Close Encounters of the Third Kind

I can now smile about all this. However, I must confess that at the time, I was in shock, shaken and in tears. I have given myself six months to get over it. And now, perhaps you too can be shocked and shaken and finally, entertained.

Our doorbell rang at 7:20 that morning. Over the past week, no one came to my door in the morning except Raju. Still dazed with very little sleep the previous night with mozzie's buzzing around me (no one told me about Odomos or All Out) and the airconditioner out of commission, I stumbled down to open the door.

As soon as there was a crack in the door, four brightly sareed women with loud voices appeared. "Namaste Madam!"

"No, no, no, I don't want it!" was all I could stammer thinking they were door-to-door peddlers. Now that I think about it, they could have been Avon ladies! I screamed for David but he was in the shower and could not hear me. (He would not make a very good Superman, would he?)

The strong ladies pushed the door intending to come in or at least be heard and I pushed back. The pushing and loud voices continued for what seemed like an eternity until I finally managed to close the door. In the span of what was really only a few seconds, what assaulted me were four powdered faces, red lipsticked lips, bindi-ed foreheads. Their dress was tawdry. They were rather large boned women, dark, and loud.

I ran up to David and told him what had happened. As far as I knew, four women tried to rob me and break into my house! That's it, we're moving back to Singapore! I sobbed and shook then quickly became angry at the security guard who let these women go past the gate, climb up the stairs, then ring my doorbell! What was he thinking? How useless was he down there? I demanded that he be fired, and fired he was the very next day.

Our first source of information was Raju, our driver. After recounting the story to him and asking him exactly who these women were, he gave us rather sketchy information. Raju's command of English leaves much to be desired.

'Sir, not man, not woman. Middle class."

"What?" but at that point, we both understood what Raju was trying to say. What we did not understand is why they would bang on our door at 7:20 in the morning. If I have piqued your curiosity, and hopefully to make you understand how visually shocking this all was, visit this link: http://images.google.co.in/images?q=hijra&hl=en&client=firefox-a&channel=s&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&hs=n6O&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=X&oi=images&ct=title

These "ladies" are hijras.

"Most hijras live at the margins of society with very low status: the very word "hijjra" is sometimes used in a derogatory manner. Few employment opportunites are available to hijras. Many get their income from performing at ceremonies, begging or prostitution — an occupation of eunuchs also recorded in premodern times. Violence against hijras specially sex workers is often brutal and occurs in public spaces, police stations, prisons and their homes. As with transgender people in most of the world they face extreme discrimination in health, housing, education, employment, immigration, law, and any bureaucracy that is unable to place them into male or female gender categories. One hijra reports waiting in the emergency room of a hospital for hours while medical staff debated whether to admit her into the men's or women's ward.

Hijras are often encountered on streets, trains, and other public places demanding money from young men. If refused, the hijra may attempt to embarrass the man into giving money, using obscene gestures, profane language, and even sexual advances. Hijras also perform religious ceremonies at weddings and at the birth of male babies, involving music, singing, and sexually suggestive dancing. These are intended to bring good luck and fertility. Although the hijra are most often uninvited, the host usually pays the hijras a fee. Many fear the hijras' curse if they are not appeased, bringing bad luck or infertility, but for the fee they receive, they can bless goodwill and fortune on to the newly born. Hijras are said to be able to do this because, since they do not engage in sexual activities, they accumulate their sexual energy which they can use to either bestow a boon or a bane." Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hijra_(South_Asia)

So why me? They come to give their blessing to new homes, new babies, new marriages. I was in a new home thus needed their blessings and of course, they needed their "blessings" too. I later learned that they come to Indian families only so I was even more angry that they had invaded me. Someone else warned me that they would return again and again until they extorted their payment. Just what I needed in this already tumultuous adjustment to India!

Our downstairs neighbor had not moved in but even before they did, the hijras would circle our block and wait it out downstairs hoping to catch them. They finally succeeded but shrewd Nuwayri was ready for them. The hijra wanted 55,000IR. After two hours of haggling, she had them down to 3,000IR and two sarees! Even in this madness there is protocol! Ambrose, my driver had a baby and he knew the hijra would come around. They came to his father-in-law's house to give the baby their blessing.

I've put all this behind me, forgotten, locked away in my storybook of tales to tell my grandchildren someday. Until Monday.

I met Sidharthe, a most wonderful young man, proprietor of a lovely recently opened jewelry store in Khan Market. If you don't already know, I can sit in a jewelry store for hours just looking and touching and enjoying everything around me. This was such an afternoon. We sat talking shop, trying to outwit each other gemologically, watching customers come in and out. In the mid-afternoon bustle, the hijiras came.How clever they are to come when they can be the most trouble, when they can create the biggest distraction.

The immediately zoomed in on Sidharthe sitting behind his desk. I watched his smile disappear and his eyes narrow with annoyance. Fear was not far behind I am sure, but he held his own, kept his cool. I saw him pull out a few bills from his stash hoping that he could make them go away quickly. Hijra #1 came in speaking loudly. I can't tell you how the exchange proceeded. I can only tell you that there was a lot of pushing and pulling, a lot of arguing. Surely a few expletives were unleashed as well. This continued for a few minutes until they began to approach him and invade his very private space, touching him with thier dupattas, brushing his face with it, coming very uncomfortably close. His voice went up a notch, theirs escalated as well.

We now had two hijras in the room. A very confused and annoyed German lady was asking to just pay her bill so she could get out of the way but no one was paying attention to her. I quietly explained to her what was going on (I am now an expert!) and she waited patiently. I cautioned her to watch her purse. Hijra #2 must have seen her pull the purse closer to her body and she started lambasting the poor lady. Not knowing any Hindi but catching some words uttered in English, I knew she was incensed that we would even suggest that they would steal, as though extortion were not exactly the same thing. She continued to almost scream behind me but I stood my ground, never turned to look at her (horrors!) and allowed her to rant and rave unacknowledged.

Haggling went on and I worried that they would get the better of Sidharthe. Remember that three men stood guard at the door and yet the hijras were able to enter the store. That is the magic they weave, the power they wield. What chance did good Sidharthe have over the wicked? But the good prevail and after more back and forth, more screaming, and fortunately not more touching, Sidharthe triumphed and they were gone. A big sigh of relief.

Not many are fortunate enough to experience the unfortunate twice over. I was, and after all is said and done, I have a story to tell, an experience to laugh about. It wasn't so bad after all...but this I can only say in retrospect, after the 6 months it took me to recover. Perhaps my first encounter helped me cope with the second, wiser now and more steady of heart, yet only clever enough to stay mum while the proceedings continued. Yet, were there to be a third encounter, I am still not certain that I would fare much better. I believe the hijra will always evoke in me a fear, a deep fear of the unknown and ununderstood.

Oh Calcutta!

If the title teases you to read on, let me tell you now, there is nothing risque in this piece.

Of all the cities in India, Calcutta in particular suggests unbearable poverty to me. I remember my father recounting his visit to Calcutta in the very early 1970s. Coming from a third world nation, we Filipinos are not new to poverty being around us; however, his recount was so vivid, and his feeling of desperation at the poverty he saw stayed with me. Though decades might have changed or even reincarnated India, I was prepared to see the deprivation of poverty in Calcutta.

Calcutta, now known as Kolkata is one of the world's greatest cities. From an obscure village on the banks of the Hooghly river, it evolved as the capital of Great Britain's Indian empire. Over the 200 years after the establishment of an English trading post by Job Charnock in 1690, Kolkata flourished, a commercial city with Victorian Gothic buildings, churches, and boulevards. In 1911, the capital was shifted to New Delhi and coupled with the urban decay of the 1960s, Kolkata's affluence diminished, but as I have witnessed, not its vibrancy and color.

We made a smart decision to stay outside the city though the commute into the city office was 40 minutes, through dusty and bumpy roads, twisting and turning, vegetable & fruit vendors with their merchandise laid out on the sidewalks, people milling about busily, bicycles boldly darting in and out of traffic. I must applaud Rajendra, our super driver for navigating these streets expertly twice a day. I dared not watch the road and as usual, I took my nap en route to the city or hotel. I only know that Rajendra got me there!

We arrived Kolkata with time to spare before David's first meeting in the afternoon. Our hotel was a Vedic spa so we took the lead of its peaceful surrounds and took the morning easy. We enjoyed a wonderful lunch at their restaurant. Vedic, yes...we attempted to order a couple of very healthy sounding juices only to be cautioned by the waiters that the juices probably would not taste very good. Nonetheless, we ordered them and instantly felt rewarded by the many good things it was doing to our bodies. I ordered a "sprout route" which turned out to be a delightfully nutty sprout salad with a ginger and lime kick to it. (I recreated the salad to go along with last night's dinner, it was equally tasty). Lunch was wholesome, healthy, and actually tasty.

Magic Rajendra drove us to the city that afternoon. I visited the Victoria Memorial, Kolkata's most celebrated landmark. This domed classical structure, completed in 1921 was made with marble from Makrana which also supplied marble for the Taj Mahal. It is now a museum and houses 25 galleries which feature Raj memorabilia. Again, as with all public buildings and parks, the museum was full of people, some tourists but many locals as well eagerly perusing the exhibits. There were numerous paintings and sketches depicting life during the Raj. In particular was a series of sketches with commentary--a British family of four needed 110 people to attend to their needs! We've certainly come a long way! Every other family I know in Delhi today has one or two in their staff (outside farm houses) so I do wonder why I am having such a difficult time finding my apprentice! There should be thousands upon thousands of available help!

Many years ago, I had the privilege of spending one night at a convent in Rome. In that evening, I experienced joyous tranquillity. There was a complete absence of distraction and discord. The kindness and love were palpable and intense. This is the same feeling that greeted us at the door of Mother House. We entered the little chapel, Mother Teresa's final resting place. It was free of all ornamentation save a Bible on her grave with a scattering of marigold petals. The walls of Mother House contain stillness and peace while outside Kolkata is in motion.

Next day's agenda was full. My first stop was Marble Palace, listed as one of the 1,000 places to visit before you die. It was like entering a military zone! A khaki uniformed man stood at the gateway. After a brief exchange in Hindi with Rajendra, we were granted entry. Rajendra asked for R100 for the guide. It is obvious to me that there are no rules here. This is not a public monument governed by India's laws. My guide and I walked through room after room of ostentatious display. If you closed your eyes and tried to imagine ostentation, even for European palaces, it would not come close to the contents of this place. It made Imelda Marcos look frugal! Bronzes, marble sculptures, carpets, paintings, Venitian glass chandeliers, four, five or six in a row, enormous mirrors on both ends of a room, this is only the beginning of a list of things that are housed in this estate. It is not the state of disrepair that shocks, it is the sinful extravagance and and almost vulgar display of wealth, a seemingly compulsive desire to acquire all things western! This, I read, is how rich Bengali families lived in the days of the Raj!

I was most interested in visiting Jorasanko, the ancestral home of Bengal's favorite son, Rabindranath Tagore. But things in India are, if anything, reliably unpredictable. It was closed for no reason I could fathom. We drove through old Kolkata, through mazes of streets with every imaginable storefront. Old Babu houses, grand Victorian buildings, rickshaws, the slow tram, all these are Kolkata, unique, colorful, frenetic, annoying, yet awesome.

Saturday was a Vedic day. David booked a foot reflexology session. I booked a treatment with the works. I awoke at 530 in the morning to brush my teeth with a neem bark and some herbal toothpaste (yuck, I am not giving up my sonicare for that!). I downed a 300 ml herbal drink which really was not that horrid. Next I was to take a brisk walk before heading to the yoga studio for a session at 630. I had a face massage. I headed back to the room for breakfast and a brief nap before my full massage at 11 a m. I was awoken by the ringing of the phone. It was 1110 a m ! I wondered whether it was the face massage that helped me sleep so deeply or whether it was the waking up at 530 that did me in! I am all for trying massages and facials and all that. I was not going to miss my chance at this Vedic spa. However, I doubt that I would book myself for another one of these Ayurvedic classics, at least not for the next month or so. A lot of oiling and rubbing was involved culminated by warm oil dripping on my forehead. Relaxing, I will give them that.

It might well be that Delhi has dulled my senses to poverty. But I did not see in Kolkata the deprivation and poverty that my father told me about. What I saw was vibrancy and color, a people educated with a good command of English, unbearably gridlocked, tangled traffic, masses of people, and yes, even dim traces of Kolkata's glory.

Please visit this link below for some of my photographs of Kolkata.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=6316&l=b929b&id=686591597

My Apologies

I have been meaning to add to my blog but have encountered a temporary hitch. I am unable to load my photos so please be patient and for now, just ignore the old photos that sit along side new blogs. Blogspot is aware of the problem and promise to fix it.

Many thanks!

A Growing Passion

Having played truant from Sharma sir's classroom for two weeks, I made a trip to the National Zoological Park to try my hand at photographing wildlife, our next assignment. It has been years since my last visit to the zoo as Dan & Rae are now in university and are no longer eager to make zoo trips.

Even on a weekday, the zoo was full of people meandering the grounds: families with young kids, packs of young boys just having a good time, men walking together in twos, threes, fours. What is it about young Indian kids and a camera? Each of the groups of boys that I saw made eye contact with me and asked me to take their photograph. I of course obliged and after the click of the shutter, they scrambled to see their photo on the digital viewing screen. It made them so happy! And why deny them this little joy when they reward me with such smiles! A particular group of boys knew enough English to attempt a conversation with me.

"One photo please?"
"Yes, of course! Stand over there."

As soon as they heard the click, they rushed over and surrounded me. One put his hand on my shoulder as though we were long time buddies. All smiles! Pure pleasure. I moved away to say goodbye. One of the other boys wanted a solo. This is where digital camera has it over film--you can always click, keep or chuck a photograph and no body need be the wiser for it! Another click. One boy shyly says, "One kiss?" I look at him, smile, and say, "one photo yes, one kiss no." HUH! A kiss from this old biddy? Not likely. What could they possibly be thinking?

Walking around the zoo later in the day (4pm - 6pm) is unnerving. The park is full of turns and little walkways. Weeds and tall grasses grow abundantly on the side of the paths making anyone who walks down it virtually disappear. I proceed carefully. I pass the emu, the Bengal tiger, the sloth bear (unfortunately he was not doing his upside down thing), giraffes, zebras...click, click, click.

It is unfortunate that the zoo opens at 9am. How wonderful it would be to see the animals in the early morning light, gentle shadows on their faces, furs and feathers. What a delight it would be to watch their early morning rituals and ablutions. I made it to the zoo the next morning. Mornings are less crowded. However, that too was unnerving as I could be mugged and robbed (wild imagination?) and no one would ever know!

I happened upon a little lake with pink pelicans. I settled down on the grass to shoot. It was not so much the joy in photography but the delight in watching these birds that consumed me! On the grass behind me were love birds (not birds, humans) while I sat facing the lake clicking away. Life often gets too frenetic that we fail to see the enchantment of nature that surrounds us. Behind a lens, we are gifted with the focus to see God's greatest miracles in nature.

I walked away and headed to the giraffes. Giraffes are such gentle creatures that watching them walk slowly and reach up to trees is always a great photo opportunity. The 5 giraffes were feeding off a trough perched on a metal fence. All the animals in shadows, gathered for breakfast or perhaps brunch. No photo op there. The zebras were next door, also following their instinct and staying in shade. It was nearly 1130 and the sun was beating down.

The lake was still the best place to go; the pelicans had been very obliging. I met two older gentlemen with cameras. At first, I thought of retreating as their long bazooka lenses made my 70-300 telephoto look puny! But there is always something to learn from others and I boldly made my way towards the edge of the lake. We started a conversation. The gentlemen work for a newspaper and in their spare time, enjoy photography. They were very kind to me. I learned that feeding time was 1130. We all waited. At around 1130, the birds started gliding over to the side of the lake. How wise God has made them! Lunch was late today. Finally we heard a meal call. A wondrous sight! The birds glided towards their meal, getting their share of lunch. Some headed towards the trees with fish in their beaks to feed their young. Some headed to a quiet spot to enjoy their meal privately A riot of birds darting about, some over head, some above us, such an unexpected pleasure for me!

I now understand why photography can be an all consuming passion. The rewards of patience and focus, the miracles that unfold before the lens are cherished blessings. Being behind the lens is discovering secrets, being privy to the to the marvels of our daily lives. What a gift: photography, my new passion!

Please visit the link below to view my photographs at the zoo.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=6313&l=15b5a&id=686591597