Be Ye Prepared

My church teaches consistently and often about the importance of being prepared. It encourages anyone who will listen to have adequate supplies (72 hours worth) to sustain themselves and their families during an emergency situation. It further emphasizes the importance of long-term food storage (one year) in the event of a major catastrophe. However, until this weekend, such teachings have been entirely abstract for me; a good idea but not of immediate concern or relevance.

It is monsoon season and it rains almost everyday and sometimes several times a day. On Tuesday, however, the rains became more frequent, longer in duration, and more intense. When I left work on Tuesday night, one of the roads on my way home was completely flooded and I wished that I had worn my sandals. On Wednesday, even more roads were covered in water and I paid a rickshaw (150 rupees) to take me into the office instead of waiting for a bus (4 rupees). Thursday, I worked from home rather than brave the rising water. Friday, I woke up to find that I had no electricity. The power is generally out for one or two hours a day, but the scheduled outage usually doesn’t happen so early. As the morning wore on, I realized that this was not a typical power cut. My computer battery was soon drained and, consequently, my newly acquired wireless Internet USB modem was of no use. Unable to work, I decided to wade through the inundated city.

Even after living in India for four months, I was surprised by what I saw. Much of Muggapair was two feet or more under water and many neighborhoods were completely flooded. Men in this area wear a wrap-type thing called a dhoti instead of pants which can be adjusted from angle length up to much-too-short. I had thought this clothing was purely a response to the heat, allowing them to easily control the temperature of their lower extremities. I now realized, however, how useful such an article of adjustable clothing could be during a flood as well (ingenious really). At several different points, the road was being dug up to create trenches to allow the water to drain. These ditches, combined with the water itself, made most roads in the area nearly impassable for vehicles. Although the clouds had looked benign when I left, I soon cursed myself for having forgotten my umbrella and was forced to find refuge under an awning as the rain resumed. As I later made my way home, one misstep submerged my left leg up to the waste, and with it my cell phone, which I had stupidly put in my pocket. Nearly soaked, I returned to my apartment to find a backhoe creating a mess out of the road in front of my house in order to ease the flooding of the neighborhood across the street. I was immensely thankful that my apartment is in a relatively high spot and that the water had remained outside my walls.

Inside and finally dry, the gravity of the situation began to sink in. I had no idea how long the rain would last or how deep the water would get. No electricity meant not only no computer, but no refrigerator, hot water, or light once night fell. I did have a flashlight, but, without extra batteries, its usefulness was limited. I decided to save the batteries, just in case the electricity remained out for an extended period. With the grocery stores closed and the roads transformed into canals, I began wondering how much food and drinking water I had. I also realized that all the electronic cash in the world would be meaningless in an emergency situation. However, the utility of a gas powered stove was tangibly evident (at least while there is propane left in the tank). Thankfully, the water in my apartment remained on as well. Alone, with no Internet and a water-logged cell phone, I was completely cut off from the world outside my neighborhood (and hence all English speaking people with whom I could communicate). As dusk fell and the light faded, I became increasingly bored and wondered how long the hours would drag on until it was finally time to sleep. I began calculating the number of weeks I could survive if things got really bad.

Mercifully, the electricity came back late Friday night. The local grocery store was open on Saturday, although with a much reduced inventory (how they plan to restock until the roads are fixed, I have no idea). As if sent by God Himself, the sun returned on Sunday and began drying up all the rain. Still, even if the skies remain clear (unlikely as it is raining again as I write this), it will take weeks at the very least for some areas of the city to be functional. I won’t even venture to guess how long it will take to repair all the roads. I just hope that they put in drainage pipes before they repave.

In the end, this calamity was short lived, at least for me. Some friends, whose apartment building is completely flooded, will live with relatives for the next several weeks. I’m told that usually the monsoon season isn’t this bad (some say a cyclone passed through) and that the city hasn’t been in such a state since at least 2005 :). Even still, I think I’ll stock up on some basic food items, get some extra batteries, and buy some candles.

This used to be a road.








Homemade raft-Making the best of the situation.


This backhoe came to dig up the street in front of my house and let the water drain from the neighborhood across the street.


The street becomes a canal.


The neighborhood across the street.


This is the route I usually take to the bus stop each morning.


Neighbors


Some city streets.

More pictures and video here.

Pathway

November 14^th is Children’s Day in India. It marks the birthday of the country’s first prime minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, who reportedly loved children. Local schools conduct artistic contests, extol Nehru’s virtues through presentations and speeches, and distribute sweets and other prizes to commemorate the day.

I celebrated by visiting the children at Pathway, a local non-profit organization. Pathway was started in 1975 when a 22 year-old speech pathologist and audiologist, Dr. ADSN Prasad, took in two disabled children who had no one else to care for them. Over time, this effort grew into a school and residential facility for mentally disabled children. Today, Pathway consists of three separate facilities and has served 22,000 children and adults. The original school in Chennai caters to 300 mentally disabled youth, 100 of which live on the premises. (For more information on Pathway please see here and here.) Students are provided with diagnostic, medical, and dental services and a full-fledged treatment plan. The organization’s mission statement reads: “Our goal is to offer comprehensive care and assistance to as many children as our facilities can accommodate without regard to their religion, caste, creed, or sex. If we can in turn help those individuals develop the skills and self esteem to become productive citizens of our country, our mission is accomplished.”

Pathway also operates a vocational training institute and factory in Koothavakkam which employs 50 mentally disabled adults, including many former students, in printing, jewelry-making, baking, and woodworking. Along with the school in Chennai, I was able to visit a third site operated by the organization in Agili, about 90 minutes from the city. The beautiful 60 acre farm hosts a school and residential facility for orphaned and destitute children. Separate dorms house 74 boys and 113 girls who attend kindergarten through tenth grade at the school. Two additional buildings, currently under construction, are designed to cater to mentally disabled youth. The completion of these facilities will bolster Dr. Prasad’s vision of integrating disabled and full-functioning youth to provide learning opportunities to both groups. A “hospital on wheels” operated by Pathway also provides medical care to a large number of poor villagers in the vicinity of the farm.

Funded by domestic and international donors, the Pathway facilities provide food, clothing, medical care and other necessities free of charge in addition to schooling. The organization also benefits from synergies as bakery goods and furniture made in Koothavakkam can be used in Chennai and Agili and food grown on the farm in Agili can be used in Chennai and Koothavakkam. Dr. Prasad hopes to soon install solar panels to overcome the challenges of frequent power cuts and garner the benefits of a sustainable energy source (if anyone has connections to solar energy companies looking for corporate social responsibility initiatives or donors willing to support such a project, please let me know; hundreds of current students and many future generations of children would be extremely grateful).

In a country where the government is, at best, inefficient and overwhelmed, and too often corrupt as well, non-profit organizations and businesses succeed in spite of the government, not because of it. It is not the government but civil society and world-class firms that are driving the incredible transformation of India as it emerges onto the world economic stage. Pathway is heir to a long lineage of progressive social organizations, such as fraternal societies, Rotary Clubs International, and the Salvation Army, which generations ago created a more compassionate, prosperous society in the U.S. It is Dr. Prasad and the thousands of individuals like him in countries across the world that will bring about a better tomorrow and propel hope into the future.

The vision and development plan for Pathway.


Some of the youth at the Chennai facility.


Children's Day assembly at Agili.


Sometimes you just need a nap.


Lining up for treats.


Priceless.


On the playground.

More pictures can be found here as well as videos on my Facebook video page.

Defining Diversity

On my morning walk to the bus stop, I pass many Hindu temples, multiple mosques, and several Christian churches representing various denominations. Flipping through the channels on my TV, I can hear programming in Tamil, Hindi, Telugu, Marathi, Kannada, and English (not to mention the international channels from Japan, Australia, Germany, etc.). Limited to the English programming, I can still listen to the musing of a Hindu guru, the evangelizing of a Christian preacher, or the philosophizing of a Jain monk.

These daily experiences underscore the incredible diversity that defines India. The second most populous nation on earth, with 1.1 billion people, India must also be one of the most diverse (surely in terms of diversity per square mile if nothing else). The country offers divergence across almost every category: ethnicity, race, language, religion, dress, food, climate, geography, education level, caste, income, holidays, and even seasons. Some sources claim 2,000 or more ethnic groups reside in the country spanning several different races. Although most people picture Gandhi when they think of the typical Indian, those in the northeast are Mongoloid in appearance and might easily be mistaken for Chinese, while some here in the south are darker than my African friends (for more information on race in India, see here). According to Wikipedia, there are 415 living languages in India, with about 216 being spoken by groups of 10,000 or more. There are 15 official languages with the national language, Hindi, being the primary language of only about 41% of the people and nearly non-existent here in the south. Cuisine also varies by region (north, south, east, and west) as well as being split nationally between veg and non-veg diets (several apartment complexes in Chennai allow only vegetarian residents). India is home to some of the richest people in the world as well as some of the poorest on the planet. Just over one-third the size of the U.S., India is also very diverse geographically, spanning freezing cold mountainous regions as well as humid, tropical areas. Even the seasons are different depending on the area of the country in which you find yourself; it is monsoon season here; however, Delhi and Kerala experienced their monsoon seasons months ago.

Some places in the U.S. are also very diverse in terms of inhabitants; in New York or Boston you can find people from every country, representatives of most ethnicities, and adherents of nearly all belief systems. However, the U.S. is characterized by individual diversity. India exemplifies group diversity. Although Hindus account for 80% of the population, large, concentrated pockets of Muslims, Sikhs, Buddhists, Jains, and Christians (as well as Zoroastrians (Parsis), Jews, and Bahais to a lesser extent) can have a substantial impact on the peace and stability of regions and the country. Further, unlike in the U.S. where it is often impossible to determine if a given person is religious or not through casual acquaintance, religious iconography is everywhere here, constantly proclaiming differences.

It is true that this diversity sometimes results in conflict as illustrated in several recent examples. Violence continues in Jammu and Kashmir. Terrorist blasts in Delhi and several other cities hint at tensions between Hindus and Muslims which bubble up to cloud relations with Pakistan. In the past few months, the national media has reported on the vandalism and even destruction of Christian churches in Orissa and Karnataka and the forcible conversion of some practitioners to Hinduism (the LDS church has no presence in Orissa, but two LDS missionaries were arrested in Bangalore two months ago). Populous politics, Maharashtrian nationalism, and xenophobia have combined in Mumbai as a regional politician (Raj Thakre) called for immigrants from other Indian states (especially Bihar) to go home and stop taking jobs from locals. His recent arrest sparked riots in the city.

However, the newsworthiness of these incidents highlights the fact that, for the most part, the diverse peoples of India get along surprisingly well. Hindus, Muslims, and Christians are neighbors, co-workers, and friends. Any given person may stop by the Hindu temple each day to receive a mark on the forehead before going to work, leave work Friday afternoon to attend prayers at the Muslim mosque, go to one of the many Christian churches Sunday morning, or attend no religious services at all. Mutual respect and tolerance allow many very different groups of people to form one vibrant nation. Diversity does not necessarily mean divisiveness. Nor does it have to lead to dilution of ideals. On the contrary, for me comparisons and contrasts often reveal new and profound ways of understanding and practicing my own culture and traditions. I am inspired by the concept of ahimsa (non-violence) taught in Hinduism, the reverence for the Almighty demonstrated by Muslims, and the closeness to God exemplified by many of my Jewish friends. The genius of God in creating such a diverse world is incomprehensible. Not only is it immensely more beautiful and less dull than a monolithic, uniform world would have been, but what better way could He have devised to ensure our continual learning and progression? We often learn the most when we are presented with ideas or situations very different from our own which challenge our current understanding.

Murals such as these, displaying symbols of various religions side by side, can be found throughout the city. In this one, Christ is followed by Islamic symbols, and the Hindu Ganesh.


A Hindu temple near my house. I like to think the cow is there seeking asylum from all the meat eaters.


One of the local neighborhood mosques.


The Apostolic Christian church at the end of my road.


Several houses prominently display symbols of the religious faith of their inhabitants. Ave Maria marks this as a Christian (Catholic) house.


Ganesh indicates that Hindus live here.


Linguistic diversity: the top is written in Tamil, followed by Hindi, and then English.


A diversity of dress and fashion.

More pictures.

Happy Diwali

I’ve never lived in a war zone, but I think I have at least an idea of what it would sound like if I did. Monday, October 27 (or Tuesday, October 28 for those in the north) was Diwali (or Deepavali), the biggest Hindu holiday of the year (observed also by Jains, Sikhs, and Buddhists). It is celebrated for different lengths of time in different parts of the country (up to a week or two) and as near as I can hear, it is pronounced Deevallee in Chennai. For Hindus, it celebrates the homecoming of Lord Ram after a 14-year exile and his victory over an evil demon-king, Ravan. The people of the city welcomed Ram home by lighting rows (avail) of lamps (deepa). Thus, Diwali has beautiful significance as the “Festival of Lights, where the lights or lamps signify victory of good over the evil within an individual.” It is also the celebration of the “new year of luck and wealth.” To commemorate the occasion, new clothes are purchased, gifts are given, and sweets are eaten throughout the day.

In importance it is comparable to Christmas, Eid ul-Fitr, or Yom Kippur, but the observance is closer to the Fourth of July, with the main activity consisting of exploding fireworks; the bigger and louder the better (Festival of Firecrackers may be more appropriate than Festival of Lights). Apparently, private individuals here can get fireworks normally reserved for city fire departments in the U.S. For several days the blasting lasted from dawn (or before dawn on Monday) to dusk. Several people got up early on Monday (well, actually, everybody got up early because of the noise, but some people actually chose to get up early) to perform a ritual bath and cover themselves with oil in a special puja (prayer) ceremony.

The holiday is especially fun for children. According to one source, your social standing at school is directly influenced by the amount that your parents are willing to spend to buy fireworks for you. Kids of all ages explode long strings of firecrackers and light various fireworks, generally in the middle of the street. This presented an entirely new reason for vigilance on the part of pedestrians and vehicles; the menacing streets were now also interspersed with various lit fireworks.

Although I didn’t love the constant noise, I do love the significance and imagery of light associated with Diwali. Light as a symbol of goodness/intelligence/truth with the power to overcome darkness/ignorance/evil seems to be a common theme across all cultures and religions. Interestingly, it is generally this time of year, as the days grow shorter across much of the northern hemisphere, that the lack of light feels most oppressive to me. Perhaps it is a good time for a festival celebrating light. Despite the dwindling daylight, may we all have a little more sunshine in our lives. Happy Diwali!!

Privately launched fireworks filled the night sky.


Later in the day, I saw a chain about 3 or 4 times as long as this one. Unfortunately, I didn't get a picture.


Fun with fireworks.


"Look at how many fireworks I have."


Remains of the day.

More pictures.

Monsoons

The monsoon (or rainy) season has started in Chennai. It hits different parts of the country at different times and, apparently, for the next three or four months it will grace us with its presence. It is characterized by torrential downpours at least once and sometimes two or three times a day. The storms are usually intense, and often accompanied by lightning and thunder, but brief in duration. Sometimes even when it is not raining the air remains thick with water; last week some drink mix that I'd spilled on the counter spontaneously became little droplets of Gatorade.

Add to this daily deluge uneven roads and poor or non-existent drainage infrastructure and the cleansing rain ends up producing mud and muck throughout the city. Huge puddles form instantly, sometimes blocking all available walking paths. Some puddles disappear just as quickly once the rain stops, while others stubbornly stick around to wait for the next storm. I arrived at work Monday morning with socks and shoes soaked clear through after wading through the remains of the most recent monsoon. This led to a moment of stark realization as I finally understood why most people here wear sandals or go barefoot everyday, no matter the degree of formality of the rest of their attire.

On the positive side, the temperature has come down a bit and the plants have never been more green. As I'm not a fan of the cold, I think I'll gladly take four months of warm rain to snow and freezing wind any day. As the leaves fall and the Charles River freezes I'll be looking for creative ways to circumvent puddles. I just have to get around to finally buying an umbrella and learn to wear sandals with dress slacks. Don't expect to see any pictures.



Smart not to wear shoes.


Water, water, everywhere.


Some streets turn into canals. Venice without the boats?

More pictures here.

Ayudha Pooja

October is holiday season in India. We had two work holidays last week (for the end of Ramadan and Gandhi’s birthday), one this week, and in a few weeks is Diwali, the biggest holiday of the year.

Yesterday was Ayudha Pooja (known as Durga Puja in other parts of the country). (A pooja or puja is a special prayer or worship ceremony, often performed with the help of a priest.) Today is Vijayadashmi. Ayudha Pooja celebrates the goddess Durga cleaning her weapons before killing the demons, which happened on Vijayadashmi (it also celebrates Rama killing the demon king Ravana). More on the origin of the holiday can be found here and here. Basically, it is a day set aside to consecrate the devices that are used to implement one's work, whatever they may be. Thus, an auto rickshaw driver will wash and clean his vehicle, decorate it with flowers and paint, and park it at the temple over night. Similarly, my co-workers will leave their computers in front of an idol overnight to be consecrated to the god (I suggested that this might be a good idea for all of us, even the non-Hindus, as all our computers seem to be possessed in some way or another).

At IFMR the day was celebrated with a special ceremony in the library. The room was cleaned and a table was arranged with pictures of gods, fruit, and flowers. When the priest arrived, he scattered the flower petals and other offerings in front of the pictures as he performed ancient Sanskrit incantations. The ceremony lasted about ten minutes as the room filled with incense. At the end, those who wished went forward and received a traditional mark of powder on their foreheads (representative of submission to the Almighty and also his omnipresence) and treats were distributed to everyone.

Here, the idea that everything has an essence manifests itself in respect, even for inanimate objects. Although the forms and rituals are vastly different, the idea of consecrating material possessions to God is a familiar concept in Mormonism. Although I’d gladly offer it, I’m pretty sure God wouldn’t want my computer, however; it would vastly decrease His productivity.

IFMR decorated for Ayudha Pooja.


Preparation for the pooja in the library.


The priest here is doing aarti, in which light from wicks soaked in ghee (purified butter) is offered to one or more deities.





Speakers are placed at many street corners during holidays to blare music through the neighborhood. Very festive.


Truck decorated for the pooja.





Auto rickshaw decorated for the pooja.


Manually powered Ferris Wheel.

More pictures can be found here and a video of part of the IFMR library pooja is on my Facebook video page.

The Legend of Onam

September 12th was Onam, a holiday in the state of Kerala (known for beautiful beaches and ayurvedic health treatments, Kerala is in the south west of India). Here in Tamil Nadu, we didn't have the day off work, but we did go to lunch and have traditional Onam foods.

Onam is an ancient harvest festival that celebrates a mythical leader of Kerala, King Mahabali. There are many versions of the legend (see here and here for a few), but as near as I can tell, it goes something like this:

In Kerala, there once lived a wise, generous demon king named Mahabali. A worshipper of Lord Vishnu, Mahabali was loved by his subjects and brought a golden age of happiness and prosperity to Kerala.

However, the gods were jealous of the popularity of Mahabali and sought help from Lord Vishnu. Vishnu took the form of a poor priestly dwarf (some say boy) called Vamana and went to Mahabali just after his morning prayers. The king was impressed by the priest and promised to give him anything that he desired. Sensing that this was no ordinary priest, an advisor to the king tried to persuade him to renege on his promise and send the dwarf away. However, Mahabali had made an oath and would not break it. He told his advisor: "I am prepared to face any consequence but will not go back on my word."

Vamana asked for as much land as he could cover in three steps and Mahabali agreed. Suddenly, Vamana grew to a massive size. With his first step, he covered the whole sky and with his next, he covered the whole earth. Fearing that the third step would destroy all of creation, King Mahabali asked that the third step be placed on his head.

Vishnu complied, placing his third step on the king's head and pushing him into the underworld (Mahabali means great sacrifice). Because of his deep attachment to his people, King Mahabali was permitted to visit the people of Kerala once each year. The annual visit of the king is celebrated during Onam when each family places elaborate designs, often made of flowers, in front of their house to welcome him. Some legends also say that Mahabali was promised that he would rule the earth in a future age.

When I first heard the story of Onam I was perplexed. My Western, overly logical mind couldn't reconcile the many contradictions in the story. Demons are by definition bad; how could a demon king be good and beloved by his people? How could gods be jealous of an earthly ruler and why would they want to depose a good king? How could a just god punish a righteous king who was intent on keeping his promise at all costs and willing to sacrifice himself for his people? It seemed a very irrational story.

However, I've since come to appreciate the legend of Mahabali a great deal. I now see it as a powerful story of doing what is right despite the consequences. It exemplifies a willingness to accept what God gives even if it appears that we are being punished for righteous behavior. Even more profound, in the story of a devil who became a great king, always to be remembered by his people, I find hope that I also can overcome the demons within and perhaps someday be remembered as a force for good. Perhaps there is a little of Mahabali in each of us; both demon and god in embryo.


A traditional Onam welcome to King Mahabali, made out of flower petals, outside of IFMR.


I'm not sure how long they spent on this, but it must have taken hours.