Pondicherry
Let me cast my mind back.
Unbelievably it has only been 2 days since my last post.
This just goes to show that time is irrelevant, because over the past 48hours I've had enough going on externally and internally to fill several books.
Here's the abridged version (specifically for my hubby and parents who think I should just 'go home' ;).
So, I left you in Chennai. I passed an uneventful evening in my grimey hotel washing clothes in a dank and altogether nasty bathroom before dining on a packet of salted peanuts saved from my flight over a month ago.
I fell asleep in front of the TV (hadn't seen one in quite a while, hopefully won't see another for some time to come).
Woke up early and breakfasted with a mustachioed mob on idlis (fermented rice UFOs) and dosa (huge crispy lentil flour crepes) both served with coconut chutney and sambhar.
Felt quite at home, in the Afghanistan sense, in that I was the only woman eating out and kept myself entertained by trying to spot a man without a mustache (zero).
Also felt a tinge of empathy for the Indian male who is not allowed to look at or speak to a foreign woman without being suspected of sexual harrassment.
Then caught an auto-rick to the bus station and the world's chattiest driver insisted on covering every topic from Saddam's execution (bad) to cricket (good) and this with a difficult to understand accent at the best of times never mind over the noise of the auto-rick and all of Chennai.
Ended up on a bus to Mamallapuram that was clearly NOT the express, but had a seat and watched the fairly dry and flat Tamil Nadu landscape break free of the clutches of Chennai.
Eventually landed up in the really friendly ancient sculpted/sculpting town of Mamallapuram. Found a pretty room which turned out to be a mosquito infested nightmare... and I have the itchy bites to prove it.
Took in a LOT of really really really old temples, quite lovely, positioned on rocky hilltops with good views of the sea and such.
Was feeling very 'A Passage to India' wandering about in the burning sun, posing for dozens of Indian family photos and resting my eyes on the sensuous curves of 7th Century sculpture.
Met a sweet young man, sculptor in training like most in that dinky town.
He took me to meet his teacher and I bought quite a lot of little bits and pieces that I think are charming. Well, you'd think I was Santa Claus. These guys were SO thrilled. They thanked me endlessly and gifted me with pretty om necklaces. Apparently I'm helping fund 15 sculpture students.
So we parted ways grinning.
It really is a friendly town, with some lovely little restaurants. I particularly enjoyed a French bistro called 'Nautilus.' The locals all seem to have a naughty sense of humour and ready smiles. I appreciated this doubly after the Andamanese dourness.
The beach is wide and a bit grubby, a fishing beach primarily, but it does have the Shore Temple which is just so pretty and ancient.
That evening I went to watch the Dance Festival which happens only in January and gathers together Tamil Nadus finest Bharata Natyam dancers. This is the oldest form of dance in India and it's just gorgeous. I actually happened to pick up a novel about it en route to India which my mom and dad also read -- 'Shiva's Fire'.
I also had the good fortune of sitting next to a knowledgable Swiss fan who has been following this particular art for over 30 years.
It was interesting to hear from him how rapidly India has been transformed. He says that Chennai used to be a sleepy town with very few vehicles. Unimaginable.
Also, that rubbish, heaps of which litter absolutely every roadside and just about every surface now, was not noticeable because most of it was biodegradable. Chai served in clay cups, food wrapped in leaves and such. Now it's plastic crap everywhere. A total disaster.The price paid for India's new wealth. Though honestly the vast majority seem to be poorer than poor.
After an early breakfast this morning, which I shared with an unfortunate German father and son who had spent there 5 days in Mamallapuram in the bathroom, I took a leisurely walk to the bus station. I passed grannies and babies creating the intricate rice flour patterns that adorn thresholds to invite good luck and stave off the evil eye. It was all too lovely.
And then I got to watch the rag pickers fighting over scraps of food under the fly infested bus shelter.
Pondicherry.
No room at the inn.
I had hoped to stay at one of Aurobindo Ashrams many affiliated guesthouses.
It's not a typical ashram, rather a conglomerate of buildings scattered all over Pondi most of which house different services to the community, eg. School for Perfect Eyesight. There's no schedule, no demands, no rituals, nothing.
So the kindly man at the Info Centre gave me a meal coupon (20 rupees -- less than 50 US cents -- buys 3 hearty meals a day) and said he'd hold onto my backpack until I found something.
I enjoyed my meal, mostly because it was quiet, clean and in a lovely old French building with lofty doorways and high ceilings.
Then I traipsed around Pondi. An interesting thing, it's the only place I've been to in India where you can actually forget you're in India, granted only for a few minutes at a time and only on the 3 or so streets that run parallel to the seafront.
This is the old French Pondi. It's shady and pretty and the domain of exclusive hotels and expat abodes. When you cross the canal you're thrown brutally back into India. Is it just the contrast that makes it seem so...cruel? Or is it the ashram and all the charitable services it provides that draws the most wretched of the poor?
I had to step over a mangled old woman who I really couldn't believe was still alive. Lots of toothless pavement dwellers and gut wrenching attacks on the senses and soul that are just 100% India.
After walking walking and walking I stumbled into the Samadhi shrine to The Mother and Aurobindo, founders of the ashram. Well. Knocked my socks off and more importantly, knocked every thought out of my head.
I just stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Such a pervasive and beautiful energy. I sat there for a while and sent out a little call for help.
Returned to the Info Centre having decided that I could still make it to Auroville and hopefully find a bed for the night.
A beaming guy told me that Mother had kept a room for me. What?
And as I sat there the phone kept ringing and people kept coming in, all turned away, many of them have been waiting for days.
I not only have a bed, but 3 and its spotlessly clean, with a lovely garden.
It costs...wait for it...70 rupees!
I'm so blessed, so happy, so grateful.
And I better get back, because the only real rule is that one needs to be in by 10pm.
Goodnight :)
Unbelievably it has only been 2 days since my last post.
This just goes to show that time is irrelevant, because over the past 48hours I've had enough going on externally and internally to fill several books.
Here's the abridged version (specifically for my hubby and parents who think I should just 'go home' ;).
So, I left you in Chennai. I passed an uneventful evening in my grimey hotel washing clothes in a dank and altogether nasty bathroom before dining on a packet of salted peanuts saved from my flight over a month ago.
I fell asleep in front of the TV (hadn't seen one in quite a while, hopefully won't see another for some time to come).
Woke up early and breakfasted with a mustachioed mob on idlis (fermented rice UFOs) and dosa (huge crispy lentil flour crepes) both served with coconut chutney and sambhar.
Felt quite at home, in the Afghanistan sense, in that I was the only woman eating out and kept myself entertained by trying to spot a man without a mustache (zero).
Also felt a tinge of empathy for the Indian male who is not allowed to look at or speak to a foreign woman without being suspected of sexual harrassment.
Then caught an auto-rick to the bus station and the world's chattiest driver insisted on covering every topic from Saddam's execution (bad) to cricket (good) and this with a difficult to understand accent at the best of times never mind over the noise of the auto-rick and all of Chennai.
Ended up on a bus to Mamallapuram that was clearly NOT the express, but had a seat and watched the fairly dry and flat Tamil Nadu landscape break free of the clutches of Chennai.
Eventually landed up in the really friendly ancient sculpted/sculpting town of Mamallapuram. Found a pretty room which turned out to be a mosquito infested nightmare... and I have the itchy bites to prove it.
Took in a LOT of really really really old temples, quite lovely, positioned on rocky hilltops with good views of the sea and such.
Was feeling very 'A Passage to India' wandering about in the burning sun, posing for dozens of Indian family photos and resting my eyes on the sensuous curves of 7th Century sculpture.
Met a sweet young man, sculptor in training like most in that dinky town.
He took me to meet his teacher and I bought quite a lot of little bits and pieces that I think are charming. Well, you'd think I was Santa Claus. These guys were SO thrilled. They thanked me endlessly and gifted me with pretty om necklaces. Apparently I'm helping fund 15 sculpture students.
So we parted ways grinning.
It really is a friendly town, with some lovely little restaurants. I particularly enjoyed a French bistro called 'Nautilus.' The locals all seem to have a naughty sense of humour and ready smiles. I appreciated this doubly after the Andamanese dourness.
The beach is wide and a bit grubby, a fishing beach primarily, but it does have the Shore Temple which is just so pretty and ancient.
That evening I went to watch the Dance Festival which happens only in January and gathers together Tamil Nadus finest Bharata Natyam dancers. This is the oldest form of dance in India and it's just gorgeous. I actually happened to pick up a novel about it en route to India which my mom and dad also read -- 'Shiva's Fire'.
I also had the good fortune of sitting next to a knowledgable Swiss fan who has been following this particular art for over 30 years.
It was interesting to hear from him how rapidly India has been transformed. He says that Chennai used to be a sleepy town with very few vehicles. Unimaginable.
Also, that rubbish, heaps of which litter absolutely every roadside and just about every surface now, was not noticeable because most of it was biodegradable. Chai served in clay cups, food wrapped in leaves and such. Now it's plastic crap everywhere. A total disaster.The price paid for India's new wealth. Though honestly the vast majority seem to be poorer than poor.
After an early breakfast this morning, which I shared with an unfortunate German father and son who had spent there 5 days in Mamallapuram in the bathroom, I took a leisurely walk to the bus station. I passed grannies and babies creating the intricate rice flour patterns that adorn thresholds to invite good luck and stave off the evil eye. It was all too lovely.
And then I got to watch the rag pickers fighting over scraps of food under the fly infested bus shelter.
Pondicherry.
No room at the inn.
I had hoped to stay at one of Aurobindo Ashrams many affiliated guesthouses.
It's not a typical ashram, rather a conglomerate of buildings scattered all over Pondi most of which house different services to the community, eg. School for Perfect Eyesight. There's no schedule, no demands, no rituals, nothing.
So the kindly man at the Info Centre gave me a meal coupon (20 rupees -- less than 50 US cents -- buys 3 hearty meals a day) and said he'd hold onto my backpack until I found something.
I enjoyed my meal, mostly because it was quiet, clean and in a lovely old French building with lofty doorways and high ceilings.
Then I traipsed around Pondi. An interesting thing, it's the only place I've been to in India where you can actually forget you're in India, granted only for a few minutes at a time and only on the 3 or so streets that run parallel to the seafront.
This is the old French Pondi. It's shady and pretty and the domain of exclusive hotels and expat abodes. When you cross the canal you're thrown brutally back into India. Is it just the contrast that makes it seem so...cruel? Or is it the ashram and all the charitable services it provides that draws the most wretched of the poor?
I had to step over a mangled old woman who I really couldn't believe was still alive. Lots of toothless pavement dwellers and gut wrenching attacks on the senses and soul that are just 100% India.
After walking walking and walking I stumbled into the Samadhi shrine to The Mother and Aurobindo, founders of the ashram. Well. Knocked my socks off and more importantly, knocked every thought out of my head.
I just stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Such a pervasive and beautiful energy. I sat there for a while and sent out a little call for help.
Returned to the Info Centre having decided that I could still make it to Auroville and hopefully find a bed for the night.
A beaming guy told me that Mother had kept a room for me. What?
And as I sat there the phone kept ringing and people kept coming in, all turned away, many of them have been waiting for days.
I not only have a bed, but 3 and its spotlessly clean, with a lovely garden.
It costs...wait for it...70 rupees!
I'm so blessed, so happy, so grateful.
And I better get back, because the only real rule is that one needs to be in by 10pm.
Goodnight :)
Comments
A representative of Auroville from USA sent your diary note of 8th January saying it is "above average". Indeed, it is!
In fact, I was amazed by your quick grasp of things at Pondicherry and the Ashram!
I am a resident of Auroville since last 15 years, originally from Ahmedabad, Gujarat, West India. If you are still in Pondicherry and/or Auroville, will be happy to invite you to my office at Town Hall which is just above the Financial Service where you will be visiting for opening the guest account. My phone: 2623 699 Office
email: aryadeep@auroville.org.in
Hope to hear!
Thank you for the invitation, I will certainly do my best to drop in.
Many thanks!
http://www.gurusoftware.com/GuruNet/RoyPosner.htm