Ladies' Car of the Commuter Train

Harassment of women is more frequent and more acceptable than in the US. Only a couple generations ago, widows threw themselves on their husbands’ funeral pyres, and I am thankful for the progress that has been made for women. However, a Ladies’ Car is currently needed to reduce the opportunities for harassment. Women are permitted to ride the other cars, but generally only do so when they are with a man. Accompanying boys may ride with their moms in the Ladies Car into the early teen years; Aven is OK to be with me there.

One morning on the way to school, May, Aven and I boarded the Ladies Car with half a dozen women. Inside, the car was full of men. A woman leaned out to make sure we had not mistaken the car and then the train left the station. I think what happened is that a man or two mistakenly got on the ladies car at the first or second stop and then other men just got on. I suspect the men don’t read the outside of the car, but just get on a car if they see other men. One of the women went over to a group of four seated men and asked them to give up their seats because this was a ladies car. The men got up and some of us sat down. I figured I would just keep my mouth shut and see how this played out. This was an excellent anthropological moment.

At the next stop, more women got in. One young woman (early 20’s probably) announced loudly that the men needed to get in a different car because this was the ladies car. A number of men scurried off, but most did not. When the train pulled away from the station, she went around to all the men – who are seated in little groups on the seats – and told them they needed to change cars at the next stop. A number of women followed her around and stood with her while she gave her instructions. At the next stop, most of the men got off and more women got on. A few stubborn men did not move. Well, the young woman really let them have a piece of her mind before the next stop. All but one got off then. That last one got a good-old-fashion shouting and finger pointing session before the next stop. I thought we might start hitting him with our purses shortly. He did get off at the next stop – without apology. I particularly enjoyed the camaraderie and the congratulations that the women had once the last male was jettisoned. I told her I thought she had done a nice job – which she had.

When I related the story to my colleagues at school, one said, “Young women these days are very bold.” Yes, they are, and it is inspiring to watch. You go girl!

Public Speaking

Imagine this is a US school: An optional speech writing competition for student in grades 7-12. Write and deliver a three-minute speech on a chemistry topic. No special prizes are offered, just the honor of winning the competition and then getting to present again at a regional competition. Not getting any imaginary takers, are you?

Well, in India, about a dozen students signed up right away. Then, when they realized they would get to read it into the microphone in front of the school during assembly, the number jumped to forty students by the end of the day. One of the teachers suggested that Aven read one. I said that was unlikely because the only thing Americans fear more than public speaking is death. She looked at me strangely.

Today, ten students waited eagerly to give their speeches. The vice-principal declared that only three speeches would be made today for the sake of time, but four people presented anyhow. We will listened to a few speeches each day this week. Anyone who does not present will have to present to me in the chemistry lab after school. (I am the judge.) They are very disappointed not to speak to the school. Several have stopped me in the hallway to see if I can pull some strings so they can be among the lucky few to speak at the assembly.

Seeing so many students eager to hear their own voices over the microphone, I realized again how culture is invisible until it is changed. I would have thought that adolescents inherently cringe at making a speech to their peers. No so.

Disposable

I bought the kids each a backpack. They were cheap – 275 rupees ($5.80). Not surprisingly, after a couple weeks, they were both badly ripped and one zipper was broken. I had noticed a guy at a little stall with a sewing machine surrounded by backpacks in my meanderings, and I went to him. I had to wait about half an hour because there were so many people needing his services. But, in about five minutes, he had sewn up the backpacks and fixed the zipper for a total of 20 rupees (55 cents). At home, I would have thrown both of them out and bought new ones – more expensive and built to last. Here, a man makes a tidy living with his heavy-duty sewing machine, which looked like it was built before the war, and backpacks get fixed. He said it was not even a busy night.

Excellence

I dissolved Styrofoam in acetone and got an audible gasp from my 11^th grade class. They were really amazed. Teaching students who are not embarrassed to be 'into' school is a wonderful change. The culture here is one of excellence. The top students are most respected by both peers and faculty. The value is on high achievement. Low performers feel very bad about their inabilities. India is such a switch from the US. Apathy is not a way of life here. Students are really pleased to be recognized by the teacher for their high scores on tests or for good answers in class. They really want to do well. They find satisfaction in learning well.

In the US because many students feel that academic praise lowers their status among peers and doing badly makes them look cool. What a rude shock our society is going to get over the next few decades as US students enter academia and the job market with Indian students to find how pampered and lazy they appear by comparison. People in India commonly work six days per week, too. Market forces are will not be kind to those with anemic skills and weak work ethics. After a few generations of privilege, our children have forgotten that prosperity must be earned.

I followed the Styrofoam dissolving with flame tests; a salt solution is mixed with ethanol and lit.  I used copper (green flame), potassium (lavender flame) and strontium (red flame). They practically shouted "Thank you, Madame!" at the end of class -- which they say in unison as a matter of course. But their unusual enthusiasm communicated that they were appreciative and delighted. What would it take for US students to find internal motivation like that?

Food

I have found a delicious and relatively nutritious dessert. It is basically ground almonds with sugar and a little milk cooked together. Here is a recipe. http://www.indobase.com/recipes/details/badam-katli.php

I would not bother with the step that reads “grind it finely” because “it” refers to 1 kg of almonds. Instead, opt for Trader Joe’s almond meal. It can also be made with cashews! This link has a great picture of the final product.

http://indianhotrecipes.blogspot.com/2010/07/kaju-katli.html

I have no idea how they get that shiny metallic look on top. I think a little coco powder or powdered sugar would be a great alternative. A kilogram of the cashew dessert runs 250 rupees ($5.50). That is 2.2 pounds! Some things are much more expensive here and many things are much cheaper.

We found imported Cheerios at an upscale store. They were $10 per box! I was prepared to buy them nonetheless because providing a familiar diet goes a long way to keeping children content. Aven said he would be fine with corn flakes – which are only about $3 per box because he thought $10 was crazy. I thought his concern was sweet.

We have also found a close proximity of American cheese. It comes in individually wrapped slices and passes the Aven test. The kicker is that it comes with a warning on the outside of the wrapper:   “Remove outer packaging before consumption.”

Leaving the wrapper on does not really change the taste, but removing it is easier on the digestion.

One last food story: The KFC was disappointing to Aven because it was not the same recipe as home; a little chili is added and perhaps a little sugar. May and I like it even better. However, we have now discovered a little food vendor in the food court of the local mall called “Arabian Hut” that has fried chicken and fries just like in the US of A. You can’t judge a book by its cover. 

Invigilation

“Invigilation” is the British word for “proctor.” This was the end of the semester exam week at school, and I did some invigilating. I picture John Cleese making some innuendo every time I hear ‘invigilate.’ We don’t invigilate our own exams. The exams are given to us and we go to the appointed room. The students are seated so close together that exams would be impossible, so two rooms of different grades are paired up and swap half the students so no one is sitting next to someone with the same exam. Reading and grading papers is verboten for the invigilator. It’s 90 minutes of daydreaming, watching for cheaters and handing out extra pieces of paper. Ninety minutes is a long time, as many teachers know, when you can’t do anything but watch students write and sweat. That’s even too long to keep myself occupied with a daydream (speaking of innuendo). I tried standing on one foot to see how long I could do it without falling over. (Six minutes for the right and five for the left.) The time does eventually pass.

Some things are so obvious that no one realizes I do not know. For example, the invigilator (Tell me you don’t think of Monty Python when you read that word!) is supposed to initial all exams when they are handed out and all extra papers when they are handed out. I suppose this is to eliminate the possibility of students having stolen the exam papers and writing the answers ahead of time? The students protested that I had not signed their exams or extra sheets. When I asked my mentor if this was really needed, she looked at me like I had asked which end of a fork to use. Of course the invigilator initials all the papers.

Next came the tedious grading. There are a few (less than 20) multiple-choice questions but no bubble sheet. The students just write the answers in the test booklet. Then there are another 20 or so questions that require answers of several sentences. Dawn Gafa trained me out of that type of test many years ago, and I have been grateful to her ever since. However, I think these tests were harder on the grader than even my old ones were. They set them up this way because the standardized tests the students take are in the same format!?! I guess where labor is cheap, a nation can make an incredibly hard to grade standardized exam?

Lost in Translation

Some things translate from one culture to another. Men's fashion, not so much.

Yes, that is an ascot.

Temple-gawking

Hindus got themselves a lot of Gods.

Each one has a story to go along with it. We heard several on the tour. Fascinating.

Basilica of St. Thomas, the doubter, whose remains were buried here -- until they were removed and taken to Rome. A relic that remains here is his finger bone. St Thomas was killed near here.

Jesus on a green lotus flower. This is my favorite statue yet. The gift shop did not have a copy (plastic or otherwise) and I think they are missing a unique sales opportunity.

Teachers Day

Teachers Day is September 5 each year. It commemorates the birthday of Dr. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, who was the first vice-president and second president of India.

On this day, the teachers come to school dressed up; I wore a sari for the first time. And, the seniors dress in saris also – instead of their uniforms because they teach our classes for the day! Students spend the say being taught by the older students and walking around giving out Teachers Day cards and red roses. It reminded me of a one-way Valentine’s Day. I had enough flowers to fill a vase and dozens of cards.

Seniors dressed up!

Teachers

Seniors teaching my chemistry class! They did a great job, too.

Teachers were individually recognized at a school assembly with two or three students giving cards especially for them. When the teacher went up to receive the cards, the students touched the teacher’s feet and then their foreheads as a sign of deep respect. The students also put on a show for the teachers – with traditional dance and poems of thanks.

My moment on stage during the assembly.

Traditional dance.

I am delighted to have seen this special day in India. The tremendous admiration and appreciation given to teachers is really touching. 

Me with my mentors, Mrs. Malar (left) and Mrs. Sitalakshmi.

Senior girls. Beautiful young women wearing amazing colors!

Onam

Onam is a harvest festival celebrated primarily in the state of Kerala, which is also in the south of India. Our students made this beautiful mandala with flower petals in the entry hall of the school to mark the holiday.

Lord Ganesh Carolers

At about 10:30pm, we heard drums and horns playing loudly. When we looked outside, we saw a large statue of Ganesh, musicians, dancers and revelers. Ganesh was covered with so many flowers that I would have been unable to identify Him had it not been obvious – this being His birthday week. The statue was on a wagon pulled by a few men. Sitting with Ganesh on the wagon were some children and a man with offerings of flaming incense and food.  The entourage included dozens of merry-makers and a second vehicle – which carried the generator needed to power the powerful lights to illuminate the statue, musicians and dancers. People carried colorful flourishes and two men were present with a very long stick to push the wires up enough so the statue could pass underneath. An extremely loud bang startled us occasionally, which at first I thought was celebratory M-80’s but in retrospect might have been the generator backfiring.

The Ganesh "float"

Closeup of the float

This is a long stick with a Y tied on top to raise the electrical wires so the float can get underneath.

Accompaniment

The generator for the flood lights.

The revelers

Moments like this are like a bizarre vivid dream. I cannot quite figure out what is happening, but I feel the rush of the moment nonetheless.

I was given a handful of sugared corn and some jasmine flowers and a silk shawl was wrapped around me for the photographs. There was something about ashes from the ‘float’ but we could not figure that out. Lots of photos were taken. I think the shawl was needed because I ran out of the house in my “housecoat” and not a proper salwar or sari. Women here wear clothes to their ankles at all times. When I am in the house, I wear shorts and a T-shirt, but I keep my housecoat handy in case someone comes to the door. That is what I threw on when we heard the commotion. I’ve included a picture of just me in the housecoat for your amusement. When in Rome.

Many statues of Ganesh that have been specially made, decorated and are placed around the city near the street for this holiday, often with strings of lights, flowers and elaborate canopies. At the end of the festivities, the statues will be processed to the Bay of Bengal and thrown into the water; the clay returned to the sea.

New Moon Pumpkins

The day we saw the melons covered in red powder was a new moon. They were actually pumpkins. Apparently, evil spirits are particularly active when there is no moon and the offering provides some protection. Good to know.