30th January Blog 4

Ruby wedding celebrations and gifts for Morrises and Whittinghams

Mehndi hands and the wedding couple

Candle Fund recipients


30th January 2012
A second wedding, a special anniversary celebration and too many funerals to count

This weekend was a busy one, as our schedule inevitably seems to heat up as we near the end of a visit. Saturday morning we had a lovely task to perform, the distribution of One Candle Fund bursaries to students. A few at a time, or sometimes singly with parents, some shy, some giggly, they appeared to show proof of their academic status, to sign our records, and to express super-polite thank-yous to each of us in turn. This feels like such a worthwhile if modest project when you see the faces of the enthusiastic students and hear of their plans for higher education, and now increasingly for masters degrees too. Most of the students, both male and female, are studying engineering of one type or another, and computer applications, and commerce. So many degree students in two small villages does make it apparent that what is described in the Times of India is correct, ie that there is a surplus of qualified engineers etc over the available jobs for the graduates. So very enthusiastically is education embraced by parents now for their children, even their girl children, as a way to better themselves and the family.

On Saturday afternoon we went by auto-rickshaw to visit Sekar at home. Andy has been suffering with a painful back, so opted out of the jolting and bumpity ride that this promised to be, the main K V Kuppam road having deteriorated dreadfully since last we were here. We had a very happy trip to Sekar’s family. His elder daughter is now married with a 4 year old daughter and they live in Gudyatum, where her husband has a shop. The younger girl is also married and has a lively 18month old son, Bala, and they live with Sekar and his wife currently. His daughter is now doing a masters degree at Vellore college- again in a science subject, and has hopes of going on to a Ph D. Sekar is every bit the extremely proud and doting granddad or ‘ta-ta’ and the little boy sounds like everybody’s hard work, as he never stops all day long, apparently. Sekar’s wife keeps a small shop at the front of the house selling small household items and sweets and cheap toys, so there is usually a stream of children at the door.

After a quick lie down under the fan in our RUHSA bedrooms, to recover a little, it was time to spray ourselves with anti-mozzie and go forth in another autorickshaw to the wedding of a Seetaramanpet girl, Pria. Many of the folk of the village had already departed for the marriage hall on the outskirts of Vellore, standing massed in the back of a lorry. Our uncomfortable auto ride was still an improvement on this. Just one or two moments of eyes shut and pray like mad, as when we had to cross the extremely fast and insane dual-carriage way to get to the hall. Balaji was our guide and he had already been at the hall in the morning helping to prepare it in some way. When we arrived there were lots of young men hanging around, and we were soon introduced to the bridegroom, who comes from a village about 7 kms from Seetaramanpet. This means that in leaving her home to move to her husband’s the bride won’t be so far away.

As soon as we entered the dining hall we were told quickly to sit down and ‘Sapida sapida’- join in the feast. We knew Sarida and Padmini from our school staff, and they sat with us on the long benches at trestle tables. As always at Indian weddings the catering was on a huge scale and lots of men were ready with vast cooking pots full of rice and vegetable curries and poppadoms, to be piled high on everyone’s plates- (banana leaves). In this culture the sharing of food is very different from that of, say, France, where one is expected to spend time and to talk over food. Here we seemed to be on a very fast conveyor belt.

Afterwards we went into the marriage hall proper, where the marriage was to take place the next morning, at 6 a.m. It seems that the priest suggests the auspicious time for the wedding. 6 a.m doesn’t sound anything like an auspicious time to me! The Saturday Sunday and Monday just gone were especially auspicious days on the calendar for weddings which would explain why we saw many taking place in other marriage halls on our route. Weddings are extremely good business here, that is for certain. We were then photographed far too much for my liking by a chap with a very bright flash gun. After this the lorry full of Seetaramanpet people departed home, tummies full, but we stayed with Balaji and some of the other young men to go to see the bride, who was waiting with her mother and other women at a nearby temple.

This entailed a short but hair-raising walk along the crazy road in pitch black. Pria had been having her hands decorated with Mehndi, which is the tradition the night before the wedding. There she sat wearing a heavy gold headdress looking somewhat overwhelmed and perhaps rather glum. Suddenly the musical parade arrived, piping and drumming. This was the bridegroom come to fetch his bride. There was a small ceremony of presenting coconuts and bananas at the temple, then huge flower garlands were put around the necks of the happy couple and more flashing of photos took place, with strange passing English visitors to feature much in them. We left to bounce and bump home to RUHSA, leaving the bridal procession walking along the dangerous road. Good job it was an auspicious date I’d say!



Sunday had promised to be a day of rest for us but ‘twas not to be, as many of the One Candle fund students had been in school on the Saturday so we had another morning of giving out bursaries to grateful recipients at the pre-school. Around midday this was completed and we slowly became aware that the teachers and ayah, who had been assisting us, were cooking up something. Sarida the ayah and her daughter Prianka had been chalking a beautiful flower column pattern on the floor of the outer hall in the school which we had admired and photographed. It is remarkable how even and symmetrical the design is, done by eye without measuring. Then Sarida appeared with a bunch of balloons and balanced herself precariously on a chair to tie it to the fan. Next we were summoned to sit in a circle of 4 chairs under the fan, on the flower pattern. Suddenly they said ‘Ma’am, sirs, your 40 years wedding anniversary, celebration!’ and one of them leapt up to spin the fan (the current being, as very often, off) and Sarida reached up with a burning joss stick to pop the balloons. With that glittery confetti showered down on the four of us, the Ruby Wedding anniversary couples! Then we were each of us presented with an ornament as a present. Ours was two swans which turned and played a tune when switched on, and the Morrises was similar, but featured dolphins.

I cannot tell you, but perhaps you can imagine, how very touched we all were by this lovely surprise. It is so typical of the wonderful staff of the Pachaikili centre that they think of what they can do for us all the time. They are simple women with such good hearts who give so much, so generously, though their own lives are quite hard. I for one felt that if we do nothing else to celebrate our 40th, that celebration will remain with us as very very special.

Long live India! Blog 3 of 2012

Jai Hind

Yesterday I woke around 4.30 to hear persistent drumming which seemed to come from the direction of Kavanur Junction, just behind our windows. Already I am used to the all night shuffle and clang, whistle and roar of the frequent trains, which meld somehow into our dreams. It seemed someone had died nearby, and the funeral rites were starting early. We later discovered that the deceased was an auto-rickshaw driver who lived just outside the RUHSA campus (which is now protected by a high barbed-wire topped Colditz effect wall). He was young man in his forties who had had diabetes for years, apparently, and who left behind two young children. The funeral rites went on until dusk, around 6 in the evening, with many many fire-crackers going off all day long, the drumming, a procession with large numbers of marigold and rose flower yellow, magenta and green garlands, and the dead man on a flower-decorated cart. He was clearly part of a large family which gives us hope that his widow and children will be supported. Widowhood is a difficult thing in this country where there is no social-security safety net.

In the morning we had a meeting with Dr Rita which started badly with her complaining of our lateness, and Pam being unable to stop herself muttering ‘Yes, we wait many hours here ourselves’. After that things did improve as Rita and Sanjeevi the accountant talked us through how things will be managed in future for all our projects. This can be summed up as through Dr Rita in every direction and nothing without her knowledge and say-so. She is rigorous about systems which must be meticulous and consistent with all other CMC practice. I asked to have explained the protocol for them requesting funds/ assistance from us and us requesting action from them. This has been so obscure in the past that basically very little has ever been guaranteed to happen except when we have been visiting in person. We pinned it down to the last detail- basically as above, (through Rita at all times).

I felt happy in some ways to be clear, but still with a residual scepticism and a sadness for the way Rita dismisses the way things have been handled in the past. She is scathing of anything that went on before her time. Just as an example, though, The One Candle Fund has run since 2004, a simple Indian bank account which Mr Immanuel helped Pam to set up, and in that time it has made almost £900 interest, ie enough to fund the recipients for one whole year!

After the meeting Pam and I cycled to K V Kuppam, passing a lad who cut me down to size with his cheery ‘Hello grandma!’. We went to the bank to close the above money-making account down (everything now through Rita). Here we were dealt with by a lovely bank manager who was sad to lose our custom and who told us what a terrible loss Mr Immanuel is. Cue yet more weeping from Pam and I. The theme of this visit, how very much he is missed everywhere. The bank manager then proceeded to tell us how much legacy he left, and how his brothers are fighting over it! Astonishing lack of confidentiality. Many people can tell you the same facts though, so it is very much common knowledge. How anyone keeps anything secret here is impossible to imagine.

Today Thursday 26th January is Republic Day, so flag-hoisting, saluting and singing of national anthem at 7 o clock in the morning – alas we failed to make it! We were invited to Suresh’s home for lunch, so cycled there, seeing all along our route the evidence of yesterday’s funeral with garlands all over the road, some of which were being demolished by a small herd of goats. As we went through one village- the one with the big blue Elton John statue- there was clearly another large funeral in train. It being a national holiday all the lads who are our friends in Seetarampet were home from Chennai and will be here for the weekend too. We had the warmest of welcomes as always and much banter and photo taking, then Andy and I cycled home whilst Pam and Brian went on to another village to visit a family whom they befriended on their first visit here in 2002.
Once home I wrote this poem for Republic Day, entitled ‘Jai Hind’, which means something like ‘Long live India’.

Jai Hind

Today, Republic Day, a flutter of flags is hoist
And pinned on every shirt
Jai Hind for the orange, the white and green
Anthem and sharing of sweets
Jai Hind for the bony backs of cows
Who placidly graze
For goats in groups, ill-disciplined
Snacking on funeral flowers
Yesterday’s garlands of roses, marigolds
Yellow magenta and green
For the cheeping of chicks on stick-thin legs
The wood smoke sweet in the air
For bright green rice in the paddy fields
Mirroring the sky
For clouds on the ground and drowned
The coconut palms, reflection and blessed shade
For spread, red in rows, the chillies darkening
For women who weed and suffer the sun
Bent over bushes in fields

With all of her squalor, injustice and pain
And Tragedy’s frequent calls
Still India shines like a jewel in the sun
Beloved and beautiful land
She sings like a song that squeezes the heart
And smiles with the brightest gleam

Jai Hind for the orange the white the green
For Gandhi’s midnight dream

Some images- easier to post separately than to battle with blog!

Some images from the school and elderly centre. See the elderly man doing exercises with the children; in one photo I am sitting with the children who go in the sun after their sleep to warm up!

January 24th 2012 Morrises and Whittinghams return

After an absence of two years, here we are- four of us anyway- back at our project in S India and, by popular demand of faithful followers (son Dan and friend Jude!) I’ve resuscitated this blog. We are Pam and Brian Morris and Andy and Sally Whittingham and the ‘I’ of the blog is usually Sally. Our lodgings this visit are at RUHSA campus and in the very flat where we stayed for our first visit in 1991 and of which Dan might therefore have some memory. Nothing too much changes in all the years; same dusty non-designer concrete floor, blue washed walls, institutional cream windows and doors, same seriously uncomfortable wood and cane lounge suite and single beds with candy-striped cotton sheets (well-worn)


Usually on previous visits we have had the wondrous Wendy with us, who could utterly be relied on to bring ‘stuff we might need’ eg medications, ointments, pegs, string, plasters, a kettle etc etc. We did remember a kettle and thank heavens, as tea-boiling constitutes the only catering we can manage. However hard one scrubs and cleans in India- be it one’s own body/ hair/ clothes/ dishes/ the toilet- it is just impossible to feel anything but grubby all day long. Still we have the bottled water and we’ve dared to clean teeth from the tap without any dire consequences as yet.
After just one week here however yesterday we encountered our first plumbing problem... A loud and ominous gurgling from our en suite squatter toilet indicated that – oh joy!- after the posh neighbouring Morrises flushed their ‘English’ loo, that which was blocked by filthy visitors’ awful toilet-paper usage came gushing back up into our hole in the ground. Within the hour though two lucky chaps had been designated to push sticks vigorously down the pipes and phew! Problem solved! Alas now we are under strict instructions from the administrator, Mr Vinoth ‘No toilet paper!’


Time for more pleasant images from our first week. We braved the main building on our first Monday, all of us dreading to see the office where Mr Immanuel always sat, his huge frame silhouetted against the window, always always the warmest ‘ welcome, welcome’ for us all, his white teeth flashing in ready smiles and always something to laugh with us about. We encountered first Vartzella, the secretary, and shared some tears and memories with her, which made us know that it was far from being just us who grieved so sorely for his loss. It is apparent in every conversation we have with anyone on RUHSA staff that his lovely person, his warmth and his ability to fix any kind of problem- practical, social, emotional, are sadly missed every single day. Poor Vinoth, the young man who now sits in his seat, what an impossible act to follow. But we have been made so welcome by him and he has a ready smile and warmth which recall Mr Immanuel very much. And as you see from the above paragraph, he is good at sorting practical difficulties!


So much else is beautiful here too, despite the poverty and the squalor. We cycle most days to Seetarampet village for the pre-school/ elderly centre, and to visit our friends in the village. Now that bums are somewhat inured to the rock-hard saddles, the ride is lovely before the midday heat, past fields of bright green young paddy, through areas shaded by coconut groves, through villages where everyone shouts ‘hi, how are you?’ or ‘vanicum’ in welcome. We pass a giant blue statue of some chap- not stopped yet to see which politico it represents- and he is wearing a huge pair of Elton John in the 70s type specs. Hilarious effect.


Our welcome in Seetarampet has of course as always been overwhelming. The teachers and ayah in the Patchikili centre are obviously still working with great commitment to the project. The children just love their pre-school experience and are gaining all the time in self-confidence. Two local women come in each day to cook food for the elderly people. The women are members of the SHG - self-help group- which manages the centre, and they cook on a rota for a week at a time. We had left last visit in 2010 with the understanding that the elders would have only snacks, like the children do, but the elders didn’t think much of this idea and they certainly do appreciate the great food that the women provide as cheaply as possible. There are implications for costing of course for the future sustainability of the project and given the hard work it has been in the last four years to fund-raise, as four individuals without a large charity behind us, we have to be cautious. Pam the treasurer, who has worked tirelessly and raised a great deal, keeps reminding me of this gently but firmly.


We have as ever been deluged with requests to come and eat ‘ Sapida sapida’ at everyone’s home. So far we have eaten with Raghu and with Balaji’s families, and with Selvi at Tuthitangel- although of course we don’t eat with them, but tend to be fed as honoured guests, cross-legged on the floor, with a banana leaf for a plate, and enormous quantities of everything especially rice. Our daily food is otherwise taken at the 5 star Paul’s hotel at the entrance to the Ruhsa site, where no health and safety inspection is every likely to take place and certainly not to be passed. The tables are never cleaned as far as we can tell, and the crows are ever ready to dart in quickly and snatch a mouthful. Nonetheless we do enjoy what Paul cooks very much. Odd what one can get used to. For breakfast it’s puree and a vegetable curry and perhaps a lentil burger ( a woday). Difficult to calculate what points Weight Watchers would allot to that...We eat a lot of bananas as they are plentiful now and we’ve also enjoyed guava fruit and papaya. In the school garden the teachers have nurtured several papaya trees from seeds, which are now higher than the building after less than three years.


Already we have had quite a few meetings, with Sekar and Joseph, with members of the SHG and yesterday our first big meeting with Dr Rita, the director of Ruhsa. The SHG gave us some ideas for fund-raising locally (buying gold-plated jewellery to be hired out for weddings; bulk-buying food items like lentils and rice, to sell locally for a small profit). We have had to tackle the young brothers who are employed to be our night-watchmen, to pump water every morning, to keep the site clean and to sleep in the building at night. Apparently they haven’t been doing the work properly at all. Strangely as we arrived yesterday to have a meeting with them, they were hard at work clearing scrub! Word gets round in no time in this part of the world. So I had to do a stern big-boss act and they are on a month’s trial to see how they shape up. Balaji always says I am good at communicating with body-language so Pam kept nudging me to do my best stern and ferocious look.

Just one other event of note to report. On Sunday Pam and I went with our teacher Padmini and her family to a Hare Krishna meeting in Katpadi. Quite an experience and now we know the easy Hare Krishna, Hare Rama mantra and have to learn to chant it many times every day. The poem below conveys something of the experience.
Hare Krishna

We are chanting Hare Krishna
With the men in orange robes
Stand and echo Hare Krishna
As mosquitoes hum and buzz
In the thick and throbbing twilight
Sudden dropping blanket dusk
Small bells ching and incense rises
Eerie calling of the conch
O it’s cool out on the rooftop
Where the monk begins to preach
Men and women even children
Sit in silence as it flows
Words like water pour and babble
Soothing fluency of rain
In the search to be enlightened
It’s the Hare Krishna way
Hare Krishna Hare Rama, chant repeated
Much repeated, every day
So the mantras weave enchantment
Till the soul is soaring free