Last night was my last time in the Mumbai office. I asked the ladies to wear saris on my last day to take pictures. I wore the same sari, but I had a new blouse stitched. I also needed lessons on how to wrap myself before going home. I brought my sari to the office and Iffat gave me a lesson on how to wrap it. I was able to do it with her help, but I need more practice on my own. One of the ladies also painted my hand in mehinde (henna). Many people told me I was ready to be a bride in my sari and mehinde. I just need a groom. It took about 45 minutes for her to apply the henna, and an hour for it to dry. I slept with it on my arm so that the color would darken and scraped it away with coconut oil this morning. The designs will last for a couple of weeks.
The team had a celebration for me and gave me gifts, including beautiful diamond and pearl jewelry that could be worn with my sari, a hand-stitched bag, and a hand-painted tray. The picture on the tray was something I've been looking for the entire time I've been here. No one knew that but me and God. The finishing touch was a beautiful shawl from Kashmir that Jaya gave me. Previously, she'd told me about her trip there with her mother to visit her brother in the army. I knew that the trip to Kashmir meant a lot to her and for her to give me something so personal was very touching.
Normally, I would be at work right now, but I'm using my final night here to pack and do last minute stuff. I bought an extra bag to take back all the things I bought, and I have just enough room.
Showing posts with label party. Show all posts
Showing posts with label party. Show all posts
Friday, April 25, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
On Saturday, our company had a party at a local hotel. Every 6 months the Mumbai office has a party to recognize exceptional performance. (Is this the same company I work for?) There is also a competition between each division that involves a skit and dance - Bollywood style. I arrived just as the performances began. They were mostly in Hindi and Anita gave me a brief synopsis at the end of each performance. I stood there and looked at the costumes and dance slightly dumbfounded since I didn’t know what else was happening. Some groups wore elaborate costumes. They announced the winner, and then the real party began. There was an open bar with both soft drinks and “hard” drinks. The music was very loud and eclectic. No slow songs – mostly popular Hindi film songs, regional songs, reggaeton, soca, rock, Shaikira (not sure of her genre). All of the music seemed to have the same basic beats. Everyone wanted to dance with me and teach me new moves. Anyone who has ever tried to teach me a dance knows how difficult that is. I grew tired and went in search of food. There was a large buffet with Indian specialties that I really enjoyed.
Later, Jaya asked me if I wanted to take a walk outside because it was very hot and smoky in the party room. The Vashi train station was across the street, and she showed me the terminal and the tracks. One of the trains stopped on the tracks before heading to the depot. We walked around one of the cars which was designated for women. Typically, the train has 9 cars. One of the cars is designated for the handicapped and three of the cars are specifically for women. Women can also ride in the male cars, but it is safer to ride in the women only car if she’s not with a man. A police officer travels in the cars with women to protect them. There are a lot of rules in place to “protect” females, such as no work after 10:30pm. After our excursion to the train station, I was ready to head back to my new hotel.
On Sunday, I met Sarika at the bowling alley at the mall with her friends. She and I went shopping for a sari later. Sunday was a holiday, and the people in the office planned to dress up on Monday – women in saris and men in kurtas. We went to a couple of shops before I found one that I wanted to purchase. I also had to buy a blouse and petticoat. The final touch was the bangles that are traditionally worn. Apparently, I’m a giant here, because I could not get my hand through any of the bangles. They pulled out the largest size and it still would not fit. I always thought my hands were normal and proportional to my body. I could wear the bracelets with elastic or openings, but I didn’t see any that I liked that would match my sari. Oh well.
I’ve adjusted to working at night. In fact, my body stays on that schedule even when I’m not working. I might get into bed around 11, but I don’t actually go to sleep until after 3am. Sometimes, I watch TV or surf the net until I get sleepy. I wake up earlier on Sundays if I have something to do, but I still go to sleep late. Last night, I started reading The Kite Runner when I got into bed. I put it down around 2am so I could sleep. I laid in the dark for a while trying to fall asleep, but it just wasn’t happening. I turned the light back on and continued reading until I finished the book around 6am. My company has a small library that allows employees to check out 1 book for 7 days. My next book is Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie, a local author who has won many awards worldwide. I am mostly reading books written by or about Indians, but The Kite Runner is about Afghanistan. Both The Namesake and The Kite Runner were made into major motion pictures. I enjoyed The Kite Runner immensely, not just because it was a good story, but it also made this region of the world seem more real to me. You always hear about Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India on the news and only think of it as someplace on the other side of the globe far from home. But those places are real and real people live there. Some of the people are old enough to remember when life was peaceful, but there is a whole generation (my generation) that has never known peace in their homeland. War, poverty, and turmoil are normal for them because they haven’t known anything else for nearly 30 years.
It is hard to be surrounded by so much poverty on a daily basis. These people are so poor that they relieve themselves on the side of the road because they have nowhere else to go. On my way to work, I see little boys squatting in the dirt with a bucket of water next to them for rinsing off when they are done. It is so common that people continue on their way and don’t even seem to pay attention. I can’t imagine my brother or nephews pooping for all the world to see them. On my way from work each morning, I see whole families sleeping on the sidewalks, on top of cars, and other unlikely places. Some of them have the luxury of sleeping on a piece of plywood supported by cinder blocks. I see shopkeepers sleeping in chairs in their stores and rickshaw drivers sleeping in the back of the rickshaws. An auto rickshaw is basically a scooter with training wheels and a frame that allows people to sit across the back. It is half the size of a compact car. How can grown men actually sleep back there? I wonder if the shopkeepers and the drivers sleep there to protect their livelihoods or is it because they don’t have anywhere else to go. It’s hard to see these things constantly without becoming desensitized to the plight of fellow humans.
I asked Anita and Yagnesh if the children I see on the streets in the lower castes will ever be able to leave that lifestyle or are they doomed to live a life of poverty like their parents forever. They confirmed what I feared. A small number of them are given the opportunity through education to escape, but the rags to riches tales are very few.
Later, Jaya asked me if I wanted to take a walk outside because it was very hot and smoky in the party room. The Vashi train station was across the street, and she showed me the terminal and the tracks. One of the trains stopped on the tracks before heading to the depot. We walked around one of the cars which was designated for women. Typically, the train has 9 cars. One of the cars is designated for the handicapped and three of the cars are specifically for women. Women can also ride in the male cars, but it is safer to ride in the women only car if she’s not with a man. A police officer travels in the cars with women to protect them. There are a lot of rules in place to “protect” females, such as no work after 10:30pm. After our excursion to the train station, I was ready to head back to my new hotel.
On Sunday, I met Sarika at the bowling alley at the mall with her friends. She and I went shopping for a sari later. Sunday was a holiday, and the people in the office planned to dress up on Monday – women in saris and men in kurtas. We went to a couple of shops before I found one that I wanted to purchase. I also had to buy a blouse and petticoat. The final touch was the bangles that are traditionally worn. Apparently, I’m a giant here, because I could not get my hand through any of the bangles. They pulled out the largest size and it still would not fit. I always thought my hands were normal and proportional to my body. I could wear the bracelets with elastic or openings, but I didn’t see any that I liked that would match my sari. Oh well.
I’ve adjusted to working at night. In fact, my body stays on that schedule even when I’m not working. I might get into bed around 11, but I don’t actually go to sleep until after 3am. Sometimes, I watch TV or surf the net until I get sleepy. I wake up earlier on Sundays if I have something to do, but I still go to sleep late. Last night, I started reading The Kite Runner when I got into bed. I put it down around 2am so I could sleep. I laid in the dark for a while trying to fall asleep, but it just wasn’t happening. I turned the light back on and continued reading until I finished the book around 6am. My company has a small library that allows employees to check out 1 book for 7 days. My next book is Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie, a local author who has won many awards worldwide. I am mostly reading books written by or about Indians, but The Kite Runner is about Afghanistan. Both The Namesake and The Kite Runner were made into major motion pictures. I enjoyed The Kite Runner immensely, not just because it was a good story, but it also made this region of the world seem more real to me. You always hear about Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India on the news and only think of it as someplace on the other side of the globe far from home. But those places are real and real people live there. Some of the people are old enough to remember when life was peaceful, but there is a whole generation (my generation) that has never known peace in their homeland. War, poverty, and turmoil are normal for them because they haven’t known anything else for nearly 30 years.
It is hard to be surrounded by so much poverty on a daily basis. These people are so poor that they relieve themselves on the side of the road because they have nowhere else to go. On my way to work, I see little boys squatting in the dirt with a bucket of water next to them for rinsing off when they are done. It is so common that people continue on their way and don’t even seem to pay attention. I can’t imagine my brother or nephews pooping for all the world to see them. On my way from work each morning, I see whole families sleeping on the sidewalks, on top of cars, and other unlikely places. Some of them have the luxury of sleeping on a piece of plywood supported by cinder blocks. I see shopkeepers sleeping in chairs in their stores and rickshaw drivers sleeping in the back of the rickshaws. An auto rickshaw is basically a scooter with training wheels and a frame that allows people to sit across the back. It is half the size of a compact car. How can grown men actually sleep back there? I wonder if the shopkeepers and the drivers sleep there to protect their livelihoods or is it because they don’t have anywhere else to go. It’s hard to see these things constantly without becoming desensitized to the plight of fellow humans.
I asked Anita and Yagnesh if the children I see on the streets in the lower castes will ever be able to leave that lifestyle or are they doomed to live a life of poverty like their parents forever. They confirmed what I feared. A small number of them are given the opportunity through education to escape, but the rags to riches tales are very few.
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