On Dec. 13th Thane, my younger son, and Kendall met me in Chennai airport at 2:00 am. We got a local bus in the morning to Mamallapuram, just 60 km. south along the coast. We stayed at the Starry Sky Guesthouse, with a rooftop, and lovely hosts who put fresh hibiscus blossoms on our doors each morning (which Kendall and I wore in our hair). The Starry Sky is not listed in the Lonely Planet Guide, but it should be. [Starry Sky Guest House; 7, Otthavadai Cross Street, Mamallapuram - 603-104 Tamilnadue, South India; # 044- 9544 27443726]
Across the street, up top, was the New Café, [Email: thenewcafe@yahoo.co.uk] where we met many friends including the owner and all the staff. This became our early and late hangout, and the people became our family. We became so much a part of Mamallapuram, first by changes of plans beyond our control (landslides; full trains making it impossible to get to the time-share my parents had paid for for us; Thane’s brother, Bryan’s plane tickets to India being cancelled by Air India, etc.) and then because we fell in love with the town and the people…. we just plain stayed. It was as if the rest of India didn’t matter at all. Thane and Kendall had been in India for 3 months already, and had already seen much of southern India with Kendall’s mom the two weeks prior to my visit, so it initially seemed pointless to repeat all of those things just because I had missed them. I was quite content, (which turned into ecstatic) about actually living in one place for three weeks.
Among all the things I had jotted down from guidebooks I read in the U.S. that I wanted to do in Kerala (that Kendall and Thane had already done with Shawn), I had a little note about an orphanage. I had no idea what town it was in, but there it was, just around the corner from our guesthouse: Mariamma's Children Home -- Email: cobos@raronet.es
This was the beginning of all the miracles that happen when your best plans fall through in India.
India is what it is. While we still thought we were waiting for Bryan to arrive, the three of us traveled a couple of hours south to Pondicherry on a bus – standing room only for our bodies and our luggage. Thane finally secured rooms for us in the perfect-for-us French-owned Ganga Guesthouse with rooftop, communal areas and internet! One day, Kendall stayed back to read, and Thane and I traveled the streets of the open market on foot. We came upon a band, and sat down to listen. It turned out to be a funeral, with a huge bamboo float/pyre that got totally decorated with fresh flowers -- for the body of an obviously well loved, if not famous, man. We sat for hours, observing, taking in the entire experience of the body being laid on a woven palm leaf “stretcher” and a bed and pillow of straw prepared for the body. We tried to follow the rituals, figure out who was who, etc. without being disrespectful…until the body was taken out of its “ice box” and carried out right before us, and placed on the pyre. It was when we returned home that we heard the news of Bryan not being able to come to India. As usual, a day of many mixed emotions and events. We enjoyed the food, the other guests we met, but by far, the best for me was the chance to spend so much time with Thane and Kendall just hanging out, without an agenda. Kendall and I got outfits made by a tailor (for 50 rupees a piece...which is $1.05 or so! (I had to have a “winter” Indian outfit to wear when I tour with my book [www.stateoftheheart.name] due out this fall. I wandered through some projects where naked children played in dirt mounds, saw kids playing with sticks and marbles, and I was reminded of how antiquated simple play, or even the notion of entertaining ourselves has become. No PlayStations here! This area and even more south was hard hit by the Tsunami. So much construction going on, shovel by shovel full of dirt, brick by brick stacked on women's heads, a bicycle carrying two bamboo sticks, metal WOK bowls on tops of women's heads filled with broken brick or concrete. Roads, bridges, fishing boats, houses, being repaired...and now I know how to thatch a roof with palm leaves.
After four days, we left Pondicherry, took an express bus where I got to sit up with the driver and had a good view of the countryside and all the villages and people. It was a wonderful way to see Real India! We made it in record time, this time, seated. All three of us were ready to return to Mamallapuram, excited about working with the Tsunami children in the orphanage again, seeing our new artist friend, Kumar, as well as the friends we had already made in town (tourists, volunteers, and shopkeepers alike). Check out the pictures of the orphanage kids on this blog.
We arrived in Mamallapuram and greeted by all of our friends, coming out of their shops hollering, Welcome Home, and Welcome Back. It was a warm homecoming. Everyone asked, “Where is your other son?” since we told them we would return with Bryan. Sommy, the man at our Starry Sky Guest House, handed me two towels instead of one, and it made me sad again to imagine how in the world Bryan could just NOT get there to join us. We get so used to thinking we can fix things, that we have rights to things, especially if we pay for them.
With “gift money” from my parents, Susan and Ann R., and the three of us, we were able to fill the bins at the orphanage with provisions for the children – grains, spices, soap, noodles, vegetables. It was fun that the women took us shopping at the little market and then all of it was delivered within an hour.
One shopkeeper stopped me to ask why we helped at the Orphanage. I explained that even as an artist in the U.S., on the lower end of income levels, we still all live in such excess. I always feel rich and lucky and particularly blessed back home in North Carolina, but in India -- well, it’s a no-brainer. India makes me cherish the excess we all have, and confirms my decision to not buy gifts at any particular time of year, or shop at malls looking for something, anything a friend might not already own…just to be able to present a gift on a certain date.
In India, we found the children wanted to lean against us, which makes it easy to pick one up and hold on tight. Others just want to have a conversation with someone who has the time. People there work long hours, like our tailor who kept fixing Kendall’s clothes until she liked them….(not as simple as it sounds!), and make Thane brand new cotton shirts -- he would sew long into the night and charge 50 rupees for his time! Look him up if you are there: J. Sahul #36/3 Othavadai Street; Mamallapuram (Near Moonrakers Restaurant).
We celebrated Christmas Eve with traditional Indian music, a magic show including a cobra in (and out of) a basket, singing and dancing by the children from another orphanage, and a buffet of great food at the New Café with our friends.
We visited the orphanage several times. The staff and the children are so welcoming -- kisses and hugs, children jumping into our arms, Elikia in her orange saree, little Amit turning on and off my flashlight penlight that is clipped to my fanny pack. The biggest smiles you can imagine. We took photos of the newly stocked kitchen with huge containers of all the things we bought for them. Because there is a mix of Muslims, Hindus, and Christians, they erected a tree and we helped them decorate it. Of course, Thane was the tallest person within many km. so he got to stand on a table and hang the star over the light bulb. I asked what they eat on Christmas. The answer was "CAKE!" Special treat. They are the warmest, happiest children I have seen here. I've never seen one cry. The bigger kids finished exams, one boy got “top in his class.”
We went to the 22 rupees store (like the dollar stores we have) and bought watercolor and crayon sets, soft small balls for them to toss to each other, etc. and went on Christmas morning to play with the children. A little arts and crafts day. My sister donated money to buy the children pillows. So, with the help of our new friends, we rounded up 50 pillows and had them delivered to the orphanage. It was a site to see the little boys carrying tall stacks of pillows upstairs.
We did see the monuments and stone carvings Mamallapuram is famous for, and watched the stone carvers at work. Dutiful tourists. But I got so much more out of the old man wrapped in half a dhoti with a tiny monkey sitting on his shoulder (with jewelry on), seeing the wild boars dart past our Guest House, walking with a young sculpture student who learns English by talking with tourists. People confided in us about their illnesses, explained that they go to the hospital and get injection...for everything: boils, asthma, sore neck. Maybe vitamin injections?
We watched Kumar, our artist-friend, paint. He was gracious enough to paint in watercolors and a second time, in oils. A marvelous, intuitive, talented painter. His wife made breakfast for us when Kumar found out we had not eaten yet. I will arrange for him/his work to come to Carrboro for an exhibition in August 2007. We met Kumar's wife and two beautiful children. Then he invited us to ride with him and his friend to Pondicherry (Auroville) to an art exhibition of a French artist.
Later, the three of us traveled by bus to Chennai to take in part of the city-wide music festival. We saw 9 or 10 shows in about 10 hours (from traditional Indian music to Fusic) and returned by bus at midnight. Kendall was solicitied to do a photo shoot for clothing; the following day I was asked if “my children” would like to do a shoot for the movies. But we were so busy!
It is, of course, very, very hot. We sleep under a fan. The power goes out often, so we and the shops have no light. We’ve mastered skills I never dreamed of, like the proper way to use a squatter toilet, to eat with our hands, when to turn away when you've stated your second-to-last price for any item, etc. As I neared the end of December I became sad and anxious about returning to the U.S., could not imagine coming back to the fast pace, schedules, deadlines, anxiety and complications of everything -- survival in India is a constant effort, but the pace is slow and constant with simple results.
The finale was a huge annual Dance Festival that happens to be in Mamallapuram. Then, a night that I wanted to stretch to last at least another month…. ended with us walking on the beach to a private home and climbing steep stairs to a rooftop under the stars. The taxi came to take me to the airport on New Years Eve at 6 am, and I can’t recall resisting leaving a place so strongly. Unlike Thane and Kendall, who had learned so much and had months to absorb and reflect on this culture, I knew my absorption rate was very slow; I was only beginning to learn what southern India will mean to me, how it will change my life. When I arrived at the airport and the taxi driver tried to raise the agreed upon price, I finally stopped crying. Then, and only then, could I begin planning my return to Mamallapuram.
Next time, I hope to work with Pip, a woman from London, who runs the Poonjeri Project to help the gypsies who live just outside of town. (www.poonjeri.com) If I had someone to rent my house for a month, I’d be there now!
