A couple of weeks ago, I was in the car with my cousin’s wife T, on our way to visit the Qutb Minar (the world’s tallest brick minaret, whose original purpose – aside from calling Muslims to prayer – is still a subject of debate). While driving, she asked me the inevitable question (I say inevitable because whenever I come to India, everyone, at one point or another, asks) of whether I planned to marry again. As though, if I said yes, I could just snap my fingers and the groom to be would appear. (Ha!) This of course led to a conversation about arranged marriages (apparently, I could snap my fingers and a groom could appear). I explained to her that I have always (and still do) recoil at the idea of arranged marriages, but have always been curious about how they work.
T married my cousin in an arranged marriage about ten years ago and after the wedding moved into my cousin’s apartment with his parents. So, not only did she hardly know her groom, she had to get to know him amidst living with my aunt and uncle. Apparently, this is not an unusual situation. She explained to me that at times it could be difficult, since she not only had to learn how to navigate marriage, but also to figure out the expectations of her in-laws. And I thought the first year of a marriage where you are “in love” is hard!
When we talked more about arranged marriages, I explained to her that I just could not understand how anyone could commit to spending their life (in India the divorce rate is about 1 in 100 marriages up from about 8 in 1000) with someone they barely know. What if they have a personality trait that you hate, they treat their parents’ badly, they have a nasty temper, you don’t agree about how to spend money etc. - all the things that you might consider a deal breaker while dating – what do you do?
T explained to me that in many marriages she has seen the two people are together because of a commitment and by the time you know anything that might be a dealbreaker, you probably have children together. It is not unusual, in marriages she has seen, for the husband and wife to have nothing else in common and to not really speak to each other.
I asked her whether when she met my cousin they talked about each other’s expectations of a marriage. For example, do you ask them what they expect out of marriage, out of a partnership. She said no. Our concept of marriage, as a partnership with someone you share common interests is “foreign” here. The idea of marriage is simply one of commitment and culture. If you are fortunate, then you like the person you are married to (or you may like them over time, or you put up with them and vice versa) and you create a partnership, maybe. But that isn’t the end goal. The end goal is to get married and have children, so that when you get older you have someone to care for and care for you. To not be married by 30 is still odd (although not so odd in larger cities) and to be unmarried at my age is unheard of.
I had always thought that arranged marriages worked because both people hadn’t dated so you had no one to compare your spouse to and your expectations of a person were not marred by comparing them to someone else you had dated (he’s nice, but not as funny as the last guy I dated). Instead, it seems that it isn’t just that your expectations of what your spouse should be like but also what a marriage is for are quite different.
What do you think?
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
Diwali – It’s all about the Crackers
I celebrated Diwali with my family in Ahmedabad, Gujurat (which I have now been told is in Western India and Northwest India, as I’ve always said). It’s the first Diwali I’ve spent in India since I was about 7 – which I don’t really remember.
Diwali is the biggest holiday in India – like Christmas and New Year’s combined. It’s a five-day festival in Hinduism, Jainism and Sikhism and marks the beginning of a new year (based on the lunar calendar). In Delhi, we had two days off to celebrate, but in some places, like Gujurat, the holiday is for the entire 5 days after the New Year.
The name Diwali is a contraction of the word "Deepavali", which translates into row of lamps. Diwali involves the lighting of small clay lamps filled with oil to signify the triumph of good over evil. In each legend, myth and story of Diwali, lies the significance of the victory of good over evil; and it is with lighting of homes that Diwali is used to signify unto light — the light that empowers us to commit ourselves to good deeds, that which brings us closer to the light of higher knowledge dispelling all ignorance. (Thanks Wikipedia)
Living in the US, we always acknowledged Diwali and celebrated with a puja, a religious celebration, and getting gifts from mom, but nothing quite as elaborate as I saw this year. First, I was told that this is Diwali season, which requires a whole new set of snack type foods in everyone’s homes – for when people come to visit. There’s dhai vada and kachori chaat and Indian sweets galore (I’m not a fan – way too sweet for me) – and if you want to know what these are – try your local hole in the wall Indian restaurant. While I love the food items – for me this meant that as I visited the houses of 4 of my uncles and 2 of my cousins, and one of my cousins’ in-laws’ homes (all within 3 ½ days) – I had these foods at each house.
In addition, on Friday afternoon – or the third day of Diwali, at the appropriate appointed hour (astrological timings are very important in Hinduism), I attended Laxmi puja (wearing my second sari of the week – more on that another time, but putting these on and wearing them is not for the faint of heart). Goddess Laxmi is the Goddess of Wealth and Prosperity and is celebrated at the end of the old year/beginning of the new year – thanking her for her blessings in the past year and asking for those blessings to continue in the new year. It is said that the Goddess like cleanliness and hardworking people and will not come to visit and bless any home that is not clean or contains lazy people. (I wonder if she looks at clutter as unclean? And what happens if housecleaner refuses to come that day?)
In any event, we receive the blessings of God and that’s when the fireworks began. Literally. And they seemed to never end. Fireworks or Crackers, as they are known here, can be purchased in all forms – not just your simple sparklers (which are used here to light other firecrackers and not to be enjoyed on their own) and small rocket bombs. Oh no, we had things called bullet bombs, 600 beats firecrackers, flowerpedals (or large mountain of fire), chakra – which were spinning circle of fire and sparks, Chilli Bombs, Laxmi Bombs – well, you get the idea. There are no town or city sponsored fireworks, each individual household does their own – and apparently, there are no noise or pollution restrictions – so on Friday night, fireworks were ongoing straight in to the wee morning hours and on Saturday, the actual night of New Years – into Sunday morning – they never stopped. It was really cool to see various parts of the cityscape light up with fireworks on all sides, but I must admit the first time I heard a cracker go off, I ducked and looked around. I’m from Baltimore – and there, those sounds only come from gun shots!
In all, it was a nice to see my family and experience Diwali in a whole new way.
Diwali is the biggest holiday in India – like Christmas and New Year’s combined. It’s a five-day festival in Hinduism, Jainism and Sikhism and marks the beginning of a new year (based on the lunar calendar). In Delhi, we had two days off to celebrate, but in some places, like Gujurat, the holiday is for the entire 5 days after the New Year.
The name Diwali is a contraction of the word "Deepavali", which translates into row of lamps. Diwali involves the lighting of small clay lamps filled with oil to signify the triumph of good over evil. In each legend, myth and story of Diwali, lies the significance of the victory of good over evil; and it is with lighting of homes that Diwali is used to signify unto light — the light that empowers us to commit ourselves to good deeds, that which brings us closer to the light of higher knowledge dispelling all ignorance. (Thanks Wikipedia)
Living in the US, we always acknowledged Diwali and celebrated with a puja, a religious celebration, and getting gifts from mom, but nothing quite as elaborate as I saw this year. First, I was told that this is Diwali season, which requires a whole new set of snack type foods in everyone’s homes – for when people come to visit. There’s dhai vada and kachori chaat and Indian sweets galore (I’m not a fan – way too sweet for me) – and if you want to know what these are – try your local hole in the wall Indian restaurant. While I love the food items – for me this meant that as I visited the houses of 4 of my uncles and 2 of my cousins, and one of my cousins’ in-laws’ homes (all within 3 ½ days) – I had these foods at each house.
In addition, on Friday afternoon – or the third day of Diwali, at the appropriate appointed hour (astrological timings are very important in Hinduism), I attended Laxmi puja (wearing my second sari of the week – more on that another time, but putting these on and wearing them is not for the faint of heart). Goddess Laxmi is the Goddess of Wealth and Prosperity and is celebrated at the end of the old year/beginning of the new year – thanking her for her blessings in the past year and asking for those blessings to continue in the new year. It is said that the Goddess like cleanliness and hardworking people and will not come to visit and bless any home that is not clean or contains lazy people. (I wonder if she looks at clutter as unclean? And what happens if housecleaner refuses to come that day?)
In any event, we receive the blessings of God and that’s when the fireworks began. Literally. And they seemed to never end. Fireworks or Crackers, as they are known here, can be purchased in all forms – not just your simple sparklers (which are used here to light other firecrackers and not to be enjoyed on their own) and small rocket bombs. Oh no, we had things called bullet bombs, 600 beats firecrackers, flowerpedals (or large mountain of fire), chakra – which were spinning circle of fire and sparks, Chilli Bombs, Laxmi Bombs – well, you get the idea. There are no town or city sponsored fireworks, each individual household does their own – and apparently, there are no noise or pollution restrictions – so on Friday night, fireworks were ongoing straight in to the wee morning hours and on Saturday, the actual night of New Years – into Sunday morning – they never stopped. It was really cool to see various parts of the cityscape light up with fireworks on all sides, but I must admit the first time I heard a cracker go off, I ducked and looked around. I’m from Baltimore – and there, those sounds only come from gun shots!
In all, it was a nice to see my family and experience Diwali in a whole new way.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Shakalaka Baby
A few years ago, I saw the musical “Bombay Dreams” in London. It’s a simple story created in the mirror of Bollywood movies where a poor man from the slums falls in love with a rich girl whose father is a movie director but is also the fiancé of another man.
Those of you who know anything about Bollywood know that the bulk of the movies produced are formulaic – romance between a boy from the wrong side of the tracks with rich girl, whose father dislikes the boy on sight. There is drama abound with at least 3 or 4 musical sequences, one of which involves the boy and girl being stuck in the rain while the poor girl is stuck in a white outfit of sorts. Despite this, the movies are quite chaste and kissing in movies has only just started in the last couple of years and is quite minimal. You NEVER see anything more than that, although it may be hinted at in the most obvious of ways (girl and boy come out of barn pulling hay out of their hair and clothing etc.)
I was thinking about the musical (and its catchy but very cheesy tune, Shakalaka Baby - http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=shakalaka+baby&docid=278041985602&mid=00A452628FB5CECE678E00A452628FB5CECE678E&FORM=LKVR13#) last night on my way to another musical. This one was called Zangoora – about a prince rescued at the last minute during the murder of his parents, only to grow up as a gypsy - being shown at a new venue called the Kingdom of Dreams. Zangoora ultimately falls in love with a princess and has to battle evil on his way to regain his rightful title. It is marketed as India’s answer to Broadway and the Biggest Bollywood Musical Ever!
Now the truth is that musical theater is not very popular as far as I can tell, so I’m not sure there is a need to answer “Broadway”. And, I’m not sure how you qualify as the biggest Bollywood Musical, but – the show was entertaining, even if the acting and storyline were a bit cheesy. It delivered a fun evening and included a number of songs that have been popular through the ages, including “Laila” from one of my favorite movies “Qurbaani” which I saw over and over and over again when I was a child (and one whose song lyrics I still pretty much know by heart).
While I enjoy seeing action/adventure movies or ridiculous rom/coms or comedies in general, I can wait to see those movies when they come to HBO. I generally go to the movies to see something that is going to make me think or say something about the human condition or the human spirit. Movies like that are not the norm in India. I find that most movies here are made to provide an escape from the everyday. Lighthearted or action films where disbelief is constantly surrendered – since the plot and dialogue are often incredulous and people don’t just break into musical sequences. I think this makes sense here. Movies have for a long time been the sole source of entertainment for the common man. Television was not something everyone could afford and only the wealthy got “channels” or cable. Movies were cheap and new movies are and were constantly released. So even the day laborer who worked in the fields for wages could afford a weekly break to the movies. In a place where life can be difficult and the gap between the haves and have nots can be so great – movies became the one thing that all people could share. And why would you pay to go see a depressing movie about war – when for a relatively paltry sum, you can spend three hours in a world that looks like yours but is airy and fun – and where, when it’s over, you can come out whistling Shakalaka Baby.
Those of you who know anything about Bollywood know that the bulk of the movies produced are formulaic – romance between a boy from the wrong side of the tracks with rich girl, whose father dislikes the boy on sight. There is drama abound with at least 3 or 4 musical sequences, one of which involves the boy and girl being stuck in the rain while the poor girl is stuck in a white outfit of sorts. Despite this, the movies are quite chaste and kissing in movies has only just started in the last couple of years and is quite minimal. You NEVER see anything more than that, although it may be hinted at in the most obvious of ways (girl and boy come out of barn pulling hay out of their hair and clothing etc.)
I was thinking about the musical (and its catchy but very cheesy tune, Shakalaka Baby - http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=shakalaka+baby&docid=278041985602&mid=00A452628FB5CECE678E00A452628FB5CECE678E&FORM=LKVR13#) last night on my way to another musical. This one was called Zangoora – about a prince rescued at the last minute during the murder of his parents, only to grow up as a gypsy - being shown at a new venue called the Kingdom of Dreams. Zangoora ultimately falls in love with a princess and has to battle evil on his way to regain his rightful title. It is marketed as India’s answer to Broadway and the Biggest Bollywood Musical Ever!
Now the truth is that musical theater is not very popular as far as I can tell, so I’m not sure there is a need to answer “Broadway”. And, I’m not sure how you qualify as the biggest Bollywood Musical, but – the show was entertaining, even if the acting and storyline were a bit cheesy. It delivered a fun evening and included a number of songs that have been popular through the ages, including “Laila” from one of my favorite movies “Qurbaani” which I saw over and over and over again when I was a child (and one whose song lyrics I still pretty much know by heart).
While I enjoy seeing action/adventure movies or ridiculous rom/coms or comedies in general, I can wait to see those movies when they come to HBO. I generally go to the movies to see something that is going to make me think or say something about the human condition or the human spirit. Movies like that are not the norm in India. I find that most movies here are made to provide an escape from the everyday. Lighthearted or action films where disbelief is constantly surrendered – since the plot and dialogue are often incredulous and people don’t just break into musical sequences. I think this makes sense here. Movies have for a long time been the sole source of entertainment for the common man. Television was not something everyone could afford and only the wealthy got “channels” or cable. Movies were cheap and new movies are and were constantly released. So even the day laborer who worked in the fields for wages could afford a weekly break to the movies. In a place where life can be difficult and the gap between the haves and have nots can be so great – movies became the one thing that all people could share. And why would you pay to go see a depressing movie about war – when for a relatively paltry sum, you can spend three hours in a world that looks like yours but is airy and fun – and where, when it’s over, you can come out whistling Shakalaka Baby.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
My blond weekend.
No, I didn’t dye my hair – although it would have been interesting to see what kind of looks I would have gotten if I had! And apologies to all my blond friends – who are extraordinarily intelligent, and defy the stereotype.
I consider myself to be pretty organized – in this case – not so much. A couple weekends ago, I organized a trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal with my co-workers – who were then my friends (now, maybe not so much). To protect their privacy, as they play a role in my blog, they will be known only as C, L and S.
In any event, we all planned to go to Agra at the full moon so we could get tickets to see the Taj Mahal by moonlight. I was tasked with getting our train tickets, re-organizing our hotel and getting the tickets to view the Taj Mahal by moonlight. So, the week before, I did the needful (this is seriously a phrase used to indicate you are doing or have done a task – please, please do not start using this).
Booking train tickets has become more convenient than it used to be – you can now do this on-line rather than going to the station. Train travel in India is very common, inexpensive and very convenient. Far more common then flying to destinations – even if train travel would require 10-12 hours and a flight would be one or two hours. Trains are really how the masses travel – as would become all too obvious to me and my traveling companions.
My friends and I arrived at the train station at 6:45 Saturday morning for our train – only to learn that we had been waitlisted – something which was actually readily apparent from the print-out of our online tickets – which I had failed to notice. Trains in India commonly overbook because people will book themselves on several trains and cancel (at a very very nominal cost), so overbooking allows trains to fill up. If you are waitlisted, you need to check to see if you have gotten off the wait list about 4 hours in advance. We did not.
In my defense, when I booked the tickets, I checked the box that said that if all of us couldn’t be in the same compartment then I did not want to book. I would have thought that being waitlisted would mean that none of us were in the same (or any) compartment so that my booking would not have gotten through. Lesson learned – and a fair warning to any of you who might come to travel here.
In any event, after learning that we were waitlisted, we tried to find the ticketing officer for the train to see what could be done. Meanwhile, L and I ran to the ticket office to see if we could buy tickets for a different class. Tickets for trains are sold in a variety of classes – you can see the various classes and accommodations at the attached - http://www.indiamarks.com/guide/A-Guide-to-Traveling-by-Train-in-India/1144 - and no, it is not out of date.
Since my Hindi is poor and the guy at the ticket office spoke no English, I decided to just get tickets – any class – so we could get on the train before it left the station – and sort out any issues once we got going. This meant that we had general class tickets – with no assigned seats. In a train with a waitlist – this apparently means that you can travel on the train – but you will be standing for the duration of your trip, unless you can find an area to squeeze into a seat. We had no such luck. Luckily the trip was only for a few hours – unfortunately, it was very crowded. They say trains are a mirror into the real India – if that’s the case, India is dirty, smelly and crowded. I had seen this side of India and trains before, but C, L and S had not. It was not their most pleasant experience.
We were grateful to get off the train in Agra and made our way to the hotel. Where we were subject to an upgradation (yes, this is also really a word) – in other words, we were upgraded from two rooms to sharing the Presidential Suite – SWEET! Maybe my luck was changing. The room was great – spacious, with lots of windows, and for some strange reason about a dozen sets of glasses in the dining area.
After settling in, and washing off some of the trauma of the train ride, we set off for Fatepur Sikri – which is located about 20 kilometers (or 40 minutes) outside of Agra. It was the capital of the Mughal Empire for Emperor Akbar – built in joyous celebration of the birth of his son. Akbar, had about 300 wives, officially, 3 main wives and then a huge harem – I’m not sure how he found time to rule – but he was without an heir until he received the blessing of a Sufi fakir from the area. Fatepur Sikri is a beautifully preserved city from the 16th Century. Just outside is Jama Masjid – the largest mosque in India.
We returned back to the hotel and got ready to see the Taj at night. Security around the Taj is pretty tight – you are not supposed to take cell phones in and you are searched before you enter the monument grounds. As such, we decided we would take very little in with us. I thought it made sense to take almost nothing – and so, as I was walking out the door of our room, C asked me if I had my passport and the tickets. Seeing as I was having a blond weekend, I had forgotten both. I thanked C and remarked that if I had forgotten the tickets, that my name would be mud with all of them. I hurried back and grabbed them and we drove off to the Taj. As we were getting checked in, I realized that what I had grabbed was not the tickets, but the receipt for the tickets. Seriously! I couldn’t believe it. I ran out of the building and raced back to the hotel for the tickets. Luckily I arrived back in plenty of time WITH the tickets so we could see the Taj at night.
Despite all of my mishaps, the viewing was beautiful and I was actually able to get my camera’s night setting feature to work – so pictures will follow.
I have been to the Taj Mahal a few times previously – but it never ceases to take my breath away. It is a mausoleum built by Shah Jahan (also a Mughal Emperor and the grandson of Akbar) for his wife Mumtaz, who died giving birth to their 14th child. It is beautiful in its symmetry, the intricate work and structure. From a distance it is simply majestic. From close by you can appreciate the craftsmanship and intricate work that was required. It is easy to see why it is considered one of the Seven Wonders of the World. Although you cannot see the details at night, and you cannot get very close, you are able to see the monument without all of the crowds and you can imagine how it must have appeared to the Emperor seeing it from Agra Fort (where is son imprisoned him for his last years).
It was decided on this trip, that I could never be in charge of any trip related organizing or hold any tickets. I can’t say I blame them.
I consider myself to be pretty organized – in this case – not so much. A couple weekends ago, I organized a trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal with my co-workers – who were then my friends (now, maybe not so much). To protect their privacy, as they play a role in my blog, they will be known only as C, L and S.
In any event, we all planned to go to Agra at the full moon so we could get tickets to see the Taj Mahal by moonlight. I was tasked with getting our train tickets, re-organizing our hotel and getting the tickets to view the Taj Mahal by moonlight. So, the week before, I did the needful (this is seriously a phrase used to indicate you are doing or have done a task – please, please do not start using this).
Booking train tickets has become more convenient than it used to be – you can now do this on-line rather than going to the station. Train travel in India is very common, inexpensive and very convenient. Far more common then flying to destinations – even if train travel would require 10-12 hours and a flight would be one or two hours. Trains are really how the masses travel – as would become all too obvious to me and my traveling companions.
My friends and I arrived at the train station at 6:45 Saturday morning for our train – only to learn that we had been waitlisted – something which was actually readily apparent from the print-out of our online tickets – which I had failed to notice. Trains in India commonly overbook because people will book themselves on several trains and cancel (at a very very nominal cost), so overbooking allows trains to fill up. If you are waitlisted, you need to check to see if you have gotten off the wait list about 4 hours in advance. We did not.
In my defense, when I booked the tickets, I checked the box that said that if all of us couldn’t be in the same compartment then I did not want to book. I would have thought that being waitlisted would mean that none of us were in the same (or any) compartment so that my booking would not have gotten through. Lesson learned – and a fair warning to any of you who might come to travel here.
In any event, after learning that we were waitlisted, we tried to find the ticketing officer for the train to see what could be done. Meanwhile, L and I ran to the ticket office to see if we could buy tickets for a different class. Tickets for trains are sold in a variety of classes – you can see the various classes and accommodations at the attached - http://www.indiamarks.com/guide/A-Guide-to-Traveling-by-Train-in-India/1144 - and no, it is not out of date.
Since my Hindi is poor and the guy at the ticket office spoke no English, I decided to just get tickets – any class – so we could get on the train before it left the station – and sort out any issues once we got going. This meant that we had general class tickets – with no assigned seats. In a train with a waitlist – this apparently means that you can travel on the train – but you will be standing for the duration of your trip, unless you can find an area to squeeze into a seat. We had no such luck. Luckily the trip was only for a few hours – unfortunately, it was very crowded. They say trains are a mirror into the real India – if that’s the case, India is dirty, smelly and crowded. I had seen this side of India and trains before, but C, L and S had not. It was not their most pleasant experience.
We were grateful to get off the train in Agra and made our way to the hotel. Where we were subject to an upgradation (yes, this is also really a word) – in other words, we were upgraded from two rooms to sharing the Presidential Suite – SWEET! Maybe my luck was changing. The room was great – spacious, with lots of windows, and for some strange reason about a dozen sets of glasses in the dining area.
After settling in, and washing off some of the trauma of the train ride, we set off for Fatepur Sikri – which is located about 20 kilometers (or 40 minutes) outside of Agra. It was the capital of the Mughal Empire for Emperor Akbar – built in joyous celebration of the birth of his son. Akbar, had about 300 wives, officially, 3 main wives and then a huge harem – I’m not sure how he found time to rule – but he was without an heir until he received the blessing of a Sufi fakir from the area. Fatepur Sikri is a beautifully preserved city from the 16th Century. Just outside is Jama Masjid – the largest mosque in India.
We returned back to the hotel and got ready to see the Taj at night. Security around the Taj is pretty tight – you are not supposed to take cell phones in and you are searched before you enter the monument grounds. As such, we decided we would take very little in with us. I thought it made sense to take almost nothing – and so, as I was walking out the door of our room, C asked me if I had my passport and the tickets. Seeing as I was having a blond weekend, I had forgotten both. I thanked C and remarked that if I had forgotten the tickets, that my name would be mud with all of them. I hurried back and grabbed them and we drove off to the Taj. As we were getting checked in, I realized that what I had grabbed was not the tickets, but the receipt for the tickets. Seriously! I couldn’t believe it. I ran out of the building and raced back to the hotel for the tickets. Luckily I arrived back in plenty of time WITH the tickets so we could see the Taj at night.
Despite all of my mishaps, the viewing was beautiful and I was actually able to get my camera’s night setting feature to work – so pictures will follow.
I have been to the Taj Mahal a few times previously – but it never ceases to take my breath away. It is a mausoleum built by Shah Jahan (also a Mughal Emperor and the grandson of Akbar) for his wife Mumtaz, who died giving birth to their 14th child. It is beautiful in its symmetry, the intricate work and structure. From a distance it is simply majestic. From close by you can appreciate the craftsmanship and intricate work that was required. It is easy to see why it is considered one of the Seven Wonders of the World. Although you cannot see the details at night, and you cannot get very close, you are able to see the monument without all of the crowds and you can imagine how it must have appeared to the Emperor seeing it from Agra Fort (where is son imprisoned him for his last years).
It was decided on this trip, that I could never be in charge of any trip related organizing or hold any tickets. I can’t say I blame them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)