Buddha Statue

Buddha Statue in Hussain Sagar, a lake in central Hyderabad.

We took a ferry out to the the statue.

Close-up of Buddha.

Taken from the ferry.

A tile mosaic next to the kiddie pool at Lambini Park, near the Buddha Statue.

Things here are steadily getting better. I've decided that I need to focus more on my writing because I've been slacking for a while. I think that people are happiest when they are pursuing those things they are passionate about. My Hindi class is becoming more interesting now that I basically know the script and we are starting to learn verbs other than "to be." I have a bike, so I have been riding around campus and it is wonderful. Talking to friends through the medium of the internet is weird because I usually only have a vague understanding of what is going on in their lives. Reading their blogs is bizarre, too. Sometimes it sounds like their lives are falling apart, and I don't know how or why and I want to help them, or at least talk to them about it. The phone cards I've bought here don't last very long and many of my phone conversations are abruptly ended. Basically, I think I'm pulling out of the little emotional trench I was in, but I still miss my life in the States.

I've got to start writing more about India and less about people in the group and what they think of me. I am missing the country. Here I am, outside of the city, in the SIP Guest House, with other white kids, on the internet, watching American movies, or in my room, which is even more isolated. No windows to see India outside. I could be anywhere. Maybe I'm not actually in India and this is all some illusion. Like the Truman Show. This is a movie set. I should go to GOPS. At least then I would be surrounded by Indians.

What is the "real" India? It's a question that has been bothering me. Is there a "real" India? What defines "real?" Are the lives that rich people live less real? It seems so. It seems so American. But maybe I'm being too critical. There have always been wealthy people here. Is it the blatant adoption of western culture that makes it less "real?" Everything that exists is real. Maybe "genuine" is the word I should use. But what are words if not culture? My words can't be used to describe India. Hindi cannot even be used to describe India. Maybe the concept of India is too big. India is more of a continent than a country. And I haven't seen most of it. Hell, I haven't seen much of Andra Pradesh, or of Hyderabad. Everything here is so vague and abstract. There is so much that I will never see. And the details are so hard to retain. The language doesn't stay in my head. For example, we went to a Krishna temple yesterday and there were these three ecstatic statues and I cannot remember their story or names.

The problem is that I have spent too much time in one area of Hyderabad. We grasp at the familiar within the unfamiliar. Banjara Hills. The rich area of the city. I am so tired of Banjara Hills. We shop there, eat there, go to clubs there (although I don't think I'll be doing that anytime soon), do everything there. The Hyderabad Central Mall. Never going there again. A western-style mall. Weird.

I'm going to explore the other side of the city. Even if it takes 2 hours to get there, I will go. I will leave early in the morning. I will take a boat out in the lake to see the Buddha statue in the middle of the water. I will weather torrential rain and swarms of mosquitoes. This is my life. And I will share it with like-minded people. They exist. I know it.

Janmashtami, Krishna's Birthday

We went to a temple dedicated to Krishna in Abids (a neighborhood in central Hyderabad). Because it was Krishna's birthday, they had a lot of special ceremonies going on. It was a lot of fun. I tried to take more photos of people because I realized that most of my photos are of objects. Anyway, here goes:







They collected our shoes before we entered the temple.




Selling butter outside temple. Baby Krishna liked to steal butter and eat it, so it is symbolic of him.








Entrance to the temple.




Sign at entrance.




Statues inside temple. I can't remember what they symbolize.




Krishna and his wife.




Priest offering fire to worshippers. They touch the top of the fire and rub it over their heads.






An awesome painting! I think the cat/man is Shiva.




Women making garlands of carnations.




Men singing and playing tabla and harmonium. They sing the "Hare Krishna" song.




Women lined-up at the altar.




Devotee prostrating before the altar.




Me, looking somewhat perturbed. I don't know why. I thought the temple was really cool!




Devotees outside the temple.




Megan.





Christine, Bridget, Mae and Claire.



This peacock reminded me of the metal peacocks we had next to our front door when I was little.





A ceremony at Shilparamam (where we went after leaving the temple) where little kids try to break the pot filled with flowers with a stick (like a pinata).

Post-Colonial Woman, an Introduction

Kamala Das says, “You live for that person,
the sharer of your pain.”
Search for him.
He is man.
“She is incomplete without man.”

Man is what I lack?
Or something more lost,
folded into wrinkled past?
Can you, a man,
return the lost bits,
or sew near-matching
patches?

Which you-man?
“Would you like to complete me?
Quick if you love
STOP.
No love.
Just clean
commitment.

I need you.
to swallow capsules of pain,
enclosed in transparent,
hermetic bubbles,
risk communication.

Kamala Das is ancient beauty
in her “dupatta”
(or is it “hijāb”?).

I almost set myself afire
on the roof outside
where no one can see me
smoking away my youth.

Covered against malaria,
bird flu and japanese encephalitis,
obviously not accustomed to
demure female adornment.

Heavy breeze envelops
cigarette in dupatta
and “shit!” it’s burning.

2 am and nothing shares
this sort of pain,
melting fingers and cloth.

More Golconda Fort Photos.

Ryan.

Ryan

See the cat in the lower left corner?

More photos.

Taken from the back of an autorickshaw.

All quiet on the guest house front.

Most of the people in the group went on trips to various places relatively nearby. So I've been kind of bored this weekend. The group of people I thought I was friends with planned a trip and never told me about it until right before they all left. Yeah. Wherever you go, there you are. I was really depressed about it for a while (feeling excluded and thinking that everyone hated me) but then I thought about it and I really wouldn't want to spend a total of 32 hours on a bus and they went to Visakhatpatam, which is on the coast and is totally flooded because of the monsoon. And there are people I like who also got left behind, so to speak, and I think it is really lame to plan a trip and not invite everyone. I do realize that everyone in the group can't go on such a trip, but I would at least invite everyone I was friends with. But then again, it seems blatantly obvious that they don't consider me a friend. This whole social structure is fucked-up and all too reminiscent of junior high. As usual, I feel remarkably different than everyone else and I am overly-sensitive and my expectations are too high. But really, am I crazy? I have been hanging out with this group of people for the duration of this trip. Is it too much to expect that they would include me? This is childish and I can't believe I'm letting it hurt me so much, but it does. I need to stop writing, because I'm starting to get depressed again. But DON'T WORRY. Jesus, that's all I need! (I'm NOT saying that I need Jesus).

The Latest

Turns out, I got to stay in the SIP guest house with most of the other students in my group. I traded rooms with a girl who wanted to live in the women's dorm. I have a single, which is good, except it only has one window that is boarded up because there is an air conditioner in the window. So basically, I live in a hole. I'm going to see if I can change that by removing the board. But other than that, I like my room.

We went to Shilparamam today. It's a permanent craft village, where local artisans set up booths to sell their wares. It was one of the better shopping experiences I've had in India, if only because it wasn't crowded. I didn't buy anything, but it was fun.

Blah.

The last few days have been weird. We all went to a club last night and there were lots of sleazy Indian guys there. It has been raining here for what feels like the last week. I guess this is monsoon season. Trying to keep my spirits up. I move into the women's dorm tomorrow.

Guess which collection these will be in.

Some Indian guys being silly.