Alms for the poor -- To Give or Not To Give?
well, i arrived safely in pondicherry, and it is so charming i decided to stay here for 3 nights and forego goa. forgoa.recap: yesterday i got up and had a massage. different from the usual venue, we walked through this dirt lane with chickens and debris to the back of this dude's house. kumar then introduced me to mrs. kumar, his wife, who was to give me the massage. she was great! it was a little strange in a few ways, though -- first, she stood there while i undressed. none of this undress and get under the sheet and i'll knock in a few minutes to see if you are ready. which i guess would be senseless anyway since here there is no sheet either! and where back home there would be aromatherapy, candles maybe, and some new age relaxation/meditation musice, here there is silence but for the whirring of the fan overhead, the occasional monkey call, and the sprinkling sound of mrs. kumar's jewelry, swishing of her sari. but the massage was amazing. when they say total body massage, they mean it. breast, abdomen, scalp, face, armpit. i'm glad kumar recommended that his wife do it instead of him!
after the massage, i went to have a quick breakfast (indian breakfast, i haven't learned the names yet, but mostly bready things with a curry sauce, not much different from any other meal as far as i can tell) before checking out. around 12:15 i left, and as i was leaving a woman who was holding her child came up to me begging for money. i stopped and gave her 10Rs. as i walked on, i heard some men calling to me, "thank you!". thinking they were using one of their few english phrases, i replied, "thank you!" and they said, "thank you for helping that woman." i felt terrible. 10Rs is hardly helping. and the fact that these people consider that a help, and enough of a help to call to me to say so means that most people (myself included) pass by, often ignoring these poor people, sometimes saying, "i'm sorry" but not often giving. i had spent the first full day doing this. i specifically made a point to not give to the children, to not buy from them because i don't want to give positive reinforcement for children begging and peddling for their families. but what else are they going to do? play? even though they are starving? people say you should give the money you would give to these people to a charity instead, you know, for long-term, bigger difference type stuff. but what about this child on this day? i thought of all of this as i walked to the bus stop, and decided to carry a wad of 10s with me to give to people who ask. i mean, how can i enjoy a lassi for 30Rs and tell a hungry child or a crippled old man that i don't have anything to give? i'm sorry, but i want to buy a masala chai later. bullshit. this philosophy is driving me a bit crazy here in pondicherry, though. i'll write more on that in a bit.
ok, so i got on another metal, windowless, crowded bus and rode for 2 hours south to pondicherry. it is an absolutely charming city, with culture and architecture reminiscent of the french colonial days not so long ago (i think the french relinquished control 50 years ago). it's just like what you see in those movies that are set in the colonial era -- columns and arches and balconies against a backdrop of tropical vegetation and air hanging heavy with humidity. you can just imagine some white dude with an accent in a white suit fanning himself at the bar drinking a whiskey, or whatever they drank back then. thankfully the white dudes are not around, but the architecture remains.
the town is very walkable. i call it a town because it feels so small, but the population is over a quarter of a million people.
when i arrived, i took an autorickshaw (in thailand these were called tuk tuks -- three wheeled motorbikes with a bench in the back) to the hotel i had picked out of my trusty lonely planet. they quoted me 50Rs, which seemed like a good price. and anyway, i had also decided to try my hardest not to get too caught up in the haggling, too caught up in being offended by overpricing, for the same reason i was mentioning before. i mean, this is how these people make their living, feed their families. how dare i quarrel over 10 or 20 rupees? it's 25-50 cents for me, and a meal for their family to them.
the hotel i am staying at is great. it is run by the mashram here (a place where students of a guru congregate and study the way of yoga), and it shows. i had planned to spend at most 2 nights, but as soon as i saw my room i decided to pay for 3 upfront. the grounds are beautiful, with a well manicured meditation garden right on the ocean. i mean right on the ocean. i imagine most of the place was underwater when the tsunami hit. (did i mention that the place i ate at in mamallapuram had a note painted near the ceiling demarking the water level?) my room is on the 4th level (the 3rd floor a la europe), it is huge, clean, with a private balcony overlooking the ocean. i woke this morning to the sound of waves exploding against the rocks, and wandered out in my barefeet and sarong to sit out on the breezy balcony and watch the sun rise and the tiny silhouettes of fishermen in their long canoes casting out for the day. i sat and thought, wrote, thought, and finally was inspired to do some yoga. i pulled out the bamboo mat provided especially for that (my room is named "inspiration") and began with a sun salutation, a few downward facing dogs, upward facing dogs, warrior one, warrior two, and some others whose names i don't remember. then the sun rose up over the cloudy horizon and i got hot, so i finished up with an "oummmm" and took a shower before starting the day.
but back to yesterday. i arrived, settled in, showered, and went out for a walk along the oceanfront promenade, which is actually quite nice. there's lots of places to sit, and it is obviously a place where families go for walks and picnics. i walked for a while and then turned to walk past the hotel de ville through the government center park and meandered a bit through the busy streets (repeating always to myself look right first, then left, right first, then left) before stopping in at the cathedral of the immaculate conception, which was built in the jesuit style of 1571. i happened upon it right around mass time, so i stayed. the mood is rather different, and the decor resembles more that of mexico (colorful, not realistic, bad paint, ornate floral decorations, gaudy) than of the us or europe. women enter and raise their saris over their heads like so many nuns in bright colors. almost everyone is barefoot. the service began and i had just been thinking how much i appreciate that i can walk in to any mass anywhere in the world and participate because the liturgy is the same no matter what language or what culture when i quickly noticed that i had no idea what was going on! it turned out to be a sort of eucharistic adoration, with lots of singing, the priest kneeling behind the altar the whole time, the congregation alternating between kneeling and standing and sitting. i didn't understand that it was a separate service until it ended, the priest walked out, and then several minutes later walked back in and the mass began. then i could participate. everything was the same, except of course the music, which is very eastern sounding, and also during the offering of "peace" everyone just turns to each other, presses their palms together and bows their heads. (something seems gramatically incorrect about that sentence, but you understand) rene, you and michael would appreciate that. no need for purell! :)
during the offeratory, i was once again moved to tears (just little ones, i kept them in check). i gave 50Rs. and all around me i heard the sounds of coins being offered (coins come in 1/2, 1, 2, and 5 Rs). these people have so little, and yet they give so much and i, with all that i have, give so little. then i looked up and saw a sign above the lecturn that read, in english and tamil, " 'YES' to Jesus is a 'YES' to suffering" again, i thought of the lives that most of the people here lead. how much more faith must they have to believe despite their hunger, their illness, their loss? or perhaps it is a way of giving meaning to their suffering. either way, their suffering is an integral part, and how much more real is their suffering than mine? shameful girl! i am ashamed to recognize how comparatively easily i am moved to despair -- despair. perspective, raquel, perspective.
i left mass and walked back toward my hotel. i stopped in at a restaurant called "rendevous" which is set in a sort of french colonial way. wicker furniture, potted plants, on the roof overlooking the busy streets below. i had spicy fish curry and nan, a kingfisher beer, and masala chai. i love the food here! i sat for a long time, writing in my journal (which i found, by the way! in my checked baggage, as we suspected.) and pushing sleep away. but i was so tired! i decide to push myself to stay up until 10:30pm, a reasonable goal. i made it all the way to 9:15pm at the restaurant and then headed back to the hotel. the gates close at 10:30pm anyway, but i noticed that most keys were still out when i retrieved mine. back in my room, a deep breath of gratitude and peace, a relaxing cool shower (i shower at least twice a day here) and out on the balcony to write a bit and be grateful before letting sleep take me in the security of my little bed beneath a mosquito net.
up this morning, as i mentioned above, and was out for the day by 8:30am. i walked along the promenade again and stopped to get change for 50Rs so i could go back and give to a man who asked me for money as i passed by. 10Rs. walking walking sweating walking past the huge statue of ghandi to the french consulate where i turn left (look right first, then left). i stopped at a little cafe of sorts advertising breakfast and coffee and tea and had a little indian breakfast something (still don't know the names) and a tiny cup of coffee for 8.5 Rs. (so i am reassured that 10Rs is worth something anyway). then i walked to the mashram. stepping inside, the smell of lotus flowers welcomes you and peace and quiet envelopes you. off with the shoes, then walk into the courtyard where there is the tomb of "The Mother" and "Sri Aurobindo," the gurus of the mashram whose ways of yoga still attract students and devotees from all over the world. everyone sits quietly in meditation. i sat and closed my eyes and meditated, too. as you see, i've had lots to meditate upon. i think i was there for about an hour, and then i went into the gift shop and bought a book on the bases of yoga. there were lots that tempted me, but i thought i'd start with something small and readable before going larger. i purchased my little book (25Rs) and decided to walk along nehru street, which is full of shops, mostly selling clothes and textiles. i was thinking i would buy a sari, but i chickened out. i'm afraid i'll look dumb. so stephanie, i'm waiting for you to get here before i decide. :)
then i got a bit lost on my way to this internet cafe. wandering around the streets (don't worry, lost doesn't mean much here, it's just that the streets are not very clearly marked -- it's very straightforward, gridlike, as any good french colony would be) i was quickly moved to a state of anxiety over my "give to everyone" policy. there are so many in need, and once you give to one person, others know to come to you to ask. i quickly lost track of how much i gave to whom. bills to these women sitting barefoot on the street with their babies. turn down the next street. some coins divided between these two children dressed in rags. cross the street. some bills between these three women -- started as one, then came another, then another. turn down the next street. another bill to this leperous man. oh, no, i'm out of change! i'm out of change. i need change. this man carrying a cane and with a large tumor growing out of his face needs my change. i need change. i have to get change. i can't walk down the street without change to give. another man sitting on what must be his legs but don't resemble legs cups his hands and raises them to me. i'm almost crying. i have to get change. i don't have change. i turn into a bank and wait in a crowded "line" to ask for change. please, can you give me change? here is 600Rs. please give me 10s. i wait for the 60 10Rs bills that i will be able to give to 60 people. thank you. back out and back around the corner to give to the man with the legs. now i want to get to the cafe. i want to get inside. i want to get off of the street. how much have i given? am i giving enough? should i give more to fewer or less to more? yes, here are some bills for these girls and their babies. keep walking. keep walking. how can i give enough? ah, here is the cafe. up the stairs into the u.s. americanized respite -- airconditioned, u.s. american music, dvds of u.s. movies available. fast internet. the reality outside is far away. i am catching my breath and gearing up to meet the street and the needy again when i walk back out.
with that, i should go. it's been well over an hour since i started, and i'm sure the heat is growing more oppressive as i wait. i think i will head over to the botanical gardens and maybe to another cathedral and a temple that are both supposed to be interesting to see. maybe later tonight i will go for collective meditation at the ashram. right now i am going to have lunch, coffee, and organize the wad of 10s before i head out.
i love you all!
raquel
posted by Dr.Quel @ 1:45 PM
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