Look to this day:
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence.
The bliss of growth,
The glory of action,
The splendour of achievement
Are but experiences of time. For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow is only a vision;
And today well-lived, makes
Yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well therefore to this day;
Such is the salutation to the ever-new dawn!
Christmas good wishes to everyone who has supported me through the past year that I have been here in India. You know who you are: you have telephoned, emailed, written real letters, given me shelter and sustenance when I came home unexpectedly this summer, sent goody boxes and bottles, supplied reading materials, arranged delivery of replacement spectacles, wrote comments on my blog, messaged me on facebook, chatted with me on skype and generally gave me your moral support and encouragement. You are friends and family at home in the UK and across the continents in Europe, The Americas, Africa, Asia and Australasia, you are my Constant Reader buddies, my past travel companions, my VSO colleagues past and present, you are the readers of this blog.
Now take 15 minutes to read what is arguably the best Christmas time story ever written
Diwali, has religious significance to Hindus and others, but for most folks it is as the festival of Lights that it happens in practice, more akin to Bonfire night in the UK in that it is a great excuse for adults to have fun with firecrackers. And it goes on all week! So many fireworks are let off here the air is thick with the aroma of gunpowder and the whole of the evening sky is lit up and the noise would drone out even the honks of the trains here! We just happened to be in the Daspalla Hotel in Vizag on that evening and the hotel management put on a show on the forecourt. All the guests and staff came out were given sparklers and fizzy wires.
It was really great to see the staff, mostly young, men and women, smiling and letting go
Numerous roman candles, rockets, white showers, catherine wheels or "chakras" and others were set alit. .
In India at this time, houses abound with candles, and the outside of the hotel was decked out with Happy Diwali sign and the entrance foyer had a lovely colourful typically Indian Rangoli design for the day.
The next picture is from the day before in Arakku where the village market was in full throw and sugar cane was everywhere. I did wonder why there was so much around and it wasn't till the following day as we got to Vizag in the evening that we found out why....The markets were again filled with sugar cane. Very pleased young men were to be seen standing with tall bunches of sugar cane stacks waiting to catch the bus or auto home. Seemingly these are prized as gifts for the women in their lives - the notorious Indian sweet tooth again! With the fireworks, there were none of the health and safety issues we get plagued with back home - "Don't hold sparklers in your hands" - Dah? isn't that exactly what they are meant for? And certainly none of the "Light touch paper and stand well back", "Do not return to a lighted unexploded firework". Instead folks, stood by them as they went up, were showered by spent casings, flying ash, and sparks. Certainly no shouts of " Sabu tan", Be careful!
But absolutely great fun! And a chance to explore the night settings and capabilities of my new camera.
Wednesday was the Sri Ram Navami festival here in Orissa. It is a Hindu celebration of the birth of Lord Rama. Our office was closed for Sri Rama Navami. I'd been looking forward to a lazy day to catch up on washing clothes, washing the floor, sleeping, reading, learning oriya and all the other things I have to crame into my day off. But instead my colleague Mr Padhi invited me to his home village to attend a family celebration taking place on this auspicious day. The Upanayana is also a Hindu celebration, restricted traditionally to the Brahmin caste and it essentially represents a young boy's coming of age, a second birth. I suppose its akin to Jew's Bar Mitzvah, a Catholic's Confirmation and the like. In Oriya it is called the Bråtå ghårå.
The celebration took place in the village of Therubali about 45 minutes by road outside of Rayagada. Getting there meant going part way by bike, then bus, and coming back by bus. Buses here are not like bsues at home. My bus was an old jeep like vehicle into which 4 people were squashed in the front seat, another 4 in the middle and perhaps 10-12 in the back, with another few hanging on the side rails. I got a seat! n fact people were moved out to enable me to sit. I add this is normally done for women, the young mean get moved, but even elderly women are expected to sit atop the windowless door frame, half inside - half outside the bus. I had not qualms about making sure I was safely inside the bus! Although getting out becomes the hard part. These buses run effectively like the "Collectivos" in Mexico, they go effective set routes, you pay a fare, in my case all of 10 rupees, and get off where you want along the route. Most villages have a known stop, how one knows where it is is a mystery to me, except that there will be people hanging around, but how they are distinguishable from people generally hanging around is another unfathomable question. Any way I safely made it there and back.
Men who have completed the Upanayana ceremony wear the Sacred Thread, in Oriya the poita. This is a band of 4 hoops of string worn over the left shoulderand wrapped around the body The foor loops represent the four states of experience for a man's soul - waking, dreaming, dreamless sleep and knowledge of the absolute.
The ceremony takes all day! With breaks for refreshment, water, food. I was amazed at the quiet patience of the young boy to sit and stand throughout the ceremony as you will see in the video. I can't imagine many teenagers in the UK putting up with this sort of thing, including the man handling - or should I say woman handling - he had to endure in one session as he is plastered with tumeric paste, and then later as he had to stand and recieve onto his plate handfuls of food, first touched to his head and chest then placed on the plate, then gifts/offerings of money - only 50-200 rupees per person which likewise had to be touched to him before being handed over to the family member playing accountant for the ceremony. I was amazed to see not just the money being put safely into a bag, which is common at Indian ceremonies, but also each amount being entered into a journal against a peron's name.
As usual there is much waling and noise at these ceremonies, much chanting by the brahmin priests. In adddition everyone eats good food - two types of rice, tomato khajure, aloo and potolo, drumstick curry, dahl and other things I didn't know. It is a big family occassion when everyone meets all the relatives from all over who have come to attend the festivities. It was great to be invited to see this ceremony, although I confess I fel a bit like the spinster aunt at the wedding sometimes, and the centre of attention for all the children, young boys and everyone who had any English to ask who I was and why I was there taking pictures. My Oriya held up for a few conversations and then failed me as things got complicated, people spoke more normally and I got tired with the 45C degree heat.
I finally made it back home that evening, exhausted but glad I had survived the bus journey and pleased I had experienced another aspect of Indian culture.
Holi is a big holiday in India. In some parts of the country it is quite chaotic with everyone taking to the streets, often quite intoxicated, dressed in old clothes and armed with squirt bottles (or bigger) of water and bags of paint powder in typically Indian colours - fluorescent pinks, brights purples, lime greens, saffron yellows, day glow blues etc. Everyone wears old clothes and gets mucky! All great fun.
Here in my district of Rayagada it was perhaps a little more sedate. Round our nagar it was clearly a day for children, with adults joining in, it was a bit like Halloween Guising nights at home in Scotland: groups of kids joined together and went round to each others houses, mothers handed out sweets - Indian barfi and the like, made with lots and lots of sugar and condensed milk - sweet enough to rival Scottish tablet! Lots of Happy Holi greetings are exchanged, paint is delicately applied by the host finger to the visitor's face a la war paint, then the kids are off outside - kept amply supplied by adults refilling buckets of water and bringing out more paint powder. The game is effecively a junior version of paintball, with the aim being to get as much paint on everyone else as possible and to scream and shout as load as you can in sheer exhuberance. Our group consisted of my landlady's daughter and her friend Julie who are both 12 , plus younger brother and sister, sister's friend, and their cousin who is my boss's daughter. Escorting adults were myself and my boss's father.
My boss's daughter is only an only child and has only just turned 4. It was all a bit bewildering to her as she watched the older kids squirt away, not quite knowing whether or how to get involved. Every so often she would get hit by some paint and look down at her dress and be on the verge of tears trying to brush the paint off. I suspect she was worried in case she would get told of for getting her clothes dirty. As the others yelped and screamed on typical girlie fashion, she just stood on the outskirts and watched. I decided she needed a helping hand, so my bottle became hers and we squeezed and squirted togther. I got her to dowse me and then I reciprocate with a little bit, telling her that today it was Ok. Finally she was confident enough to try to fling some of the bottle's contents on her own. A big step for a small girl in amongst the bigger ones. One adult had a nice feeling of success too! However, all the bigger ones running around shouting and scrreaming clearly got too much for her and she saught refuge on her grandpa's knee.
The whole trip probably lasted just over and hour. It was great to see the kids having such innocent fun. We walked past the local building works where the day labourer women were also having a day off work. It is one of the few days I have seen them not working away carting bricks, lifting long poles of metal supporting struts for the building, mixing cement etc. They too all sported old clothes and holi paints. Finally, we headed home for a well needed wash. We washed down outside first to try and get the worst off. It took several attempts to get it all off, out of my hair and ears. I was only left with one stubborn patch across the bridge of my nose which will have to steadily disappear over the next few washes, and a few pinks spots on my kurta which will now have to be consigned to next years old clothes for Holi bin.
I went one evening last week to an exhibition that is being held over 3 days in the playing fields of a local college. It was a showcase for the works of various Self help groups and other civic societies and was full of people even on a cold night.
There have been cultural events going on as well on the main stage. We saw the Brinz dance troop, a local Orissan group who had won a national TV talent show. They were very good. Sadly I only got a very short segment on video as my camera card was full :( but enough to give you the jist, albeit that I was quite far back in the crowd.
Some of the stalls were selling produce - vegetables, spices etc, others textiles, saris, children's clothes, and others selling more artisan wares such as terracotta pots, picture frames, metal and wood work.
I acquired a chair for lounging in for 2300 rupees and a piece of metal artwork about 15 by 3 inches for 300 rupees, and from a stall highlighting the benefits of mushroom cultivation as a secure livelihood option, a bowl of the most tasty mushroom soup for the grand cost of 10 rupees to keep the cold weather at bay.
Indians love painting pictures outside there houses and my landlady's 12 yr old daughter had done this as I came home on New Years Eve.
Her and her elder sister also presented me on New Year's morning with a greeting card.
Then at work Mr P presented me with a box of Indian sweets, delicious but very very sweet. Unfortunately as these are made with milk they have to be eaten in one day - sadly I could not manage them all :( Oh for a fridge!
Diwali ( or Deepaavali) is one of the many festivals celebrated in India. It is celebrated by Hindus, Jains, Sikhs and some Buddhists. Its timing varies with the Hindi lunar calendar but in 2009 it falls now on 17th October. Coincidently the day I have invited some friends round prior to me leaving the UK.
So what is Diwali all about? It literally means a 'rows of lighted lamps' and is commonly called the Festival of Lights in English. It is celebrated worldwide, wherever there are large Indian expat communities, eg in the UK in Leicester and Southall, London. As I look forward to it next year in India, I find out that it is a huge celebration lasting five days - bring it on! Houses are lit with hand-painted clay lamps (diwas), colourful rangoli drawings, and henna. It is a time when businesses pay off all debts, new clothing is purchased, gifts are exchanged, and food is celebrated, particularly dried fruit, nuts and in particular sweets - Indians it seems have sweet tooths to rival anyone's. Hilary tells me that in Orissa houses are blessed at this time.
Tradition has it that it was the time when Lord Rama returned after 14 years of exile during which he fought and won a battle against the demons and the demon king, Ravana. People light up their houses to celebrate his victory and to welcome him back. So it signifies the victory of good over evil and the banishment of darkness. Pretty good stuff in my book even today. So let's hope we can rid the world of a few more evils in the coming here.
Christmas good wishes to everyone who has supported me through the past year that I have been here in India. You know who you are: you have telephoned, emailed, written real letters, given me shelter and sustenance when I came home unexpectedly this summer, sent goody boxes and bottles, supplied reading materials, arranged delivery of replacement spectacles, wrote comments on my blog, messaged me on facebook, chatted with me on skype and generally gave me your moral support and encouragement. You are friends and family at home in the UK and across the continents in Europe, The Americas, Africa, Asia and Australasia, you are my Constant Reader buddies, my past travel companions, my VSO colleagues past and present, you are the readers of this blog.
Diwali, has religious significance to Hindus and others, but for most folks it is as the festival of Lights that it happens in practice, more akin to Bonfire night in the UK in that it is a great excuse for adults to have fun with firecrackers. And it goes on all week! So many fireworks are let off here the air is thick with the aroma of gunpowder and the whole of the evening sky is lit up and the noise would drone out even the honks of the trains here!
We just happened to be in the Daspalla Hotel in Vizag on that evening and the hotel management put on a show on the forecourt. All the guests and staff came out were given sparklers and fizzy wires. 
.
With the fireworks, there were none of the health and safety issues we get plagued with back home - "Don't hold sparklers in your hands" - Dah? isn't that exactly what they are meant for? And certainly none of the "Light touch paper and stand well back", "Do not return to a lighted unexploded firework". Instead folks, stood by them as they went up, were showered by spent casings, flying ash, and sparks. Certainly no shouts of " Sabu tan", Be careful! 
So what is Diwali all about? It literally means a 'rows of lighted lamps' and is commonly called the Festival of Lights in English. It is celebrated worldwide, wherever there are large Indian expat communities, eg in the UK in Leicester and Southall, London. As I look forward to it next year in India, I find out that it is a huge celebration lasting five days - bring it on! Houses are lit with hand-painted clay lamps (diwas), colourful rangoli drawings, and henna. It is a time when businesses pay off all debts, new clothing is purchased, gifts are exchanged, and food is celebrated, particularly dried fruit, nuts and in particular sweets - Indians it seems have sweet tooths to rival anyone's. Hilary tells me that in Orissa houses are blessed at this time.
