Unrelated miscellany

Today I started taking tabla lessons from a guy who makes tablas for Zakir Hussein! Being a good tabla maker doesn't necessarily translate into being a good tabla player/teacher, but I think the photos of him jamming with Zakir on his wall are pretty friggin' sweet.

How did this happen? I had free time yesterday and was aimlessly wandering through some galiyaan (tiny alleyways). (Varanasi has a whole web of these galiyaan and it's fun to get lost in the maze.) As I was walking back toward the main road, I randomly stumbled upon a tabla-making workshop.

Unexpectedly, I ended up spending two hours in the tiny shop. We sat on the floor among half-made tablas and assorted tabla parts as the owner explained, in a mix of Hindi and English, the process of making a tabla. His two apprentices showed me how it's done, and then we all chatted some more about the shopowner's tabla-playing and -making history over chai. The owner's family has been in the tabla-making business for generations, since his father's father's father's father's father's father's to-the-infinitieth-power father's father. After chai, they let me hit the drums a bit!

applying ground iron ore to the center of the tabla

I really enjoyed the atmosphere of the workshop and have always secretly wanted to learn to play some percussion instrument. So, despite my utter lack of musical talent, I signed up for tabla lessons! And here we are.

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Today I was supposed to go to Ramnagar Fort, across the Ganges from Varanasi, with Surabhi, one of my new Benaras Hindu University (BHU) friends. However, she had to cancel because all the students are protesting the mess (cafeteria) food and obviously she had to be there.

Aaahh, deja vu. When I spent a semester at Pondicherry University, the students there protested the mess food as well. Guess that's pretty common here in India! But I'm fairly certain the administration ignored them and nothing came of the protests. Fun times. Hopefully the BHU students will have better luck.

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A few more reasons to love Pyaar Kii Ye Ek Kahaani, or PKYEK, as it is affectionally called:

11. The sound effects that accompany facial expressions. For example, when someone has an epiphany, the "ah-ha!" face is supplemented with a spring-like "boing!" sound. And crushing disappointment, such as when the boy you like asks out your worst enemy to prom, comes with a car crash noise. Each face has its own distinct sound, of course.

12. The echoing voiceover when characters are thinking. When the characters are thinking, not only do their faces contort in all sorts of strange ways I didn't previously know were humanly possible, the thought voiceover echoes. "Mujhe-jhe-jhe asha-sha-sha hai-hai-hai ki-ki-ki voh-voh-voh mujhe-jhe-jhe prom-prom-prom le-le-le jaaega-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga." ("I hope that he will take me to prom.")

13. The occurrence of prom during college. That's just... incorrect. I would say it's an Indian thing to have prom in college instead of high school, but I've actually never heard of a prom happening at all in India. And I would find it surprising if a college administration allowed such an event. The show is trying to adopt a classic element of American teenage dramas, but it's all wrong! But it almost doesn't matter, because they do it so much better than those American shows and movies.

14. The 70's theme of prom night. It is unfortunate that the PKYEK website doesn't have any good pictures of this episode, because I want to show you the boys' bitchin' costumes. Only three words can describe their attire: stereotypical flaming homosexual. One character actually is gay, and he was the one who chose the 70's costumes for the others (who do not know that he's समलैंगिक ("samalaingik"/gay); I think they must be blind and deaf). And he did excellent work, because my god do these people come off as overly-flamboyant caricatures of gay disco men (and their little dance number at prom only reinforces this image). Also, one was dressed up as Elvis.

PKYEK is the best thing to happen to television. Ever. In the entire history of television.

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Geckos are my newest enemy. Not only did one of them face-plant me (in that he planted himself on my face, not that he fell onto his own face), they are all over my room and bathroom and always in the way. One hasn't removed himself from my mirror for the past two days so I can't examine the post-Holi damage (my pores are so clogged with Holi colors that I now have purple- and greenheads).

Sushma and I clog each other's pores during Holi.

I think the entire animal kingdom is conspiring against me. Except the elephants. They still love me.

Look at this elephant's happy face! If this isn't unadulterated love, then I don't know what is. But I'll tell you which creatures don't know how to love: monkeys and geckos. Heartless bastards.

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It is possible for women to pee standing up. I know because my thighs were sore from going to the gym for the first time in.... uh, I'm too embarrassed to say.... and I really didn't want to squat (the family with whom I'm staying doesn't have a Western toilet). The trick is to spread your legs far apart (warning: remove your pants). TMI? Too bad. You should expect this kind of talk on my blog by now.

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Speaking of women, here are two interesting articles about women in India:

Minding Their Gaps, about Western women on their gap year in India being exploited for the sexual and status-raising appeal of their white skin. Courtesy of Alice.

Rapes of Women Show Clash of Old and New India, about, well, the headline is pretty much self-explanatory. Courtesy of Sam (you need a blog or website so I can link your name!).

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This song has been stuck in my head for the past week, and I love it:

"Darling" is a Hindi take on a Russian folk song. WIN. Also, you should see 7 Khoon Maaf (7 Murders Forgiven). It's based on a book by Ruskin Bond and is a very unusual movie for Bollywood, in a good way.

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This song has been playing repeatedly on the filmi songs channel, and I swear it's copying an (or multiple) English song(s):

Does anyone know what song(s) it's copying? I've Googled it and people seem to disagree about whether it's copying Flo Rida's "Low," Black Eyed Peas' "My Humps," and/or Lady Gaga's "Pokerface." When I first heard it I thought elements were from "Low," and I suppose I can hear remnants of Black Eyed Peas, but I don't know see "Pokerface." But I'm not so sure. Thoughts?

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ZOMG A MONKEY JUST INFILTRATED THIS CAFE. ZOMG ZOMG ZOMG! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED IN HERE, MONKEY DEVIL!!! THIS IS MY HAPPY PLACE AND I WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME!!!!

Er, or maybe I will, for now. I'm outta here before the monkey ends me and all I love.

Braving Hanuman's Lair and the snow

The day before I left Shimla, I decided to be a tourist for a day. I had never seen the sights before, and I didn't want to pull another Pondicherry (despite living there for an entire semester, I never visited the touristy places in Pondy).

First on the tourist agenda: Jakhoo Temple. That's right, I finally braved Hanuman's Lair, even though I swore I never would. All the tourists go, so I figured I had to see it.

And it was every bit as terrifying as I imagined it would be.

At the entrance, there was a man warning people to remove their glasses (so the rumors about monkeys stealing glasses off of faces are true!! luckily I had come prepared, with my contacts in) (I probably wasn't fully prepared. I bet monkeys can steal contacts out of eyes, too!) and renting out sticks. Apparently, these sticks are meant to ward off monkeys. Of course I had to rent one; I needed any form of protection I could get! Nevermind that I could have just walked two feet into the adjacent forest and gotten a stick for free--that would've required risking my life at the opposable thumb-clad hands of crazed forest monkeys!! I thought my life was worth the Rs 5 ($0.11).

monkey weapons for rent. Rs 5/stick. because you should only enter this temple fully armed.

Walking from the gate toward the temple felt like walking toward an electric chair, but the killing device would be even more "cruel and unusual." This was it; I was walking into certain death. I now know what it feels like to be on Death Row. I suddenly wished my previous dinner--my last supper, if you will (and you will)--was more extravagant than Maggi (though I knew it was the right way to go, and let's be honest, I wouldn't really have it any other way) (unless I had cheese) (or maybe some combination of Maggi and cheese. yes, that would have been divine perfection).

This walkway was crawling with monkeys on all sides. To my left was a playground--not that a child could ever play on it, mind you. Monkeys and their babies were climbing up and subsequently sliding down slides, thereby making it completely unsafe for young children. Or even adults. Fine, I must admit: I laughed. It was legitimately cute.

climbing up the slide (note the one in mid-air on the right)...

...and sliding down.

But I shouldn't have let my guard down. The monkeys must have sensed my vulnerability when I laughed, because suddenly I found myself surrounded. Desperately trying to hide the fear that must have been so obvious on my face, I semi-squatted into my basketball boxing-out position (...that I haven't used since middle school) and swung my stick around threateningly. This somehow seemed to work and the monkeys left me alone.

Upon reaching the temple, I saw something absolutely horrifying: a monkey jump on a woman and unzip the front pockets of her jacket. A MONKEY. JUMPED ON. A WOMAN. AND UNZIPPED. HER POCKETS. As you can imagine, I panicked. I didn't know if I should turn around and run as fast as I could out of the temple (not that I could ever dream of outrunning monkeys), or if I should keep going (I came this far, right?), or what. I defaulted into boxing-out position, holding my stick like a sword, and froze like a statue. Finally a group of Gujarati tourists approached my paralyzed, petrified (in that I was both terrified and turned to stone) self and calmed me down. (Ok not really, but they tried to call me down.) Somehow they convinced me to walk the last 50 feet to the temple, sword-stick at the ready.

The temple wasn't worth it. It just wasn't. It was tiny and simple. No fabulous architecture, no extravagant decorations. Nothing more than your average local temple. Just a small orange-roofed house with some idols inside. This is what so many people risk their lives to see?! I wasn't expecting anything nearly as spectacular as Konark or Khajuraho, but geez I was expecting something tourist attraction-worthy, especially for braving all those monkeys. I was baffled. I didn't get it. I still don't get it. I feel so robbed of a morning I could have spent without fear of death.

really? REALLY?!

The rest of my day was less eventful, other than the fact that I had been wearing only a thin fleece (it was 60 F when I left my apartment) and the temperature unexpectedly dipped 40 degrees and it SNOWED. Yeah, needless to say, I was freezing. And unprepared. But at least the Oxford-like Viceregal Lodge (where British India was ruled in the summer, where Partition was signed, and which now houses the Indian Institute of Advanced Study that has hosted such scholars as Aung San Suu Kyi) looked especially beautiful in the snow!

dancing in the snow on my way toward the lodge because activity keeps me warm when I'm wearing weather-inappropriate clothing

Viceregal Lodge in the snow

2 more reasons to hate monkeys

1. A week or so ago, two opposing troops of monkeys staged an epic battle utilizing my terrace as their boxing ring. After hearing an unusal amount of squealing (a little bit is normal), I looked out my window to see six monkeys fighting to the death. The result of the war? A sleepless night (so much squealing!) and a new carpet on my terrace--a carpet of feces. Unclear if these feces were flung as ammunition, or if the monkeys just had to poop as the battle raged on for hours (at some point, you just can't hold it in anymore). And guess who has to clean up their mess? Ugh, damn monkeys, clean up your own filth! I am not your maid!

2. I finally got my water back today, after a week with no water. I had to buy bottled water for everything, including bathing (I would boil water so as not to freeze, then add some cold water so as not to burn) (by the way, boiling enough water for a shower takes quite a long time). Naturally, this resulted in, well, not bathing (2 boiled-bottled water "showers" in 1 week. I'm so sorry for my stench). So why did I have no water? One word: monkeys. Apparently the monkeys had messed with the pipes feeding water into my apartment. These pipes were broken and leaking, so no water reached my faucets. (And my landlord had been away in his village for the week and only returned late last night, so no one could call the plumber until today.) It's like the monkeys want my life to be as stinky as possible. First they precipitate shit on my terrace so it's covering it like a blanket of brown snow, and then they cut off my water supply so I can't properly bathe. Thanks a lot, monkey assholes.

...or should I say, monkey terrorists:

Translation: "MONKEY TERRORISTS." And an explanation about how you shouldn't feed them, because that will only encourage them to terrorize you and all you love even more so. (ok, I think the literal translation is actually "monkey terror," but a friend explained to me that "terrorist" is what the sign means.) This sign is posted in colonial Shimla but should probably be placed at intervals of every 5 feet all over the greater Shimla area.

Hanuman strikes again.

I'm back from Cambodia and Thailand. It was awesome, as you can see:

Angkor Wat, Cambodia

a tree growing out of--and devouring--a temple
Ta Prohm, Angkor Thom, Cambodia


Dr. Fish massage--the fish are eating the dead skin off my feet. and it tickles.
Siem Reap, Cambodia


another tree swallowing a temple
Ta Som, Cambodia

Cambodia's answer to India's autorickshaws and Thailand's tuk-tuks: the remork-moto. Yes, that's a motorcycle with a carriage attached to the back.
road between Siem Reap and Beng Mealea, Cambodia


one of Angkor's temples was left as found, without cleanup or restoration, and you can still climb all over the place Indiana Jones-style. here, I conquered a pile of fallen stones, some with carvings.
Beng Mealea, Cambodia


Vishnu between my legs is probably offensive. But fallen carvings and vines inside a temple! And vines you can sit on!
Beng Mealea, Cambodia

Did I even take pictures in Thailand? Yes, but apparently none with me in them.

Now that that's out of the way, let's get to the real issue of the day (of every day, really):

Monkeys.

Remember when I bitched that the monkeys are multiplying? It's not my imagination. My neighbors are all commenting on how many monkeys there are--more than they ever remember, and some have lived in Sanjauli for 20 years. And they are all quite surprised by this. Apparently, Himachal Pradesh attempted to sterilize Sanjauli's monkeys. Key word: attempted. Fail. The monkeys and their impregnation abilities are clearly out of control.

And I'm here to tell you why. Or at least to tell you my neighbors' explanation.

Shimla recently completed constructing the largest Hanuman idol in the world, appropriately at Jakhoo Temple. According to my Hindu neighbors, the larger the Hanuman, the larger his monkey army must be. Thus, with the new huge Hanuman in town, Shimla's monkey army must grow. As a result Hanuman ensures that his troops are impervious to any population control efforts. (My Hindu neighbors claim that, as Hanuman is Shimla's protector deity, these simian soldiers are actually defending the town, but I have to disagree.)

I am 100% serious. Big Hanuman idol --> monkey population explosion. That is the only logical explanation anyone can think of here. ...and I might just believe them.

Don't let them fool you.

Monkeys. As a young lass in the US, I thought monkeys were cute and playful and pretty much the best land animals ever (but my favorite overall animals were, naturally, whales). At age 6, I had a plush monkey with exaggerated arms and velcro on the hands so that it could hug things (and me) that I bought at the Baltimore Zoo. I loved that toy. I even went through a phase in middle school when I only wore Paul Frank, the monkey-lover's answer to Hello Kitty (it was an awkward time in my life, ok?). Seriously, just ask my mom, Jessie S., and Mayan, and they will tell you: 12-year-old Emily loved monkeys (by the way, Jessie S. and Mayan were totally guilty of going through a monkey phase too! And I was totally jealous of Jessie's Aeropostale monkey pajama pants, even though I had the Paul Frank version. Her monkey design was just cuter).

This was all before I came to India, a place that has shattered my dreams of adorable monkeys playfully swinging through trees and not threatening human life. My earliest evil monkey encounter occurred in Gingee (pronounced Sinjee), Tamil Nadu. A bunch of us in my study abroad program decided to take a fun weekend away from campus to visit the fort in Gingee and the temples in Tiruvannamalai. Fun, we thought. Until we were attacked by monkeys.

Gingee Fort

view from the fort

When we finally reached the uppermost section of the fort, we decided to stop and eat lunch. As we were eating, we slowly realized that more and more monkeys were approaching. Soon, we were surrounded by monkeys on all sides, with nowhere to go. One monkey even snatched Fred's bag of dates right out of his backpack! They clearly intended to steal more food from us. They hissed, bared their teeth, and crouched in about-to-pounce position--very intimidating. So we did the only thing we could: we ran. I remember jumping off the structure because monkeys were blocking the stairs. And I ran all the way down the hill. I then refused to climb up to the second area of the fort, because I had had enough of these monkeys (Zeliha would later tell me how the monkeys at the second section tried to steal her juice box right out of her hands, and I was happy with my decision to stay put).

evil monkeys who stole our food

Unfortunately for me, Shimla is the epicenter of monkey madness. Shimla's monkeys are infamous all over India. If I tell an Indian I'm living in Shimla, one of the first things they ask is "how do you handle the monkeys?" Indians often mention monkeys before the beautiful mountain scenery, the colonial architecture, and the (relatively) pleasant climate. These notorious monkeys steal ice cream out of children's hands at the Mall and glasses off of faces at the Jakhoo Temple.

Jakhoo Temple is appropriately dedicated to Hanuman, the Hindu monkey god. This temple surely must be Hanuman's Lair, as thousands of monkeys--every single one of them evil--populate the area. In fact, these monkeys are particularly evil. A neighbor once told me that she saw a monkey pry a 4-month-old baby out of his mother's arms and then bring the baby up a tree. The monkey only released his hostage after banana negotiations. In my opinion, it was terrible parenting to bring such a young child to Hanuman's Lair. Needless to say, I will NEVER step foot in these glasses- and baby-stealing monkey-infested temple grounds.

monkeys on the Mall plotting their next attack. as you can see, I tried to keep my distance.

The state of Himachal Pradesh has tried numerous measures to control the monkey population, but to no avail. The most recent desperate attempt? The state has declared open hunting season on the monkeys; farmers can shoot to kill these monkeys if they feel their farms are threatened.

The monkeys in my neighborhood are no exception. They are just as menacing. My landlord installed grills on my windows so that monkeys would not break into my apartment (yes, it happens, usually through the kitchen). I hang my newly-washed clothes to dry on the terrace, despite the risks (I have heard stories of monkeys ripping up expensive saris left out to dry), and I have paid the consequences. One time, a monkey unclipped a kurta from the line and threw it over the terrace onto the street below. Luckily, a shopkeeper picked up the now-filthy garment and returned it to me. Another time, I found all my underwear missing; clearly, monkeys stole my underwear. From time to time, monkeys leave me gifts: their feces. I'm afraid to go out onto a my terrace at night, because sometimes I hear monkeys fighting and shrieking out there. Or even if they're not fighting, they are hanging out there and G-d only knows what they'd do to me. Every morning I'm woken up by the monkeys and dogs having an all-out epic battle, and there is no question in my mind that the monkeys win every time.

The monkeys in my neighborhood gave birth recently. There are tiny--and I mean tiny--baby monkeys stumbling around everywhere or clinging to their mothers' undersides. Adorable? One might be fooled into thinking so, but let's not forget that these monkeys' mothers will train them to become monsters. So another generation of devils has been brought into this world, and I am not happy about it.

spawn of Satan

In conclusion, don't let these monkeys fool you: they are not cute, they are evil menaces to be shot by angry farmers.