Today, Vinay decided to take me down the memory lane of his youth. He wanted me to know where he spent a large part of his childhood – the school he attended, the church he prayed at, the home he lived in, and the streets he walked down. Our driver picked us up and escorted us to the desired locations.
Although he was born in Chandrapur, Vinay moved to Kerala to live with his grandmother when he was just 2 years old. He remained with Ammachi for 8 years before moving back in with his parents in Chandrapur. While we were driving through Kerala, Vinay shared with me how clearly he remembered growing up here. This is amazing to me because I can barely recall any event that happened to me before the age 10.
The first stop was the church Vinay served in as an altar boy for 2 years until he was 10s years old. To his surprise, we walked up to a church in dilapidated ruins. A guard keeping watch over the site informed Vinay that the church had been closed off to the public due to its dangerous state and no photographs could be taken. We believed him. A quick walk around the building revealed that essential structural pieces were missing. The roof was caving inwards and a small tree had somehow managed to sprout between the crevices. We discovered a small chapel to the right of the church that was being utilized as a substitute. We spent a minute in reflection inside the chapel. Afterwards, Vinay paused to reminisce for a few moments before we headed to our next destination.
Our second stop was Vinay’s elementary school. There were many children in matching plaid shirts and black pants huddled around the building as we pulled into the gravel driveway. I had barely stepped out of the vehicle when the children spotted me. They ran over in excitement and clamored around me for my attention. Here are a few pictures that Vinay took while looking on in amusement:
“Hi!” several of them said in loud unison. “How are you?”
I grinned. “I’m good! How are you all?”
The children laughed at my strange accent and a few responded, “Good!” Several repeated the original question, “How are you?” and again I replied with, “Great!” This banter continued for several minutes. Finally I broke the cycle.
“What is everyone studying?” I pointed at a notebook tightly grasped by a pretty girl standing in front of me. She looked down at it and then met my gaze.
“English!” the young girl answered with several more chiming in, eager to talk.
Suddenly, I heard the question, “What’s your name?” echoing around me.
“Amanda!” I pointed at a young boy, “What’s your name?” I asked him. I forget now what he said, but the children and I spent a few moments taking turns introducing ourselves to each other.
Eventually, Vinay stopped taking pictures and joined our huddle. He introduced himself and told the children that he used to attend this school a long time ago, before there were uniforms. The children were thrilled by this and carried on a conversation with Vinay for several minutes. Finally, we left the children and walked into the principal’s office.
The principal seemed pleased to meet our acquaintance. Vinay explained to him that he was a former student who often got into trouble. The principal smiled and pointed out a row of pictures of former principals above the chairs we were sitting in. Vinay pointed out his old principal and we were excited to hear that she was still alive. She had retired to the school nunnery, which was on this same property. Vinay, eager to meet her, shook hands with the principal and we headed down a pathway in the back of the school. We approach a long, simple building and rang the doorbell. A nun answered the door and inquired as to the reason for our visit. Vinay explained the situation and she smiled and went to fetch the old principal. After a few moments, Sister Zeta appeared and immediately recognized Vinay. They embraced and we sat and spoke for several minutes. Here was a picture of both of them, taken right before we left:
Before reaching our final destination, we stopped at a pilgrimage sight dedicated to the Catholic rosary. Vinay told me he faintly remembered visiting here several years ago. There were 15 tree trunks, inside of which were representations for each decade of the rosary. Here are a few pictures:
Mass was being offered at the church in the center of the site - there were so many people they were pouring out on the sidewalk!
The last stop was the house Vinay used to live in. It was now occupied by a new family, but the mother was quite friendly and had no problem with us walking around outside the home. She observed us from the porch with a baby in her hand. Unfortunately, we didn’t take any pictures here.
On the way back, Vinay decided to take me to meet an Aunt and Uncle who both worked at a local college. Here is a picture of the college:
They were both terribly excited to meet me, and his Uncle, who taught English, promptly asked me to speak to his class. I was quite unprepared and very nervous, but he insisted and led me down the school corridors. As I entered his classroom, the students rose and murmurs rustled through the room. His Uncle introduced me and handed me a microphone.
Shocked and incredibly nervous, I introduced myself and informed the students where I was from. The professor asked me to share with the men and women a little information about Oklahoma. Immediately, all knowledge of Oklahoma and Oklahoma History fled my mind. My brain was completely blank.
“Um, it’s hot there!” I said rather stupidly. “But its dry heat, not like here where the humidity is very high.”
I stared out at the room blankly for a few moments. “We have a lot of oil. And Native Americans.”
The students just gazed at me with open curiosity. One student dared to raise his hand. “Where have you visited in India so far and how do you like it?” Grateful for a topic, I launched into the list of towns I had visited. “Chandrapur, here, and Nagpur. We are going to visit the tea gardens tomorrow.”
The professor asked the students if they had any more questions for me. Thankfully, they did not. He looked at me. “Are you sure you don’t have anything else to say about Oklahoma? You know, as a graduate student, you should be able to give a presentation like this.”
I felt the red rushing to my cheeks. “This will be my first year sir; I haven’t even started classes yet!” I said defensively. I felt a bit ashamed that I was too nervous to share more about my home. A few minutes later, Vinay and I waved goodbye to Uncle and his students. Next time, I will make sure to have a small speech prepared on Oklahoma.
Much later that evening, Vinay took me to dinner at Port Cochin this where I finally saw all the tourists Kerala is known for. The food was quite good. Here are a few pictures of us:
After dinner, we took a boat ride in the backwaters of the Arabian Sea. It was a wonderful evening – and my first encounter with a live oil tanker. Here are a few pictures of us on the boat:
Here is actually a few from the boat:
Here is the best picture we could get in the moving boat of the massive oil tanker:
After the boat ride, we walked down the paved river walk following the coast:
Luckily, I am feeling quite a bit better today. We left at 4:30 in the morning to make the two hour and half drive to the airport in Nagpur. Our airplane left at 8:30am and flew us to Mumbai successfully. After a 3 hour layover in Mumbai, we headed back into the air for Cochin, Kerala.
Kerala is a much more touristy state within India. Unlike Maharashtra (the state that houses Nagpur and Chandrapur), Kerala is not as industrialized. It sits along the coast line and boasts of beautiful beaches and tourists spots such as the tea gardens in Munnar (where Vinay planned to take me) and the boat rides in the back waters of Kumarakom. There is also much less pollution and much more wealth.
My first impression of Kerala was of course, the airport and the city of Cochin. I already noticed a greater sense of organization that did not appear to be present in Nagpur or Chandrapur. The busyness of the streets, however, was just as intense.
One significant difference between the US and cities of India I have visited is the waste management system. India does not appear to have one. Never before have I considered the importance of waste management. At home, if I have trash in need of disposal, I take for granted that a dumpster or waste basket is but a few minutes away. In India, I have found very few trash cans. Even homes do not frequently have one. What happens to the trash? Some of it is thrown outside, the rest I’m still not quite sure. I saw a newly built apartment complex today as we were driving through Cochin, very modern. I looked below and saw nothing but trash covering the ground around the apartment buildings. Even the few waste baskets or dumpsters I have spotted in India were overflowing with trash as though they hadn’t been attended to in days.
Despite this, Cochin did appear better than Chandrapur or Nagpur, although Vinay said it looked worse than the last time he had seen it.
Vinay wanted us to go shopping as soon as we reached Cochin, so we spent some time at the local stores purchasing gifts and souvenir items before meeting his grandmother for dinner.A picture of me picking out some clothes:
Vaikom, the town Vinay’s grandmother lives in, was a 45 minute drive from Cochin. Upon arrival, I entered the home and greeted the hostess.
“Ammachi!” After much practice, the Malayalam word for grandmother easily escaped my mouth.
Vinay’s grandmother grinned and tightly grasped my hands. She didn’t speak a word of English, but the delight in her eyes was obvious. Here is a picture of myself and his grandmother:
She is a very sweet woman, and although we couldn’t communicate, I felt an immediate bond between us.
I was also introduced to Vinay’s aunt, his mother’s sister. They fed us dinner. Afterwards, I was presented with a gift from each of them – two different sarees. Ammachi gave me a beautiful cream colored material with an intricate gold trim design – apparently it is the traditional Kerala saree (Later I learned that different states within India have different traditional forms of dress). His great Aunt handed me a lovely sapphire fabric.
Our day ended not too long after dinner was finished.
Vinay’s father died one year ago today.
The first death anniversary of a loved one is a solemn and special occasion for a Catholic family in Chandrapur. It is traditional for the family of the departed to have a priest bless the home and celebrate a remembrance Mass in their honor. After Mass, a brief prayer at the gravestone is customary, followed by a dinner for all friends and family. All of these events were scheduled today in honor of Vinay’s father.
We awoke early in preparation for the priest’s arrival at 9:30am. Vinay rushed to the store to buy fresh flowers for the grave. Neeta prepared snacks for visitors attending the blessing of the home. Vinay’s mother clothed herself in a beautiful flowing silk saree. Janet brushed her bouncing black curls. Niju buttoned his neatly pressed collared shirt. Everyone was busy with somber urgency.
About 30 minutes before the priest’s arrival, Neeta assisted me with problematical process of saree wearing. It is wonderful that one rectangular piece of fabric is capable of transforming itself into an elegant dress with just a few folds and tucks. However, the folds and tucks are quite complicated to the untrained wearer. Even Neeta, after several moments of bewildered confusion, called for her sister’s input. It took both Neeta and Neena about 20 minutes of draping and winding, pinning and creasing, folding and tucking, before they proudly announced the completion of their saree masterpiece.
The rest of the family entered the bedroom to view the artwork. The approval in their eyes was quite apparent. The saree was perfect.
I glanced at myself in the mirror. Vinay’s sisters had warned me that sarees can be cumbersome to wear – they had assured me that I really didn’t have to go through with it. They informed me that even Indian women secretly confess its awkwardness. Now, gazing at the saree in the mirror, I could not comprehend their words. I felt beautiful and girly in the soft folds of cloth that draped gracefully around my figure and twirled about my feet. The fabric easily flowed with the movements of my body. Nothing about it was cumbersome.
Now everyone was ready. Finally, several priests, dressed in long white robes, arrived a few minutes before 10:00 – completely punctual according to IST (Indian Stretchable Time). A blessing was prayed over the house in Malayalam. The prayer lasted only a few minutes, but it had a profound effect on all those in attendance. Afterwards, the priests were invited to partake in the few snacks prepared by Neeta.
Mass was at 10:30 – everyone carpooled in various cars to get to the church. We took the a picture of the ladies sitting inside of the church:
As you can see, benches were brought in for the special Mass. Men and women were still expected to sit on opposite sides of the church- although Vinay elected to break the unspoken rule to stand next to his mother.
After Mass, the congregation processed down the road to the cemetery. Here are pictures of us walking:
The graveyard was nothing like any burial site in the United Sates. A black metal gate barricaded the unkempt grounds where tall grass and weeds grew unbridled. There were very few stones to demark a beloved’s resting places, most graves were simply mounds of dirt overgrown with vegetation. Flowers were few and far between.
There was no regular maintenance of the cemetery in Chandrapur.
The prayer at the cemetery was followed by a catered lunch served at a local hotel. Men and women sat on opposite sides of the room to eat while I was introduced to more friends and family members. Everyone was surprised that I was wearing a saree – and later on Vinay told me that many expressed to him their happiness at my decision to wear it.
The lunch was tasty, but very spicy and my stomach rebelled at most of it. Vinay and everyone else devoured their portions with great zeal. We took a pictures while we there.
Everyone seated:
Men on one side of the room:
Priest blessing the food:
Vinay and I after eating:
The lunch only lasted a couple hours before we all returned home. I decided, since I was wearing the traditional Indian women dress, to attempt the customary position on a scooter for the ride home. Here is the picture of us on the scooter after we successfully made it home:
A close up of the same picture:
Since everyone was dressed up, we agreed to take family photos….let me begin the introductions:
Here is a close of me in the saree:
(All pictures are from Left to Rigth)
Neena, Me, Neeta (Neeta is oldest sibling, Neena is in the middle, Vinay is the youngest)
Janet, Niju, Anuj
Monisha, Niju, Janet, Anuj
Niju, Me, Janet, Anuj
Niju, Me, Janet, Anuj, Monisha
Neena, Vinay, Neeta
Me, Vinay's Mother
Me, Vinay's Mother, Vinay
Vinay, Me, Vinay's Mother, Neeta, Neena
Vinay, Vinay's Mother, (and thats his father's picture on the wall)
Monisha, Vinay's Mother, Ajay (Neena's Husband), Janet, Niju, Anju, Neeta
Ajay and Neena live in India right across the street from Vinay's mother. They have one son - Anju.
Neeta and her husband, Jubil, live in Ireland. (Jubil is actually in Ireland - he is a doctor and was not able to be present in India during this time) Niju and Janet are their children.
Today was an extremely emotional draining day for the family. We ended it early – especially since Vinay and I had to wake up early the next morning to catch the plane flying to Kerala
