INDIA, JANUARY 2007
hindi devotional song intro
After 5 showerless days of sloshing around in the mountains, I decided to take refuge in a small village to recover the feeling in my legs. I'd heard about a place near Kalimpong, some community tourism initiative started by a former Indian army major. It was way beyond my budget to stay there, but I thought, "what the hell, I deserve a break." So off I went. After 4 hours in a jeep, along a rickety mountain pass road with hairpin turns and potholes that would launch my stomach into my throat, I arrived in a small village surrounded by nothing but green and mist. I was taken up to a ginormous house, and greeted by the benevolent father figure of the village, the army daddy, my host.
The Major (as he was known) had very strong opinions about what was wrong with India, and how he was going to fix it. He spoke about the unsustainable influx of people migrating to the city every year, and how villages like the one we were in were being abandoned. People were giving up these vast expanses of fertile land for a shack in the city slums, in hopes of raising themselves up economically; of capturing their share of India's newfound wealth. The Major thought this was ludicrous. He said he wanted to show the people who lived here that they had resources; that they had a different, arguably more valuable kind of wealth at their disposal. So he started a community initiative with the expressed purpose of keeping people in the village, to stymy the flood of urban migration.
It went a little something like this: the Major approached a handful of villagers and asked to build a one-room tourist guesthouse on their property, which he paid for. Then he organized people- tourists- to come stay there, offering them freshly-cooked local meals, peace, quiet, serenity, and the all-important "authentic local experience." All the money went to whichever family played host. The Major provided the capital, gave informal English lessons, and set up a small English school in the village.
Sounds good, no? It was for the most part... the only strange thing was that I think the whole set up was meant for a.. different kind of tourist. The guesthouse was an elegant raised woodframe house, lavishly decorated with local handicrafts and antiques with a cute little porch out front. Pretty much the swankiest accommodations I've... EVER had, and quite a step up from the cement holes I'd stayed in everywhere else in India. On top of this, the family I stayed with never really interacted with me (they were kind of shy on account of the language barrier) and their daughter was in charge of "taking care" of me... which made me feel like she was my servant girl... which in turn made me extremely uncomfortable. She was nice, but afraid to chat for fear of offending me, so would serve me my food, call me "madam," bow, and leave.
Anyone who knows me can probably imagine how horrified I was at this; can maybe even feel the awkwardness of that situation oozing out of this blog entry. The last thing I wanted was to be reminded of my privilege as a rich, galavanting Westerner. It was the faux tourism experience in full effect, born of good intentions, but horribly contrived nonetheless.
Thankfully I (and my lucky travel fairy) believe in making our own fun. The first night, as I was sitting alone on my cute little porch wishing I had... someone to talk to, I heard faint singing. "That sounds live," I thought. So I grabbed my recorder and went out into the night, following the sound of the music. I walked into a house where about 20 kids were gathered in a pseudo circle, singing and dancing joyfully with a harmonium and drum accompanying them. I sat down and made myself scarce, indeed no one really paid me any mind for a long time. After a while, some began to notice. The girls would glance back at me and smile or nod, and then whisper amongst themselves. Some came up and offered me food but mostly they just kept singing. I was sitting next to the harmonium player, and he just kept smiling at me. It was a shy but immensely gracious smile. I can still remember it, and yes I'm smiling right now thinking about it.
What struck me most about that night was how carefree they all seemed, and how I didn't feel like a part of the equation at all. They weren't singing and dancing for me, they were just doing it, from somewhere inside themselves, a spiritual place I have never known, but feel humbled to have witnessed.
Travelling often suffers from Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle: the measurement changes the result. I travel because I am awed by different cultures, different worlds, different ways of being. But often, by the very act of witnessing it, the... "purity" of those worlds is compromised. For this reason, certain moments stand out- those rare, rare occasions where the laws of physics do not apply, and the universe makes someone else's world immune to my eyes and my presence.
... I feel a big philosophical argument welling up in my throat, so I'm going to stop here and save that for another rainy day. I've started archiving my stuff at archive.org, so more samples can eventually be found here. Be patient, these things take eons to upload...
Enjoy.
hindi devotional song1
hindi devotional song intro
After 5 showerless days of sloshing around in the mountains, I decided to take refuge in a small village to recover the feeling in my legs. I'd heard about a place near Kalimpong, some community tourism initiative started by a former Indian army major. It was way beyond my budget to stay there, but I thought, "what the hell, I deserve a break." So off I went. After 4 hours in a jeep, along a rickety mountain pass road with hairpin turns and potholes that would launch my stomach into my throat, I arrived in a small village surrounded by nothing but green and mist. I was taken up to a ginormous house, and greeted by the benevolent father figure of the village, the army daddy, my host.
The Major (as he was known) had very strong opinions about what was wrong with India, and how he was going to fix it. He spoke about the unsustainable influx of people migrating to the city every year, and how villages like the one we were in were being abandoned. People were giving up these vast expanses of fertile land for a shack in the city slums, in hopes of raising themselves up economically; of capturing their share of India's newfound wealth. The Major thought this was ludicrous. He said he wanted to show the people who lived here that they had resources; that they had a different, arguably more valuable kind of wealth at their disposal. So he started a community initiative with the expressed purpose of keeping people in the village, to stymy the flood of urban migration.
It went a little something like this: the Major approached a handful of villagers and asked to build a one-room tourist guesthouse on their property, which he paid for. Then he organized people- tourists- to come stay there, offering them freshly-cooked local meals, peace, quiet, serenity, and the all-important "authentic local experience." All the money went to whichever family played host. The Major provided the capital, gave informal English lessons, and set up a small English school in the village.
Sounds good, no? It was for the most part... the only strange thing was that I think the whole set up was meant for a.. different kind of tourist. The guesthouse was an elegant raised woodframe house, lavishly decorated with local handicrafts and antiques with a cute little porch out front. Pretty much the swankiest accommodations I've... EVER had, and quite a step up from the cement holes I'd stayed in everywhere else in India. On top of this, the family I stayed with never really interacted with me (they were kind of shy on account of the language barrier) and their daughter was in charge of "taking care" of me... which made me feel like she was my servant girl... which in turn made me extremely uncomfortable. She was nice, but afraid to chat for fear of offending me, so would serve me my food, call me "madam," bow, and leave.
Anyone who knows me can probably imagine how horrified I was at this; can maybe even feel the awkwardness of that situation oozing out of this blog entry. The last thing I wanted was to be reminded of my privilege as a rich, galavanting Westerner. It was the faux tourism experience in full effect, born of good intentions, but horribly contrived nonetheless.
Thankfully I (and my lucky travel fairy) believe in making our own fun. The first night, as I was sitting alone on my cute little porch wishing I had... someone to talk to, I heard faint singing. "That sounds live," I thought. So I grabbed my recorder and went out into the night, following the sound of the music. I walked into a house where about 20 kids were gathered in a pseudo circle, singing and dancing joyfully with a harmonium and drum accompanying them. I sat down and made myself scarce, indeed no one really paid me any mind for a long time. After a while, some began to notice. The girls would glance back at me and smile or nod, and then whisper amongst themselves. Some came up and offered me food but mostly they just kept singing. I was sitting next to the harmonium player, and he just kept smiling at me. It was a shy but immensely gracious smile. I can still remember it, and yes I'm smiling right now thinking about it.
What struck me most about that night was how carefree they all seemed, and how I didn't feel like a part of the equation at all. They weren't singing and dancing for me, they were just doing it, from somewhere inside themselves, a spiritual place I have never known, but feel humbled to have witnessed.
Travelling often suffers from Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle: the measurement changes the result. I travel because I am awed by different cultures, different worlds, different ways of being. But often, by the very act of witnessing it, the... "purity" of those worlds is compromised. For this reason, certain moments stand out- those rare, rare occasions where the laws of physics do not apply, and the universe makes someone else's world immune to my eyes and my presence.
... I feel a big philosophical argument welling up in my throat, so I'm going to stop here and save that for another rainy day. I've started archiving my stuff at archive.org, so more samples can eventually be found here. Be patient, these things take eons to upload...
Enjoy.
hindi devotional song1
November 10, 2008 at 10:10 a.m.
Hey Anita, this is great! All my blogging buddies seem to be taking a long hiatus, so I've had nothing great to read from friends recently... until now! Love your tumbling-out thoughts with a healthy pinch of ta-ha! That devotional singing sounds pro, yo!