I feel like I’m getting a really slow start on my research, but it was pretty much, “See this, see this, see this,” while my professor was still here. And right when he left they have Sankranti, or Harvest Festival, so the translators took most of three days off for that. So I haven’t done much more than get settled in, buy some books, get my laptop working, and got some clothes for the stay. (Still haven’t gotten my saris done yet. It’s quite the process–you have to buy the sari fabric, then go and get a “petticoat” or “liner” (flat sheet skirt to go under), fabric to make a blouse and fabric to line your blouse. Then you have to go to the tailor and get measured so he can make the blouse for you… Yeah. I haven’t gotten mine done yet… I got two since I figured I’ll only wear them on Sundays, but the other girls wore them yesterday and people were SO pleased to see them wearing saris because, “You are wearing our traditional dress! You are dressing like a Hindu person!”
The picture is “mugu.” The chalk drawing they do in the street for the festival. our cook drew it and let us help color–but you don’t do it like normal chalk–you actually pick up powder with your hands and fill up the shapes that way. Our cook could draw lines that way but I sure couldn’t…
People rather like to make speeches here. One man at a restaurant we stopped at said he wanted to tell us something, and he made a three minute speech about how he was pleased we had come to his country and that we had bindi dots (the red dots they wear on their foreheads) and Indian dress, and he welcomed us over and over. People are very repetitive–“for emphasis” as Stefanie put it. “They like to emphasize a lot.”
The people are very eager to have us participate in everything. They always want us to be the ones in the front, to drop rice or flowers on the cow, or feed it bananas, or touch the feet of a picture of some guru. Personally I prefer to hide in the back because I recently discovered… I’m not really fond of cows… they’re not God’s most beautiful creations… and I don’t really want to splash turmeric powder on its hooves, but you know… you can do it…
We’ve seen several rituals and they are all kind of similar–perhaps this is just the way Sarkandi rituals are–but the naming ceremony was also similar. Someone usually has a book which they sing or chant from for a very long time, then rice and flowers are dropped on the person’s head or the back of the cow, and they put red bindi dots on everyone’s forehead–especially on the person who is the center of attention. For this festival, the young children are the ones who receive this attention.
People seem to be very grateful for their children here. They are great blessings.
Siddhu, our cook’s son who is about 2-yrs-old, did not really like the ceremony. Every time someone put rice or flowers on his head he would bow it so they fell off–but he sat through it without complaining too much.
We went to visit one of our translator’s houses. Our youngest cook (she’s almost nineteen), Sailijah, came with us. She and Kushan-garu seemed to have a small argument before she went to the kitchen, and when she left he said: “She doesn’t want to sit with us. It is a class problem… Because we are her employers. Employees don’t sit with their employers. But I don’t care. I do what I want.”
That made us laugh. Later he said also that, “Caste doesn’t really matter anymore. All that anyone cares about is money now.”
“So money trumps caste?” (Sarah)
“Yes it trumps caste–it trumps everything! Even gender!” this made him laugh. “Yeah! Money is the real power now!”
But oddly enough, when he was explaining that he had one more person he was responsible for arranging her marriage for–he said that the thins that they would be looking at was his caste first (that he was from their same caste, the Cowherder caste) and then education (because no woman can marry a man who is more educated than her–that’s why they don’t want Sailijah to keep studying) and other credentials. He says he has that responsibility unless she picks someone.
“Which is better for me–because then it’s not my fault if she’s not happy! She can’t blame me then!”
When I asked how many marriages he thought were arranged he said about 99%. We had an American over that has lived in India for 15 years running a financial business as well, and he said he thought it was more like 90% have arranged marriages and 10% have love matches.
“Love matches? I don’t know anyone who is happy that way.”
He let his daughter marry someone she said she was in love with and he didn’t meet him until their wedding day… and he hasn’t seen him since. I don’t know if he’s seen his daughter since then he only hears from her on the phone every once in a while. So… yeah. Professor Nuckolls said there are usually only a few options that there are to choose from in the Jailri village who are of the same age and caste and qualifications or whatever–I just thinks it’s funny because several people in the states I’ve heard say: “I just wish we went back to arranged marriages…”