Slumber Party at the Orphanage

Last Wednesday I slept at our orphanage for the first time. Typically I stay in a comfortable apartment within the city, but that night Maya (the wise lady I live with) was having her old grade school lady friends over so she kicked me out. I guess they wanted to be up late and gossip without having to censor themselves. The people at the shelter often ask me to spend the night there anyway; I think the slumber party aspect is appealing to them.

What I didn't realize is that every Wednesday evening, a group of students from a nearby boarding school go to the orphanage to sing songs and play games with the kids. Cultured folks from all over the map and much more mature than anybody I knew in high school. The children loved them too, sack racing and egg tossing all over the place. Those future diplomats served me up with a nice plate of humble tikka masala, but after they left it was all me again. Then came my first spiritual ceremony. We all took off our shoes and stood around a small temple in front of the orphanage. A large speaker blasted gorgeous music while everyone clapped and sang along for a while. Afterwards, each person enveloped their faces with the smoke from a single flame, then took a pinch of sugar from a small brass bowl at the alter. That was that. Short and, well, sweet.

At this point I saw the serious face of the children and staff. They had a very disciplined role-call into a deep meditation session. Adorably, a few of the kids relaxed so hard that they fell asleep. I am sure they do this every night, I'm just not used to seeing this side of them. Afterwards we all sat in a circle for dinner. I can't sit cross-legged for hours or eat the way they do, so this meal was a particularly awkward one. I got through it though, and after eating more rice than I ever thought possible (clean-plate club is mandatory), they showed me to the top floor of the orphanage hospital where I would rest for the night. It was as spooky as it sounds, but everyone was super nice and excited that I was there so it wasn't all that bad.

One more noteworthy event: I got pulled over for the first time on Sunday. It was all my fault; I had no idea that some bridges are off limits for two-wheelers. I cannot be expected to handle one machine, avoid other machines, and pay attention to street signs all at the same time. Either way the cop was waiting for me on the other side, telling me to "pay the fine and take the receipt, man." When he asked what I was doing here, I told him and he cut the fine in half. A compassionate man indeed. I never saw a receipt, but I did realize that in India, no fine is set in stone.

An assortment of photographs, including a few from that night:

An old man scrubbing his oxen in the river

Hard at work while another farmer with looks on. Amusingly, lots of old men color their hair bright orange like that

Ladies doing the laundry while the men watch

Mom's washing my clothes, might as well jump in this river

Losing composure when realizing what is happening here. Felt like some kind of sick rice club initiation

I just want to fit in

Stubborn livestock

Health clinic stop at the village temple

Acting out Shiva's multi-armed wife at an outdoor musical. I was on the way here when I was pulled over

This coming weekend, India celebrates Holi, one of the year's biggest festivals. I'll let you know how it turns out. Thanks for being here.