It isn't just for weddings...

So, I work with two wonderful kiwi folks who are going back to NZ after nine years in Calcutta. Naturally, I threw them a party...

Little did I know as I carried a cake all the way from one end of town to the other, riding on a bumpy auto-rickshaw, squishing my way onto the jam-packed Metro, and finally jostling along on a cycle-rickshaw, in the blistering heat, with the cake melting on my lap, that I would soon be wearing it!

I guess in the Bengali tradition, icing is meant to be smeared...

and worn proudly...

The festival of colors isn't until this weekend, but here we are covered in icing!

I managed to clean myself up. Here's me with some of the girls, donning a sari!

hot

calcutta is hot. i thought it was hot before, but now i know, THIS is hot. hot as in: i'm wilted by the time i walk the short four blocks to catch a cycle rickshaw to school around 8 a.m. hot as in: a cold shower, which we long for now rather than just deal with like we did before, is impossible since the water storage tank outside is heated up to around boiling by the midday heat. as in: a cold drink that i buy just down the street is lukewarm by the time i get it home and open it. as in: the air conditioned restaurants we treat ourselves to on the weekend are pure heaven, an undeniable luxury. hot as in: sidewalks sizzle, laundry dries practically instantly, dogs lie in limp-boned piles on every street corner, piles of trash steam, kids run around naked, and i want to run around naked. well....maybe not run. a slow saunter is more like it. it's too hot to run.

but in spite of the heat, calcutta is an amazing city. though i'm fully looking forward to cooler, greener, less populated darjeeling in april, there's so much that will be hard to leave behind. of course there are the delectable restaurants we've discovered, the weekend rituals we've established, the zipping around the city on a shared auto-rickshaw, crammed in seven-deep and somehow still finding it impossible not to move with the blasting bengali techno and strobe lights affixed to the rickshaw's ceiling. you know--typical city stuff that's always fabulous. then there are the people we've met: people who have impacted my life even if our only interaction is greeting each other every day while passing through our respective lives. there are the teachers at tiljala primary school, beautiful, fun, big-hearted women who try to teach me bengali, who insist that i rest after my sweaty but short walk to school (they who travel by train and bus two hours each way to get to school), who, i think, love the kids as much as i do even if they don't show it. and then there are the kids, the kids! these amazing and resilient kids who live in the filthy, chaotic maze surrounding the school, yet who show up on time every morning, clean, hair oiled, perfectly attired, so excited to be at school and genuinely eager to learn. each of their names is poetry, sitting cross-legged on the floor with them while they eat their rice-and-dal lunch is a joy, and helping them learn english (their THIRD langauge, after hindi and bengali) is a privilege. i'm learning as much as they are, if not more.

so. yes...it's unbearably, uncomfortably hot. i don't enjoy my clothes sticking to my skin or tossing and turning at night under my stifling mosquito net. but i'd never take back my time here. in the end, i think a little heat provides a lot of perspective.

Photos from Calcutta

View of neighborhood where Lori teaches

Two great girls at Lori's school

Mandy and Colleen at Sanlaap -designing a new bag, block-printing area

All dressed up on Kelsey's last night in Calcutta

Shelano! - The lovely ladies Mandy works with.

pondering place

preconceptions. perceptions. powerful. piety. pagan. pestilential. painful. personal. poverty. porous. pollution. pity. poking. puking. purging. pining. prayer. pineapple. papaya. pastry. pasta. pancakes. paneer. pakora. protein. popcorn. pounds. period. piazza. panache. peacock. paisley. pantaloons. panch. postcards. packages. past. present. presence. photos. pages. punjabi. parade. pride. paralyzed. punch. passive. p.c. philanthropy. pathetic. perplexed. passionate. perseverance. patience. pure. privilege. perfect.

Stay

Because you can't go.
Because you are a part of something.
Because you are stimulated, challenged, excited and anxious every minute of every day.
Because you already love this city as if it is your own.
Because you love your routine, your favorite restaurant, your community.
Because you may never feel this way again...

I know what I don’t know, and supposedly that’s a good thing. I know that I don’t know enough about Dreamweaver when I’ve already committed to making a webpage for Shelano. I know that I will never know how much, if at all, I am affecting those around me in a positive way, and they, me. I know that I cannot make sense of the world; I can only experience it. I know that my world-view only becomes more three-dimensional with every new element added to it, good or bad.

What do I know? I know that volunteering is always the most rewarding part of every trip I take. I know that when people ask me upon my return, “How was your trip?” they expect a one-sentence response. Not possible. I know that people would rather hear “It was great,” than “It was hard. It was tough. And yes, I did love it.” I know that saying “no” in response to “You must love Africa; you keep going back!” is confusing. I know that I am not a poet, an incredible writer, or an unbelievable teacher. And I know that my strengths only multiply and shine when I am a part of something, not doing something for myself.

Stay. That one word has been playing over and over in my mind since my first week in Kolkata. Even when I think about a week hiking n Darjeeling, a month in Sikkim, and a week or two on the beaches of south India, everything we planned and desired. Stay. Ok. I have things to do. I have barely begun, and still I know that no matter how long I stay I will still feel that way when I go. The decision has been made, the rent paid until the end of the month, I’m staying. We’re staying. That is definitely the best part of the equation. Lori wants to stay too. We didn’t talk about it, letting ourselves make up our own minds, and yet here we are beginning a new month together in a city intense and beautiful. “The city of joy” is the motto of Kolkata. I believe it. I may have volunteered many times, but each time is new, different, and altogether rewarding. I’ve never been a part of a group of women working so hard to gain pride and independence, laughing in the face of their poverty. I’ve never been on a creative team developing new products, ideas, and support for a fair-trade cause. My cup is spilling over with projects to be involved in; maybe the monsoon is coming early this year.