Street Fare

It's safe to say, though maybe not safe to eat, the best meals I have had here came off the street. Many of the meals at MCC or at some of the restaurants have been very good, however, they have not been dirt cheap. Taking the 250 Rs. I was alotted the other afternoon, I stopped by three street stalls and bought one pakora, a somasa, and a cup of coffee, all totalling 10 Rs. or a bit more than 20 cents. It's astounding to realize how much food you can buy here on such little money, as long as you like it fried.

The only thing better than the good food is the cheap coffee. South India drinks strong coffee with lots of milk and sugar. It took some getting used to but I really like it now. As a general rule the less I pay for coffee the better it is.

The street is a constant source of interest. There is no right-of-way here. You force your way. The trucks, cars, motorcyles, and auto-rickshaws move down the street in a dance that miraculously creates few accidents. The roads are unpredictable and loud. Horns are used with great regularity. Despite the congestion and the carefree cows that aimlessly wander out in traffic, every one, even the cows, reaches their destination without harm.

Everything is available on the street. You can buy practically anything. Fruit, clothing, DVD's (some of movies still in American theaters), it's all there. In the course of a day you turn down dozens of rickshaw drivers, candy-wallahs, chai-wallahs, and knick-knack-that-I've-seen-on-every-corner-in-India-wallahs. If you wanted you would never have to set foot inside a building for your needs. That includes bathrooms.

As you walk along the street there are all sorts of people. Beggars crippled by leprosy asking for alms; rickshaw drivers who scam you; rickshaw drivers who are more than fair; school children who want to shake your hand. Sometimes a person comes up to speak with you, other times just to stare. It's different.

You walk along dodging traffic, ignoring hawkers, and trying to not attract attention. And then you step in cow shit. So it goes.

One Big Vegetarian

The first thing we did upon arriving in Pondicherry was visit the Sri Aurobindo Ashram. Though the guru "left his physical body" decades ago many devotees still live in the community there. As our vans pulled through the brick streets towards the ashram, I was quietly listening to some music. Suddenly someone shook my shoulder and pointed back at a previous intersection. Apparently we had just passed an elephant. Earlier in the year I expressed an elephant ride as the primary reason I wanted to come to India. Ever since I was child pony rides had never been quite enough, and had left me wanting for something more. Something with less hair.

For me this elephant was of the utmost importance. No matter that many people consider Sri Aurobindo a great spiritual leader--one of God's greatest creatures was mere meters away. After paying perfunctory respects at the yogi's resting place, and a stop in the gift shop for my instant Moksha kit, I quickly made my way across the street to the Ganesh temple.

Barring zoo's and circuses this was the first elephant I had ever seen. He was standing next to the entrance of the temple accepting offerings and giving blessings. A half circle of people stood in front of him. If you put out your hand his great proboscis would come and investigate. He would curl the end of his trunk so that you could drop a coin into his nostril. As he moved back and forth among the crowd you could hear the jangle of coins in his trunk. Every so often he would give the coins to the trainer. While accepting alms he would try and nab the food that people walking by had on their person. He very nearly got a dhal laden banana leaf.

The elephant was deceptively large. Of course he dwarfed everything around him, but he did not convey that size all the time. When standing in front of him I was fixed by his eyes. They were yellow with some red tinge. You could not help but stare back at them. The eyes are somewhat low on the head and so you pay most attention to the middle of the elephant, but when you step back you quickly realize just how big this animal is.

I bought some grass for two rupees and fed it to the big guy. With the change I made an offering and received his blessing: a pat on the head with his trunk. Not knowing how much I might have to pay to ride him, I settled for the love-pat and off I went newly blessed by the god of Good Fortune.

Not Forgotten Children

On Monday afternoon one of the professors from MCC took a number of us across town to West Tambaram. We made our way through some of the back streets to the Good Life Center. Founded in 1996 this orphanage had grown from raising a few children to accommodating nearly 100. Some of the children are found abandoned. The police had recently brought an infant that had been left in the train station. Other children are brought by family members after their parents pass away and no one is able to care for them. A few widows are also residents of the center, helping to care for the dozens of children and receive housing and food for them and their children in exchange. Volunteers also assist in the care of the children.

The Center sits on a residential street among private homes. Two buildings cater to the different needs of the children; one is for normal children, the other for the mentally challenged. They are currently raising funding for a new building under construction across the street. The GLC leases its current residence, but it leaks and needs repair. Little space can be afforeded for a play area. Every weekday the children attend a local primary school. School begins about 9:30 and lasts until about 5. Study and play make up the remainder of the day.

When we visited the director briefed us on the situation of the orphanage. In all areas but food the Center needs funding. An interesting aspect of Indian culture is to not let anyone go hungry, so people generously give food and monies to buy it. But the same is not applied to medicine, school supplies, and clothing.

As the director talked to us we could see a few faces through the door. I caught smiles from a few little girls sitting patiently for us to come and visit. When the first of our group began to enter the room you could feel the excitement rising. Each child wanted to shake our hand. I was pulled one way or another as children vied to meet us. At first they were not content to talk to a single person, but had to meet all of us. Each child was friendly and polite. Some of the younger ones were a bit shy but easily grew out of it as the laughter and smiles abounded. I spent most of my time among the boys. Each would shoot out his hand and say "Name?" Once acquainted though, they called each of us "Uncle" or "Aunty" They were exuberant and bubbly. We played games with them, some of ours, some of theirs. I used the "wiggle-waggle" with a few of them. It was sufficiently difficult to keep them entertained.

Though we stayed little more than an hour, you could tell how much the children enjoyed it. I think it meant the world to them for us to come and give them some attention. Before we left they sang and danced for us. I think I took away a lot more than I gave. The smiles and laughs touched me more than I ever could have imagined. I hope to go back soon.

Madras Christian College

Much like Mumbai and Bombay, few people here refer to town as Chennai, but still call it Madras. The college sits about an hour train ride from the true city, tucked away in a town called Tambarum. While the college was founded in the 1830's the campus moved in the 1930's out of the city into what was little more than farmland. Explosive growth however has made Tambarum just another suburb of Chennai, with little demarcation to show where one ends and the other begins. The public transportation of the area allows many of the students here to live off campus. The tuition here is not very much, so one can commute here and live at home for less money than residing on campus.

Today I met with one who took me on a tour around the school farm. As Tambarum was little more than a hamlet when the school relocated here, there is a farm that used to sustain the campus. The farm takes up nearly a third of the property, though in the past few years it's production has sunk considerably as Tambarum has grown up around it allowing for goods to be procured in town. As you walk our to the farm you leave the trees and enter into a tranquil pastoral scene that rests in the heart of an urban area. A dozen milk cows, various fowl, and a sizable goat herd are still maintained. There is also a "piggery" where a few hogs are still kept. As I walked by today most of them were covered in the yellow dhal that was probably served in the cafeteria last evening. They were a happy saffron color.