I wish I had a picture of ...

If only I had a camera permanently at the ready, or if at least Indian pants had pockets! I would display:

a picture of Lola the sheep ambling into the third-grade classroom, where she coyly began to bite off chunks of paper out of the trash can

Karthik doing his homework under the desk (it wasn't homework time!), where he was perfectly hidden from my view, and where the extreme space limitations made it more than comical (thank heavens for tattletales)

Sagayamery sick and sleeping in fetal position on the cold concrete floor (habitually spending the night without a bed, blanket, or pillow turns the kids into bonafide ascetics)

third-graders crying for fifteen minutes when I finally lost my patience and decided to seat them boy-girl-boy-girl (the girls shedding real tears and the boys pretending to cry); are cooties still alive and well in 2011??

Kaviya's proud, bloody, and toothless grin when the last front tooth finally capitulated after being loose for a month (why do some kids lose front teeth in kindergarten and others in fourth grade?)

Happy Deepavali!

Deepavali, or Diwali, is the Hindu festival of lights.

It is a celebration of the victory of light over darkness, good over evil. The children were celebrating not having to go to school. I was celebrating being able to watch them enthralled by the fireworks.

Aravind and Ebinezer

Mariyadoss

Praveenkanth

Soniya

Nadiya, Nagelakshmi, Rosy, and Amirtham

Christraj and Sanjay

As every year on Deepavali, the evening loomed dark and moonless. This is symbolic of the state of the world under the reign of evil Ramana. But fortuitously, heroic (and enlightened) Rama rushes to the rescue.

"Your beautiful wife is mine," jeered Ramana. "Never!" cried Rama. He drew his sword and chopped off one of Ravana's heads. The head grew back at once. Rama sliced off another. But that grew back too.

Trembling with rage, Rama took a magic arrow from his belt. This time he aimed at Ravana's heart. As the arrow pierced Ravana's skin he let out a long, deep moan and fell to the ground.

But skipping to the end:
By the time they reached their city, the streets were lined with cheering crowds. Each person had lit a little oil lamp to welcome them--and Rama and Sita were made king and queen. Il lieto fine.

So we all light candles and set off fireworks to commemorate, illuminating the grim sky.


Tonight reminds me of Bertold Brecht's interplay between light and darkness in his play on the life of Galilei Galileo. After countless references on the topic, we encounter these lines just before the hero's disappearance. The words struck a chord with me when I first read them: despite it all, the night is yet light.

Galileo: Wie ist die Nacht?
Virginia am Fenster: Hell.

Wordless Wednesday

Andaman Islands

In the Andaman islands, I didn't have to settle a single dispute involving a stolen pencil/eraser/pen/5-rupee coin/rubber ball.

There was no hitting/scratching/biting/hair pulling/calling another kid's mother certain Tamil words that I mercifully can't understand.

Instead, it was all bliss and...

Actually, by the time we found a good beach and it stopped raining, it was time to return home. That's what you get from an impromptu, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants and just-take-off-without-clear-destination mindset! All the merrier.

Havelock Island, peaceful and verdant with the ubiquitous water buffalo.

The memorable day when what was supposed to be a half-hour saunter to the ocean turned into a six-hour-long hike. Ten minutes after embarking, it began to rain, and then didn't stop all day. Anne blames me, but I blame the misleading map! We learned that soggy books do eventually dry out.

For the equivalent of two dollars per day, the simple accommodations with ocean vista. What more is there to life than a mattress, a mosquito net, and a fan? Hilariously spartan but very comfortable.

For some reason Anne took all these food pictures and now I need to come up with a caption. The fish was mouthwatering and a welcome change from our continental fare. But--psst, don't tell anyone--the rest of it is getting a little old.

My travel friend, Anne, is at Rising Star for three months as a dance instructor representing Promethean Spark. Her spontaneity and penchant for the unexpected made the trip fun in many ways. 

She insisted on taking a bazillion of what she called her cheesy teenager snapshots. But I'm glad for the memory: the face of supreme relaxation!

Mystery vacation

After spending the first (glorious) days of my fall break nearly comatose and mostly supine in my room (during which time I had planned, but utterly failed to: clean off my desk, plan/organize/sort, visit leprosy colonies and interview parents about life with the disease, rescue children who have left the school, and other noble pursuits that I at least thought about), I am off on a mystery adventure. Can't wait!

Clues from the Rough Guide:

"some of the world's richest and least spoilt marine reserves"

"and malaria is endemic in even the most remote settlements"

"tropical ulcer infections is another potential hazard"

"Arabian travelers who passed by in the ninth century describe the inhabitants as fierce and cannibalistic"

I will be leaving __________ India without leaving __________ India. 

Wordless Wednesday

Not quite India: the family reunion I missed this summer. Today I received the pictures in the mail. Love this one.

First-grader Shaktivel with his journal. 


This is what I came up with for the Rising Star newsletter. Since you make up my coterie, you'll be privy to the added comments in parentheses.

"As difficult as it is to believe, we are already at the end of our first term at Perry Matriculation School. Just two more to go for this school year! [Yikes! Are we learning enough?? Will I ever be ready to leave?] The children are eagerly anticipating spending their autumn break with family or relatives. [And I worry and worry that they won't be safe or won't get enough to eat.] In the meanwhile, we will miss their rambunctious personalities and endearing faces. [Well, kinda sorta. Today was the last day of school and I'm not crying. I love them desperately but not as desperately as I am longing for a hiatus.]

The students and teachers are proud of their outstanding achievements over the past few months. We are [that is, I am; no one else is really keeping track] particularly thrilled with our recent improvement in writing. Children in Indian matriculation schools tend not to learn how to compose anything of their own, but just to memorize or copy phrases from the textbook. It is typical for children to spend years in school without ever writing a creative story or even an imaginative sentence. [id est: any sentence drawn from the noggin]

We [royal "we"] countered this last January by issuing journals to students in grades 1-4, and then rearranging the schedule to allow them time each day for their compositions. Older students started writing essays in English class. The beginning was haltingly slow. Children would stare blankly when asked to retell the Gingerbread Man in their own written words. But it soon caught on, and each day brought new progress. [yes, yes, all true]

Now, less than a year later, we are nothing short of astonished at the beautiful handwriting and expressive voices we encounter in the children’s journals. Thank you to the many volunteers who have spent countless hours correcting them for us. [I'm thinking, exempli gratia, of Robin who volunteered for a week and spent the entire time with red pen in hand] Collectively, you are helping us to lay the foundation of a great work!"

Third grade: simultaneously the bane of my existence and my pride and joy (but more on that later). Wait, I do miss them, and they haven't even left campus yet. The sincerest little souls.

 Kishor's journal