Sunday July 22'2012
12:00pm
Last night I actually managed to stay awake long enough to see Eddie come home from work (this is a first since I've been here). Alright! I'm up! I'm conscious, let's do things! So to India Gate we went. India Gate is basically a giant park surrounding a monument built to remember and respect past war heros. The bricks that make the gate are all engraved with the names of the deceased soldiers. Bet you didn't know that, did you? No, you did not. You are not in India. And if you did, well whatever. No one likes a know it all. But that's getting ahead of ourselves. Upon arrival, Eddie purchased a pair of light up devil horns from a small boy in front of the park for me (I have a photo with said boy in our matching horns). These sorts of vendors flood the park. Glow sticks, cotton candy, bouncy balls, balloons, and devil horns. Everywhere. At 1:00am, I had no idea India gate was such a night life kind of place (but I'm guessing you know it alls did, didn't you). People were everywhere, just like the glow sticks. Young and old (the people, not the glow sticks. Although...) People picnicking in the park, kids playing, couples sucking face. It as beautiful. And then there was chuski. I had been told about this chuski before we had arrived. Chuski is like a snow cone on a stick that sits in a cup of flavoured sugar syrup, mine was black current. And you suck. You suck until the syrup's gone, then re-dip and suck some more. Suck. Dip. Suck. Dip. By the time you are finished, your tongue is numb and bright red and you're on such a sugar high that the Indian Gate is actually vibrating, and bouncing over police blockades. Ok, maybe that was me doing the vibrating and bouncing, but same thing. Regardless, it's delicious, like everything here. ALMOST everything (fucking paan). We walked down the long road until we came to the gate. It was alright. Behind it was another structure. Raj didn't know what this one was called, officially, but to him it was known as India's Dick. Yes. And offended or not, if you saw this thing you would be forced to agree. It looks like a hollowed out penis. Apparently it used to have a statue of some british founder or settler or something standing in it, but with India's independence it was torn down. And has left behind an empty penis. Not gonna lie, the henis (hollow penis) was a lot more fascinating than India Gate. Personally. Although, if you look through the gate you can see the henis perfectly so maybe if you considered the gate as a vagina's eye view it could perhaps be more interesting. And a lot more entertaining.
On the way back to the car, a little 3 foot Indian woman started speaking to me in hindi. Sorry lady, unless you're vulgarly insulting me , I got nothing. Raj replies for me, they go back and forth for a while and then I get, Do you want henna? Uh, Yeah! So she plops me down on the side of the road, bum on curb, grabs my hand and away she goes. This woman is a pro. Both hands, front and back in less than 5 minutes. And I'm talking about some intricate shit here. Raj says something in hindi, the woman laughs, 2 seconds later I have "Raj" written in henna on the top of my hand amidst the swirls and circles and magical prints. RAJ.
3:41pm
Now for today. Today was unreal. Today was one of those days when I find it very hard to wrap my brain around the fact that I am living in India. Today I participated in a Puja. A Puja is a hindu ceremony meant to bring prosperity to those living in the house it is performed in. You all gather in a room, legs folded on the floor (this is a must, you will be in trouble if you stretch your legs even for a second. Trust me.) all surrounding a priest. The men in front, women behind. Shocking. The men of the house place a variety of offerings on a silver plate for various gods (flowers, fruit, rice, paint, water, money, some foreign brown something) Then everyone gets blessed, or at least I think that's what was done to me... The men are given rice in their right hand to throw over their shoulder and everyone is given a red bindi with rice pressed into the wet paint. And finally you are given a moli thread that is wrapped around your right wrist by the priest (think Kabbala- celebrity crazed Madonna/Demi Moore red bracelet religion) This is to symbolize you have attended and been blessed at a Puja. Then comes the fire. Now remember, we are in a small room. Inside a house. In a small room. 7 people. Room. House. Fire. The priest takes out a small, metal waste basket looking thing and fills it with wood. Oh no you are not. Please also keep in mind it's 40 degrees here and the air conditioning and fans have been turned off for the ceremony. He brings out his little match box (why did I think it was funny to see a priest whip a match box out of his holy Indian tunic?) Don't do it man, don't do it. He did it. I am now sitting in a death trap. So this is what the beginnings of a house fire feel like. Good to know. I guess pink lungs aren't forever. The men take bits of what looks like something you would find on the bottom of a hamster cage mixed with white rice to offer into the flames, while all I can do is dwell over the fact that I have lived here three weeks now and have yet to stumble upon a fire extinguisher. I assume the priest is going through each and every god as they continue to sprinkle their offerings into the fire, while I apparently offer up my own flesh as it drips off my excruciatingly overheated body. This goes on for a very, VERY long time (it was probably like 5 minutes, but I was dying) and then the priest lights a candle and places it on another silver plate. Sweet, more flames. More heat. Bring it. The tray is passed around and one by one you stand in front of the fire and move the tray in a circular motion while chanting. I circulated anyway. Then finally, one of the women (Akshee) comes around with the tray and you take your palms to the tray, bringing the smoke of the flame toward your face and over your head (cuz there isn't enough smoke in my respiratory tract already) Lastly, and my favourite part, the priest offers you two (blessed) rasguli, a very sweet, white ball of yumminess. And all of this is done while you try desperately not to cough up a lung, melt, rub your burning eyeballs right out of their sockets, and lose complete feeling in your crossed legs and already tingling ass. I'm really not doing this ritual any justice. It actually was incredible to experience, and it really made me realize where I am. No Indian Idol, Mcdonalds, Pepsi, and flushing toilets. All western influences aside, this was India. This was me really seeing who these people are. And how lucky am I to have been able to sit right next to them and be a part of it all. And what was really amazing? Before the ceremony, I came out of my room wearing a long, yellow dress. Raj smiles. Chelsea, in the hindu religion, when it comes to any kind of worship or ceremony, yellow is considered a very auspicious colour.
...Look it up, I had to.
12:00pm
Last night I actually managed to stay awake long enough to see Eddie come home from work (this is a first since I've been here). Alright! I'm up! I'm conscious, let's do things! So to India Gate we went. India Gate is basically a giant park surrounding a monument built to remember and respect past war heros. The bricks that make the gate are all engraved with the names of the deceased soldiers. Bet you didn't know that, did you? No, you did not. You are not in India. And if you did, well whatever. No one likes a know it all. But that's getting ahead of ourselves. Upon arrival, Eddie purchased a pair of light up devil horns from a small boy in front of the park for me (I have a photo with said boy in our matching horns). These sorts of vendors flood the park. Glow sticks, cotton candy, bouncy balls, balloons, and devil horns. Everywhere. At 1:00am, I had no idea India gate was such a night life kind of place (but I'm guessing you know it alls did, didn't you). People were everywhere, just like the glow sticks. Young and old (the people, not the glow sticks. Although...) People picnicking in the park, kids playing, couples sucking face. It as beautiful. And then there was chuski. I had been told about this chuski before we had arrived. Chuski is like a snow cone on a stick that sits in a cup of flavoured sugar syrup, mine was black current. And you suck. You suck until the syrup's gone, then re-dip and suck some more. Suck. Dip. Suck. Dip. By the time you are finished, your tongue is numb and bright red and you're on such a sugar high that the Indian Gate is actually vibrating, and bouncing over police blockades. Ok, maybe that was me doing the vibrating and bouncing, but same thing. Regardless, it's delicious, like everything here. ALMOST everything (fucking paan). We walked down the long road until we came to the gate. It was alright. Behind it was another structure. Raj didn't know what this one was called, officially, but to him it was known as India's Dick. Yes. And offended or not, if you saw this thing you would be forced to agree. It looks like a hollowed out penis. Apparently it used to have a statue of some british founder or settler or something standing in it, but with India's independence it was torn down. And has left behind an empty penis. Not gonna lie, the henis (hollow penis) was a lot more fascinating than India Gate. Personally. Although, if you look through the gate you can see the henis perfectly so maybe if you considered the gate as a vagina's eye view it could perhaps be more interesting. And a lot more entertaining.
On the way back to the car, a little 3 foot Indian woman started speaking to me in hindi. Sorry lady, unless you're vulgarly insulting me , I got nothing. Raj replies for me, they go back and forth for a while and then I get, Do you want henna? Uh, Yeah! So she plops me down on the side of the road, bum on curb, grabs my hand and away she goes. This woman is a pro. Both hands, front and back in less than 5 minutes. And I'm talking about some intricate shit here. Raj says something in hindi, the woman laughs, 2 seconds later I have "Raj" written in henna on the top of my hand amidst the swirls and circles and magical prints. RAJ.
3:41pm
Now for today. Today was unreal. Today was one of those days when I find it very hard to wrap my brain around the fact that I am living in India. Today I participated in a Puja. A Puja is a hindu ceremony meant to bring prosperity to those living in the house it is performed in. You all gather in a room, legs folded on the floor (this is a must, you will be in trouble if you stretch your legs even for a second. Trust me.) all surrounding a priest. The men in front, women behind. Shocking. The men of the house place a variety of offerings on a silver plate for various gods (flowers, fruit, rice, paint, water, money, some foreign brown something) Then everyone gets blessed, or at least I think that's what was done to me... The men are given rice in their right hand to throw over their shoulder and everyone is given a red bindi with rice pressed into the wet paint. And finally you are given a moli thread that is wrapped around your right wrist by the priest (think Kabbala- celebrity crazed Madonna/Demi Moore red bracelet religion) This is to symbolize you have attended and been blessed at a Puja. Then comes the fire. Now remember, we are in a small room. Inside a house. In a small room. 7 people. Room. House. Fire. The priest takes out a small, metal waste basket looking thing and fills it with wood. Oh no you are not. Please also keep in mind it's 40 degrees here and the air conditioning and fans have been turned off for the ceremony. He brings out his little match box (why did I think it was funny to see a priest whip a match box out of his holy Indian tunic?) Don't do it man, don't do it. He did it. I am now sitting in a death trap. So this is what the beginnings of a house fire feel like. Good to know. I guess pink lungs aren't forever. The men take bits of what looks like something you would find on the bottom of a hamster cage mixed with white rice to offer into the flames, while all I can do is dwell over the fact that I have lived here three weeks now and have yet to stumble upon a fire extinguisher. I assume the priest is going through each and every god as they continue to sprinkle their offerings into the fire, while I apparently offer up my own flesh as it drips off my excruciatingly overheated body. This goes on for a very, VERY long time (it was probably like 5 minutes, but I was dying) and then the priest lights a candle and places it on another silver plate. Sweet, more flames. More heat. Bring it. The tray is passed around and one by one you stand in front of the fire and move the tray in a circular motion while chanting. I circulated anyway. Then finally, one of the women (Akshee) comes around with the tray and you take your palms to the tray, bringing the smoke of the flame toward your face and over your head (cuz there isn't enough smoke in my respiratory tract already) Lastly, and my favourite part, the priest offers you two (blessed) rasguli, a very sweet, white ball of yumminess. And all of this is done while you try desperately not to cough up a lung, melt, rub your burning eyeballs right out of their sockets, and lose complete feeling in your crossed legs and already tingling ass. I'm really not doing this ritual any justice. It actually was incredible to experience, and it really made me realize where I am. No Indian Idol, Mcdonalds, Pepsi, and flushing toilets. All western influences aside, this was India. This was me really seeing who these people are. And how lucky am I to have been able to sit right next to them and be a part of it all. And what was really amazing? Before the ceremony, I came out of my room wearing a long, yellow dress. Raj smiles. Chelsea, in the hindu religion, when it comes to any kind of worship or ceremony, yellow is considered a very auspicious colour.
...Look it up, I had to.
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