The Woman on the Beach

With the weekend came some free-time and beautiful weather.  A short ride down the road, across the treacherous street that leads to Pondicherry, is a small village.  Beyond this lies the beach, which is virtually devoid of women.

I do, however, spot a woman pacing up and down the stretch of sand, covered in heavy-looking garments.   She is hooded, as if she is hiding from more than just the sun.

 

She carries a sack of coconuts, and sells them to beach-goers for 15 rupees each (25 centimes).

I call her over to buy a coconut, and she says almost nothing.  She sits down, her face peeking through the hood of her shawl and begins her work.

With her sickle-shaped tool, she hacks away at the coconut, making a hole in order to access the reviving juice held within.

I finish the juice, and she takes the empty coconut from me.  Skillfully, she opens the shell to reveal the meat, and carves a shard of shell into a small spoon.

I pay her and she walks away, hiding herself once again beneath the heavy fabric.  I realize that I know her no better now than I did before.  Her visibility is fleeting, as she walks the beach like a specter, appearing only to those willing to acknowledge her presence.  People search not for her, but for the promise of the nourishment of a coconut on a hot, sunny day.

On Leave

On my first full day off from work, I ventured down to the beach just outside Auroville to enjoy the beautiful weather.

I also wanted to check out this area, which was heavily damaged by the 2004 tsunami.  Since the disaster, breakers were installed, which you can see in the distance in the photo, which have proved to dramatically erode the beach.

Along the way, I met a group of guys from the Indian Army.

One of the 6 guys is Gagandeep. He is from the Punjab region in Northwest India, and is in an intensive one year training camp to become an officer in the Indian Army.  All the guys are based in the Southern city of Chennai and are on leave for 3 days.

The most striking thing about this group of guys was that they all looked so different. Only Gagandeep, from Punjab, wore a turbin.  The others were all from different regions of India, and grew up speaking completely different languages.  One of the other guys looked more Asian, and revealed his mixed Mongolian and Indian ancestry, a possible result of living in a far Northeast region of India on the border with Burma.  This encounter brought the incredible diversity that is India before my eyes.  An amazing place with many religions, and more than 20 official languages.

The most incredible part of this experience was to see all these guys hanging out together for the weekend on their leave.  Their one year of officer training binds them together, but they will soon be apart.  Upon graduation in March, they will most likely be stationed on the borders of India near Pakistan or China, far from this carefree getaway weekend by the sea in the South.

Cashew Crop

India is a major producer of cashews.

India is also one of the few countries that uses endosulfan, a highly toxic pesticide credited with causing reproductive and developmental damage in both animals and humans.  

Up until recently in the international community of Auroville, cashews would fall off of trees and remain unused. 

A local entrepreneur named Alok decided to diversify his initial tea business called Cuppa Chai, and process the unused cashews of Auroville.

His production process utilizes the labor of local Tamil villagers, and is all done by hand.  The workers are on contracts and are paid by the kilo of cashews they shell.

 

Some cashews are roasted with the shell on in sand which is heated in a large pan.  Others are simply dried in the sun and packaged, ready to eat. The process is in line with organic farming, and free trade practices. 

Demand for the cashews is high, and all of his product is guaranteed to be sold.  Alok Hopes to expand his cashew business, and hire a manager to take on his responsibilities.  This, he says, will allow him to move on to the next project, which will focus on purchasing food collectively for the community of Auroville.

Market Faces

Meet Prajeesh.

He's in his mid-twenties, and works at the market in Pondicherry at his father's egg stand.

He fills in at the stand when his father's asthma prohibits him from working.

Prajeesh works full-time as a computer engineer.

Below are more faces of the market in Pondicherry.

Dried Food

Textiles

 

 

Vegetables

 

Fruits

 

Flower Garlands

Flower Ladies

Drink Stand

Taxi Dreams

This is Siva.
He's a 28 year-old taxi driver in Auroville, India.

 He recently returned from a pilgrimage to a temple in the Indian state of Kerala, where he spent 2 weeks meditating and praying to one of his gods.
He makes gestures and says a prayer each time we pass a temple on the road. 

Siva has a wife.  They were recently married in an arrangement made between their families.  They have known each other virtually all their lives, as they come from the same village.  She is 23 years old and has an older sister.

The sister is married to a man who is an alcoholic.

2 weeks ago, after one of his drinking binges, she poured kerosene all over her body and lit herself on fire.

She was taken to the hospital in the city of Chennai.  She died 3 days later.

Siva said a diary found by her family revealed the pain she had been going through during her marriage. 

 She is survived by 3 children.  The oldest is 10 years old. 

Her husband has returned back to his native village, and Siva has vowed to help care for the children along with his mother and father-in law.

Siva has saved up enough money to buy his own taxi, and hopes one day to expand his business with a second vehicle.  He says he will hold off on having children with his wife because they already have 3 to care for.

The Holy Cow

I begin this blog about my month-long trip to india with a photo of a cow for two reasons.  First, it is a sacred symbol for the Hindu people.  Cows freely roam the streets and countryside, completely unSecond, I find myself saying "holy cow" quite often here.  Maybe it's more like "holy shit" or "holy crap".  Possibly "oh, fuck".  But it doesn't really matter.  India's a shocker, this is true.  Before I left, I read books and articles saying that India stimulates all the senses.  This I found to be true from the get-go. 

It's loud, smells are strong, people are rich but most people are poor, and you're constantly in fear of getting killed or seriously hurt either on the roads, by the mosquitoes, or by the Mumbai Mess (diarrhea). 

The ride on a cramped 70's style van upon arrival in Chennai at 3:30 in the morning from the airport to a small beachtown featured your typical oh-god-I'm-gonna-die-on-this-3rd-world-highway moments accompanied by background scents ranging from smoky to septic.  All of this while the driver played Bollywood hits on the cd player.  Then, just when you think you can't possibly be more stimulated, you arrive at a place of complete calm and peace. 

This is stimulation of another kind- the stimulation of the mind and the soul.  Temples over 1,500 years old, fitted with impressive stone carvings tell stories of the gods. 

This brings to mind meditation, concentration, and peace.  Extremes compared to the adjectives I would use to describe the streets of Pondicherry: loud, electric, dangerous (unless you're a cow)... 

...or a goat.