of the road. There he stays for 9 days, meditating, and he then makes the return journey to his house. Upon reaching, he finds that his wife, Lakshmi, has locked him out. Why? Because he didn't take her on the journey. Outside he stays for two days, begging and pleading Lakshmi to let him inside his house (the temple). She finally relents; that's the end of Rath Yatra.
Even more interesting is the story of the statue. First of all, Hindus follow the lunar calendar, in which each month has 28 days. There are 12 months (and a few days) in a lunar year. Eventually, there are enough days left over to create another month; this month is called the "double month," as it has the same name of another month (it would be like having two Julys in one year). When the month called Ashar is the "double month," (about once in 12 or 13 years) the statue of Lord Juggernath has to be rebuilt. But not just from any piece of wood. The head priest supposedly gets a dream from Lord Vishnu as to where he can find the wood for the statue. It can be from a forest in India, or it can be a piece of wood floating in the ocean (apparently last time it was Madeira wood that was floating in the ocean). Lord Juggernath is then built from that wood. Once the statue is built, the head priest goes through a very sacred ceremony, to transfer the "soul" from the old statue of Juggernath to the new statue. He first blindfolds his eyes several times over with black cloth so that he can't see, and he then covers his hand in flour and wraps them with thick cloth so he can't feel anything. Using a key he carries with him at all times, he unlocks the old Juggernath's "belly," and transfers the "soul" to the new Juggernath. Legend has it that after the new Juggernath is put into the temple, the head priest dies within a few months.

"Hospital Ahead: Drive Dead Slow"

Our farmland

This was an actual sign that I saw when we were driving to Dugal; I'm not sure that whoever put the sign up realized the irony behind it. Anyway, today we (my grandmother, father, and I) decided to visit our family's farmhouse and land in the village of Dugal. The farmhouse had been built by my great-grandfather, but my grandfather decided to let other farmers rent the house and till the land, as he had no time himself to do it. As I had never seen our ancestral farmland, I asked my grandmother if we could go to the village, and that's what brought me on this journey to rural India. As we were driving along the dirt road (and this was a complete dirt road- not a road covered in dirt, a road made out of dirt, fit for a Jeep, not the Honda City that we were traveling in), I wondered what had put that question in my head. I'm not one to get nauseous very easily, but driving along this one-lane road made me want to throw up everything I had eaten for the past week. Dugal is surrounded by a few other villages; seeing as our driver didn't know which exact village was Dugal, we frequently had to ask people where the village was, back-tracking and reversing until we found someone else to ask. At one point, the road suddenly increased to a higher level, almost like a set of stairs. There was no way that a car could "jump" to the higher elevation, and there was no ramp in place for the car to drive over, so the driver and my father found stones to put in front of the car's tires that would act as a ramp. Although ingenious, this idea failed, and we soon had to reverse the car and take an alternate road that would take us through the villages instead of above them. We finally reached the village and our house.

The farmhouse seemed to be a two-room house, although I wasn't sure because it seemed rude to explore. The family initially wanted us to sit in a room, assuming that we would feel more comfortable inside than outside, but as that room was partially covered in large rice sacks, we decided to sit outside on a mat. After that began our tour of our land. We were sitting facing the backyard, which had ten coconut trees. As we had come, the family sent for someone who would climb up the tree (using only a rope) and bring down three young coconuts. Acting as a typical tourist would, I pulled out my dad's camera and took quite a few pictures of this incredible feat. After the coconuts were deemed fresh, someone else pulled out a cross between a knife and the swords that pirates used (with a curved blade), and hacked off the top of the coconut. These were young coconuts, meaning that there was delicious coconut water inside. Sticking a straw in the top of the coconut, I quickly finished the coconut drink, and then ate the flesh of the coconut. It was a taste that I hadn't tasted since my vacation to Thailand the year before; nothing in the US could compare.

Afterwards, we walked to our farmland, where rice and lentils are grown. While my dad was talking to the three farmers about the amount of rainfall that allows for the maximum amount of rice to be grown, the type of lentils grown, and other such topics, I was busy taking pictures of the village (that will soon be uploaded). I wanted the pictures to truly symbolize the village and the tight-knit, hardworking community that the villagers had created. So in addition to the pictures of the rice-fields, I took pictures of the villagers, particularly the girls. Many of them were shy, running into their houses before I could take their picture, but once I took a picture and showed it to them, they were all smiles. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but smiling and nodding seemed to transcend the boundaries. Word must have somehow spread that there was a tourist girl snapping pictures, because every time someone saw me, they would try and pose for a picture. For a small time, it seemed as though I was accepted in the village (which is more than I could have said half an hour earlier-people would stare at me as I crossed their house, surprised to see a girl not wearing a sari (even though I had dressed conservatively, wearing a long skirt instead of jeans)). I was almost a part of the village. And in truth, I could have been. It was mere fate that landed me where I am today- a slight change in plans could have landed me in Dugal, speaking Oriya and learning how to husk rice. Each village had a temple, so too did this one. On the way to the temple, my dad explained everything he had learned about the farmland a mere 15 minutes earlier. Apparently, our rice fields amounted to 0.9 acres; each year, rice would be grown only once, as the water from the canal wasn't enough to have it grown twice. The rest of the time, lentils (apparently my favorite lentils) would be grown. They used no modern technology when harvesting rice-they only used oxen and their own farm-made tools. Even with that, the amount of rice grown per year was about 900 kilos, equivalent to about 12 sacks of rice. 900 kilos on 0.9 acres with no technology?! My mouth fell open. Originally, when my great-grandfather had told the farmers to take care of our land, we had proposed a 25-75 split, meaning that they could keep 3 sacks of rice, and we could keep 9 sacks (eating one and selling the rest, the money earned going towards my grandfather's education). Now, it seems to be less a split and more that the farmers can keep 11 sacks, give us the one sack that we consume, and give us coconuts and lentils when we need them. We reached the temple, prayed to the Gods, and returned to the village, as all three of us were eager to get out of the humidity and heat and into fans and air-conditioning. While my dad and grandmother gave some money to the farmers (my grandmother later explained that it was out of politeness, for these families had been tilling our land for generations), I was busy taking pictures of the village kids. Their smiles (at seeing their own pictures) reflected happiness. True, their life was much more labor-intensive and more difficult than mine, but their simple pleasures seemed to give them more happiness than any material object ever could. Their happiness seemed ethereal. It is the smiles of not only the children but all the villagers that will continue to stay with me even as I finish typing this blog post.

The village temple