The Humbling of Lily

Slowly, slowly, but very surely, I am becoming comfortable and familiar with the world around me again.
Actually, maybe not comfortable. Poor word choice. Maybe.... not-insanely-overwhelmed?
A better description. A mouthful, but better.

We have officially (we being Malachi, Molly, Kyra and myself) moved out of Tagore (the international dorm on campus) and into our homestay.

I kid you not, if I were to describe my dream house, this might as well be it.
Bright colors, roof terrace, interconnected rooms, a swinging chair in the living room, and all of this on our own flat above Amma and The Professor.
Oh.
And.
A mango tree growing through the entire house?
YEAH.

And to top it off I have three absolutely amazing human beings to call housemates/family.

On Friday we took a group trip to Desire Society.

 It's an organization that gives housing, medicine, education, and support to children with HIV.
We played with them, shared toys, watched them dance hard-core Bollywood style, and learned about a lot about what the organization does, its hardships, its triumphs.

Upon asking how long the kids usually stay at the orphanage, the director answered, "until the end of their life."
Turns out, the life expectancy for a child diagnosed with HIV is roughly 25 years.

These beautiful, wide-eyed children in their princess dresses and braids,
 in their cords and army pants,
with incredible dance moves and incredible respect and love for one another.
25 years?

I don't think I've ever been so humbled in my life.

 I can't even describe the feeling of interacting with these kids. They all have such radiant smiles, such emanating compassion, and yet such deep awareness in their eyes that could only come from early hardship and growing up too fast.
And yet they laughed and giggled and smiled and played and just absolutely tore my heartsrings in two.
That whole phrase  "First World Problems" is sickeningly accurate. First world freeking problems.

We have the opportunity to go back weekly to volunteer and play with the kids. (And I STILL stand by my claim that Indian kids are seriously the cutest in the world....)
I'll see if it pans out. I'll either be there every week or at another all-boy orphanage a little closer to home.


To top off the week (which was also full of shopping trips and roommate bonding on our roof terrace and a few other things) I had yet another indescribable experience.

Amma, our host mother, is the patron of the local temple here.
It's a small building erected behind the neighborhood, consisting of one solid wall and three wire-meshed sides, with a blue roof and beautiful white marble floors.
Kyra and I went with her while she did puja on Saturday.
I kid you not, the absolute second we stepped through the archway, monsoon rain unleashed its beautiful self down around us.

It thundered in a watery, pounding symphony on the roof, while Kyra and I sat crosslegged in silence within the temple.
Three other elder women and Amma placed offerings for the shrines.
Soft prayers in the intricate and rippling language of Telugu floated through the room with the wooden scents of incense and flower garlands.
Rain slanted sideways in hard lines through the wire walls and forced us to huddle near the center of the tiny room.

It was one of the most spiritual moments of my life.

I felt centered in the world, in the universe, in the prayer-filled spell-bound walls of this temple of flowers, this temple of devotion and community and faith and wonder.
And all the while the thunder and power of the rain and of life cascaded down around us, in blurry sheets of mist and noise.
I was soaked to the bone and smiling.

Upon leaving the temple, the rain suddenly ceased.
"It's auspicious, in India," said The Professor. "Rain blessed your time in the temple."

I think that may have had some truth to it.

Oh. Right. School.

Week has been full of campus explorations and class auditing. Oh right. I'm here for school...?


Things I've Learned This Week:

1) This campus is seriously the most beautiful campus I've ever seen. We literally study in a forest.

2) Wealthy Indians REALLY know how to party in style. Very very expensive style.

3) I love henna.

4) Indian fireworks are about 75 times cooler than ours. Giant metal sparklers longer than my arm. 

5) I am blessed by the universe to have been uprooted and flung across the globe with such wonderful people.

6) The more I exist here, the more I explore, the more beautiful people and places and things I see, the more I am falling in love with this disjointed, randomized, dichotomy of a country.

In other news, we spent all of yesterday on a giant city-wide scavenger hunt amazing race type thing. It was pouring down rain, exhausting, and slightly nerve-wrecking, but it managed to be a good time.
we explored a very local bazar.
we ate ice cream.
and sweets from Hyderabad's best bakery.
and lunch at a ridiculously delicious restaurant.

And I couldn't take pictures, but I had the most amazing experience at a Hindu temple. It overlooked the entire city, made entirely of marble, and possessed the most incredible air of love and devotion.
My heart was absolutely pulsing with the power of the place.
As Hannah said, "I seriously almost cried."

It was incredible. To feel the power of so many human hearts. So many people with ultimate surrender to their beliefs.

Ahhh, seee? The world makes sense again! I think  it's good that I'm studying religion. Go figure.




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Tombs, Dancing, Yellow Feet

Ahh. What endless fascination in this wonderful country.

Yesterday, day of stereotypical white people tourism.

Qutb Shahi Tombs:
Tombs of the old Hindu Kings from the area. 1300-1500's ish, I believe.
Magnificently intricate inlaid designs and architecture.
You could feel the age of the place at the tips of your fingers. As if the ancient energy radiated from the stones themselves. Really amazing.

the Charminar and Mecca Masjid:
the Charminar of Hyderabad is the Eiffel Tower of Paris.
Mecca Masjid is the second largest mosque in India (I think that was it), and one of the oldest.

Blessed by a man in a folded robe with ash and a feather bundle.
Barefoot.
Overwhelmed by the silence of devotion.

Chowmahalla Palace:

Most beautiful building I've ever seen. Given by the last Nizam to his wife (I can't remember what year it was constructed, but it was exquisite.)

Golconda Fort:

A playground of intricate history and incridible views.
Crumbling steps, dark passageways, and even a tiny Hindu temple.
And so much GREEN!

These girls were COMPLETELY fascinated with us. Nearly bursting with hidden laughter, one ventured enough to say "HI!" as I walked by. I responded with, "hello!" and received fits of girlish giggles. I asked if I could take their picture and they were totally stoked. They immediately asked for the camera so they could see themselves, and did with wide-eyed smiles and more laughter. It was really fun.

And after ALL of that, we went out on a Saturday night in Hyderabad.
To a club.
And what did we find?
SHOCKER. Top 40 US hits, disco lights and fog machines, mini skirts and high heels!
It was like a backwards culture shock. Was NOT expecting it.
Window overlooking all of Hyderabad. It was actually ridiculously fun, and I met a few really fantastic and beautiful Indian women who were wonderfully nice and excited to meet us.


Today:

Bonalu!
Festival of a folk goddess, honoring daughters and family.
We had the incredible opportunity to participate in the festivities at the Akkanna Madanna Mahalakshmi temple.

 Naturally, we were completely unaware of every single tiny detail and etiquette, and stuck out like the bunch of pale-faced foreigners that we were.
Nonetheless, we had a really welcoming experience.

Vermillion, holy water, blessed food, yellow feet.
Tiny baby princesses in shiny dresses and mini sarees.
Chicken sacrifices!?

And always, endless endless people completely fascinated with our presence in India.

And here's the Real Talk Sesh for this ridiculously long post.

My last post was a little depressing. I have been so overwhelmed with the sadness here. And believe me, there is plenty. How could there not be in such devastating economic, social, political difficulties? It's a lot for anyone to handle in one week.
Especially coming from sunny Santa Barbara, where even poor college kids live like Hindu Kings.
But.
 In the midst of such poverty, such inequality, such hardship, there are so many unbelievable niches for happiness, for family, for faith.
Nowhere in the world do so many people live together, in such close quarters, and remain (in general) in such peace.
I was reminded again today of the belief of the power of love, and of the human capacity for kindness, kinship, and connection. 
An entire was community drawn together by a colorful whirlwind of silk sarees, bright paint, and familiar ritual.
It was beautiful to witness, and to at least attempt to take part in.

Fancy Food and Rickshaw Fun

Two nights ago, we were treated to a lecture by the head chef of Spice Junction, this ridiculously fancy restaurant in this ridiculously fancy hotel.
Seriously the best meal I've ever had.

 Then, yesterday was Adventure Day.
What tiiiime was it?
ADVENTURE TIME.
After a long day of orientation, we little birdies attempted our first solo flight.
So, naturally, there were about 20 of us.
We piled 14 people in this little rickshaw:

 

Went down this road:

To this city (Lingampally):

And proceeded to drink coconut water from real coconuts, which were chopped in half by a machete in front of us:

To top Adventure Day off, Kyra and I met some kids from another program, spontaneously jumped up to go catch a show at the Hard Rock Cafe in Hyderabad, (which, to our dismay, was greatly impeded with the new instigation of the actual drinking age in the state of Andhra Pradesh. It's 21, folks.) and proceeded to have yet another rickshaw adventure.
Rush hour + rickshaw + no knowledge of Hindi + no knowledge of the city + first time on our own = insane hour spent zooming through traffic and fearing for our lives. But it was exciting and incredible. And I'm sure we'll do it often.

After rejection from the Hard Rock, we got drinks at a really rad buffet, can't for the life of me remember the name. We'll return shortly, it was quite delicious.

On the return trip, SURPRISE---more rickshaw adventures. This time it was defined by a 15-year-old driver with the MOST GHETTO rickshaw I've ever seen. Which says a lot, considering most rickshaws are already outrageously rickety. I almost got out and pushed us up a hill.
Not only that, but we spent over an hour being led down abandoned, dark alleyways at 1 AM, seriously questioning our judgement and almost regretting our first solo flight.
AND THEN, he continues to YELL at us in Hindi for how far we had to go. He better have appreciated the 500 rupees I gave him (instead of the 200 we consented. Jerk.)
But, in the end, it was a night full of new and exciting experiences. So I'm not complaining in the least.


Real Talk Lesson:
Poverty is real.
Pollution is real.
So real that they become elusive in every day attention, and are so completely inundated that the nearly impossible contrast of poor and rich are blended into Indian life.
This dichotomy absolutely blows my mind. The tiny beggar children weaving through rickshaws in rush hour are shooed away without a second thought. Businessmen in Armani suits and classy cars are seamlessly integrated along the same street with sickeningly thin old men living in wooden crates. High class, five star hotels are surrounded on either side by street vendors and homeless families. Mansions alternate with shanty towns.
This is urban India.
This is the reality of a vast majority of human life.
And this reality escapes so many of us in lives of privilege. Never in my life have I experienced anything like it.

Damn, they weren't kidding when they said to expect a culture shock.