A Wonderfully Wild Diwali Weekend

How many adventures can you pack into one long weekend??

Turns out Diwali is a five-day affair. Friday the office was closed, so I had the whole day free to goof around. I woke up early to do some errands and then met one of my Iraqi friends for coffee. We decided to visit the Baha’i Temple, a.k.a. "The Lotus Temple," because it is shaped like a lotus flower. The Baha’i faith is a relatively new and independent world religion established in 1844 by a Persian youth known as "The Bab."

I love it because it is all-inclusive, holding sermons in all the major religious traditions…Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, etc. The temple itself is a brilliant and complex architectural masterpiece. We sat for some time in the peaceful sanctuary of the temple as I recited all the prayers I could think up, from my Sanscrit mantras to my Hail Mary’s and prayers to Allah. I sent prayers for peace to all of my family and friends and I prayed for my own fortitude during this difficult time. It is a true haven in the midst of Delhi’s insanity.

Then we went to McDonalds. My Iraqi friends are good people, but they can be a little bit rigid. Food is an issue for them; either they cook their own or they eat at McDonalds. There’s really no other option, as they refuse to eat Indian food because "Indian people are dirty." I find it difficult to refute this claim, and in the interest of promoting American-Iraqi harmony, I set aside my long-held reservations, asked God to please forgive my transgression, and ordered a veggie burger.

As the sun set, the firecrackers began. At first it was just a few snaps and crackles here and there, but soon it was a full-blown war zone with serious explosions rocking the marketplace. And these weren’t just sparklers and fountains, these were rockets and bombs. Being overly sensitive to noise, I flinched each time another bomb exploded, causing my Iraqi companion to chuckle. Turns out he’s from Baghdad, and these noises are just par for the course. He related stories about finding bloody fingers, or half of a child’s body, in the streets of Baghdad on a regular basis. This is why, in fact, he has come to study in India. He will stay here until the carnage has subsided in Iraq and is currently applying for refugee status in any country that will accept him. I was sick as he spoke, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the veggie burger…

Afterwards I met up with my Norwegian friend, a co-worker who has lived in India for the last four years. She recently split from her (Indian) boyfriend and both of us were invited to celebrate Diwali with another co-worker and her family. But I was unprepared for the hours of firecrackers and bombs that were to follow, and by 10pm my ears felt like they might be bleeding. I’ve never felt such pain, and the ringing was incessant. By 10:30 I was no longer smiling. The walk home at 11 was, for me, a nightmare, with huge firecrackers exploding all around us, my fingers permanently glued to my ears. I wanted only to get home and sleep.

To my chagrin, I arrived home to discover - that’s right - more fireworks. My only consolation was the pooja ceremony taking place in the kitchen, where I prayed to Goddess Lakshmi, lit candles, and sang songs for prosperity.

The next morning I awoke bright and early, packed a bag and ventured out into the debris to meet my German friend in the tourist nightmare known as Pahar Ganj. We planned to take a fast train (ha!) to Mathura, the birthplace of Lord Krishna about three hours East of Delhi. My dear Maria has been living in a small village near there for the last two or three weeks, and it was finally time to meet her adopted family.

I could spend another hour detailing the process of navigating the railway station, but suffice it to say that we stood in at least five queues before we obtained a ticket. And when we noticed that the ticket didn’t have any pertinent information – such as train name, number, platform number or departure time – we stood in a couple more queues to find out, all the while pushed and shoved by aggressive Indians. Somewhere in between I was interviewed by a television reporter who asked me, to my great amusement, whether we had been hassled by the crowds!!!

After a long train ride, Maria and Setu (her Nepali companion) met us at the station whereupon we rode a tractor to Barchowli, their village about 8 kilometers away. Upon arrival I was promply whisked away by a group of eager girls and women who proceeded to ask me about my German companion…who was he? Friend? Boyfriend? Husband??

In the past I wouldn’t have hesitated one bit before answering "friend." But after nine months here I have grown wiser, and I struggled to think of the right answer. But in the end I decided I couldn’t say we were married without first consulting him, so I reluctantly admitted that he was just a friend. We later discovered that this was not the right answer…

Aside from that little snafu, the village was absolutely wonderful. While we didn’t "do" much, we did explore the village a bit, tried to speak Hindi with the crowds of eager village people that constantly surrounded us, and even made a trip to the well to collect water, which Maria and I carried home on our heads (picture forthcoming!). We only had two days there, but I was sad to say goodbye and I wished that I had more time to fall in love with the village.

And now I am about to be booted by the internet shop man, so unfortunately I must cut this one short. And I didn’t even get to the horrific ride home on the train this morning! If only it were possible to share every adventure!!!

This one is definitely to be continued…
All my love,
LMA