CHEESECAKE AND TRANSCENDENTAL SPIRITUALITY

So far, we haven’t entered any temple. We see them everyday, hear the prayers and mantras that rhythm the days from sunrise to sunset, watch people getting in and out, peep through the half open doors. It really fascinates us, but it is awkward to step in a holy place without belonging or understanding the tradition and religion, the rituals, the meaning of gestures and of the words pronounced. In France, it is part of our culture not to come to a religious ceremony just to watch without being part of the community. We would never imagine to go and eat the holy bread if we are not Christian who has gone through Communion. But here, it is a part of every day life they invite anyone to share with a great tolerance and ease. One girl in Orchha who gave us a sign to come asked us why we don’t go to pray Durga, as we answered that we don’t know how to pray her, she was very surprised that is was possible someone doesn’t know. She simply explained “Durga is the mother, just ask her something, success or marriage…”. She had a great smile saying this evidence.

Our first entrance in a temple is on the evening ceremony in Orchha Ram Rajah Temple. The building looks like a cheesecake, painted with bad taste in orange and yellow and kitschier than usual. There are two lines, gents and ladies, but nobody follows it. The only aim seems to be to get as fast as possible in front of the “priest” and give one’s offerings. We get stuck there, pushed from back and sides. But there is no sign of surprise coming from anyone at the view of two tall (so highly visible) white women in the queue. It is a mess, but extremely lively. Children run or play, mothers call them back once in while but not worrying at all, people laugh, talk their everyday (or that’s what it looked like)… As we pass in front of the priest, we feel very uncomfortable and embarrassed. What are we doing here ? What should we do ? We have no offerings, we don’t know the gestures, the meanings… We hope nothing would be given to us. We rapidly go by, the priest is not surprised, and gain the square in the middle of the temple. From there we can observe quietly.

Sitting on the stairs, on the edge of the square, there is very little difference between a temple and a town square. Life goes its way. Two children come to play around us and talk a little. People are sitting or wandering around. And there is no timetable for the rituals. Men and women come in and out between 7 and 8. Some stay less than 2 minutes, some stay longer chanting or praying. All around the square, in some open corridors, many small altars are to be seen and people go to them in an order that seems to us random. On the square also, two main altars – much bigger – attracts the believers. They always leave an object, some flowers or food (little milk cake purchased on the market outside), light incense, and go round the altar. What is so surprising is how daily the quality of the movements is. It looks as if it is not neither holy nor spiritual. There is no pretention, not more than when they prepare tchai or wash clothes in Varanasi. Maybe there is even less a feeling of presence in the temple than out. The ritual is clearly a part of everyday life, without all the ceremonial we have in Christian churches. Here it is as if the religion was more outside the temple (and the temple rituals is only part of the daily actions) when it is concentrated in the holy places in our culture. From our observation seats, it felt like there is no meaning in the rituals performed. They are simply performed. Is it because we are outsiders (which might be the case), or is it always so that in the mass of believers – all religions mixed – only few people really live their spirituality. This is an open question. But we tend to idealize India on this side, this is how so many foreigners come to places like Rishikesh.

Then, the day after, we meet one of these men who really live their belief and make it part of their being in the world. It is even more beautiful as it happens by accident. We are walking around the palaces gardens and bump into a white temple. The chants and the sound of the bell first bring us. The view of women walking around this temple make us sit and watch. We contemplate the place, so white and simple compared to the numerous cheese cakes we have seen so far. The colourful sarees match perfectly. There is here a deep sense of spirituality, alive and not locked in a pattern. People come freely here to pray Durga, leave offerings all day long. We are invited to come and pray Durga, the women give us a type of Indian sweet to eat after the prayer. We are very clumsy but the feeling of being misplaced is not getting us like the last time. It is very intimate, there is nothing much around but nature (and two palaces). It is a humble place. And we are welcome to share their rituals. The son of the temple’s guardian welcomes us to eat in his little hut, made of branches and a plastic cover. First time we share a meal with Indians. The communication is a bit difficult, and the man starts to talk only Hindi after a while, and we just nod, smiling. But we understand that this man continuously repeats that is life is based on his relationship to God. Money doesn’t mater, living does. He is a farmer, and his “hobby is God”. The food fills us as it is made from full corn and cooked simply without overdoing it with spices or amount of ingredients. Something is radiating from him. We leave the place with some more questions and the sense this is one of the most important meeting we make on this journey. 

TOURIST ACTIVITIES

We have spent already 3 days in Orchha, enjoying peaceful and slow living, and we decide now to do the tourist bit. We go on the early morning, before heat and tourists buses come up , and buy our tickets to the 7 monuments of Orchha. We visit the palace very slowly, letting the view and the atmosphere affect us, observing details, taking pictures of light games and little surprises that pass by if we just visit quickly. We don’t manage to see the 7 monuments by the end of the day but only 4 thoroughly, plus some wandering abouts in abandoned and smaller places that are not on the map. The palace is a wonder, built by the Moghols and thus the result of Indian and Muslim architectural styles. It is one of these dreamt places of the Orient, a 1001 nights castle. There are endless rooms, staircases, corridors, hidden spaces. A children heaven to run and imagine fairytales under the eyes of monkeys and vultures. The whole palace used to be covered with green and blue paints and mosaics. It is hard to imagine as most of it is gone, but some hints remains to our wonder.  And the view over Orchha from all angles is magic, enhanced by the chants coming from the surrounding temples.

BOLLYWOOD THE COME BACK

The Uncle Sam's influence

Through Hospitality club, we have discovered that a Finnish woman, Eeva Maya, lives in Orchha for 6 years and in India for more than 17 years. There is no hazard in life, if it is needed to have one more proof of this. As we spend some time with her, drinking tchai or having breakfast, she gives us her insight of life in India for a woman : “never trust an India, they want sex or money. It took me several years to really find good friends”. Time to find the persons you can grow with seems to be the same anywhere in the world. Cécile suddenly understands the sexual aspect of men coming to talk to us. So far she didn’t understand why one of the first questions asked is “Are you married?”. Nice and naïve (Perrine laughs in her inner self). All becomes even clearer as we go for a new try out of Bollywood. We go together with the German volunteer of Eeva and his Indian friend to Jhansi. We don’t know yet that the movie we are going to watch is once again, The Players…

It is so pleasant to go along with an Indian, someone who knows the heres and abouts of things, how to get the rickshaws, where to walk to, how to get the proper information… We let ourselves be guided. It is a true holiday. And we watch the movie again. Contrarily to what we thought, we don’t get bored at all, but the opposite. We are hooked – to our surprise- by an action movie. But it makes us think also quite much about the vision of women – and especially white women. The whole movie long, women are shown as sexual beings – also called bitches – half (or more) naked, shaking their boobs and asses. The Indian leading actresses of course dance like R&B hot stars, but they have a mission in the plot. They do it to save the love of their lives or to help their brother… But all around them, shaking their body parts, are only white female, mostly with blond hair. And they have no reason in the plot to do so. This image of Occidental women is carried by movies and TV all the time. It probably started with Hollywood movies that are popular also here. In traditional Indian movies, it is almost impossible to see a kiss. In Hollywood movies, sex is common. So for Indian mentalities, they equalled sex and Occidental females. They thing – and rightly so – that women are free in the west, compared to the social rules concerning women behaviour here.

Cécile has to face the reality of this straight during the movie. After the intermission, she gets a neighbour. And his is a very sticky neighbour indeed. He starts by leaning heavily on Cécile’s seat, and as he pronounces his introduction sentence, his right hand move accordingly onto Cécile’s knee. After very few sentences he asks to kiss him at thee end of the movie. But stupidly, he gives out also the escape road by asking “Are you married?”. And Cécile answers “Yes, I am”. End ? No ! Since she is European, she is free, so she can have lovers if the husband is not around. Then comes the illumination. From now on, we will find a ring, and wear it so that there is a proof of our loving engagement to our dear husbands, who remained in France because they have to work to build our houses and feed the dog. Since we have had one weird guy, who really thought that if the woman is far from home, there is no reason she remains alone, because “it is not good to be without husband”. But nothing more after. However, it feels very awkward to have a ring around the left hand fourth finger!

THE LITTLE PLEASURES OF LIFE

After travelling quickly from city to city in lands where the sun hardly shows during the day, it is our great pleasure to be able to do our laundry and be sure it will dry and have the lovely smell of the sunlight. People keep on offering us to do it, and smile as we refuse and say that we really want to make it ourselves. On the road here, we don’t have an everyday routine. We don’t cook as we don’t have access to any equipment; we don’t have a working rhythm but wander around; most we miss a feeling of home as we change surroundings so often. To do our laundry equals finding back this simplicity of the everyday. The little man working in the hostel understands it very well and our relationship to him changes with this decision. He starts to open up, and we clearly make him laugh by our behaviours. By the evening the laundry has dried and we are delighted as we put fresh clothes on after taking our second hot shower. A bit of comfort doesn’t harm and sure hot showers and warm houses will be greatly appreciated when we get back to Finland. We can always get used to small hardship like cold shower and cold nights, but there is no need to always fight what feels good.

Mostly, what we had missed was our jeans that we had to take away. They were so incredibly dirty (as the colour of the washing water showed it) that we spent few days in cotton short pants. Putting back the jeans on feels like finding back our own skin and a form of presence. We have a sense of strength, that we had lost with holiday pants. Jeans is the key of our trip. Thank you mister Levis Strauss.  

We also discover an old time pleasure of life in Orchha: the way to communicate without mobile phones. We have met in Varansi two French girls, but didn’t have time to really exchange. We actually had planned our trip in a similar way and followed each other in every city before going as much as possible out of the touristic routes. We knew we would all go to Orchha but on different days. We actually met in the train from Allahabad to Jhansi. Then bumped into each other in Orchha. We wanted to meet them for dinner to really spend some time to  discuss about life and India. We were very curious to meet them and to know what they were doing here, why India, what is their life about… But we had no contact number, no email, none of the normal ways to make an appointment. But we knew which guesthouse they stayed in. so we went to the guesthouse to leave a note. Said like this, it seems like nothing. But really it is a great pleasure to leave this note. You don’t know if the note will be read, if they can come or not, if we will manage to find each other. It is quite exciting but also it means that we take time for the meeting, time to communicate also. And of course, they come. The evening is spent talking and enjoying each other views, exchanging experiences, finding out that we have gone through similar happenings and feelings. A true moment of sharing that we have quite missed here until now. It is warm. With Indians, there is of course (as many previous stories have shown till now) the unavoidable aspect that those who come to us usually want to sell something. But this is only a side of our problem getting to know Indians. Communication is blocked very often by a language barrier. We see that some people would like to talk to us, as they see we want to talk to them, but we don’t manage to understand what is told. It is very simple problem, but it creates a feeling of loneliness and powerlessness after a while. How to discuss without words is not solved easily, and good will is not always enough. So this meeting of Claire and Amélie is a bubble of oxygen. Maybe we will meet again in Bundi. Not sure, but hopefully. We will be looking out for a note they might leave us somewhere. Little pleasures of life.   

A STOMACH ACHE, PLEASE

Fooooooooooooooood

Of course, paradises don’t exist on earth, and we get a good lesson already on the first night. At Lunch, we had found a lovely little street restaurant by the river, where (at least) 5 young boys were cooking. They were so excited to have foreigners eating at their place that they just wanted to talk to us and to care for our food. And it was really good food, a bit spicy but really good. And we decided to go back in the evening. So we are there again, and as we told them at lunch that Dal and Rice is one of our favourite, they have prepared Dal and Rice, just for us. We feel like we owe them something. They bring the food. First they offer as a “present” a spicy crispy bread, so that we can taste it. Of course, we don’t just taste, we eat it. Then come two big plates of dal and two of rice, plus many chapattis. And as we eat, they refill the plates, add newly baked chapattis. The younger tells us he will bring a surprise and comes back with a bottle of water. They are so caring and proud to serve us, that we are fully unable to say not to them bringing the food. Feeling how much they want us to like the food, plus being uneasy with being watched constantly, we eat very fast. They read it as we very much like  the food. So they bring even more. We can even less say no. By the end of 30 minutes, belly overstretched with the amount of food swallowed, we ask for the bill. And the bill is high. They add charged for basically everything: the number of chapattis, the bread present, the bottle of water, the refills… If we  count everything, it overall comes quite close to the amount they ask and it didn’t matter so much. But how stupid we feel, walking home with a stomach ache, for just being too polite. We have faced a cultural difference, enhanced by the fact that we are Perrine and Cécile. In France, if you are invited to eat, and people have cooked on purpose, you accept refills, or taste everything at least, so to thank the host In India, not. If you eat, it means you want to eat. And neither of us knows how to say no, already in Europe. We have to learn that. And this experience, though painful all night, was a good to learn from.

A REST IN PEACE

Cecile and Perrine's dream comes true

After all these big lively cities, overcrowded with people willing to sell something – every possible thing - we truly need some peaceful place to rest and to do our laundry. We reach Orchha. We are saved. We get a feeling of relaxation, without being forced to always be on our guards. The bus trip to Orchha seems to tell us we made the right choice. Even though the bus is on the edge of overbooking, the landscape we cross is wide open. This is the India we were dreaming of as we planned our trip from Finland. Large fields, some saris moving in green land, a few spread houses, some hills. Nothing special really, but a space that can be lived in at human scale. Plus, the bus driver play some Bollywood soundtrack loudly. It feels like a wonderful dreamt road trip. We smile endlessly.

At first Orchha seems however to be one of these very touristic place, brand new, quite clean compared to Indian standards, a few baba shops, a lot of foreign faces (mainly Coreans)… The atmosphere is that of a sea side resort, without a beach but with a beautiful river, the Betwa.

And Baba land is back...

 But after a few hours only, we realize that this is only a very superficial side of Orchha, and that our first opinion was quite wrong. Orchha is a centre where mainly Indian tourists come for pilgrimage or to visit one of India’s important historical place. As we get to our hostel, found by chance and located a bit outside of the centre on the heights, we are overwhelmed by the view. Many historical buildings (temples and palaces) are spread in the area, drawing wonderful silhouettes watching over this very small city. The nature is everywhere to be seen, and only a few minutes walk take us out, whatever direction we take. Our dream has come true, we can abandon ourselves here.

Of course there again, we meet some very strange people, like the “doctor Raj”, but overall we are left in peace and our movements are free around. We even manage to spend some times with locals without there being any back thoughts. We spend lovely walks along the river, which is merely a stream, where few people bath once in a while. We discover a path besides the Natural park, and walk in the midst of monkeys. Cécile is afraid there might be some tigers, luckily we don’t meet any. We can finally enjoy after 10 days being alone. And the sun bathes our faces, that little by little turn brown (Cécile) or red with freckles on the nose (Perrine). We understand how pleasant the life of a lizard can be. And we see the cows, the dogs, the pigs, and some human beings doing the same: do nothing under the sunlight. 

A cow life

Another cow life

BOLLYWOOD AND DRAMA

The players, ready for some action

We have been willing to see a Bollywood for ages, and we feel that this is now the time. We find a little cinema -  as India knows how to make them : gloomy but captivating – where only one movie is shown : the Players, a remake of some Hollymood action movie, starring one of India’s most famous star, Amitabh Bachran. In the cinema, men only. People come in as the movie goes on. And the guys react strongly to the scenes, clapping, whistling, commenting, laughing… We don’t understand any of the dialogues, but really it doesn’t matter to get the storyline. One man is sitting next to Perrine, and thinking she is a man (hopefully because of darkness), starts a conversation. He explains the life of different movie stars, things having no connection with the movie. The rest of the time he answers his cell phone.

The movie is fairly bad, and we get bored little by little, when suddenly the sound goes off. The viewers scream in direction of the boss, then come out furiously. The movie is paused, we are given some food and all tension seems to vanish. All the men gather around us, and check that we understand  what to do to get food, give us sauce, explain us the movie in short. A band of young men that just seemed to be hot-blooded and happen to act like big brothers. Not an unpleasant feeling.

And the movie starts again. Everybody seats… but the boss hasn’t manage to solve the problem and the movie is brought straight to the 2^nd half, giving out some of the events away. The men in the cinema stand up in a second, screaming loud then violently. The whole crowd storms out through the doors, aggressively. It looks like a riot. The new Indian revolution. Impressive. Outside, the voices are strongly fighting. They want a refund. And they get it. If the boss didn’t give it out, the cinema would probably have gone into pieces. The man sitting next to Perrine is taking care of us. He is a young policeman, who doesn’t like to wear the uniform and left his village to come to Allahabad 6 months ago. He really dislikes this city where he has barely any friends. He takes care of our refund and invites us for a coffee. First time ever we are invited by someone without any back thoughts whatsoever. He would like to see us again and we offer to come to the Police cantonment. He is so happy at the idea.

As we come to meet him again, few hours later, we enter a very dark yard, with policemen around. They all want to know who we are but they don’t know who our man is. When finally we manage to find him, he is so proud. Probably having to white women coming to seek for him will give him a status in this cantonment. He is very sweet man, quite feminine and skinny if compared to the virile men that belong to the police forces. We say goodbye and leave towards the huge train station. But half an hour later, our policeman finds us again. He has brought us little presents: 2 bars of Kit-Kat and two Reynolds pens. Our first presents here. Thanks to Paul, we leave Allahabad with another image, that of sweetness of a man and of chocolate.