Preparing the Wedding Feast (Watercolor)

Weddings in Mali are a big affair, an opportunity for neighbors, friends, and large extended families to gather and celebrate. It’s a fun time, but a lot of work. I was in charge of the cooking detail. My sisters had already helped me pound the millet, so now I carefully prepared this staple food in a large calabash. Listening to the female griot singing praises about the bride’s family momentarily took my mind away from cooking, but I was eager to join the dancing. As soon as I finished cooking, I changed into my wax print boubou, made shiny through pounding of wax.

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Applying the Kolam Powder (Pastel)

Every morning I sweep the area in front of my house and then wet the area, preparing it for the kolam that invites blessings into the home. Today is a festival day, so I am making my design extra large and am using colored powder instead of just plain white rice flour. Even though I have done it many times, I love to see how the design grows and emerges, as if it has a life of its own. Sometimes I plan a design on a piece of paper, but usually it just comes from my head, a repository for the many designs I’ve created or seen. My fingers are now practiced enough that I can carefully control the powder, varying the pressure to achieve thin and thick, curvy and straight lines. It’s especially exciting when I see the colors transform the white outline into a brilliant design.

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Before the Dance (Pastel)

My brother, his friends, my sister, and I perform our Rajasthani dance for tourists. Sometimes it gets a bit tiring performing for audiences who know little about our culture and what the songs really mean, but I need the income to support my young family as well as my aging mother-in-law. The first several songs of this performance are instrumental and vocal only. On occasion I sing as well. But it’s not until the dance numbers that I am truly happy and can showcase my talents. Then I am the highlight of the show.

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Fog-Enshrouded Hill, Munnar (Pastel)

Like most days in the hill station, a thick layer of fog rolled through Munnar. It seemed to slither over the contours of the tea hills, diverging as it encountered a tree. A hint of a warm sunrise tried to make its way into a predominantly cool palette. A feeling of peace enveloped the whole landscape.

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Embroidering the Quilt (Watercolor)

As a Lambani woman, I learned to embroider and sew at an early age. It’s so rewarding taking small scraps of cloth and combining them with mirrors and sometimes shells to create vibrant pieces that are functional and beautiful. Bold colors of thread are embroidered throughout the piece, joining the cloth pieces and securely fastening the embellishments. Now some organizations are working with us so that we can make products that are desirable to urban markets, including those outside of Karnataka. These new markets help bring in needed income and enable us to continue our traditional craft.

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Scents of the Spice Warehouse (Color Pencil)

As I grab peppers to place them into the sack, their deep aroma comes to the forefront, mingling with the other spices but commanding greater attention. Sealing up the bag, I add it to the pile in one of the rooms of this old warehouse, ready to be shipped to other parts of India. Stacked against the weathered walls of this Portuguese building are spices such as cardamom, cloves, and cinnamon, all bounties of this fertile land God has provided us. Every day I help load labeled sacks onto boats, a process that has occurred here for well over a thousand years. After many years of work here, the spices have entered deep into my skin’s pores, their scents perfuming me even when I am away from the warehouse.

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On the Haveli Balcony, Jaisalmer (Watercolor)

I live in the upper floor of a haveli located within the walls of the Jaisalmer Fort. From here, I can see the events of the day, whether it be as exciting as a festival or as mundane as a cow meandering through the narrow streets below. Around me, I see other magnificent 19^th century havelis carved with equally intricate designs, but some of them are beginning to crumble, the owners unable to manage the upkeep costs. To help make ends meet, my family has set up a textile crafts shop in the lower level. As for me, I want no part of it.  This floor also has stone latticed windows that were once meant to be the way women were to see the world, but I find them stifling. I much prefer my balcony, with its smooth worn stone seat and open view to the world.

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Picking the Tea Leaves, Munnar (Color Pencil)

Day after day I am out here in these lush tea fields, an endless sea of green leaves waiting to be picked. Wading through the dense bushes, I carefully pick the mature leaves with my small, nimble hands from each branch, placing the pickings in the bag on my back. To help break up the monotony of the job, the other women and I sing songs. Many of these songs are in Tamil, as a large number of us are from Tamil Nadu. I don’t particularly like this job, but the company provides basic housing, gives me a small stipend, and most importantly, provides schooling for our young daughter. The cool, fresh air is pleasant enough, but I miss my home village. After a few more years here in Munnar, I hope that my husband and I will have saved enough money to return home, to the land of the Tamils.

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Snake Charker, Jaipur

I am one of a few remaining snake charmers currently attempting to eek out a living through this dying craft. Thankfully, tourists are still eager spectators, throwing some rupees into my basket lid after a short show. I practice circular breathing through my pungi instrument, the cobra swaying to the movement and vibrations of my instrument. I sit just out of reach of the snake, but it’s never even tried to strike at me. I’m not worried anyway, as I’ve had my snake de-fanged. After my little tune is over and the snake returns to the bottom of the basket, I sometimes invite the spectators to touch the snake; they almost always refuse.

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Stringing the Flower Petals (Color Pencil)

I am one of several women with flower stalls lining the street in front of the temple.  I transform the buds into strings and garlands for worship and adornment. Although I have several different types of flowers for sale, jasmine is the top seller. I cut off mozham lengths (as measured between my wrist and elbow) of the strung buds for Tamil women who adorn their hair with these fragrant flowers. Having a stall in front of the temple assures that I have many customers to purchase my oleander, lotus, andchrysanthemums to adorn the deities. As it is Saturday today, I have also brought some small lamps with sesame seed-covered wicks, to be purchased by the devout seeking to appease the planet Saturn. My day starts early – around 6:15. I close up my stall around 10:30, returning to my house to make a larger noon meal for my family. It’s then off to the auction; I must be careful to get a good price in order to make a profit – perhaps about 200 rupees per day. It’s not much, but definitely better than having to take out a loan to buy flowers for tomorrow. Then it’s back to the stall, where I begin stringing in earnest in order to have cubits of flower garlands ready for sale the next day.  As darkness falls, the air is almost intoxicating, the buds having opened up in their full glory.

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Young Girl, Jaisalmer (Pastel)

Today we are celebrating the festival of Gangaur, held in honor of the Goddess Gauri. I have dressed up in my very best, including new jewelry fashioned in Jaipur. Mehendi designs adorn my hands, applied lovingly by my older sister. I have been fasting for 18 days and hope that my devotion will bring me good luck when it comes time for me to find a husband. As I stand in line with the other young girls waiting for the procession to begin, I am in amazement of the scene before me. The sounds of the Rawanhatha, bagpipes, Surpeti instruments, and many drums fill the air. A large crowd has gathered, made up of locals and tourists. Cameras and cell phones are pointed our way, capturing the festive scene. Brightly decorated camels also await the procession. I clutch my metal pot, careful not to drop the coconut placed inside. The golden, bejeweled statue of Ganguar has just emerged from the stairs of the Royal Palace, carried by young men in splendid costumes. Soon we will follow the statue of Gauri, singing songs as we make our way to the lake.

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Kamaycha Player, Jaisalmer (Color Pencil)

Although I have been playing my instrument here in front of the Royal Palace for as along as I can remember, I can honestly say that music remains a joy, not a job. For I have the best seat of the house, privy to some of the most colorful, spectacular events that have occurred in Rajasthan, all in this splendid courtyard. Even the desert sands blowing through this city cannot smother the gaiety and happiness that fills this fort. Nowadays, most of my customers are tourists. Whether they pause for a brief moment or stay for a while, I almost always see a smile emerge. Perhaps it is the music, or maybe it is the atmosphere and energy exuding from this magical place.

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Paintings and their stories: Sadhu by Temple

For my art exhibition, I wrote a short story about each painting, as if written by the person in the painting. These are all real people, and the stories are based on experience, observation, and representative/factual information typical of someone from that region/profession. Some of these paintings are still available, so if you are interested in purchasing one, please contact me.

I spend my days around the Annamalai Temple in Thiruvannamalai, that most holy of Tamil cities. There is a special aura about this place, for we are in the presence of Siddhars and Lord Shiva himself. I could sit for hours in the shadows of the massive walls, contemplating the beauty and magnificence of this most important of gods. When pilgrims come up to me, I lay blessings upon them. It’s been several years since I’ve given up my former life as a Brahmin – how many years I don’t know exactly, for I haven’t kept track. I haven’t seen my family since then. Once, I had several servants taking care of my household’s every need; now I depend upon the kindness of others just for a simple meal. I do not regret my decision, though. I have achieved a state of spiritual illumination and am well on my way to liberation from the cycle of birth and death, which is the goal of every Hindu.

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Timbuktu's Disappearing Tradition

Global warming and modern technology are two things putting one of the oldest trading traditions in jeopardy. For centuries, caravans of camels made the 45 day trip out into the Sahara Desert to the Malian town of Taoudenni to load up huge slabs of salt and haul them back to Timbuktu. Such salt slabs, once considered nearly as valuable as gold, were used in the preservation of food. Such trade made the towns of Timbuktu and Mopti wealthy cities, with the mined "white gold" being floated down the Niger River for trade. Due to global warming and its reduction of rain in the region, oases are drying up, making the journey more arduous for the camels carrying the huge slabs, reducing efficiency and thus profits. Some Tuaregs (the nomadic "Blue Men of the Desert") have abandoned the traditional camel caravan method of transportation for salt slabs and instead are using trucks. The journey for vehicles takes only 10 days and the trucks can carry much more than camels are, resulting in much higher profits. In addition, salt miners are emboldened to charging more due to quicker turnaround time between journeys and payment.

Similar to the plight of family farms in Wisconsin, the Tuaregs are also faced with the dilemmas imposed upon them by modernization; get big or get out. Doing it "the old fashioned way" with 200 camels no longer enables the Tuareg to earn a living, particularly when compared to those using much faster modern equipment not as subject to the harsh climate. Camels, like dairy cows of small farms, are being sold off, with the owners having to either purchase modern equipment or abandon the salt trade altogether. Along with this change comes the disappearance of a great tradition and way of life.

Having traveled from Mopti to Timbuktu via traditional pinasse, I would mourn such a loss. I fondly recall seeing the huge slabs of salt piled neatly along the shores of the Niger/Bani Rivers in Mopti, imagining the journey those slabs must have taken from the dry sea bed in the remotest parts of Mali then across the sands to Timbuktu via camels, and then down the river to this very spot. Knowing that more of those slabs today are coming not with romanticized caravans but with trucks spoils it for me - and for the Tuaregs whose traditional lives are disappearing.

This entry was inspired by the BBC article from Friday on the salt caravans.

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Like Beads on a String

Like most women in Tamil Nadu, these paddy workers wear saris even when out in the field, doing construction, etc. It amazes me how they can work in 6 meters of cloth that is simply tucked here and there. I never tire observing the beautiful patterns and bright colors on saris, whether the cloth is an inexpensive cotton or the most expensive silk piece.  From my vantage point high up on Gingee Fortress' Rajagiri Hill, the colorful hunched backs of these women working in a row reminded me of beads on a string.

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Farm Work the Old-Fashioned Way

When nearly to the top of Gingee Fort in Tamil Nadu, India, I took some time enjoying the beautiful rural landscape, including the paddy fields below. From this height, the farmer and his two cows looked like little specks, preparing the field for rice. I'm not sure how long they were working, but the cows didn't seem like they wanted to be working. The farmer took breaks as well, perhaps partly because he also was tired, and also because the cattle weren't very willing. In a field nearby, women were working distributing bunches of rice stalks, bending over and also working by hand. How very different agriculture is when working with these methods, versus the huge tractors and equipment with fancy gadgets!

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Happy Karthigai Deepam!

Tonight marks the Hindu festival of Karthigai Deepam, taking place in Tamil Nadu on the day of the full moon in the Tamil month of Karthigai. On this day it is believed that Lord Shiva takes the form of a jyothi (light of fire) on the hill of Thiruvannamali.
One of my neighbors created a pretty kolam and had a clay lamp lit with ghee placed in the middle. My other neighbor simply placed a couple of lamps outside her door. She gave me a sweet made from puffed rice and jaggery. Earlier in the evening, she had performed a puja to Lord Muruga, believing that such an action would bring prosperity to her household. She explained that away from the big cities such as Chennai, Karthigai Deepam is often celebrated with more fervor, with households creating large kolams and lots of lamps.

Read my Karthigai Deepam post from last year

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Precious Documents in Timbuktu Get a New Home

When I traveled via pinasse (traditional boat) up to Timbuktu, Mali in 2001, I was excited to see the fabled city deemed by many to be the very epitome of remoteness. (Actually you can fly to Timbuktu now, but I find that rather sacrilegious). Amongst the sandy streets and mud brick structures was the Ahmed Baba center, a humble building belying its contents. Inside we found stacks of precious manuscripts, some dating back nearly 800 years, just sitting there on the counter, piled in shelves, and a few in a glass case. Many were right there in the open, able to be handled and touched  - or should I say maimed - by people and exposed to the elements - and termites. There was no air conditioning and the room was warm. Such terrible conditions for fragile, writings documenting the rich education & cultural history of Timbuktu, illuminated Korans, and much more. It was great that the center sought to collect documents from the region, but preservation in these conditions was a definite concern.

Today's BBC website posted an article and video announcing that a new building has been constructed to house the documents, along with people who are working to document and restore/conserve the manuscripts. Amidst the crumbling mud brick buildings, the new white building will probably look a bit out of place, but such an endeavor is necessary if the manuscripts will be around for the next generation.

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A Bit Tickly, Perhaps

Noticing that this young monkey was deftly picking up items and rapidly eating them, I leaned in closer to see what the tasty morsels were. Ants.

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Bakr-Eid

Yesterday market the Muslim festival of Bakr-Eid, commemorating the day on which Abraham was asked by Allah to sacrifice his son Ishmael. When Abraham attempted to do this, Allah instead placed a lamb on the altar, content that Abraham would have obeyed his command. On this day, Muslims purchase a lamb and slaughter it, roasting the tender meat and sharing with family. I recall when living in Tunisia seeing huge flocks of sheep and lambs by the roadside for sale just before the Eid, then seeing these same fluffy creatures tied up by neighbor's homes. Then on the day of the festival, the streets became awash in blood. The last year I was in Tunis, I was invited to the home of one of my Muslim colleagues and enjoyed some of the tender meat.

Here in Chennai, the Muslim population is rather small and lacks the physical presence around my neighborhood - unlike the majority Hindu population. While in a rickshaw in northern Chennai, we went past a mosque from which males were exiting. No doubt they were heading home to enjoy the feast. So no lamb meat, guts or blood to show you - just a picture of the people.

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Granaries, Gingee Fort

These granaries were part of the complex at Gingee Fort, a nice day trip from Chennai. Imagine the amount of foodstuffs that would have been needed to fill one of these! When I look around the area these days, rice is the dominant crop. What other items were grown in the area back then?

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Up to Rajagiri Temple, Gingee Fort

The steps began leading us around the hill and slightly down, only to rebound and move upward once again. Nearing the top, I had a great view of the surrounding countryside. In the rice paddies below the colorful saris of women bent over in the fields created a curved line. In another, a farmer herded his yoked pair of cattle through the brown earth.

After walking over a wooden bridge through a natural moat and then through a mandapa (pillared hall), I was now at the top of the hill. Here one could find the main citadel, a Hindu temple and several related structures, granary, and several smaller buildings. Compared to the buildings on Gingee Fort’s Krishnagiri Hill, these were very plain. Hanging from a tree were some colorful rags as well as some rocks tied to the tree. Some bangles were also attached. Our conjecture was that these were fertility-related. Just down a small path from the citadel was another canon. From here, I had a panormaic view of the Kalyana Mahal and other structures at the foot of the hill, Krishnagiri Hill and the wall snaking up the rocky hill, Chandrayandurg Hill with its smaller structure on top, the modern town in the distance, and of course lots of paddy fields. I could hear the Call to Prayer, a reminder that some of its citizens are descendants of the Mughals who once dominated the region. 

Overhead, the dark clouds began to form. Occasionally a few sprinkles cooled us. After a quick look inside a granary at the base of the hill, we drove over to the Venkataramana Temple and then proceeded towards Chennai. Our day trip had drawn to a close.

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Temples on the way up Rajagirini Hill, Gingee Fort

The beginning of our hike alternated between paths and narrow stone steps of uneven heights. Monkeys stayed close to the path, waiting for an opportunistic moment. Others whiled away the time by grooming each other and eating the lice. A baby monkey was off by itself, looking vulnerable and lonely. Through a tiny break of the tall growth along the stairs I saw a gopuram of an old Hindu temple. As we were on a timetable, we decided to instead press forward towards the top of the hill. I did follow one short path, which led me to a canon at the top of an outcropping, pointed towards the direction of the Kalyana Mahal and other buildings below.



About partway up, we met an elderly man sitting in the shade opposite a tiny temple. With his shaky hands, he held a tray of colored saffron and sandalwood powder and spread a small amount on our forehead. A fair amount of the powder floated onto the camera dangling from my neck, but luckily it was easily cleaned later. In front of temple was a 3-pronged trishula, from which colorful bangles were hung. Also on the grounds was a linga and Nandi statue. Behind the tiny dark temple was a mural painted on stone. Sadly it had been defaced.

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Vedanthangal Bird Sanctuary

Each winter South India becomes temporary home to migratory birds from places as Canada. During this time, there may be over 75,000 birds and over 115 different species. Located about 90 km from Chennai, the Vedanthangal Bird Sanctuary is an easy day trip. First recognized as a sanctuary in 1936 and formally declared a Wildlife Sanctuary in 1972, Vedanthangal is the oldest bird sanctuary in India.

In the early November morning, the lake was just beginning to awaken. A thin veil of haze still enshrouded the acacia and low trees, like sleepy eyes slightly obscuring one’s vision.  At first glance, the predominantly white bird population might lead one to conclude that there are only a few kinds. With the aid of binoculars or a large zoom lens, many types can be observed.  In one area, the Open-billed storks dominated, with a few Grey Herons (also from Bangladesh) interspersed. Higher in the trees, one could see Grey Pelicans (Australia). Painted storks from Siberia flew from some treetops back to their nesting spot, carrying some twigs in their beaks. Spoonbills took an early morning swim in the distance. Egrets of varying sizes were present in large numbers, their white feathers gleaming bright. In the rice paddies on the other side of the path were some Indian Pond Herons, holding ever so still. Egrets gathered around the ground just ploughed by the farmer and his two cattle. As the season progressed, more types of birds would join the party, adding splashes of color and size variances.

Just as we arrived, a large group of sari-clad women emerged from several large buses. They seemed to be on a much tighter schedule, so we let them go ahead of us. We still met up with some of the older ladies at the first two observation points. Some pointed at our binoculars camera, requesting to look through the lenses. Giving my camera to one lady, it soon was passed on to many more before I was finally able to get it back. It was obvious that many of them had never looked through a viewfinder before, but they obviously enjoyed the experience. A short while later, most of the group was gone. With the sanctuary largely to ourselves and a few others, the sounds of nature dominated. Different birdcalls were heard, all contributing to the informal symphony.  Thankfully, the annoying whine of mosquitoes was not heard, thanks largely to the pest-eating birds. Between the pleasant temperatures and lack of pests, our visit was unfettered. Reluctantly, we decided to move on, heading towards our second destination – Gingee Fort.

The Vedanthangal Bird Sanctuary is largely successful due to the commitment and cooperation of the local population that has a symbiotic relationship with the birds. In turn for keeping the surrounding area free of noisy activities, banning bird hunting, and not boating in the lake, the villagers receive many benefits; naturally fertilized land (no need for artificial fertilizer or insecticide), far fewer insects, pests & rodents, and high crop yields.

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Gingee Fort - Kalyana Mahal

After a late breakfast meal of traditional South India eats such as idly, dosa, and sambhar, we arrived at Gingee Fort by mid-morning. The landscape had changed from nearly all flat land to one punctuated by large hills of rocks. Some looked like collections of large rocks piled by giants, interspersed throughout the otherwise flat land. Green paddy fields dominated the rural landscape, nearly glowing with the recent monsoon rains.

It was my second time visiting this fortress complex – one of the few remaining forts in the state of Tamil Nadu known mostly for its temples. Last time we had visited the Krishna temple and Durbar Hall on Krishnagiri Hill. Now our goal was to climb the second of three hill citadels – Rajagiri Hill. Whereas Krishnagiri Hill had a gentler slope, the top portion of Rajagiri Hill appeared to suddenly erupt vertically from its base.

Several groups of children were also visiting the fortress, clad in their school uniforms. Some of the older boys enjoyed swinging from the hanging roots of the immense banyan tree, completely trusting that the vines would sustain their weight.

Located at the foot of the Rajagiri hill amongst green-landscaped grounds is the Kalyana Mahal and related buildings, constructed between the 15^th and 16^th centuries. A square hall built for the ladies of the court, it has a white pavilion with seven stories capped with a pyramidal roof.  Also present were rows of enclosure for the royal staff, the King’s audience hall and private chambers for holding meetings, a palace complex, and a massive tank named Elephant’s Tank. Traces of natural springs and tanks that supplied the citadel with an abundant supply of water were still evident. Also on the grounds were several granaries and the 17^th century Venkataramana Temple complex.

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Mukteswar Temple

By the time we arrived at the Mukteswar Temple, the warm glow of the sun had disappeared. No matter, as the 10^th century temple was something to behold in and of itself. Slightly below eye-level on the main temple were sculptures of graceful female figures, with expressive faces and careful attention to hairstyles, and jewelry. Like the Lingaraj Temple, the deul (10.3 m high) had vertical ribs. One of the more notable elements of the complex is the beautiful torana (gateway).  Two female figures gently reclined on the gateway appearing to smile at those who entered through the opening. On each side was the head of an elephant-like creature, its trunk appearing to trumpet and announce the arrival of visitors. The ceiling of the jagomohan (assembly hall) was most unique, carved into a lotus with eight petals (most ceilings are plain). It reminded me more of the Jain temples I had seen in India. A bit of light still shone through the diamond-shaped latticed windows. Once again, time quickly sped by and we were asked to board the bus. Our day trip had come to an end. For me, this was the final day of my travels in Orissa. That next evening, I would be back in Chennai.

See more photos of Mukteswar Temple on my Flickr page

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Lingaraj Temple, Bhubaneswar

The sun now getting heavy, we arrived at our second-to-last destination – the Lingaraj Temple. It is one of more than 400 temples remaining in Bhubaneswar, part of the 7,000 that once stood here. Like the temple in Puri, non-Hindus were not allowed entrance. This magnificent 11^th century temple dedicated to Lord Shiva represents the pinnacle of the Orissan style. Towering high above the surrounding wall is the 55m high deul (spire), its surface textured with vertical ribs and a few bulbous creatures. According to our guide, it is the tallest temple structure in the world. Other details described in the guidebook must have lay further down; female figures, animals, and friezes of ceremonial processions. The pyramidal rooftops of a few of the 100 shrines could be seen. In structures closer to the wall, I could see one of its common themes – a lion pouncing on a cowering elephant, believed by some to be a royal emblem.

Nearby was the large Bindusagar temple tank that is believed to have water from every sacred river in India. It is here where the main deity of the Lingaraj temple is brought for an annual ritual bath. The sun was now very low, silhouetting some structures and casting a warm glow onto others. Outside the walls of the complex women sold baskets of marigolds. Garlands of orange and yellow marigolds were strung in garlands, also to be used for performing religious ceremonies. Beggars parked themselves on blankets made from rice sacks, their aluminum bowls extended for donations. A thin-limbed sadhu with its dreadlocks appeared lost in meditation, perched cross-legged on a wall. A shawled older woman placed before a young cow a bowl of food, folding her hands together as she paid respect to the animal. Alas, the hour had quickly gone by. We had to move on.

See more photos of Lingaraj and other temples of Bhubaneswar on my Flickr page

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Orissa State Museum and Nandan Kanan Zoo

One of the negative parts about going on an organized tour is going to places you would have otherwise skipped. One such spot for me was the zoo.  Perhaps it’s because of prior experiences in foreign zoos where the animals are kept in tiny fenced in areas, emaciated and pacing back and forth. Or, worse yet, the pens were empty, the captive animal dead. This zoo was surrounded by a thick forest, with many of the animals in a rather natural surrounding. Most of the animals were those found in India, including some rare species. Unfortunately, many of the white tigers and other famous animals were taking their mid-day snooze. Others were pacing back and forth at the far end of the pen, making it difficult to photograph. Our guide took us through a bushy path and pointed out a large spider web, identifying its creator as a Black Widow spider. I found the Indian Gharial Crocodiles rather curious, with their narrow snouts ending in a bulbous protrusion by the nostrils.

We also stopped at the Orissa State Museum. Unfortunately, much of the museum was closed for renovations, including the Buddhist and Jain sculpture rooms. We did see some beautiful palm leaf manuscripts, coins, musical instruments, and collection of rocks & minerals.

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Dhauli, Battle Site and Peace Pagoda

Located amidst lush paddy fields just a short 8 km from Bhubaneswar is Dhauli, the site of a bloody battle in 260 BC. The emperor Ashoka won the war, but his remorse over the injury and death around him caused the emperor to give up military conquest and embrace Buddhism. One of his rock edicts promoting non-violence, justice, and compassion is at the base of Dhauli Hill. At the top of the hill is the stark white Shanti Stupa “Peace Pagoda,” built in the early 1970’s by Japanese Buddhists. From here, one had a great view of the surrounding rural landscape and the banks of the Daya River where the bloody battle occurred.

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National Toilet Day

You may be wondering why I have a picture of a beach to illustrate the reason for this post.  For fishermen and fishing villages along the shores of India, this is their toilet. Every morning, the men squat in a horizontal row parallel to the shoreline, carefully spaced apart as they do their "daily functions." Obviously with the strong waves, it doesn't take much for the solid waste to enter the ocean, polluting both it and the shoreline. Away from the beach, men take a leak anywhere they feel like it. Women have it harder, as it is culturally not acceptable for them to be seen doing their functions. The privacy of darkness is often used, with the women sometimes having to hold it throughout the day. Urinary tract infections are a common result.

Why are they doing this, you may ask? For more than 50% of India's homes, there are no toilets. In the overcrowded slum areas, there may be few or none. Worldwide, nearly 40% lack access to this basic right. Even some schools here lack toilets; others are so gross and unsanitary that children refuse to use them. Students in our elementary school's "Roots & Shoots" program created posters highlighting the problem and placed them on the doors of our many bathrooms at the school. Today at lunch, I walked past one and saw a worker reading it. "Does she have a toilet in her house?" I wondered. Then I thought about my apartment - 3 toilets, only one of which is used on any regular basis. And I felt a bit ashamed.

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Udaigiri and Khandagiri Caves

On my day tour of Bhubaneswar, our first destination was the Udaigiri and Khandagiri caves. These twin hills located just 6 km NW of Bhubaneswar were naturally honeycombed, providing great places to create retreats for Jain monks already in the 1^st century BC. Although there are a series of caves on both sides of the road, the most impressive one is the Rani Gumpa or “Queen’s Cave.” The top corridor was particularly beautiful, with relief carvings of figures and animals adorning the upper portion of the walls and around the arched doors. Whereas carvings in some places looked rather static and figures separate, the frieze here was highly animated and fluid, with the interactive figures nearly melding into each other; musicians, dancers, royalty, elephants, monkeys, and more. Nearby is the Chhota Hathi Gumpha “Small Elephant Cave” with its six sculpted elephants guarding the front of the cave. Perhaps the most creative cave is the Bagh Gumpha, shaped like a tiger’s head, its mouth wide open and beckoning (or daring) those to enter.

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Saliasahi Tribal Village

Before finishing our journey, the taxi driver took me to a nearby tribal village. Just driving up the tiny dirt road to the village, I could tell it was going to be a poor village. Homes were small and simple, many made from mud brick and thatched roofs. Many of the villagers were not quite sure what to make of me; I suspect that many (particularly the kids) had not had much if any contact with white people. I didn’t feel comfortable in taking photos of the village itself and I could tell many of the villagers weren’t the type who would want their photos taken either. A few were willing though. I wished that they would have looked more “tribal,” but I couldn’t ask them to dress into something that wasn’t part of who they were. Alas, I wouldn’t see the colorful tribal people so famous in other parts of Orissa. As I walked past a rather high wall, one woman poked her head out and gestured for me to take her photo. A rather wild-looking woman who appeared to have cataracts joined her, both eager to see their photos. I did get some smiles and giggles, some curious onlookers, and those who excitedly showed off their photos to others. That in itself is worth it.

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