I nostri compleanni

From Leo

Al mio compleanno (30 settembre) siamo andati a Varanasi. Abbiamo camminato per un po’, e poi all'ora di pranzo siamo andati in una pizzeria vicino al Gange, il fiume sacro.

Prima di tornare a Kiran abbiamo comprato due tortine. Arrivati abbiamo invitato gli altri due volontari che sono qui. Sarah è molto simpatica e sempre sorridente, è arrivata due settimane prima di noi e andrà via qualche giorno prima di Natale. Tutti hanno cantato Happy birthday, io ho soffiato sulle candeline e abbiamo mangiato le torte. Sarah mi ha regalato un piccolo Transformer e un libro dei Famous Five (La banda dei cinque) di Enid Blyton. L’altro volontario, Urban, che è il presidente dell’associazione svizzera Amici di Kiran, mi ha regalato una mega tavoletta di buonissimo cioccolato svizzero. Mamma e papà mi hanno regalato un libro in inglese di Mickey Mouse e un altro libro di Enid Blyton, The Secret Seven.

Dopo cena al girls' hostel ho offerto biscotti a tutti

I libri di Enid Blyton, una scrittrice per ragazzi molto conosciuta in Gran Bretagna, li ho già letti tutti: non è stato così difficile come immaginavo, sono belli perché parlano di avventura e ho addirittura cominciato a leggerli per la seconda volta! Vedendo quanto mi sono piaciuti, mamma l’altro giorno è andata in città e ha comprato un grosso libro che contiene 3 storie dei Famous Five: lei l’ha già finito tutto ed ora tocca a me iniziare le avventure di George, Julian, Dick, Anne e Timmy (i protagonisti). A me piacerebbe tanto formare con i miei amici una banda come quella dei Cinque e avere tante avventure come loro!

In ottobre sono nate a Kiran due cucciolate: i cagnolini sono dentro una tana da un paio di settimane e noi speriamo che escano prima o poi. Qui c’è un piccolo cane che ci sta molto simpatico e gioca sempre con noi; ad alcuni cani che sono molto magri diamo dei pezzi di pane.

Oggi siamo stati invitati a pranzo dal nostro allenatore di hockey, che vive in un villaggio a un paio di  chilometri da Kiran. Abita in una grande casa perché ha una famiglia molto numerosa: infatti con sua moglie vive assieme ai suoi genitori, ai suoi fratelli e alle loro famiglie, anche sua nonna che ha circa 80 anni abita con loro. Ci hanno offerto un piatto tipico di questa zona, il thali: riso, dal, subji (verdure), frittelline di patate, chapati. I suoi nipoti –  Arpita, Ayush e Piyush – vengono a giocare a hockey con noi. Il coach ci ha procurato i bastoni da hockey e adesso possiamo allenarci anche a casa. Devo dire che mi sto appassionando a questo nuovo sport e mi diverto ad allenarmi ogni giorno (anche se non mi sono certamente dimenticato del rugby!).

Io con Alex e Arpita

From Alex
                                                                               

Il fine settimana prima del mio compleanno (18 ottobre) siamo stati tre giorni a Varanasi per il Durga Puja; abbiamo mangiato pizza due volte (la sera a Godaulia e a pranzo ad Asi Ghat  - mi è piaciuta di più la seconda).

Dalla terrazza del nostro hotel a Varanasi

Sabato mattina ci siamo alzati alle 5 per andare a fare un giro in barca lungo il Gange e abbiamo visto tanti ghats, anche quello dove bruciano i morti e li mettono nel fiume. Abbiamo visto il fuoco che usano per accendere la pira. Dalla barca si riusciva a vedere delle scimmie che correvano e saltavano da un tempio all’altro.

Scimmie equilibriste

Per il compleanno siamo stati a casa perché eravamo appena tornati da Varanasi: papà mi ha cucinato una pasta al pomodoro e melanzane speciale! Per i biscotti sono venute  Sarah 1 (dal Lussemburgo), Sara 2 (dall’Italia) e Teresa (la dottoressa). Ho ricevuto diversi regali: un piccolo Transformer, un libro da colorare di Ganesh (un dio hindu con la testa di elefante), un libro in inglese di Asterix, due Mickey Mouse, e un libro in italiano di Gianni Rodari.

La sera al girls' hostel le cuoche mi hanno regalato dei fiori

A scuola ho iniziato ad andare a musica dove canto in hindi mentre gli insegnanti suonano la tabla e l'harmonium.

Alla Sports Academy quando i più grandi giocano a calcio (il sabato) ho iniziato ad allenarmi dietro la porta con gli altri bambini più piccoli a hockey perché non è facile rubare la palla ai ragazzini più grandi. Ora abbiamo dei bastoni da hockey nuovi: uno rosso e uno nero in fiberglass e due in legno. Li porteremo in Italia quando torniamo così possiamo continuare a giocare anche a casa.

Alla Sports Academy sono arrivate le tute, i pantaloncini e la polo con il logo della società: i colori sono blu e arancione e adesso andiamo all'allenamento sempre con questi vestiti.

From Kikka

Al mio compleanno (28 ottobre) dopo aver cenato al girls' hostel abbiamo dato biscotti e caramelle italiane (l'ultima scorta portata da Silvano!) e le ragazze mi hanno cantato Happy birthday in hindi e poi abbiamo anche ballato.

Dopo cena siamo andati a casa dove avevamo invitato Sarah, Urban, Moreno, Teresa, Marianne e Sangeeta, e sono venuti anche Chandani, Suraj e la loro mamma che mi sistema sempre i capelli e stasera mi ha messo il bindi sulla fronte. 

Abbiamo mangiato le torte che aveva preparato il baker, una al limone e una al cioccolato, erano buonissime.

Ho ricevuto tanti regali: libretti da colorare e crayons, penna, colla e calendario svizzero, un leoncino e un elefantino, finti gelati e pasticcini per giocare a mamma casetta, pantaloni e maglietta, quattro bangles (braccialetti) e anche un bastone da hockey di legno con il manico rosa! 

Grazie a tutti quelli che sono venuti alla mia festa e mi hanno dato tutti questi bei regali!

Bodhgaya

Shortly after the Kiran Festival we decided to take advantage of the three-day holiday to visit the Buddhist pilgrimage site of Bodhgaya. It was our first solo adventure away from Kiran’s protective arms and it was also our first journey on the mythical Indian railway. Even our journey to the railway station, which is outside Varanasi, held a few surprises for us. To start with our driver had to take the motorway – another first for us – and even this stretch of modern India possesses the same air of unpredictability as any twisted alley in the centre of Varanasi. Anybody can travel on it, and you don’t need a motor: cyclists, pedestrians, cows and goats to name but a few. You want to get on? No on or off ramps to deal with, just try your luck at the next intersection with no traffic light of course – after all it is a motorway. It seems the bigger the vehicle the greater the right of way. And while we were chugging along – our van couldn’t do more than about 40 km/hour – we saw a herd of camels being led to market – and it wasn’t just the kids who couldn’t take their eyes off them!

The situation at the train station was madder than the madness I had expected: a donkey occupied the steps to the front entrance, hundreds of people were waiting and sleeping on the floor of the main hall, and all along the platforms crowds were jostling as the trains arrived in order to pack themselves into the already crowded carriages. The good news was our train was on time and we managed to find seats for all of us. We were together with a very nice group of university students from Delhi who were on their way home because of the Commonwealth Games. Lessons had been suspended because the university campus was being used as a venue for the games. And so we had some interesting conversation: they were all travelling back to their small village – a 28-hour journey from Delhi – they were all studying economics, and they all had the dream of leaving their tiny village to pursue careers in Delhi or Mumbai or Bangalore – the promise of the new India. As usual our kids were the centre of attention and the students very generously spoiled them with sweets and snacks.

The conversation helped the three and a half hour journey pass quickly, and when we arrived in Gaya we immediately found a rickshaw to Bodhgaya, which added about another hour to the journey. Since the air conditioned train fogged up the windows, making it impossible to see anything outside, the rickshaw ride finally allowed us to admire the landscape in Bihar. There were tall palm trees among the green tilled fields, rocky gray hills jutted up suddenly from the extensive flat plains, and the very wide and dry river bed of the Niranjana River dominated the scene.

After settling into our guesthouse we went for our first walk to see a bit of Bodhgaya. I was little disappointed with all the traffic noise – I guess I was expecting a more quietly subdued atmosphere to surround one of Buddhism’s holiest sites, but instead it was the usual dust, loud honking and ramshackle market stalls all along the streets. We walked to the Gelugpa Tibetan Buddhist monastery, one of the many Temples/Monasteries that make up the incongruous frame of the main Mahadbodhi Temple, and soon the noises of the world became inconsequential. The monastery complex had a small central prayer hall with walls and ceilings depicting dramatic icons of the Tibetan spirit world, and there was a very small room with a large prayer wheel from the ceiling to the floor. We then walked to the pedestrian area just outside the Mahadbodhi Temple, where there were the usual stalls selling not only religious souvenirs but really anything imaginable that could be sold cheaply to the passing tourists. We could see many groups of pilgrims and Buddhist monks in the Temple grounds, but decided to put off our own visit till the following day.

The next morning we took a rickshaw to the Mahakala Caves located in the rocky cliffs 18 kilometers from Bodhgaya. It was a destination recommended by the guesthouse manager and I’m very glad we went. It is the place where Buddha had practiced 6 years of severe ascetic practice which led to his body weakening so much that he nearly died. As usual the short distance took quite a long time – almost an hour – as we had to drive through some very isolated villages with poor roads to get there. After we arrived we had to make a short steep climb up a very dry and rocky cliff side to where there was a small temple, some extremely simple accommodation for monks and pilgrims, and of course the cave where Buddha is said to have stayed. We were able to go inside the cave itself, a very small space with just enough room for a tiny handful of people to sit quietly and there was a sculpture of the emaciated image of the Buddha, his body withered to just skin and bones. We were fortunate to be the only ones there at the time; just as we were leaving quite a large group of Sri Lankan pilgrims all dressed in white arrived.

On our way back we saw hundreds of people making their way across the dry river bed of the Niranjana River from a Hindu temple on one side to one on the other. The rickshaw driver said he would wait for a small fee, so we made a quick stop to visit this Vishnu Temple. People had gathered for the pitri paksha celebration, and there was this cyclical flow of worshippers coming up from the river to walk to a very small Vishnu shrine, leave their offerings of money, flower petals and garlands, and then go back across the river bed to the temple on the other side. The contrast between the overwhelming commotion of this Hindu form of worship and the ascetic silence of the Mahakala Caves says volumes about the revolution Buddha brought to the Hinduism of his day.

When we got back it was lunch time and Sarah’s guidebook recommended a place just across the street from our guesthouse so we decided to have a look. After walking up and down the street a couple of times and not finding anything that resembled a restaurant we asked, and sure enough the Gautam restaurant was right in front of us. We hesitated a moment before going in – it was really just a large canvas tent draped around a tree, there was no sign of a kitchen or of any other customers for that matter, but we decided to give it a go. We decided to eat in the garden area outside at the back which bordered on neighbors washing their kids at a well, and a farmer tending his horse. I don’t quite know where the food came from but it was good and incredibly cheap – less than 500 Rps for all six of us (under 10€) and we left completely stuffed.

We then visited the Mahadbodhi Temple – a World Heritage Site – where Buddha experienced his enlightenment under the Bodhi Tree. The temple stands 55m tall and it’s elegant spire can be seen from as far as the Mahakala Caves. The beautiful green grounds around the main temple are adorned with dozens of stupas and smaller temples; and finally there is the giant Bodhi Tree to which Buddha fixed his gaze.  There was indeed a very serene atmosphere despite the constant flow of pilgrims coming to pray and meditate together. The following morning I returned early, at 5.30, and saw Tibetan monks that had slept outside in the garden get up, fill hundreds of butter lamps and then do prostrations in the direction of the Bodhi Tree. The prostration practice can go on for hours and must be incredibly demanding on the body.

We could have spent an extra day in Bodhgaya, the last morning we crammed in the remaining temples – each one with their own distinctive cultural style – and did a little last minute haggling for some very nice objects to take back home with us. In any case the opportunity to watch and take part in this great devotion to a man and his teachings, and to walk in his historical footsteps was an experience that really opened up a new world for all of us.

Bhutanese Temple

Tibetan Temple

Japanese Temple

Paul

Durga Puja - The morning after

After an exhaustingly long day – we finished our Durga Puja hopping quite late, and then went out for a meal to celebrate Petra’s birthday – we were awoken on Saturday morning by my mobile’s alarm clock at five. It was time to get up and go for a dawn-breaking boat ride on the Ganges. Remarkably the kids struggled only a bit; they got up and got dressed in time to get down to the river for the 5.30 appointment without my even having to bribe them – really an heroic effort on the part of the kids.

When we got down to the river the other volunteers were already there trying to work out a good place to board the boat. The level of the Ganges had dropped dramatically in the previous weeks exposing mud deposits that in places were more than two meters deep. As a result the steps of the Ghats could be taken only so far, and then there were several meters of muddy banks to tread to get to the boats. We saw one young boy carrying some supplies to the boats and with each step he was sinking right up to his waste in mud… so we needed to find an alternative. We followed the boatmen up the steps of the Asi Ghāt to the narrow streets above and wound our way to the next Ghāt further north where we could board the boat directly without having to use both hands to yank our legs out of the mud with each step.

It was a good size boat considering there were 10 of us going for the ride and as it approached we could hear and smell the diesel engine put putting along. For  moment I was worried all that noise would ruin the trip; I had imagined a quiet splash of the oars would take our boat along the Ganges river bank. But as soon as we were on board the two boatmen pulled out two long and heavy bamboo oars, sat down with a smile and moved us slowly and quietly past the ghāts.

The ghāts at that hour have more worshippers than at other times of the day, so it was the first time many of us were able to witness the ritual ablutions that are carried out every morning here. We passed the cremation ghāts, and although there were no cremations going on at the time, the fires from which all the cremations are lit were burning. 

Mankarnika Ghat (the main cremation ghat)

The kids had a keen eye for any “wildlife”. They loved seeing the monkeys clambering and swinging from the temple tops as if they were in complete command of everything above and below, and there were the steppe eagles that came swooping low enough to admire their wide wingspans and raptor beaks. Finally the camera lenses were aimed at the myriad architectural styles which were the backdrop to all the Ghats and their worshippers. No two buildings looked anything alike, and all the usual criteria for judging what is good and what is beautiful seemed completely meaningless – I just took it all in as it passed before my eyes.

Well, the pictures speak for themselves… and there are lots more in the gallery.

Paul

Durga Puja

The month of October is marked by what seems to be a never-ending succession of Hindu festivals. In early October it was pitri paksha, which resembles in a way the Christian All Souls Day on 1 November. The rites performed are dedicated to loved ones who met with an untimely or accidental death, and are considered pishāchas or goblins. The rite, called Pishāchamochana - “Where the Goblins are Liberated”, releases them from this restless state and so finally become pitris or ancestors.  On our way home from Bodhgaya  (upcoming post) we shared a cramped cabin with a few men – heads shaved for the occasion –  who were travelling to Varanasi to fulfill their ritual duties. One of them, a very friendly middle-aged businessman whose English was just barely comprehensible, explained the holiday to us. Varanasi, he said, is a good place for benefiting the dead, and he was going there because his father had died. It was however, a way for him to remember and honor not only his father but also his father’s father and so on…  generation after generation people have come together in this way at the Ganges in Varanasi to remember and honor their descendants.

Last weekend Hindus (and non) celebrated the final three days of a nine day festivity dedicated to Devi Durga  who is the warrior manifestation of the Divine Mother. Durga’s feminine powers is the accumulation of the energies of many other gods, and thus the eight arms, each one holding a weapon that had been given to her by a god. The myth tells the story of Maishashura, a demon that had fasted and prayed in order to gain eternal life, but when Brahma disappointed him with the news that all things must pass away, he very cleverly – or so he thought – made Brahma promise that he would only die at the hands of a woman. Maishashura was certain that no woman could defeat him, and so he waged war and brought chaos to the earth, the heavens and the nether world. This is when the gods came together to give Durga their powers and she destroyed Maishashura’s armies, and when he transformed himself into a bull, she cut his head off. Great feminist stuff!

Durga Puja at the Sri Ramakrishna Association Ashram

As the weekend was the culmination of the festivities we decided to stay Friday and Saturday in Varanasi to soak up the atmosphere. Friday morning, along with Moreno and 5 other Kiran volunteers, we went to the Ashram of the Sri Ramakrishna Association, which was founded 100 years ago in Kolkata by a group of medical doctors who were also monks at the Ashram. The Association has since spread widely to many areas of India, and their mission is to serve the poorest of the population, giving them not only good medical care but also nursing homes and institutions of higher education for medical students. It is a Hindu organization, and that morning there was a large crowd gathered at their temple to take part in a very particular Durga Puja (puja=adoration). A little 8-year-old girl was chosen to be the incarnation of Durga’s spirit – in effect the young child would be worshiped as the goddess herself. This is not uncommon in India; there are the theyyam dancers in Kerala, who for 3 months a year are worshiped as gods even though they are low caste Dalits, or the artisans of the murtis (idols),  essential to Hindu worship, whose artwork actually bring the gods into being. (A great book about this sort of thing is William Dalrymple’s “Nine Lives –In search of the sacred in modern India”).

The director of the Ashram, who is a close friend of Moreno’s, welcomed all of us, explaining the work that was being done at the Ashram and then showed us into the temple. The mood was anything but meditative; we’ve seen that Hindu religious functions are quite lively affairs. At the main altar there was the elaborately decorated scene of the well-armed Durga statue and the fatally wounded Maishashura at her feet. People were moving about looking for a strategic place to sit, while to one side there were huge bushels of rice, lentils, potatoes, onions and other vegetables that were being prepared right there in the temple by several cooks for the meal that would be offered – absolutely free – to all the worshippers gathered there. 

After a while the young girl was carried out on a chair and placed in front of the Durga statue. She was gorgeously dressed in a brightly coloured, bejeweled costume and headdress, and she sat there almost completely motionless and expressionless – like an idol – during the whole ceremony. After a period of prayers and chants the excitement began; a small group of percussionists kept a constant loud metallic rhythm going while the head of the ceremony adored and blessed the child Durga with various symbols: a conch, a flower, a plume of long white feathers, and a sacred flame. As I watched all this there was a mix of feeling quite alien – what’s going on? what does it mean? – while at the same time a feeling of awe at witnessing a ceremony which had been done in exactly the same way for thousands of years.

After enjoying the meal that had been offered to us along with hundreds of other visitors at the Ashram we went to the guesthouse at Asi Ghāt to get a little rest before heading out into the city. Later we met up with Sybille and we all made our way by rickshaw to the incredibly busy Godaulia. What countless years ago was but a small stream that ran to the Ganges, today Godaulia is a torrent of commercial activity. It’s the main intersection of the north-south Madanpurā Road running parallel to the Ganges and the east-west Luxa Road leading to the popular Dashāshvamedha Ghāt. There was no need for maps or guides, we just let ourselves be carried away by the massive flow of people moving towards the next Durga Puja. 

The pujas were not only in temples but set up in various places along the streets. There was always a mesmerizing light display for a couple hundred meters before and after each puja along with stomach pounding Hindu rhythms booming from loudspeakers, so we always  knew when we were coming to one. Every puja had its own style: some were very large, one required us to enter through the mouth of a dragon, and late in the evening we came across a very small one in the narrowest of Varanasi’s serpentine alleyways. It stood next to the open doorway of the family who had made it, and what proud smiles shone when we stopped to take pictures!

The processions in search of the next Durga Puja reminded me of the visits to the nativity scenes at Christmas time in Italy; the one big difference being the destiny of these meticulously handcrafted scenes of the Durga. While in Italy most nativity scenes are carefully disassembled and packed away for the next Christmas season, these Durga statues would be thrown into the Ganges, giving the Hindus yet another good reason to get together and celebrate! In the Hindu tradition the idols that are created for the various celebrations manifest the divine presence of the god or goddess they represent for a predetermined time – it could be days, months or even years – but at some point the idol loses its divine quality and when that happens it’s given back to the spirit world. To hold on to it would be idolatry. So on the Monday after the nine-day Durga Puja festival there is an endless parade of tractors and other vehicles, accompanied by loud music and banging drums, all pouring towards the Ganges with the once divine Durgas in tow.

The Durga sculptures had all been made from bamboo sticks, straw, mud and silt taken from the Ganges riverbed and finally painted and dressed up for the festival. So what was born of the Mother Ganga is now consumed in her sacred currents.

Paul