just me and the boys...

When the time came to leave Dharmasala, it felt like I was leaving India. In some ways I was leaving the India that I knew, the one made up of westerners. It was an India filled with fabulous people from all over the world, a new language (the Israeli version of Hindi), and so many teachers with a constant supply of lessons. But as I boarded the local bus to Chandigarh to visit my boys it occurred to me that maybe that wasn't so much India. Maybe this local bus that I was boarding, in which i was the only westerner, in which none of the Indians spoke a lick of english, rather maybe this was the beginning of the real India.

The ride was beautiful, with snow capped mountains on either side of the bus for a good half of the journey. I made "friends" with an elderly couple on the bus who spoke impassioned hindi to me the entire way. I'm not sure what they were saying but it sounded really important, or at least the old man seemed to think that it was really important because he would not be discouraged by my repeated attempts to use the little hindi I knew to say "patanai hindi" (I dont know hindi) although my pronunciation may have been weak, in which case I was repeatedly saying "wife hindi" which maybe is why his replies were so impassioned in the first place...hmmmm.

I arrived in Chandigarh by night and waited for Karan to come pick me up. In the meantime, as per usual, everyone wanted to be my friend. I was finally in a place on my own, where I literally was the only foreigner. After many men introduced themselves to me declaring their desire to be my "friend," Karan showed up with a less than excited expression on his face to see my new following. He quickly picked up my bags, said some stuff in hindi and poof, like magic, made my fan club dissappear. what a neat trick.

We drove to a parking lot where we met up with Shiv and Harry, my friends from Dharam. And one of Karan's life long friends Vishal came to join us. I was so happy to be reunited with my friends that I was jumping up and down, drawing even more attention from even more men that had to be "spoken" with in hindi and made to dissapear. Apparently, jumping up and down is seen as "indecent" for a girl. Practically everything that I do that makes me me, is considered indecent in India. What to do.

After catching up and driving around we went back to Karan's mother's home so I could wash up and get settled and of course meet "Ma," because she is everyone's mother. In India it is not so easy for girls to be friends with boys, let alone for a girl to come stay with her guy friends. It was very generous of Ma to let me stay with them in their home but it became clear very quickly that was just how Ma was, generous with everyone. She and I took a walk around the neighborhood talking about teaching and reiki and of course Oprah, that woman really does make it around the globe. Some time after chatting and way before the boys were ready for bed, I passed out without even knowing it and that was the end of my first night in Chandigarh.

So much happened while I was in Chandi that I'm finding it difficult to string all the stories together into one riveting tale. For now I think I'll just run over the highlights:
Let's see, where do all good stories begin...right, at the pub. We went to a bar where I taught the boys a drinking game that I learned in Laos. Some new folks joined the frey and we were all pretty toasted by the time we were asked to leave. After blasting some punjabi music while we danced in the parking lot, we were again asked to leave but this time by the police. Shiv coming from the family he comes from has MANY connections with the police and everyone really, so we had no trouble. We found ourselves an empty river bed under a full night's sky where we turned our music back on and danced barefoot in the cold sand until we were done. Just to give the picture a soundtrack, because the soundtrack for me was one of the most exciting and amusing parts of this week in Chandi, we were dancing under the stars in the empty river bed to a mix of classic rock (lady in red), pop trash (backstreet boys), gangsta rap (50 cent) and other such random accoutriments like "the streets of philadelphia." My music sensibility was all over the place, and like with everything in India I simply had to say "why not?" and carry on. On the ride home, some poor dumb guy made the unsafe choice of cutting Karan off, so the boys decided that he needed to know how unsafe that was and chased him down to scare him. They cut him off, yelled at him for awhile, made like they were gonna beat him up but instead decided that Karan would drive this guy's bike back to his place (way out of this poor guy's way) and Harry would drive the car back. Apparently, this was generous behavious in Chandi. Most problems like this end up with some sort of blood spilt from some sort of body part. I was happy to not see this part of Chandi, or at least not that night.

We also went to a disco (Harry, Shiv, Harry's way too young girl on the side, and I). The club was a blasty. I danced like a crazy person, finally in a place where I didn't feel like I had to worry about being indecent. Although, Harry and Shiv might speak differently because they spent most of their night on damage control, keeping me away from the big guys they couldn't beat up and the creeps who kept trying to dance with me. Little did they knowI am fully versed in creeps at night clubs, they exist all over the world. I was in my creepy night club element and fully at ease. Although, again the boys here are way more eager to fight than American cities and there was definetly a brawl we watched take place outside, where one of their friends wiped the floor with four other guys. An impressive, if not highly disturbing scene to watch.

What else...the boys brought me to two seperate pujas, which are special prayers and teachings... I think. One of them was an all night affair hosted by Vishal's family. There was music and bright flashing lights and the overwhelming feeling like I was in Vegas. The other was in the home of Ma's maid, a lovely woman name Ritu. Her whole family was there. And as per usual I tried to connect with the children--I find the language barrier not such a barrier when there's no language involved and most of the time the kids are quite fond of my willingness to meet them on their level. I don't know if it was my crazy holi hair, or maybe my frighteningly white skin, but I scared the crap out of this kid and any time I even looked in his direction he would start screaming like I was trying to eat his heart, which broke my heart. I kept my eyes on my feet and reiki'ed Ritu's arm.

Harry had apparently made an announcement to his world when I arrived that I was some sort of healer and there was a never ending supply of people who either wanted me to read their tarot cards or give them reiki, which was fine by me cause I needed the practice. One of the girl's that I read tarot for, Nitu, invited me to an Indian wedding. It was a seikh wedding and I got all dressed up in formal Indian garb in one of Ma's outfits. I was introduced as Harry's wife to some and relative to other's because it was not okay for me to just be his friend. And I was quickly told that although I was terribly excited to be there, jumping up and down was not permitted. What's a joyful girl to do!? I stuck to smiling and when the time was right, I convinced Nitu's sister Mina to teach me some Indian dancing on the dance floor. We put on quite a show for 5 minutes, till I realized that everyone was staring and then I thought maybe, again, I'm a little too happy for Indian standards and removed myself from the dance floor. I made conversation with Mina and Nitu for awhile, their mother told me I was sweet and pretty, followed by the okay symbol which I misread to mean "only a little bit." It was a damn good time.

I asked Harry loads of questions about the Seikh religion and although he was too cool to have many of the answers he was able to give me a general understanding, and Nitu filled in the rest of the holes. Later in the week Harry took me to a Seikh temple so we could pray and listen to the chanting and wash our feet and eat the holy beans and bow our head to the holy book and all that other fascinatingly different kind of stuff.

I learned how to make chai. Well, first I developed an addiction to chai, and then a fear of my life without it when I returned to the US. So, I thought maybe it was wise to teach this woman how to fish, instead of continuously asking for others to make chai for her (excuse the mixed metaphors). It was a great bonding tool, in each home I would ask the lady of the house to teach me her special way, and for each lady of the house there was a different and special way! Some put the milk before the water, others use green instead of black teas, others yet use herbs and spices while some rely on the simple flavor of good old fashioned sugar.

What else can I tell you to make you all understand how amazing my time was with my boys in Chandigarh...We drove around in Harry's car most days and nights, cracking jokes, screaming lyrics to wonderfully bad music, stopping at house after house of friend after family member for a chai here, some sweets there. There were many events but most of the 'amazing' happened during the uneventful, just being with each other and getting to know each other in ways that made me feel bonded like family. My brother Shiv, my husband Harry and my Jones Karan. Ishlibadish boys, ishlibadish.