June 10th, 2009 Jo
No matter how many times I do it (this must be my 30th return to India), the shock of transition remains shocking. From the lush green of the Boston Commons to the steel and glass and gleaming floors of Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport to a scene like this one on the road home to Dehradun never fails to stun me.
What worlds we inhabit.
I am compiling a little list of things I noticed on this trip, ways in which India and America differ, ways in which I have changed because of my immersion in this place - yet even as I do it, I am aware of all the many things I am probably totally unaware of because my surroundings here are now so real to me I scarcely notice them.
For example, it is only now that I am posting this picture that I see the utterly ironic word “PROGRESS” on the wall. When I took the photo, I was looking at the men and the little gas cylinder and thinking about how valiant these people are, living their lives right there on the street.
But here’s what I came home to: my still point of the turning world, my darling, my Moy Moy. She’s asleep now, but she has been smiling her sweet smiles of contentment and calm since I got here, reminding me again of why I exist and what life is all about: love and our children and work and community and the joy of having a purpose in this world.
Progress.
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June 7th, 2009 Jo
What a trip this one was. Activity is wonderful, and I loved being with my children, my sisters and brothers, my Dad, my nieces and nephews and my friends - but, as usual, I forgot to leave any white space in my days. Almost without exception, every moment was PACKED: lunches, dinners, museums, long walks, shopping, helping Anand move to a new apartment, helping Cathleen prepare for her trip to Israel, attending a wedding and a graduation - and it was all fabulous.
But there was no time to take it all in, no time to think about what I was doing or what it all means. As Paula used to say, I need time to catch up with myself.
Now here I am sitting in a restaurant in Chicago, waiting for my flight to Delhi. I have six hours to wait and I feel like I just won a small lottery. Six hours! Nothing to do!
Yesterday I attended Rebecca and John’s wedding. Rebecca is the daughter of my dear childhood friend Martha and I planned my trip specially to be able to attend her wedding. It was a spectacular celebration at an ocean estate and the guests were dazzling and beautiful. I had a grand time taking photographs and some of the women were so pretty I had to restrain myself from following them around and making a nuisance of myself.
But it was this man who caught my eye, in amidst the brilliant conversation and the swirls of laughter and old friends meeting after many years:
Watching him sit there alone on the terrace, contemplating the ocean, you would never guess that nearly two hundred people were just behind him, having the time of their lives.
Who knows what he was thinking? Maybe he was just waiting for his wife or girlfriend to come back from the bathroom, maybe he was trying to figure out how much the whole reception had cost, maybe his feet hurt and he was taking a little rest - I don’t know. I just know his silence and sense of quiet appealed to me, and I took the photograph to remind me how important it is to stop and reflect, how crucial it is to sit still, especially when life is busy and it seems there is no time even to pause, let alone reflect.
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May 31st, 2009 Jo
A few weeks ago I attended my niece’s graduation at Tufts. Neha is a bright star in the firmament - one of the nicest people I know, as well as one who makes our generation feel confident about “passing the torch”.
Neha volunteered at Karuna Vihar when she was only in high school. She was indispensable to us then, even as a child. I still remember Shivani, the teacher she assisted, wondering how she would manage without her help once she returned home. Her time with us (we like to think) was the beginning of what has become a passion for working with children with disabilities and I was proud and overjoyed to hear that she has been selected for a prestigious program at Mt Sinai in New York in which she will be doing research in autism. At the toast I proposed at her celebration dinner after the graduation, I said how hopeful and wonderful it was to have such a brilliant young woman joining us in the ongoing challenge of working with children with disability and that perhaps she would be the one to find a cure for autism!
It was a great day there at Tufts for Karuna Vihar - not only because of Neha. The very first person to emerge on the stage for the Masters students was a boy named Evan Roth-Howe. It took me so much by surprise to hear his name announced I wasn’t really ready with the camera (which explains the fuzzy quality of the photo!):
Evan ALSO volunteered at Karuna Vihar back in 2004 and is now, I was delighted to learn, about to embark on a career in Early Intervention, having just earned a degree in Childhood Development at Tufts. We can’t claim as much credit for Evan’s decision (we barely recognized each other), but it was wonderful to see another KV veteran continuing in the field of special needs.
And finally, on the same day, we met another KV volunteer and Tufts graduate - Angie Lee, there to celebrate her brother’s graduation.
Here she is with Anand and Cathleen (also KV volunteers!). The whole day (which I like to call “Karuna Vihar Does Tufts” was such a beautiful reminder of the circle and flow of life and how experiences in youth continue to affect our growth and development for many years to come - influencing our choices in work, friendships and family relations.
To the graduates!
Posted in Bright Ideas, Friends, Inspiration | 2 Comments »
May 29th, 2009 Jo
So here’s the back yard. By this time it was around 7 AM. A very confused and sleepy man rushed out in his barefeet to see what was happening (it sounded like a dragon settling down on the lawn) and rushed right back in to get his camera. Unluckily for him, however, the house selected for the actual landing was the one next door.
Protocol for balloon landings in people’s yards is to ask the owner’s permission with a bottle of champagne. According to balloon lore, this custom began in the earliest days of hot air ballooning when landings took place in remote areas of France. The farmers on whose land the balloons came down emerged from their cottages terrified, certain they were being attacked by aliens. The champagne was meant to assure them of the friendly intent of the visitors and has remained a tradition till this day.
Here’s Tony about to meet the owner of the house where Paula landed:
And here’s the owner - an Indian, who emerged in his lungi and was somewhat startled by my greeting him in Hindi!
But back to the ballooners:
Here they are, so pleased and happy with their great adventure.
And here are the two gentlemen on the ground crew: David and Sean. What a ride!
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May 19th, 2009 Jo
Finally. We actually had begun to think this day would never come. Weather conditions for balloon rides, we now know, have to be beyond perfect. The slightest of breezes, a hint of rain, the merest suggestion of a low pressure front coming in (or was it a high pressure front?) and the ride is called off.
We had it happen three times - once we even went so far as to rise at 4:50 in the morning and drive forty minutes to the meeting point, then another ten to the the take-off point, only to have the pilot finally declare the tiny little wind we felt from the ground but which HE could tell was gusty at 200 feet unsafe for flying.
But the next day - success! We rose this time at 4:10 (we had actually been LATE the day before - this time Cathleen was there to set the alarm, a task too complicated for the two of us!) and we made it to the meeting point once again where we discovered we were early.
Kathleen and Joan, Paula’s fellow-travelers were already there and Tony, of High 5 Ballooning arrived soon after with his colleagues Sean and David.
After a brief and thorough safety run-down, Paula was asked to sign her life away.
Kathleen and Joan, mother and daughter, signed too (Kathleen had given Joan the ride as a Mother’s Day gift; we liked that Paula’s mother name is Kathleen and mine is pretty close to Joan. It’s all about US.)
Tony and his team have their act pretty well polished. Setting up the balloon is a mammoth task but they have a drill so well-memorized they were ready almost before we knew what was happening. The grass was covered with dew and our feet were freezing by the time it was all up (the guys all had sturdy rubber boots on). We were particularly delighted to see the balloon they had chosen for the flight:
On the earlier attempts, Tony had promised us he would be using a huge yellow balloon with a big smiley face on it - vaguely reminiscent of the 70’s. When I begged him to use the purple one with lilacs, he said it wasn’t big enough. As luck would have it, the day she finally flew, there were only the two other women and so the smaller one was adequate. Paula had bought a new dress specially for the occasion and we were astonished to see how perfectly it matched!
The other thing we liked was how they involved the passengers in the setting up. Cathleen and I took photos from the sidelines, but Paula, Joan and Kathleen worked hard - too hard, in fact to even think about being nervous!
That basket, by the way, has no doorway - you have to climb in, using the footholds you can see here. We really admired Joan’s spirit of adventure!
This moment, though still very low, was so exciting for all of us!
The moment they were up and away (and of course, Tony, the master showman, had that very song playing on a stereo as they rose above the fields), Sean and David sprang into action, putting all the equipment away and setting off in the “Balloon Chase Vehicle”.
Cathleen and I followed behind, staying as close as we could. Their task was to keep the balloon in sight the whole time, to be ready to assist in the landing wherever it might be - as New Hampshire is around 85% forest, landings tend to be tricky and generally end up happening in someone’s back garden.
Sean and David were wonderful. They drove to a gorgeous spot where we had a perfect view of the balloon in the distance. Slowly and surely it moved closer to where we were waiting - the air was so still we could hear them laughing and talking from a height of over 1000 feet!
The time flew by. By now, the sun was well up and the balloon began its slow descent:
Suddenly, Tony radioed to Sean and David. They shouted to us to follow them, leaped into their “chase vehicle” and sped off. By the time we caught up with them, the balloon was landing - as predicted, right in someone’s back garden.
For those pictures - Next Post!
Posted in Friends, Fun! | 4 Comments »
May 18th, 2009 Jo
This is just a partial showing, of course. Though I MEANT to document every single moment of her time here, occasionally I had to put the camera down and just enjoy her company!
This is Mary, on a glorious day in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where she took us (along with Dad and my brother Christopher) for lunch at the most incredible restaurant by the sea:
Then there was a breakfast with Moy at a charming little cafe in Wellesley, where we had waffles and pancakes and the most gorgeous fruit we’d ever seen . . .
Mary’s husband Tom (with Misty on his lap) and Paula were like long-lost friends, though they had only met once before.
And Paula and Cathleen, really ARE long-lost friends -
In Dehradun, Paula was a part of our family and helped our children grow up to be the wonderful people they are. Paula was like an aunt to Cathleen and a profound influence on her life.
Posted in Family, Friends | 2 Comments »
May 18th, 2009 Jo
This trip was a long time coming.
Many years ago, Paula confided in me that her dream for her 60th birthday was to go on a hot air balloon ride in Kenya.
Much as I would have loved to make her wish come true, I didn’t have connections in Kenya, had no real desire to go there myself and really wanted to be there when she went aloft. So I gave her an alternative: a ticket to the United States and a hot air balloon ride there (my sister has a patient who does them all the time so she was willing to set it up).
But this was all in December of 2006.
Somehow, however, one year after another passed and both Paula and I were too caught up with the care of our parents and children and jobs to think about ballooning. But this year, after several false starts, we managed to pull it off!
I was so excited I was at the airport in Boston an hour before her flight was to arrive.
I guess we really had let too much time elapse between visits because I almost assaulted the woman in blue here as she emerged from Immigration.
“Paula!” I shouted.
No response.
“Paula!” I yelled again, clicking away as I raced behind her, dropping my purse in the confusion, only to cringe with embarrassment as she turned and revealed herself to be someone totally unfamiliar.
Luckily, Paula came out soon after, and this time, there was no mistaking her:
There she was, just as I had dreamed it happening. . .
Just ten days together, and so much to do, so many plans, so much to catch up on, so many stories to tell. The trip passed by in a happy haze of walks in the countryside, lunches in cafes, visits to museums and parks and - best of all - introducing her to all my family.
Each morning began, of course, with tea, and I had to learn all over again how LIGHT she drinks hers and how MUCH milk she puts into it (and no sugar!).
We took long walks every morning, averaging around seven miles a day. The weather, while not always sunny, was almost always perfect for walking - and the flowers (lilacs, tulips, daffodils!) were incredible.
Next up: the people she met!
Posted in Friends, Fun! | 1 Comment »
May 3rd, 2009 Jo
I took a little walk outside the hotel while Dad was sleeping. There was plenty to see. I enjoyed the experience of being observed by people who - I know - assumed I was a typical tourist, gaping at INDIA.
I was gaping, it’s true, but that has more to do with my perpetual astonishment at life in this country, with the contrasts and the busy-ness and the color and the courage (would you imagine it was 110 degrees out by looking at these people? A similar day in London or New York would show people looking faint and exhausted - here it’s just another day with all the same things to accomplish and nothing particularly relaxing - like a cold shower or an AC room - too look forward to at the end of it).
After several interesting conversations with people, including a grandmother and a bewitchingly beautiful child, I headed back to the hotel. Just outside the door, I met this group of young scamps and started chatting with them.
The doorman at the hotel was on the scene instantly, trying to shoo them away. I explained that we were talking, and he calmed down a little, but remained vigilant and disapproving. The boys, for their part, were astonished when I spoke to them in Hindi. One said to the other: “She speaks Hindi!” I asked him, “Is there some problem with that?” In perfect English, he answered :”No problem, Auntie! There is no problem!”
They told me about their school, which they attend from 1 to 6 PM. “So what do you do in the mornings?” I asked. “Tuitions!” they chorused. “And when do you have fun?”
“At night! Till midnight!”
As they began to tell me about all they did for fun in the late hours in Paharganj, they grew more and more animated and unrestrained. Suddenly, in a swoop of authority and power, the doorman, assisted by two other men from the hotel, stepped down into the street and sent them off in no uncertain terms.
“They are Danger Boys,” he told me firmly. “They will steal from you and then where will we be?”
Posted in Out of Dehradun, Thinking | 1 Comment »
May 2nd, 2009 Jo
April 29 was the hottest day Delhi has seen in 50 years: 43.5 Celsius (110 F!). Just our luck that that was the day we had chosen to fly out to the US.
Except we didn’t fly out.
Dad and I were up at 4:30 AM and planned to be on the road from Dehradun by 5. He wasn’t feeling too well, however, so we waited until 6 to depart. We arrived in Delhi at almost two in the afternoon and went straight to our hotel in Paharganj.
Paharganj is not in the leafy, green part of the city where I usually tend to find myself.
It’s near the New Delhi Railway station and its streets buzz with constant activity. There is no end to what you might see. Bicycle rickshaws careen through the narrow lanes, competing with auto rickshaws, scooters, cars and bicycles. Children are everywhere - confident, boisterous, heedless of the traffic, the heat and the crowds - just out there having fun. Every inch of space is filled with purposeful, gainful activity. Nobody seems to loiter in Paharganj.
And there we were, in an area I had never been, which looked a little shady considering I had my 87 year old father with me, booked in a hotel I had only heard about from a friend which, when I called from the road, denied any knowledge of my reservation.
I had booked online at a site called GODWIN HOTELS. Of the hotels in the photo, which would you have gone to?
The one that says GODWIN in huge letters?
Me too.
So I went in to this very dusty lobby, no AC anywhere in the vicinity, and LUCKILY, they said we didn’t have a reservation there. After a lot of hilarious exchanges, during which our luggage was removed from the car and put back into it several times, we came to the conclusion that the hotel in the picture was the wrong one and the one right next door, the one that said GRAND with Godwin in tiny letters beneath it, was the one where we had signed up.
Thank GOD! God won!
It was the HOTEL GRAND (Godwin) all along, and what a lovely, shining, perfect hotel it turned out to be ( 4 Stars**** on the Jo Chopra Scale).
After we checked in, Dad went straight to bed and I headed out for the mean streets of Delhi, with HIS shopping list for all the grandchildren (and a few little items of my own). Every now and then, I called the desk staff at the hotel and asked them to bring Dad some nimbu pani and check that the AC was functioning.
They were lovely, treating Dad like an honored guest and showering him with attention and smiles.
And here we come to a fundamental aspect of life in India. Elderly people, by and large, RULE.
When I take Dad anywhere - shopping, for example - we walk into the store and instantly one of the clerks, leaps up to help usher him in. They call for a chair so he can sit in comfort and then scurry about bringing things to him for his inspection.
And not only in the large and spacious shops - even in this tiny bookstore where we went on our last day in India, though it was crowded with people and really had no space even to swing a cat (which we were both SO keen to do), they managed to find a little stool in a corner for Dad and got him situated snugly there. Even the guard at the door found a book he wanted Dad to see.
It’s what I most appreciate on his behalf: the feeling here that an elderly person is important and special and - LUCKY. When I tell people my father is living with us, the universal response is “Oh, that’s WONDERFUL! You’re so LUCKY.”
In America, while people do have their parents live with them, the response from others tends to be sympathetic: “Oh that must be tough. How do you manage?”
I’m no hero. I can find Dad trying at times, and my life has slowed down considerably since he came to stay. He and the biddies (that’s what we call Mummy and Masiji) are all deaf and conversations at our dinner table are hilarious and absurd (when not frustrating and crazy-making. My evening walks, now that I go at his speed, are an exercise in patience, and I often answer the same question a dozen times in less than half an hour.
But all my friends, all my neighbors, everyone I work with, everyone I meet in this amazing country tells me how lucky I am. It’s part of the air here, it comes to me in my dreams, it’s filtered through the leaves and comes in on the wind: these are the days I have with my father, my mother-in-law, my masiji. How lucky, how lucky, how lucky.
Posted in Bright Ideas, Dad, Inspiration | 1 Comment »
April 25th, 2009 Jo
Here’s another story from Karuna Vihar.
Ganga Ram, our physiotherapist assistant has been on leave for the last few weeks as his wife has just delivered a child in their village in Nepal and he’s gone home to celebrate. His absence leaves a large gap in the school as so many children need therapy.
Not to worry.
Here’s little Mithali assisting Prem Bhaiya as he works with Nikkoo.
Nikkoo isn’t that fond of his therapy sessions - some of the stretching he needs to do to prevent contractures is tiring, to say nothing of tedious. One morning, Mithali took it upon herself to help out. She positioned herself by Nikkoo’s head and entertained him with stories, songs and little poems.
When that seemed to go well, she decided she could do more. She took up her place at his feet this time and carefully moved his legs according to what she had watched Ganga Ram Bhaiya do a few weeks earlier. Prem Bhaiya instructed her in the small details and the therapy proceeded in fine form.
Way to go, Mithali! Watch your back, Ganga Ram!
Posted in Bright Ideas, Inspiration | 4 Comments »