Foreign folk songs at an ashram

On one of the trains from Kolkata to Jaipur (the one leaving from Delhi), the most peculiar, awkward, and violating thing happened to me. John and I were having a delightful conversation with a couple of British and Indian origin who had decided to settle in a little town on a hill in Mexico when some eunuchs came by. I have tried to ask locals who speak english what the deal is with these people, but nobody seems to have a clue. Some locals give money out of embarrassment, or fear that they will kiss or harass them. Some say that little boys are taken from their parents, castrated, and then forced to dress like women and beg when they reach a certain age. Basically, they are men (with no physical manhood) who dress up in saris (women's garb) and act in a feminine manner (even overly so, I would wager) and ask for money. I have only seen them on trains. They have never bothered me before, or any other foreigner for that matter, but this particular time, there were three eunuchs who approached me. One sat beside me and started to stroke my arm. I made the fatal mistake by asking him to stop and leave in Hindi, which made me seem more local (or at least accustomed) to the eunuch. He persisted in his efforts until the Indian expat lady sitting across from me asked him to leave, and with that, he got up. However, as he left, he jabbed his hand directly on my crotch, contacting the very manhood attached to me which he lacks. I was shocked! He and his two friends were gone in a flash as I, stunned as a deer on the road, was both speechless and actless. The feeling of awkwardness passed soon, but my frustration took about an hour to subside. I guess I was overwhelmed by the lack of rules (or perhaps simply enforcement?) of sexual harassment here, and also felt a deep sadness for the women who undoubtedly get it worse.

Anyway, when we got to Jaipur (after 40 hours on a train) we had a wonderful two night stay at my old host family, the Mathur's, where we read a lot and watched a Bollywood movie in theatres. My host dad arranged a jeep to take us about 30 minutes north of the city to a small Leprosy Ashram called the Ramgarh Reintegration Centre, where we were to volunteer for the next 4 days. We thought that the job description would be similar to working with the sick in
Kolkata (bathing, feeding, massaging) but we were mistaken. This place is a simple place, filled with students living simple lives. This ashram is a vocational training institute where anyone can come (though mostly cured leprosy patients do) to take a six month course on a trade. These include tailoring, perfume-making, dairy operating, electric repairs, two- and three-wheeler repairs, and computer training. What could we do, as they were properly settled and content? Well, by nature of our upbringing, we taught English and computer training! It was great fun- we completed 5 one hour English lessons which covered the basics, and ended with our part of the cultural exchange where we talked about Canada, mentioning hockey, wildlife, and maple trees among other things. In computer training, they were making documents on word and powerpoint. They were ecstatic to watch how fast my fingers type! I helped one man take an article from a newspaper and reproduce it on word.

Like I said, this place is astonishingly simple. Every night before the sun went down we would all play cricket on a patch of ground next to the cows. It was amazing to see so many people enthusiastically playing the nationally-loved game despite their handicaps (many had crutches or canes due to the effects of their past bouts with leprosy). Then they would go to prayer, which consisted of all 38 of them forming lines in front of a little temple, folding their hands, and sounding off a 10 minute song (completely by memorization!) to many of their gods- I caught the words Krishna, Parvati, Shiva, Brahmhan, Ganesh, and others. I kindly folded my hands and silently prayed to Christ, and I felt right at home. After that, we would sit in the grass in a circle until supper. One night, they had a game where they would sing a line from a popular Indian song, and the first word of the next song must begin with the same letter that the last song ended with. They went on for hours as the sun set, and I even joined in with some english songs. The food was plain, the lifestyle relaxed, and their belongings far from extravagant, yet I have never experienced such close companionship and unity among a group of people in those 4 days. Never. Not in any church or friendship circle, and I am apt to guess that I do not yet belong to such an organisation of friends. There is so much to learn from the simple, and my only regret was that we left too soon, so my outlook on friendship and mutual living could not be further nurtured. To be honest, I found it quite exhausting because every second of the day they wanted to spend time with John and I- we had to peel ourselves away to read and even sleep! I suppose my individualistic upbringing is far removed from the collectivism of this ashram.

There was a boy named Saddam Hussain there who was a tailor. They always joked about his name, and he was absolutely hilarious. He also had the best voice of the group, and graced us often with foreign folk songs of India at any time of day.

Before we knew it, we were on our way back to Jaipur, where we took a train to Delhi. We made a last minute change of plans by cancelling our train to Amritsar (Punjab) and instead taking a night bus to Manali (Himachal Pradesh- the Himalayas again!). We have been here for about 4 days, and the adventures have been unbelievable, so stay tuned! All I can say now is that I thank the Lord that we are in one piece, and tonight, I'm off to Dharmsala (the residence of his holiness the 14th Dalai Lama). Phir Milenge (see you later).