After Madurai

 

Final farewell from the wonderful teachers at Lady Doak

                      

 

               A lot of people have asked me since I left India what I would be doing next - an understandable question.  You can't really just go back and sit at home after going through two years of fending on your own through the many obstacles India can dish out.  And trust me there are a great many of them. 

               So far I've stayed very evasive and non-committal in my responses and to those to whom I've given those answers I apologize although it hasn't been due to a lack of knowing.  Ironically I am spending most of my time back home, not doing much except spending time with my parents and freezing my butt off in surprisingly cool Texas weather.  But there is of course an underlying reason for my being back in Fort Worth.

               I've gone back and forth on how and when to tell friends and which friends I should tell.  While doing this on a blog seems like a harsh thing to do I've never been good about discussing more personal issues and despite how much I've grown recently that still hasn't changed.  Especially when it concerns my health.

               The reason I'm back at home is because during the next year I'll be removing my birthmark which as most people know is on the left side of my forehead.  More correctly it's actually known as a Venous malformation or in much simpler terms it's like having a big mess of blood vessels on the forehead.  It's something I was born with and because of it I've been seeing doctors for almost my entire life.  In fact removing it was an idea that they've had since I was born, however according to my parents even at a young age of 5 or 6 I was adamant about keeping my birthmark.    

               I never saw my birthmark as holding me back or 'disfiguring' me in any way - as far as I was concerned having this birthmark was what is normal for me.  Maybe to someone else it seems abnormal to have a big purple spot on your face but instead of finding it to be problematic I fiercely held onto it as being entirely all my own.  It made me different from everyone else and rather than hiding it I celebrated it.  In a small way it defined who I was.  This attitude was always incomprehensible to the many doctors and surgeons who have examined me and even as I struggled with my decision at the age of 24 to remove it my surgeon has expressed his surprise that I've had it for this long. 

               It may seem strange that I've suddenly decided to get it removed after having lived with it for so long.    For close to 18 years it hadn't presented any dangers towards my health or any other concern and for me that would be the only reason I would have it removed.  However in the past few years I've started to experience more and more problems with my birthmark.  In high school I started noticing that it often felt sore like a bruise, and then while studying abroad in Japan parts of the skin started to disintegrate leaving small holes on the surface.  Thankfully I was able to see a doctor in Japan and after getting medicine they went away, but that was around the time when I realized that I had no idea what the long term effects of my birthmark would be - and neither did my doctors.  Although the doctor in Japan told me confidently that this was something that would only keep happening from then on out.

               He was right and two years later while I was in India the same problem happened.  Only this time there were more spots and the medicine wasn't working any longer.  Not only that but it no longer felt painless, there was an incredible pressure that went with it.  I couldn't bend over or do anything that made the blood rush to my head otherwise it felt like all the blood was going to come pouring out of those small holes.  It got so bad that not only could I no longer go to the gym but I couldn't even put my head down on the pillow without feeling that pressure. 

               It wasn't until then that I realized how annoying this would be if I had to keep dealing with it at all kinds of junctures in my life.  It was hard enough being somewhere like Madurai and not having any family or knowing of any doctors to see.  How was I supposed to explain this to someone who didn't understand English very well?  My Tamil was nowhere near good enough for a medical discussion. 

               This was one of the most difficult parts in my life so far - I contacted my doctor at home who told me that this would keep happening until the entire skin on the surface disintegrated leaving me with the only option of surgery.  At the same time on the urging of my parents I took a trip to Mumbai to see a doctor about getting any medicine.  That had to be one of the worst experiences I've had with doctors - I don't know what it is but most surgeons have zero talents as far as communication goes.  He didn't give me any new information that I didn't already know but did stress that this would only continue to happen.    

               It was during this time that it began to dawn on my surgery is truly the only option.  Yet even as I went to see my surgeon in Dallas I found myself still searching for any other possible options.  My surgeon didn't seem to understand, he told me that if it were his daughter or wife he would absolutely tell them to have it removed.  I think to him he expects that I'm scared about going under the knife but that's not what it is at all. 

               From such a young age I've held on to this birthmark being a part of who I am - I had to otherwise getting through childhood would have been remarkably much more difficult.  And now to think about removing it would be almost akin to giving into what society dictates - that this birthmark is imperfect and thus I'm imperfect having it.  While I have never searched for perfection I've also always fought against what other people expect or want me to do.  And removing this birthmark would be going against everything the 6 year old me fought for in all those doctor's offices.  That's what freaked me out the most.

               In the end it's something my surgeon said - as we get older all kinds of things start to go a little haywire and while they can't say anything for certain there's little evidence to prove that my birthmark would behave otherwise.  On top of that I've already had all kinds of interruptions into my life because of it and this last problem really awoke me to the idea that this could keep me from doing what I want in life.  How can I ever expect to see the base camp of Mt. Everest if I have to deal with this? 

               Thus I've decided to have the surgery which is why I find myself back at home with my family.  I'll be having the surgery in Dallas and after discussing it with my surgeon all of the procedures look to take about a year.  So to all those who have been wondering about what I'm doing after India, it seems like I'll be in Texas for at least that long getting this figured out. 

               My first surgery is already set for July 17th although it will be a simple procedure of simply putting in two balloons to stretch the skin out on either side of part of the birthmark.  This is just in preparation so they have skin ready to cover whatever they take out. 

               I apologize for how long-winded this got but because it's not something I talk about very often I felt it was only fair to be as honest as possible.  I also want to apologize to a lot of my friends whom I haven't seen since leaving for India.  As much as I would absolutely LOVE to see all of you I'm not sure how likely it will be until this is all over.  I'm not sure what my schedule will be like for the duration of this year and because I'm not going to be able to work while this is happening I don't think I'll have the funds to make cross-country travel.  But believe me when I saw I would like nothing more than to be able to visit all of you and catch up. 

               I can't wait to see you all and I am probably going to look a lot different the next time we meet.  I also hope this has answered some questions for other people  and while I'm nervous about figuring out what I'll do after this year I'm not as worried as I might have been before India. 

The 3 Amigos - Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Karnataka

               Tamil Nadu, Kerala, and Karnataka - while I've spent time in each state (obviously TN is what I know best) but I've never seen it the way I did while I was traveling with my Oberlin Professor Paula Richman.  In fact most of the places I went to I had never been to before: Kancheepuram in North Tamil Nadu, Thrissur (actually Irinjalakuda which I still am not sure how to pronounce) in Kerala, and both Manipal and Honnavar in Kerala.  Each place I saw a new theater style prominent in South India and each one showed us a performance of the Indian epic the Ramayana.  In Kancheepuram it was Kattai Kuttu, Irinjalakuda it was Nangiar Kuttu, and in Thrissur it was Yakshagana. 

               The most unique part about this trip was being able to travel across South India over the period of two weeks.  Sure I had done it before but not like this.  We spent time at people's homes, watched dance narrative performances in each state, and ate home cooked meals everywhere we went.  So what does that mean?  Basically I was able to see the country change across borders, I was able to taste the difference in all the food, smell the changes in the air, listen to the different speeches - experience this place I've been in for 2 years in a whole new way. 

               What I loved most about it were the jokes - almost everyone had some kind of joke they cracked on the next state.  Not in a we're-definitely-superior way but just how people crack jokes on New Yorkers or Texans.  Which got me to thinking, after hearing about South India from a variety of people (including the teacher from North India who was traveling with us) I can now appreciate that state borders are much more than mere ideas.  The people change as much as the terrain does and I've only seen at the very least a 1/4 of this country.  But here are some of the things I've noticed so far:

               - Madurai, sorry to say, smells like poo.  This isn't even a Tamil Nadu thing as I discovered, just a Madurai thing.  Kerala smells like coconut oil and Karnataka (at least the parts I saw) smells like fish.  I'm not sure what it is with Madurai but it definitely carries eau de excrement; a favored past time of those here is to guess what made that crap.  It's just lucky we have the smell of burning trash to cover it up.

               - After this point I will not suffer another chapati made in South India.  For a long time I have carried a hatred of this thin bread, mostly because it reminds me too much of a badly made tortilla and that just angers me.  The North Indian teacher assured me that I was very much capable of loving chapati, so long as they were made by someone living above Bombay.  According to a variety of sources chapati is just something South India can't get right.

               - Likewise under no circumstance should I ever order dosai in North India.  As South Indians can't make chapati, North Indians can't make dosai.  Good to know these things and personally I'd rather stick with the dosai any day.

               - I've never felt more comfortable around the opposite sex than in Karnataka.  I don't know what it is about that state but I didn't experience any sketchy leering or uncomfortable come-ons like I've had elsewhere.  Casual friendship with the opposite sex was more than a dream, it was very much possible!  Before I would have thought that was impossible unless they were city boys but in Karnataka I was proved wrong.  Tamil Nadu isn't so bad but the boys there still stare, not quite like they do in Kerala, more like they keep forgetting they've seen a woman's chest before and continuously have the same melt-down upon making eye contact with a woman.  As for Kerala, well, there's a serious case of machismo going on over there that would make los hombres en México very proud.  Yet the majority of our company in Karnataka were men and there was no uncomfortably long stares or rude questions.  I even made pretty good friends with the Yakshagana Troupe leader's two sons.   

               - Tamil in Northern Tamil Nadu is a whole different beast.  Listening to people speak in Madurai you get the feeling that someone's shooting a machine gun at you - each consonant hits you bam, bam, bam!  I assumed this was just how the language sounds but I've never been more wrong.  Around Kancheepuram all of a sudden I couldn't understand a word anyone was saying.   The way they spoke it was like smooth liquid pouring out, there was no harshness to it and instead it flowed with a calmness you don't hear in southern Tamil Nadu (at least not that I had noticed).  It was so different for a second I thought they were speaking a whole other language.  It was smooth and listening to it reminded me of feeling silk slip out of your hands, it was so effortless.   

               - Turns out everyone outside of Kerala makes fun of the fact that majority of the Malayali's living there at some point make a mass exodus for the greater opportunities elsewhere.  One such joke - when Neil Armstrong landed on the moon the first thing he saw was a Malayali with his little stall shouting, "tea, tea, tea!"  For some reason I found this hilarious and so did some of those in Kerala agreed.  According to one of the performers we met in Kerala, "No matter where you go you will always find someone from Kerala and they are probably going to get their before any other Indians." 

               - Similarly everyone outside or around Tamil Nadu love to make fun of Tamils for their obsession with getting up early.  And when I mean early I mean 4 in the morning early.  Many families get up around this time or at least the mothers do in order to cook for their family.  Again I assumed this was something that happened over the country and was even under the impression that cooking must seriously take that long.  Turns out I was wrong.  As one person put it to me, "I have no idea why they get up that early!  I stayed with a Tamil family once and I remember at 5 in the morning listening to them ringing bells and burning something.  But then nothing happens until 10:00!  What do they do in between then?"  My thoughts exactly.  Despite nothing opening up in Madurai until 10:00 A.M. you'll find people up and running by at least 5.  And what are they doing for those unaccounted 5 hours?  Eating, drinking tea, reading the newspaper, shuffling around, possibly cooking, more tea drinking, going to the temple, more tea drinking, etc....   I'm somewhat reassured that the entire country doesn't follow this model because otherwise I would truly feel like a sloth for sleeping in until 9.

               - Driving through these North Tamil Nadu and into Kerala is a wonder of beautiful landscape.  Despite the drive lasting around 8 hours it was well worth the things we saw.  From beautiful hills pressed against bright green fields of rice or clear blue lakes to small houses beautifully decorated with unique paintings.  There was something very tranquil about exploring the landscape without any interruption and without having to interject yourself into the surroundings. 

               Here are some pictures of the amazing performers I saw while travelling with Paula Richman and the beautiful snapshots I was able to get on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. 

 Performance of Abhimanyu

 

Hanuman

Rama and Lakshmana

 

Abandoned Hanuman Temple

Yakshagana artists getting ready

 

Surpanakha

Rama and Sita

One of the perfomers giving me a fierce pose

Hanuman and Sugriva

Creepy Spider

Temple near Thrissur

Temple in Thrissur

 

 

A Very Gangster Christmas

              I knew coming to India I would be having a great many 'firsts' but there was no way I could have predicted the way my 2012 ended.  If you had asked me what I would be doing for Christmas break in India I would have guessed lounging at the pool getting a nice December tan - certainly not hanging out with a local Robin Hood Mafia leader at his mountain get away.  And yet that's how things turned out for me this year. 

               Through mere happenstance (and having a friend in Madurai whose working with the Dalit community in Tamil Nadu) I was invited to spend part of my Christmas vacation with a curious fellow called John Pandian.  For those of you who may not know him John Pandian is seen as (depending on who you ask) a local hero/Mafioso/all-around-badass.  I'm a bit rocky on his entire life history but it goes a little something like this:

               Growing up in Tirunelveli, he and his brother had a reputation of being "rowdies", and they were both part of the Dalit community.  In that area and many others in Southern Tamil Nadu there's great animosity between Dalit and the Thevars.   From what I understand, while both the Thevars and Dalits are lower-caste groups, the Thevars have often tried to keep local dominance and further subjugate Dalits.  Back when John Pandian was a young adult there was a nasty tradition where Dalit women who were about to get married had to first be taken to the Thevars and were made to sleep with a Thevar before she could sleep with her husband.  Undeniably a pretty shitty situation. 

               So John and his brother, being the wholesome rowdies that they were, made sure to put an end to that ridiculous tradition.  This of course brought them plenty of enemies.  In retaliation (I think) John Pandian's brother was murdered which then led to John Pandian and others committing revenge killings.  Soon afterwards JP was on the run from the police and spent three years hiding out in the Yelagiri Hills where he shared a bungalow with a monkey (which he later had to get rid of because according to John, he became 'too mischievous'). 

               Eventually the police caught up with him and he was sent to jail for close to 15 years.  But this, my friends, is not the end of the story.  Somehow in the time he was there John went from the bottom to practically running things while he was there.  He set up a communal garden for the inmates to maintain to supplement their daily meals, which weren't exactly what you would call nutritious.  

               But what truly makes this man a complete and total gangster is that out of jail he has the police guarding him.  Relations between the Dalits and the Thevars have by no means improved - if anything they are worse.  Just this past November there were at least two killings between the communities and needless to say there are many death threats made daily towards John Pandian from the Thevars.  Once out of jail, the police realized the only way to keep all hell from breaking loose was to keep John Pandian alive.

               Which is why he has his own personal 24-hour police entourage complete with personal bodyguard.  Upon arriving at his apartment in the early morning my friend and I noticed a patrol car parked outside his apartment with at least 4 cops milling around, mostly telling jokes and passing the time.  Now I had basically learned this man's life history in the short span of a few phone calls and an auto ride from my friend so after seeing this I was a bit intimidated.

               I mean what's the protocol for hanging out with a local gang leader?  Hell, I didn't even know what he looked like let alone how he would act!  All I knew was that he had invited us to see his mountain hideout (where he is now building another house for his family).  A part of the whirlwind package my friend bagged in order to interview this influential leader.    

               We go inside where he comes down from the second floor dressed in an old plaid lungi and t-shirt.  Not so scary.  Then in true Tamil fashion he invites us to have a massive breakfast with him, some coffee, and even lets us take a shower in his daughter's room while he had a "business" meeting.            

               Afterwards we were on our way towards the mountains, complete with police escort through Chennai, accompanied by not only a faithful driver but John Pandian's very own bodyguard.  It was perhaps the oddest car ride thanks to the fact I spent it in the backseat with the bodyguard and his not so subtle gun.  The other reason?  We were driving in a brand new Mercedes.  My butt had never seen such luxury.

               We made a pit stop in Vellore for lunch - the most harrowing lunch of my life.  I've never actually experienced over-eating to the point that I wanted to cry until that afternoon and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it.  Turned out that Mr. Pandian was a good friend of the owner so rather than seeing a menu the chef offered to bring out an assortment of food.  This turned out to be 4 different types of rice, at least 5 main dishes (one being an entire chicken), 3-4 appetizers, a bottle of pepsi, and two bottles of beer.  Generous helpings of everything was unavoidable and both my friend and I had to take a break during the meal.   I felt like the guy in Seven who died after overeating - I nearly considered forcing myself to throw-up it hurt so bad.  

               Before we could leave, the owner brought out a cake along with birthday decorations - turned out that it had been John Pandian's birthday over 2 months ago and because this guy missed it he felt he had to make it up to him.  Crazy right?   Cue onslaught of photos with everyone in attendance as well as obligatory cake-feeding.  Thank god I got away with only eating a slice. 

Notice the subtle guard standing off to the side of the birthday celebrations.  Also my subtle photo-taking skills......

               Then we were back on the road headed towards the mountain.  Once we made it we realized that his bungalow in the woods was not quite the 4 Seasons we expected after riding around in a Mercedes.  Seeing as how he was in the process of building his new house right next door (which will undoubtedly be a picture of perfection) it was obvious that this bungalow was meant for a bachelor's comfort.

               Our bed sheets were moldy, a thin layer of dust covered most of everything, and the bathroom was covered with what I hope was water.  But my friend and I had stayed in either worse or equally dismal situations so we just agreed to sleep on the top sheet and share a blanket.  The rest of our night with John Pandian wasn't as eventful - he's a busy man (all throughout our time with Mr. Pandian his phone probably rang about 200 times, anytime anyone has a problem be it with police, a land deal getting blocked, or annoying bureaucracy holding things up, John Pandian is the man they call.  He takes care of everything - and I'm assuming makes a rather large cut from these deals). 

               Besides, the novelty of carting two young 20-something year old American girls wore off for him and he seemed happier to just watch some T.V.  He sat in the living room with a ski mask that covered everything but his eyes and mouth (because it was a brisk 65 degrees outside) while his bodyguard and driver fumbled in the kitchen to make him tea.  Protecting a notorious mafia leader?  Peace of cake.  Heating up milk for afternoon tea?  An overwhelming task the size of Mt. Everest.  

               We left them to their devices and braved the cold mountains for more adventure.  Along the way we ran across adorable puppies, kids playing cricket, a beautiful temple at sunset, and partook in some green that my friend bought off a friendly auto driver in Chennai.  Our hope was to unwind and walk off the massive meal sitting heavy in our stomachs before dinner.  

 

               When we got back John was convinced it was dinner time despite the weak protests the two of us made.  He was also convinced that we wanted more drinks despite the fact that he doesn't drink himself.  While we were gone he asked a friend in the town to grab us some Bacardi, and not five minutes after we find his friend bundled up in a parka holding two bottles.  Obviously this was take two of epic meals and we were forced to devour half a bucket of fried chicken with intermittent sips of green apple Bacardi and Limca. 

               The rest of the night was uneventful as JP went to bed early (I mean at some point his system was going to need to take a siesta to digest the buffet we all had swirling around in our stomachs) and both the bodyguard and driver disappeared somewhere that wasn't in the house.  What did the two of us do then?  Why, watch Sex and the City 2 of course!  It seemed somehow appropriate that we do something that ridiculous to round out the day we had.

               The next day started off quick, we woke up to find the chef from the restaurant earlier was in the house with his kids and guess what - he brought breakfast!  Thankfully we escaped with eating two chapattis each before cramming back in the Mercedes.

John and I at the bungalow

Soon after coffee we were back on the road and because Mr. Pandian was always so thoughtful, he figured the best way to pass the time was to listen to some tunes.  What does this powerful man like to listen to during his free time? 

               "I'm A Barbie Girl."  Seriously.  Not just I'm A Barbie Girl but the entire Aqua collection.   I had no idea the group had any other songs let alone that someone actually bought the CD.  But there we were, three men in a car, one a grizzled leader of his community and the other holding a gun, listening to an Aqua CD on loop 4 times in a row.  It was something out of a Haruki Murakami novel only somehow slightly less believable. 

               Despite this we made it back to Chennai with our ears intact and perhaps slightly more bubbly than when we left.  Our time with JP was far from over, however.  Epic Meal #3 was next.  Mr. Pandian's personal secretary (yes he has one) had invited all of us plus a bunch of other people I didn't know to his house for a grand meal cooked by his wife.  Of course we had to go. 

               This meal was almost impossible and both my friend and I have donned it the meal of A Thousand Slaughtered Animals. We had a beautiful banana leaf stretched out in front of us yet we only saw the green for about one second before food was poured onto it.  First came rice, three different kind to be exact, and a long, brown dessert that resembled a  giant turd but tasted amazing.  Think Gulab Jamun.  

Then came the meat.  We had 5 different animals on the same banana leaf.  There was mutton biriyani, chicken gravy plus drumstick, a huge fish filet, shrimp, and brains.  Yes, brains.  I'm not sure which animal the brains came from but I figured at the end of the day it was probably best not to ask. 

               I was hesitant to eat them of course but not because of the ick factor.  You see I have a bad habit of reading books about new viruses/diseases, and well the one thing they all have in common is the advice that eating animal brains is a pretty terrible idea.  If you want to stay away from nasty hemorrhagic fevers or diseases that will bore holes into your brain then you should probably stay away from brains.  But what could I do?  I didn't want to diss this gangster or his friend's family.  So I made a nice brain/rice pate and shoveled it into my mouth.

               Turns out brains don't taste so bad.  Actually they look and have a similar texture to very fluffy  scrambled eggs.  In fact, with the spices, it tasted, dare I say it, great!  Unfortunately I got a bit overzealous and in an attempt to make my brain mound smaller, I grabbed a big chunk.  

This is where brains and eggs differ.   Eggs will crumble in your mouth right?  Well brains don't do that.  Nope. The more you chew, the more it turns into a thick paste that coats your entire mouth and makes it very hard to swallow.  I was  proud of my gag reflex and myself in that somehow I was able to force it down.  After that I decided that was enough brain for me. 

               I don't know how we got through that meal and at the time I thought my stomach might burst at the table.  I do know I refused a lot of second helpings and at one point kept both hands over the leaf to protect it from more biriyani.  Of course that didn't stop the after-meal desserts from being forced into our hands but at least we tried. 

               And do you want to know what was the most hilarious part of it?  After we had all eaten and the women were either making paan (betel leaf with fragrant things stuffed inside for digestion) or in the bedroom hanging out, the police came in.  The very police that were protecting John Pandian were invited up to the apartment to partake in this feast and let me tell you, I have never seen the police so punctual or excited about anything in India.  

               They dug into that food with huge smiles on their faces and cracked jokes with the women ladling out the food.  It hit me then that as far as police work goes in India, guarding John Pandian was probably the best job they had ever been assigned.  Their day usually entails hanging outside his apartment and drinking tumbler after tumbler of creamy coffee.  Picture that punctuated by the occasional feast and it nearly made me wish I could guard him too.  

               With an unholy mixture of seafood, chicken, and lamb rolling in our gut, my friend and I made our polite excuses and thanked our way to the exit.  It was pretty clear that John Pandian was through with us as he mostly was hanging out with his daughter and talking to much more important people and truthfully the two of us were looking forward to negotiating our own meal sizes. 

               However that was not the end of it.  A few days later (after exploring Chennai nightlife extensively, I highly recommend to anyone in South India to do the same) for Christmas we decided to drop by his house to give him a thank you gift.  Of course we couldn't simply drop the gift off and go about our business, we had to hang out and talk for a while.  This then turned into a whole host of people coming to his house and his daughter pulling out massive boxes filled with, drumroll, firecrackers. 

               Despite living in a tightly packed apartment complex, John and his family saw no reason why we shouldn't set a few off to celebrate Christmas.  And I'm not talking sparklers here, I mean the TNT kind.  The big ones that shoot up into the air and everyone tells you to light in an open field.

               This was when we realized John Pandian can do whatever the hell he pleases.  Despite having neighbors above his house and next to him, we all went about lighting the fireworks in the middle of the driveway of the complex.  The police hanging out with us, we all watched as the fireworks somehow shot above the many tangled electrical wires and exploded in the air only to have the sparks blown into the windows of the upstairs apartments.  What did the police do?  Absolutely nothing.  Did they say anything?  Nope.  In fact one of them gleefully ran over to light a massive rocket all with a child-like smile on his face.  Obviously being John Pandian's bodyguard truly is a dream job for some. 

Worst Decision Making Ever

               It was probably the poorest decision making I've seen in a long time but hey if the police didn't give a shit then obviously I was being too uptight.  So I celebrated my Christmas with fire hazards galore and magical fireworks bursting above our heads into the neighbor's open windows.  And afterwards the club of course because only a really cold beer can set you right after you narrowly avoid starting a fire.

               But there was my Christmas of 2012 - a most incredible, unbelievable, and surreal week that I'm almost sure won't ever be repeated.