Strikes, visits, etc

Wow, I’m getting much less time to write than I thought I would. Which actually is a good thing, because it means I’m really busy.

School is going really well. Now that my online class from AU is over (took my final exam on Friday), I will be able to give my full attention to Bengali class. Before I was spending time that should be have been spent studying Bangla, studying cinema. That was part of what packed up my schedule, too. But anyway, about school: I have four classes a day, on various topics. Some of it is pretty standard basic stuff – grammar, etc. But some of my classes have been tailored to my personal interests, so my reading class often involves reading political news. The other day was reading about the Maoists in the Southwestern part of the state. At this point I’m just reading headlines and highlighted sentences; I can’t just sit down and read the whole thing. I’m getting speedier at short stories, though.

Some of the highlights of the past week:

On Monday, I went to visit my friend Anwesha at her grandparents’ place. I met her at the Durga Puja in DC. She goes to Georgetown, lives in FL. But she’s Bengali and this summer she and her parents came back to visit. So I got to meet them and her grandparents, too. Her grandparents were really excited to have me at their place. They took a gazillion photos while I ate lunch, lol.

On Wednesday, we had a guest speaker come after class. Abhijit Bose is a famous Bengali folk singer. He talked about the different types of folk songs in the different regions of West Bengal. He told us about eight or nine varieties, and this is just in one state! He’s famous for a reason. His voice is absolutely beautiful. He tried to teach us a song and to get us to sing along, but that was problematic for two reasons: we couldn’t read his extremely sloppy Bengali handwriting, and I (idk about Danielle and Andi) am a terrible singer. I don’t sing aloud where people can hear in English, let alone try to sing a song I’ve never heard before in another language. Haha. It was really neat to have him come though.

To continue with the musical activities, Danielle and I went with Andi to her first tabla lesson. Tablas are really neat Indian hand drums that make all sorts of noises most Americans wouldn’t associate with a drum. That was pretty neat to watch. The notes are Bengali (or more probably Sanskrit) letters, but unlike English notes, the notes’ names are matched with their sound. So the teacher taught Andi about eight notes, then sang/clapped them out for her to play. At the end of the lesson, we asked him to play something more complicated, just for show. He began singing the notes as he played them too, which was neat. It sounded like the music that goes with Kathak dance (a traditional Indian dance, Wikipedia it). So that was neat.

On Friday we went on a field trip after class. Prosenjitda and Priyankadi took us to the Marble Palace. It requires a pass from the WB office of tourism, which is why I had never gone before. If I had known how incredibly cool it is, maybe I would have though. It’s this enormous (crumbling, as is most of the Colonial architecture in Kolkata) mansion with floors and walls of marble. Every square inch of it is extremely detailed; its impossible to take it all in. Most of the floors were designed to look like carpet, so there were easily 15 different colors of marble within 5 square feet of floor. The ceilings aren’t marble, but they’re extremely intricate as well. The house would be a sight to see empty, but it is the opposite. Every room is chock-full of paintings and sculptures from colonial times. There’s an enormous statue of Queen Victoria, busts of many other historic figures, and statues of probably every Greek god. It was really more than the eye could take in. The family of the man who had it built in the 1800s still owns it, and in fact part of it is sectioned off as their living quarters. Outside, the grounds are quite well maintained, and there is even a small zoo with birds and deer and such. I saw the most beautiful peacock, but the zoo only convinced me further that visiting any zoo in India is a bad idea. The cages are shamefully small, and I just felt sorry for all the animals.

After the Marble Palace, we stopped by Rabindranath Tagore’s (the famous Bengali poet) birthplace. His old family home has been turned into a museum, and it’s on the campus of a university he established (or perhaps it was just established in his name). I had been there before, on Tagore’s birthday last year, and it was so packed I barely saw any of it. It was much emptier on Friday, and we strolled around the campus and through the galleries at our leisure. Unfortunately it was near closing-time when we entered, so even then we felt rushed.

On Saturday, I went back to the CRAWL Sealdah Station project for the first time, and Danielle and Maitrayeedi (I spelled her name wrong last time. It’s pronounced Moitri, but in English she spells it Maitrayee) came with me. I saw a lot of people I knew, which was really neat. Unfortunately, the project isn’t going so well. There were only about 20 or 30 kids, compared to the 70-90 we usually had last year. They’ve planted flowers in the spot where we used to set up, so now they’re running the project at a different part of the station. Just this past week the RR Authority “un-granted” the permission to give out food, so now we have to take the kids off the station grounds and form a line there to distribute food. Wound care, coloring, and washing are proceeding as usual. I really enjoyed going back again, even though it was so different and not everyone I wanted to see was there. I have to figure out the bus routes/schedule so I can there more cheaply. The taxi we took cost Rs 156 (just over $3), and that was only one way. By comparison, I can’t imagine a bus costing more than Rs 8 or so.

We caught that cab (and one on the way back) despite the transportation strike that was going on in Kolkata that day. The Indian Federal government raised gas prices on Friday at midnight (I guess the correct thing to say is Saturday at midnight), and the Communist Party of India (Marxist), the former majority party in West Bengal, called a 24-hour transportation strike (of taxis and auto-rickshaws) in protest. It was an amazing sight to see. I live on one of the larger roads, and there were three rows of taxis parked as far as the eye could see. It was eerily quiet with only personal cars on the streets. Usually there are lines of autos waiting for people, but later in the day I saw a line of people waiting for an auto. And that night, I saw a group of people marching in protest. The marches are actually not uncommon, I used to see a lot of political marches when I lived here before. That’s one thing I love about Bengali culture, even if I don’t agree with they’re ideals: they’re very active and political. I won’t get started on West Bengali politics here, but there is a lot I could say. Anyways, their request won’t be answered. India’s national deficit is skyrocketing (perhaps not compared to the US), and they’ve been subsidizing gas since the 70’s. Gas prices had basically not changed since 2004, when ppb soared. Basically, the state can’t afford to keep subsidizing gas at such high rates. Here’s the full story: http://www.telegraphindia.com/1100626/jsp/frontpage/story_12612781.jsp

On Saturday evening, I went to my friend Sweta’s house. I know her through Babai. She showed me around her area (called Girish Park, very close to the Marble Palace and Tagore’s place). I really like her neighborhood a lot. Things were starting to close when went for a walk around 8:30, and the transportation strike contributed to the calm. But the streets were narrow and winding, and not nearly so hectic as the road I live on. We went to a (Kali) temple and prayed, and she showed me around the different aspects of it. I had dinner at her place before heading back to mine. Sweta is actually Bihari, so she spoke to her mom in their native Bihari language and in Hindi. She and her brother and her little neighbor spoke Hindi with eachother, and the three of them spoke English with me. But her mom doesn’t speak English, so we spoke Bengali to eachother. In that one room, there were four languages being spoken. Sweta joked that it was like the tri-lingual train announcements, with everything being translated from language to language.

On Sunday I went back to Khardah for the third time since I’ve been here. This time Prativa and Mili had come back from visiting their families, so I got to see them for the first time. I had tea and played cards with Bobby and Debashis and their neighbor before walking around Khardah with the girls. I also finally got to see Monica Aunty (the jewellery shop-keeper near my old flat). I went to her house because she wasn’t at the store. It was neat to see her. She was excited with how much Bangla I can speak now. She literally watched me progress from no Bengali, to a few words, to struggling to produce coherent sentences, to where I am today, which still has plenty of room for improvement. But she’s seen the lingual transformation.

Well, I think I’ve written entirely too much for one post, so I’ll leave it at that. Below are some pictures of the transit strike, as well as one of my room, one of the house I live in (viewed from the second-floor terrace), and one of me and Sweta.

~m

Monsooooooooooon

Well, last night I wrote a very long post about everything that's been going on, and I saved it on my zip drive to post at school today. Except the folder I created for it was on my desktop. Woops. So I'll have to post that later...

But it's ok, because between last night and this morning, I have plenty of interest to write about: the coming of the monsoon.

Today is the first real day of monsoon-like rain, by my estimation. It's rained before, but never like this.

So I got ready for school like usual this morning, and I decided to leave about 20 min early so I would have time to post the blog I wrote last night before class. The maid, Sondhadi, asked me if I was going to go today. I said yes, class is happening. She asked if I had an umbrella, and I told her yes. She said ok (this was all in Bangla, btw. The only English word I've heard her say is "ok," though this morning, and usually, she used the Bengali equivalent, thik achhe), but she still seemed a little concerned. I was soon to find out why.

I left my house and hadn't even made it half a block before the water stopped me. At the corner of a small street (or maybe a driveway), the curb was met with waves of water. I could see a man crossing, and the water was almost to his knees. "No way," I thouhgt. I looked for a way to get onto the street, but it was too far to jump over the water at the side of the road. So I turned around and walked the other way until I found a place I could get onto the street. I walked all the back to my house, and past it, before I gave up and stepped in maybe 8-inch water to get onto the higher part of the street. I began walking, but I soon had to walk back into the water to avoid being hit by a bus. At this point I gave up and resigned myself to the fact that I would have to walk through the water. So I made it to Hazra More (where I catch an auto) intermittently wading and walking.

After the auto ride, I began walking again. I got to Swinhoe Street, the street AIIS is on, and it looked like a river. I followed a woman into the knee-deep water and began the long wade towards school. The water kept getting higher, and eventually I had to cross the street to slightly higher ground. I was terrified that I would fall off the sidewalk I was on because I couldn't see the curb. The water was opaque brown, with all sorts of trash and who-knows-what floating in it. I could feel the current pulling me as I made my way across the street. It really felt like a river. When I finally made it to the school, water was up to the third or fourth step on the staircase that lets out onto the street.

Now I really understand why there are still hand-pulled rickshaws today. If I had seen an empty one, I would have taken it.

Amazingly, cars were coming through, as well as the rest of the usual traffic: people, bikes, rickshaws, though everything was obviously much slower.

Later, I did see a guy pushing a broken-down car.

Pratimadi told me that years ago, it would flood even worse, and the school had a boat to ferry people to the higher ground of the big roads. But now the water receeds quite quickly. It's been just 7 hours now since I was walking through, and the middle of the street is above water. Only the sides of the street are still water-logged, like happens in the US.

Prosenjitda told me that flooding like this usually only happens 3 or 4 times a year. I'm glad I won't have to walk through all that every day....

Who needs Venice when you have Kolkata?

~m

(Pictures of this are coming)

Back in Kolkata

Well, well, well. A year has passed. And here I am again, back in Kolkata. This time, I'm not staying in Khardah and not working with CRAWL. I'm here on a scholarship from the State Department, studying Bengali at the American Institute of Indian Studies. I'm staying with a host family in South Kolkata, in an area called Kalighat.

I arrived around midnight last Saturday, and have been settling in since then. Obviously, there isn't any culture shock (or near none, compared to last time) to deal with this time. I'm just getting used to the way classes work at AIIS, to living with my host family, and to finding my way around Kalighat and Ballygunge (where the school is), which I didn't spend much or any time in last year.

The school is really great. There are actually only three students here right now (and no more are coming), all three of us from CLS (the state dept scholarship). The other girls are Andi and Danielle. They were both in Dhaka for CLS last year. There are three teachers at AIIS, Pratimadi (Her name is Pratima Dey; didi, or di, is a respectful term attached to the end of someone's name, that means "older sister"), who is the head teacher, Priyankadi, and Proshinjitda (same as didi, dada means "older brother"). So there is the potential for us all to have individual classes, which I do, but I think Andi and Danielle take most of their classes together because they are at the same level. I'm in slightly more advanced classes.

There are four class periods in a day, each an hour long. We have two classes, then a tea break, then two more, then lunch. After lunch is "zero hour" where we can get extra help if we want. So far I've had pronunciation class, reading, listening, tutorial (where I can choose the content, but last time I read), journal correction, and movie watching. It's awesome to get so much individualized help, let alone to have a Bangla teacher at all.

I'm living in a room with a wealthy, older family. My host mother is Maitrayeedi (pronounced Moi-tree) and my host father is Gorada. Their last name is Mukharji. There are quite a few staff people around, but the woman I see most (and who makes my food) is Sondhadi. Maitrayeedi's mother also lives here. "Grandma" in Bangla is didima, but we call her didi for short (though this is not the standard way). They have two children, a son and a daughter, but both are married and live elsewhere. The son lives a little bit far away. The daughter lives pretty close, and she comes over quite alot (I have seen her every day since I've been here). Her name is Gangidi. I am supposed to speak only Bengali with them, but they often speak in English. I need to be more strict with myself, haha. The first story of the "house" (building they own and live in) is their mustard oil factory. The second story is mostly offices (including the computer room I'm using now), and the other two (I think there are only two more) are the living quarters. I live on the third floor.

I have some homework to get going on, so I'll explain the rest later, and get to the interesting part - what I've actually been doing.

~m