Cows are sprinkled with milk, painted in bright colors, and endowed with special blessings.
The villagers all decorated their front yards with these beautiful Kolam designs.
We also chewed on chunks of sugar cane. If I had known it was a traditional part of Pongal, I'd have taken a picture!
Drumming in the new year...
Pongal is a time for feasting and visiting with friends and relatives. One of the housemothers, Rajakumari, invited us to her house in a nearby village. As always, the raw simplicity and meager living conditions were humbling.
This is where she grew up with her parents and sisters, in a single room dwelling. The hut to the right provides shelter for the cow and chickens.
How do they eat when it's raining?
Fueled by cow dung.
Rajakumar's parents left offerings for the Sun God; we were served the leftovers.
Gathering banana leaves for plates.
We were all embarrassing guests, the director's children, their tutor, and I. The kids picked at their food as politely as possible. I'll admit to not possessing the broadest palate in the world. In fact, I've largely surrendered to the recognition that everything here is either unbearably spicy, unbearably fried, or unbearably sweet. That's precisely why I had come prepared: my pockets were lined with small plastic sacks, into which I furtively dropped my lunch, piece by piece.
Desert fared much better!
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