What I wanted to write then. . .

A looming menace.

Ominous.

Chaos in the streets. Much more than usual.

Explosions like gun fire in an unsleeping war.

Children's high pitched squeals.

Darkness.

My heart beats out of my chest.

My eyes unsure whether to open wide or squeeze out the light.

Let in shards of sight or cast them out entirely?

Depends.

Do you want to know what happens next?

I can barely see my own hands in front of me, the dusty unpaved path, shop lined streets.
Flickering and exploding fire; the source of all light.

My legs begin to shake, despite your warmth, holding and heating my hand.

Steady and true.

Fearless, in an ocean of confused, distrustful eyes.

Shining with the light of pure madness. Or truth.

But I'm not sure if they see the same. If their truth is the same.

This would be the night. This would be the moment.

When woulds could become shoulds, to really test us.

Ice invades my fingertips and toes and makes its way towards my heart.

Inhale. . .too shallow so I don't notice the world holding its breath around me.

Stop in mid step. This is not the right way, we should not be here.

You ignore my defiance and keep walking, pulling my arm behind you.

I want to shout. Fear and anger mixes in my stomach, chili peppers grated and inhaled, desperate for dissipation.

Before release, the moment transitions. . .

The shadows of two children bending down.

A spark. A line of glowing orange. . .a quick gasp and then

Sqqqqquuuuuuuuuuuuueeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

BOOM

Sparkling purple confetti strewn across the night sky, for an instant, lights our walking path.

Shining eyes; smiling, laughing, enjoying the night.

I am transported to a 5 cent Carousel miles and decades away. The plaster horses, lions; a travelling circus. Complete with pipe organ melodies to accompany the spinning scenery outside the shells of immovable beasts. The ultimate joy for my under 10 years of experience. This place is safe.

Fear turns to 10 year old joy. Wonder comes along to ponder the impossibly natural transition. The smile appears before I have time to recognize its forming. We laugh with the children, the families, the old, the dogs, the cows, the merchants as they celebrate, Diwali.

The most wonderful time of their year.

What I wrote instead.

Leaving India

Leaving India was one of the most stressful , frustrating and ridiculous events in my life so far.  For anyone who knows me well, I think that’s saying something.

The trouble began about one month prior to leaving India but since I decided to go from India to Nigeria instead of somewhere easier to get to (like. . .say. . .home), I’ll accept the initial tribulations as my own fault.  Those being: applying for Nigerian visa, the process taking longer than expected, needing to extend my Indian visa by 2 weeks, acquiring Nigerian visa.
Anything that requires official documentation, appointments, embassies, municipal offices etc. is never a walk in the park.  But in Delhi it’s all compounded by travelling through the city (although the metro has done  wonders to improve that aspect), finding places to print things, haggling with rickshaw drivers, nobody knowing directions. . .It was like swimming upstream in molasses trying to get through all the bureaucracy and accomplish everything in a timely manner.
But again, if I just decided to go home, or any number of other places, this all could have been avoided. I throw up my hands and accept the blame.

However!  Actually leaving India was a whole different story.  My last two posts were the beginning of trouble,  but even all of the train and bus drama of getting to Ahmedabad was  nothing compared to what happened next.

The hotel in Ahmedabad was about 10min from the airport. The hotel staff were suspicious of us and flipped through all of the pages of both our passports, made us fill out a form restating all of the information and photocopied all of our passport information. Many Indians have a bad impression of Nigerians (to be fair, many Nigerians are involved in illegal activities in India but the media makes it seem like all black people in India are criminals, which obviously isn't the case) and my visa was expiring in 2 days, the same day as our flight out. After some heated words in Gujarati were exchanged between several employees, the front desk man decided he would give us a room. He carried our bags up the stairs and unlocked the door for us. After a few minutes there was a knock on the door. It was another employee who insisted that we fill out yet another form and sign it before he would leave. Once that was finished we  arranged our things, ordered food and slept.  I started feeling uneasy though. . .I attributed it to the movie I watched while waiting for our food.

The next day started well enough. Our flight was the following morning at 4:25am so we still had about 20hr to chill in Ahmedabad.
In the afternoon, while my boyfriend was taking a nap, I received a reminder email from Emirates for our flight and online check in.
I thought, 'why not?' and proceeded through the series of clicks to be checked in. Before confirming, a disclaimer popped up: The passenger is responsible for proper documentation for entry to the UAE. I had checked when I made the booking to make sure that we did but decided that I should double check to make sure. . .big mistake.

The information on the Emirates website claimed that if we had a stop over in Dubai for more than 24 hours we required UAE visas.  Because of the holiday rush, when we booked the flight, we were able to find the cheapest fare on a flight leaving Ahmedabad on the 21^st at 4:25 (arriving and 6am) and leaving Dubai on the 22^nd  at 14:15, which meant a stopover of about 32 hours.
Neither of us had UAE visas.

First I called Emirates.  I explained the situation. We didn't want to leave the airport in Dubai, was a visa necessary?!
Unfortunately it was.
The attendant gave me the number of the UAE immigration and visa office, who informed me, without a trace of sympathy, that not only was a visa necessary but it was impossible to get one in such a short period of time.

Fantastic.

I called Emirates twice more to get a second opinion and to see if any flights leaving Dubai on the 21^st had become available.
Visas were still necessary. They were sold out of seats except in business and first class until the 24th. They probably wouldn’t let us board the flight in Ahmedabad since we didn’t have the proper onward visas.

Wonderful.

I roused my peacefully sleeping boyfriend, panic in my stomach and tears running down my face.
We went to the airport. After waiting for about 30 minutes to see someone, we were finally able to talk to a representative from Emirates. He was very nice but unable to help us much. He took us to see the immigration officer at the airport. . .who told us to go to the high commissioner of police in Ahmedabad to extend my visa til the 24th.

By this time it was 5pm and we were told the police station would be closed. People seemed to think an extension wouldn't be an issue though.

I called Emirates and changed our flight to the 24th. That way, we would be able to go to Dubai without a visa. . .I just needed to get an extension. . .

When we got back to the hotel the people at the front desk informed us that they knew the police commissioner! They called the police station and found that they were still open! We took an auto rickshaw to the police station, about 20min from our hotel.

At the police station, ceiling fans curled up the edges of papers piled on the numerous empty desks. The commissioner was out. I waited for him on a small metal stool. Finally his colleagues informed me there was nothing they could do. They didn't have the authority to extend any visa, especially tourist visas, from their office. Not even one day. If I needed an extension I would need to go back to Delhi. . .nooooooooooooooo.  I waited for about 30min for the commissioner, crying at this point but they insisted that the result would be the same no matter how long I waited.

Fortunately, one man at the police station felt at least a hint of compassion for me. He knew the supervisor of Emirates who was working at the Ahmedabad airport and gave him a call. This man, Abishek (who I am eternally grateful exists, Thank you Abishek wherever you are!!!!), insisted that a visa wasn't necessary and that we would be able to get the 96 hour visiting visa on arrival to Dubai if we bought a hotel package. Since I had been hearing nothing but the opposite all day, it was hard to believe him. The police guy gave me his number and I left the police station still crying from frustration.

In the dying light outside the police station we were mobbed by a group of curious children who thought it would be a good idea to poke us with sticks while we tried to hail an auto rickshaw back to our hotel. Perhaps they were unconvinced that we were real. I was pretty unconvinced of reality myself at this point.

It was now almost 7pm. We gave the rickshaw driver we got our hotel card with the address on it, and he insisted he could get us there. Then he pulled over every 5 minutes to ask directions. . .which no one knew. . .and took us in the wrong direction for almost 30 min before we realized we were getting ourselves into even more trouble. We made him stop, argued with him about the cost, gathered a crowd who helped us sort it out and also assisted in getting us into a another rickshaw that did know the way.  The correct route home took us almost 45 minutes from where we were. . .making it about 8:30pm by the time we got to the hotel.  We were running out of time and options. . .

The hotel people were anxious because my visa was expiring and didn't want us staying in the hotel with an expired visa because it could get them into trouble with the police. . .aiya

I called Abishek who once again assured us that we would be able to get a visa upon arrival in Dubai if we made a hotel reservation. I told him I had already changed our flight to the 24th and he advised us to come to the airport around 12am anyway.

My boyfriend and I had to have a serious talk.
Maybe Abishek was right.  . .if so, we could change the flight back to the 21st and leave for Dubai. . .the hotel package in Dubai might be expensive but at least we wouldn't have to deal with immigration problems.
Going back to Delhi wasn't really an option (neither of us wanted to entertain the idea of going back to Delhi for another minute) since I had already had my visa extended once and there was no guarantee anyone would give it to me, especially in such a short time. If refused it would just be more trouble leaving India.
If we couldn't go to Dubai, my boyfriend advised me to just change my fight, refund the money from Emirates, and fly back to Canada. His visa was fine until February so he could just stay. That would be a shame since so many people were expecting us in Nigeria, but it might be the only way.

We showered, packed and went to the airport at 12am to see Abishek.  If necessary I could refund the ticket and get my money back there and could book the flight to Canada when we got back to the hotel.  As long as the flights left India by 11:59pm on the 21st we would be fine, and there seemed to be lots of flights still available for that.

We hadn't really eaten all day and neither of us had any appetite left to eat because of the stress. We were tired and hungry and losing hope.

We got to the airport put our bags through security and found Abishek.  He told us again that we would be able to get a visa in Dubai and would definitely be able to leave Ahmedabad. There were still seats available on the flight from Ahmedabad to Dubai so he booked us into the flight but we couldn't get a flight out of Dubai until the 24th! After paying a fee (yes, conveniently for Emirates, there is always a fee. . .I already paid to shift to the 24th and then I had to pay again. . .) we were booked in.  The catch was, also had to sign a document that said if there were any problems with getting a visa in Dubai, Emirates was not responsible and we would have to pay any cost incurred. . .like for being deported back to India. . .where my visa was expired. . .and I would be caught in international airport limbo for the rest of my lifeeeeeeeeee!!!!
It wasn't a very reassuring document.  But we got through check in, immigration, security and onto our flight!

When we arrived in Dubai we were still tense. We weren't sure what to do. We kept asking people where we could get the 96 hour visa and they directed us to the Emirates desk but seemed confused as to why we were so concerned.  One lady didn't want to say directly but implied that if we just stayed in the airport, no one would bother us. Another lady, after listening to our abbreviated story and hearing that in India they said we needed a visa, responded with: "And you believed them!?"

At the hotel and visa reservations desk the man said a visa would be no problem. It would cost about $350 though. Maybe we should go to the reservations and bookings desk and see if there are any onward flights left today. He seemed confident we could get one.

We needed to sit down.  This was too much.  There was so much trouble in India and now that we were in Dubai all of our troubles had suddenly melted away.  We started cracking up. I was laughing and crying at the same time.

We went to the reservations desk and there WERE onward flights to Lagos that afternoon. . .(of course we had to pay the fee again!) and it was the same price as the one booked. We paid, laughed some more and, now that the knots in our stomachs had mostly dissipated, got some much needed food and rest.

When we boarded our flight, the lady that took our boarding passes looked at her computer before exclaiming: "This is your lucky flight!  You've been bumped up to business class!"

So we flew business class in utter disbelief to Lagos.  We enjoyed gourmet meals off of a menu, chairs that completely reclined and massaged the stress out of our tired backs, wine and Godiva chocolates.  Normally I would have been a bit perturbed by the frivolity of business class, but on this particular occasion, I did not complain.

The universe decided to prove me wrong (-__-)

Just as I was explaining how everything seemed to miraculously work out ok in my post earlier today, we missed our train!  We left around 1:30pm to get to the station at 3:20pm but got stuck in a traffic jam about 5km from the station and missed the train by 5 minutes!
What to do?
So we spent a few hours in the station trying to figure out our options. . .we could try for the train at 10:45pm. . .but there's no seats and we would need to board with a general ticket and hope that the conductor can/will find us a place to sit/sleep for the 20 hours of travel. . .hmm
Flights to Ahmedabad for tonight at 11:30pm are about $100 per person. . .that's also an option. . .but pricey. . .hmmm
While standing in line to try our luck a second time with the 10:45 train, an agent for a bus company tried to offer his services to us.  First he played the "helpful nice guy", trying to assist us in getting our ticket. . .when he saw that there were no tickets available he became the "helpful nice bus guy" who's company was offering a bus to Ahmedabad leaving in 10min. . .hmmmmmmmmm

After another mad scramble of getting our things arranged; from the railway station to the agent's office, on 2 bicycle rickshaws for a 2km ride to the bus pick up, on to the bus (all in less than 20min) and 2090 rs. . .we are on a sleeper bus somewhere in Rajasthan heading towards our destination.  We should arrive tomorrow around 1pm. . .apparently.  We'll see how that goes!

On the road again. . .or rather, in the air again

I'm leaving Delhi today!!!  It's been about 5 months since I started living here but my visa is expiring soon so it's time to leave.  Typically. . .even leaving India won't be typical.  First I'm taking a 16 hour train out of Delhi (that hopefully won't be delayed or cancelled due to fog). . .but so far there's no scheduled delay.  Then I'm flying to Canada? Sri Lanka? Nepal? Thailand? England? nope.  Dubai.  From THERE i'm again flying to. . .??  If you guess correctly and I haven't already told you I'll send you a postcard!! hehe :)
It's been interesting living in Delhi. . .I've seen and learned a lot of things.  I've met some really great people in really unexpected places and overall have had a really great time.  There certainly have been a few difficult times. . .like when my eye swelled up and I looked like a sasquatch for few days and dealing with harassment for being a foreign female. . .but nothing too serious.
Although I don't much like the city, I will probably miss Delhi in some ways.  As frustrating as it is to get things done in an even remotely timely manner, I like the chaos.  I like the reality.  Everything; the very poor and the ridiculously rich, Muslims, Hindus and Christians, beautiful buildings and garbage everywhere, greenery, parks and raw sewage all side by side somehow living together.  There is certainly a structure to what's going on.  There are multiple hierarchies and factors conglomerating to produce the present. . .but just taking a step outside of it all and watching it happen is really something.  I'm always amazed at how everything seems to work out, maybe not efficiently or without hiccups, but it eventually gets done/we arrive safely etc.  Just watching from the outside and coming from a very different set of circumstances, you're confused at first about how it would be possible.  Then slowly you stop wondering and just accept that everything will work out fine. . .and usually it does.
But that's it for now.  On to another adventure in another country in another continent (hint!). . .

nice dream

Last night I dreamt of you.  You did not appear as your true like-ness but I knew it was you nonetheless.  Our interaction was the same, our spirits met in the same manner, at the same place.
We were on a beach and you were leading me to your family's cottage.  We passed  box-like training centres painted in primary red and blue.  We moved on to small identical cottages with identical gardens extending from the front doorway and creating identical welcoming paths.  We continued on through the sand towards your home.  The weather was perfect, not too hot or cold and aside from the buildings and sand, there was not much of note.  Just you and I walking together.
Even though it was a dream, the places in our relationship that are still unknown, are still curiosities and have never been explored were still better left alone.  Everything was perfect.
I awoke longing for the sound of rain falling on rooftops. . .

I'm not saying I'm a creationist. . .

I'm really not at all.  I was thinking though. . .
Doesn't science kind of miss the point. . .literally?  I mean. . .ok, certainly science is really useful.  I have nothing (much) against science.  Knowing how things work is great when it comes to, say, helping our loved ones stay alive and maybe in some cases, how to get things done more efficiently and getting massive amounts of people from one location to another location or. . .lighting rooms. . .or. . .you know, lots of things.
But then when it comes down to it, science sure does spend a lot of time trying to answer unanswerable questions. . .and worst of all, it makes us stop wondering.
There's a certain age that children start asking lots of questions.  Everything that comes out of their mouth is a question.  Sometimes we can satisfy their questions, sometimes we can't.  Before they have words everything that they see is a mystery.  Imagine. . .before you knew a language. . .how would you have seen the world that was in front of you?  How much majesty and mystery inside every moment.  Nothing has yet been labeled good or bad, right or wrong, yes or no. . .everything just is exactly as it is.  There's this expansive blue thing with white things in it (of course none of that has language either) and a similarly expansive green thing with other brown and green things sticky vertically out of it or maybe giant triangular type shapes sticking out of the ground. . .cool!  There's no questioning because there's no language to divide it.  Perhaps the divisions aren't even there because nothing has yet been labeled as separate from one another. . .perhaps everything that you see, hear, smell, feel, before language, is one.
Then we learn language and are encouraged to separate EVERYTHING.  We divide and divide and label and label and try our best to understand everything so we can effectively communicate.  This expansive blue thing is called "the sky". It is blue because of some complex process of light from the sun being scattered by gas in the atmosphere and reflected as blue.  It is expansive because the place we live, earth, is really big and circular so it seems to expand in all directions all around us.  We can ask as many questions as we want and we can try to find as many answers as we want.  We are taught to do so.  We are rewarded when we have knowledge and answers for the questions and go to school and get degrees. . .but, we will never have all the answers.
Ultimately. . .there is no explanation for why?  Why a "sky", why an "earth", why a "universe", why "blue" and not, say. . .red. . .or ultraviolet?  Why this set of circumstances and not any other infinite number of possibilities?
There is no why.  It just is.
And when it "just is", and when "just as it is" is fully recognized and truly appreciated. . .even without all of the knowledge that goes behind it,  just as it is, is marvelously awesome.
Who needs TV when you can just watch the expansive blue thing with white things in it. . .just as it is?  And just wait til the sun goes down!!!

What Diwali means to me. . .

lights strewn over houses crammed together on a dirt road.
candles at every doorway.
fireworks, explosions every minute, occupying the empty crevices in auditory corti entirely.
sweets sold at every shop, packaged for gift giving.
laughing, excitement. long lost relatives unified at last.
sweets. shopping. lights.
something about Hinduism.  Ram, Ravana, Sita, Hanuman, triumph of good over evil. . .the usual?
customs, cultures, religions, beliefs, traditions.
unify some and divide others.
keep us from celebrating life together.
eat, drink, be merry. . .inclusively, lovingly. . .to everyone, always.

Back From Ladakh: Part III

The next day we decided to take it easy.  Around noon we took a walk down Changspa lane stopping at a few shops and Tibetan markets on the way to find lunch.  After eating we continued down Changspa lane which ended at the stairway to the Shanti Stupa.  Since the sky wasn't overly clear, which I felt would impede our view of the mountains, we decided to save climbing up to the stupa til the next day and opted for an unguided tour of mystery and wonder around Leh.  Equally exciting!  We began walking in the direction of the old town, walked through the fair grounds, and continued on to the bus station for some chai, thinking it would be cheaper than in the tourist area of the town (but then when the lady asked for 16 rupees, 8 each, I thought she said 60 rupees!!  For tea!?!? x_x;).
We continued further down the main road behind the bus stop and observed some local lifestyle.  Fruit and vegetable vendors lined the streets, chatting to each other with no pretense of a care for business; giant radishes, carrots, zucchini, apricots and apples spread in front of them.  Shoppers ducked in and out of food and clothing shops, and students were taking the road back from school, enjoying snacks with their friends.  Prayer wheels and other Buddhist structures stood hidden in unexpected places.  We stopped to buy something at one of the shops and the shopkeeper, from Kashmir, insisted on getting us chai (again!) and asking as many questions as possible before we decided to leave.
Where are you from?How do you like India?Have you been to Kashmir?How long are you in Ladakh?When did you come?etc.etc.etc.
When we got a chance, we thanked the shopkeepers for the chai and escaped!  We continued walking which eventually resulted in a big loop that took us back to the main tourist area.  On the way back we saw some guys sitting across from each other, playing a game infront of a souvenir shop.  The game was played on a square board with holes in each corner and small discs.  The men saw us looking quizzically at them playing and motioned for us to come over.  We did.  They insisted that I play against one of them. . . . .I did!  The game was played like pool/snooker but with your fingers as the cue instead of any instrument, one player had to get all of the black discs into the corner holes and the other player had to get all of the white discs into the holes.  The final disc was to be the orange one and you had to use a communal disc to hit the other discs..  I am possibly the WORST whatever-this-game-is-called player in the world.  I was beat  in about 2 minutes and one of the guys started helping me since I was utterly hopeless on my own.  It was a good laugh.
The next day we climbed up to the Shanti Stupa and got a great view of the mountains, but not before getting a little lost!!  Due to something we had to do in town, and wanting to take a more adventurous route than the one we knew, we ended up not taking the Changspa Rd route and got a little lost in the process.  I'm sure that initially we were on the right track but after about 15 minutes of walking we found ourselves at a very sketchy looking bridge, and then in the middle of wheat fields. . . Fortunately, a girl that was washing her clothes led us through the fields to the road for the Stupa!  It was so nice of her, she just left her washing in the middle of the road!

Climbing up to the stupa was no laughing matter (ok, maybe if I hadn't been off the bike for 3 months and at such a high altitude, it would have been easy. . .) but the view of the mountains and Leh were worth it! The stupa had 4 murals of different aspects of the Buddha's life carved/painted on it.

We (read: I) hadn't had enough mountain climbing so we also climbed up to the fort beside the old royal palace for more incredible mountain views.  After this we were pretty tired and headed back into town for dinner and bed.

The rest of the time we just enjoyed the friendliness of Ladakhi people, the beauty of the landscape, clear air, quietness of the town and the garden in front of our guesthouse.  We helped one day to shell beans that they were drying for winter and ate apricots and apples directly from the trees in the garden.
Finally, and reluctantly, the morning of our return flight came. . .
Taking off from the mountainous desert. . .in the clouds.  The great mountain giants rise to their full stature beside us and slowly, slowly begin to shrink. . .the deep valleys becoming more shallow and further away. . .leading to foothills,

                             rivers,
                                       subdivisions,
                                                          houses,
                                                                     cars,
                                                                            cows, crowds, flatness, heat, traffic, dust, smog, mosquitos.  Hello Delhi. . .can't say that I missed you, this time.

Back From Ladakh: Part I                                          Back From Ladakh Part II

Nailed for the Truth

This article caught my attention when I was reading the Times of India yesterday.  If you were wondering why I haven't been entirely forthcoming about my opinions and experiences since coming to India. . .the article might give you a better idea of why.
That's not to say that I've been finding out anything too controversial. . .but certainly more than I've written about here.  Many things not immediately obvious, to foreigners especially, are politicized (as is mentioned in the article above) and your actions and beliefs carry a lot of weight.  A conference that I went to last month, for example, happened to be getting at least some contribution from the state party in power and had the chief minister of the state's address in the program. . .and there were a number of other questionable things/papers presented at the conference as well.
I've also been learning alot from my friends in the hostel.  The situation in the North-East and particularly Manipur is very different than here but truth-telling/activism are still dangerous. . .even more so.  Although I would like to give more informed opinions about what's going on and what it all means, I still don't feel nearly knowledgeable enough about the implications of my actions/how much information is too much information/how private is my "private information" nor do I feel that I have enough of a grasp on the big picture of India (which is a huge and insanely multifaceted picture) to give a lot of meaningful, worth-while insight. . .Sure, I can share most of my day to day experiences, no problem.  But to pass judgement on those experiences, at the present moment, would only be presumptuous.  I'm not ready to sacrifice myself for presumptions. . .

Last weekend we had a "freshers" (first-years) party for the residents of the hostel.  We each gave a short introduction, heard a speech from the land-lady, ate some delicious food and socialized together for the evening.  The boy:girl ratio was about 6:1.  Since I normally only hang out with the girls (there are 7 of us but not everyone was at the party) and only see the boys (of whom there are over 20) from the boys hostel at meal times, this was an opportunity for them to talk to me.  I don't say that out of ego-ism, I was actually put on the spot at one point in the night by some of the boys to just talk about my country and impressions of India, etc.  It was also an opportunity for them to talk to "the girls".  The boys were also very interested in hearing the girls' opinions about "what makes a man sexy or manly as opposed to cute?". . . .um.   But we had a chance to ask the boys any questions we wanted too. . .so maybe it was fair?  Anyway, it was funny and fun to get to know each other better and to learn more about Manipuri culture a little bit. . .although in this particular situation I didn't feel that I learned much about Manipur specifically, more that boys everywhere share a lot of similarities. . .especially when it comes to attraction, love and relationships.
Also, I think my running count on religious conversion attempts is up to about 7930386710391 since coming to India.  Converters beware!

Back From Ladakh: Part II Pangong

The alarm woke us up at 4:30am. . .but we didn't actually get up until closer to 5.  We quickly found that our hot water was NOT working 24h a day. . .but we didn't have time to make use of hot water anyways.  We quickly got dressed and packed a few extra warm clothes, water and biscuits for the road.
Outside of our guest house, the morning air was cool and fresh.  The sun had not yet risen over the mountains and although the day was starting off cloudy, it was still bright enough to see clearly.  Most of Ladakh was still, quiet and sleeping. . .but as we neared the parking lot across from our departure point we saw many taxis and drivers getting ready for the long day of mountain driving that was surely ahead.  We arrived only 5 minutes late but our driver wouldn't arrive for another 10 minutes.
When our driver arrived we piled into the 8 seat jeep and prepared ourselves for the 5 hour drive to Pangong Lake.  Our driver began chanting a mantra (I'm not certain why, but I would guess it had to do with protecting us from harm on our journey) that he continued until we arrived at our first rest-stop (at least 30min from Leh!).  We had some Aloo Parathas, some Chai and were ready to carry onwards and upwards.
We began to climb.  We drove from one mountain up and up until we could reach a common ridge to the next and climb that one as well.  We felt our ears pop a number of times and our heads were beginning to ache from the rough terrain and airlessness.  The valley was disappearing below us, becoming more and more art-like.  Is it possible that this is still real life?  We stopped for a picture before heading on to Chang La, the third highest motorable pass in the world.
The clouds had still not cleared and were in fact, getting thicker as we neared the highest point in our journey.  When we finally reached Chang La, 5360m above sea level (complete with warning signs informing that it was dangerous to stay longer than 20min at this altitude), it was cold and we were unable to see much of anything because of the clouds.  Fortunately, there was free tea supplied by the Indian army stationed at Chang La.  Unfortunately, I needed to use the bathroom.  Generally I tend to use the "hand/water" method in India as, it just makes more sense. . .but on this particular occasion, the water had a not-so-thin-layer of ice on it which made for a very cold hand and behind.

 

Back on the road! and we started going down.  The mountains were still snow-covered for a while but slowly the snow was fading away.  Not only that, but the clouds were beginning to recede in some places and bright blue sky started peeking in and out between mountain peaks.  We stopped to see yaks and marmots on the way, but the most memorable thing for the remainder of the trip, was the scenery.

Pangong before the sun came out

After another 3 hours on the road, we saw the first glimpse of the sapphire blue Pangong lake. When we arrived at the lake however, the clouds had taken over and the lake was a dull navy. We went into a tent set up beside the lake for tourists to get out of the cold and wind. There were beds for tired, acclimatizing tourists and also food. After about 15 min and another chai, we ventured outside again where the sky had cleared a little and the sun had come out, lighting up the mountains and lake creating a completely changed landscape of perfection.

The ride back from Pangong Lake was long and tiring because of the rough mountain road conditions. When we arrived back at Chang La we were all tired and ready to be back at home. Fortunately though, the sun had stayed out for the remainder of our trip and we got to see the glacier that was previously hidden behind the clouds.

It was a long and tiring trip, but the natural beauty that we saw on the way there and back was definitely worth the time and headaches.  After arriving back in Leh around 5pm we took an early dinner and headed to bed for the next day. . .stay tuned for Part III


Back from Ladakh Part III                                                                        Back from Ladakh Part I  

Back from Ladakh: Part I

Goodbye Delhi heat, traffic, dust, smog, mosquitos and flat-ness. The plane circled ever upward on the way out of the city. Everything below was becoming miniature. Cows,
         cars,
                 houses,
                             subdivisions,
                                                 rivers. . .and we were in the clouds heading North to the Great Himalayan range.

Within 20 minutes we were over the foothills, green valleys plunging deeper and deeper drawing the boundaries between green giants. . .Shimla. . .Manali. . . Snow appears mixed with the clouds, at first it is hard to distinguish one from the other. . .then the mountains start to change entirely. They are no longer green giants but have passed onto the next realm, that of stone, still, lifeless. Barren and majestic. The valleys run ever deeper; veins of the terrain. Snakes, rather than ladders, that will take us back to the level from which we came.

Zik Zik Guesthouse Garden

There is a break in the peaks and Leh valley comes into sight.  Aside from the snow-capped mountains surrounding, the terrain has become desert-like, a sharp contrast to the cloudless azure sky.  By the time our taxi has dropped us off in the main town, we can already feel the effects of our sudden 3500m jump in altitude.  Each breath provides far less oxygen (although the air is markedly clearer than that of Delhi!) so a short walk down the street requires effort, climbing a flight of stairs requires a recovery period, with bags? that would come with a health advisory.  We leave our bags at one guest house to seek out something a bit more suitable.  We find Zik Zik Guesthouse on Karzoo lane with a nice garden, 24-hour hot water (which proved to be not entirely true, though still fine), reasonable price, nice view and nice family (not to mention cute kitten and calf!).

Fort Road

After confirming our stay at the guesthouse, we proceeded to take a long nap since we were feeling headach-y from the oxygen level.  We woke up close to dinner time and found a restaurant on fort road that had a great rooftop view.  After dinner though, we just went back to the room and slept since we were still not fully acclimatized and didn't feel like doing much else.

Old Palace

The next day we booked a trip to Pangong Lake and then wandered around Leh for a while.  We wandered down some back alleys selling goods for locals and had some chai from a Ladakhi lady toting a thermos full.  At the end of the alley we found a Tibetan handy-craft market where they were selling fresh momos and butter tea as well.  After that we went to see the old palace. . .our first climb since arriving in Leh.  Since we were still not fully acclimatized, it was a really challenging climb. Inside the palace was very dark which was dangerous since there were sometimes holes in the floor!  But the views of the city and mountains were worth it.
After dinner we returned to our room (which has no power, an on-going issue in Ladakh) and went to bed since our tour to Pangong Lake was leaving the next morning at 5:45!
Back from Ladakh Part II

Guava Love

I've become totally addicted to Guavas lately.


Street Guavas c/o Rajesh Dangi

And this is a common image in the streets of Delhi. Street vendors with carts full of Guavas and a scale, selling by the kilo (about 20rs/kg). They often have pink guavas cut for display but don't be fooled! The guavas they are selling are white inside (in my experience at least). Delicious either way. I have trouble going for 24 hours without at least 1 guava, or at least guava juice.
mmmmMMmmMmmm

NGO hustle

Initially that was NOT supposed to be a blog post in itself. I had been waiting (for 3 hours!!! hence the original title: "Indian (and other variations of) Time, to be continued another day) to go visit some of the projects that an NGO was running and just as I started a blog post (I had run out of other Internet-time-wasting things to do), the director finally called me into his office.

So. . .I met someone who was a business partner with my friend and was impressed that I seemed to genuinely want to work in human rights/social justice issues without any concern for advancement of my career/finances (apparently that's NOT like everyone. . .!) so he introduced me to someone he knew who is a coordinator for some different NGOs (who will remain nameless, sorry for the suspense), who introduced me to a specific one in Delhi where I went today. I had been to the office on Friday to meet the director and find out what kind of situation I was potentially getting myself into.

The director explained that they did nothing related to human rights or the environment, so I wasn't a good fit for the organization. Fair enough. I certainly prefer honesty over exploitation. Then the conversation shifted to the prospect of fund-raising. . .uh oh. "I could put together a team for you and you could come up with some fund-raising strategies, after of course you know everything about the organization, how transparent we are, what we are doing, how sustainable we are. . .you know, sustainability is the key these days, how much money we need, etc." Ok, not ideal, but of course every organization has to do at least some form of fundraising. . .right? "For now we can pay you 8000 rs for trial but after a few months, depending on your skills and ambition, there's no limit. . .we don't have a problem in this area." ummm. "You could set up an office for us in Canada, be the face of the organization there, find Canadian donors there and have the funds transfered to our account.". . . .right. . . .something about that seems somewhat unsustainable to me. . .

Not to mention that they are already getting funding and support from their "Mother NGO" and the government. AND that he failed to acknowledge that corruption was happening with respect to entrance to government schools. Provided, perhaps this doesn't apply to the particular ones that they are working with. . .(possible?). When I was working for a week at NCDHR the people living in the slums straight up told us that their children rarely got into government schools because, although entrance was supposed to be based on a lottery system, in actuality, it was often based on how much you were able to pay the administration. Dalits and other people living in the slums didn't have much opportunity. Ok, so Dalit rights aren't an issue you're working on. Fine. That doesn't mean it's ok to be unaware or dishonest about a huge problem affecting the demographic you largely work with.

Sometimes I think I'm being way to critical and will never be able to do anything. . .good or bad, because of it. Nothing will ever be 100% good (the rule of the yin yang?) Sometimes I wonder if it's more a fear of involving and investing myself in something that will inevitably have some negative aspects. I prefer to dwell in the grey>leading white as much as possible. . .but the black is also a necessary part. . .Maybe if I actually took the position and invested myself I could help them do things in a better, more sustainable way. . .not because i'm a foreigner, thus automatically more knowledgeable or because i have a hero complex. . .but simply because i'm critical and trying my best to be honest with myself about the situation.

In this particular situation though, I think I will decline. Some people just make you feel uneasy. . .

Field trip to Baljeet Nagar with NCDHR

The last couple of days I've been going to the National Campaign on Dalit Human Rights (NCDHR) office to learn more about their campaign and see if I could do anything useful for them and if it would be something I would like to be involved with for the duration of my stay in India.

I was connected to NCDHR through one of my contacts at the Indian Formation Research Society who I met at the Study Circle I went to in Assam. They are working for the rights of Dalits, members of the lowest caste, who are also referred to as the "untouchable" caste, in India. Dalits make up about 17% of the population of India which equates to almost 200 million people! Dalits are discriminated against and suffer huge violations of their basic human rights by upper castes and government systems/policies simply because of their birth into the Dalit caste. As a result, they often live in slums, are refused education, especially post-secondary education, are not given the privilege to choose their work and are confined to labour that is both ill-paying and considered to be demeaning by most of Indian society (street cleaners, devadasis (temple prostitutes), cobblers, leather workers, etc).

Dalits, especially women and children are also very vulnerable to violence from upper castes. Because the idea of caste is so deeply ingrained into many members of Indian society, when Dalits try to speak out against violations to their rights or injustice, they will often suffer more violence at the hands of the authorities or retribution from aggressors they complain about for not "accepting their fate as a Dalit", which they think is necessarily equated with discrimination and atrocities.

The NCDHR is trying to make practical changes to this horrific historic problem with a number of campaigns they are working on. Due to a seeming "lack of interest" and a visible lack of action (or rather, invisible action?) in addressing the problem from many national agencies, the NCDHR has been forced to take the issue to an International level.

Yesterday, as part of a training process at NCDHR (a number of students are interning here for a few weeks and I happened to come during their orientation), we took a field trip to Baljeet Nagar, just 10 minutes by cycle-rickshaw from the NCDHR office in Delhi. The settlement in Baljeet Nagar is located behind a large sports ground, Ramjas Park, and residential area. It was created 25 to 30 years ago when immigrants, primarily from Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh, West Bengal and Bihar, moved to Delhi in search of better opportunities. Since that time the number of jhuggis (shanties) erected has reached around 4000 and it is estimated that approximately 80% of the people living in Baljeet Nagar are Dalits. Although the settlement is technically illegal, the residents have been paying bribes for many years in order to stay on the land.

On March 23rd and 24th 2011, without doing any of the mandatory surveys and without any prior notice given to the residents as per the supreme court guidelines, the Delhi Development Authority (DDA) arrived with 5 bulldozers at Baljeet Nagar and proceeded to illegally bulldoze around 600 jhuggis. 8 residents were informally arrested and detained for several hours. The residents had no opportunity to remove or salvage their belongings and many official documents, ration cards, voter ID cards and other belongings of the residents were stolen or lost in the rubble. The government has not yet offered any remuneration for the people who have lost their houses nor has any plan for the relocation of these residents been presented as yet.

From a publication at NCDHR:

Though the demolition received formal sanction from the Delhi Government and was scheduled by local authorities, just the day before the bulldozers razed their homes, residents of Baljeet Nagar were allegedly forced to pay huge amounts of money to the DDA and Delhi Police officials.

Since the demolition, the NCDHR has been involved in stopping further demolition of the Baljeet Nagar settlement and has thus far warded off further destruction. The situation is still not good though. People living in Baljeet Nagar have no water or toilet facilities, they are gravely under served in terms of health facilities. Women venturing into the nearby wooded area for their bathroom needs are in danger of sexual assault and violence.

We talked to the residents of Baljeet Nagar for about two hours about their experiences with the demolition and also the struggles that they face in their daily lives. Many people in Baljeet Nagar have to fight every day for things that so many people take for granted; a home, food, water, access to education, safety, and medicine. Yet, they are happy to talk to us, to share their stories. They have been through such injustice and cruelty in their lives and yet they are still fighting. They are passionate about their rights, they are not giving up. Children are running around smiling, playing and laughing; excited to see foreigners in their settlement and just being children. People are cooking, preparing food, washing clothes, talking, taking care of babies, living.
The residents offer us all samosas and soft drinks before we go as a sign of hospitality and appreciation for coming and hearing their stories.

出会った： チェンナイからデリーへの電車で

Train from Chennai to Delhi. 36 hours. Fortunately we left at 7:15pm which meant two sleeps on the train. For practical reasons, I hate traveling during the day. At night, especially in India, especially as a woman, there is not much you can do outside anyways, so time spent traveling on a train, is not time wasted. Though traveling at night in most places can be more dangerous, this isn't so much of a concern with the train. It's pretty noisy, to be fair and can be hot. . .but it's great for catching up on reading, thinking, listening to music, chatting with friends you're traveling with, and meeting locals. . .because when you're sitting with people for 36 hours in India, curiosity WILL get the better of them.
After the first couple of stops, a man comes into the train and takes his seat in the lower berth across from our three. He chains his luggage under the seat (which myself and my 2 traveling companions from Manipur) haven't deemed necessary) and tries to make himself comfortable. He asks us where we're from. I tell him I'm from Canada but it takes a few repetitions to convey the message. He asks where my friends are from and I say Manipur. He doesn't seem to understand that they are also Indians, since they look quite different than North or even South Indians. In fact, I'm somewhat interested to see how this knowledge will be taken. On the train towards Chennai from Delhi the conductor (? The guy who goes through the train and checks the tickets) was quite blatantly rude to the 3 of us. We had a ticket and had been on the waiting list for confirmed seats earlier that day and before the train 2 of our seats had been confirmed which should have meant we were waiting for one more seat to come free. It's probable that we actually had 3 confirmed seats by the time the train left, however, a huge group of people got on the train at Delhi without confirmed seats (not an uncommon phenomenon)and we ended up with even less than 2 seats/berths between the 3 of us. When we tried to ask the conductor if we had a 3rd seat confirmed he replied rudely that there was "no chance for an extra seat". My friend tried to ask him when it might change (since most people would probably be getting off before Chennai). He said it wouldn't (Later on a different conductor came around and was more than able to find us a seat, even 3 seats together!). My friends were quite upset by the behaviour of this man. They kept referring to North Indians being "like this" because Manipuri people look different, they always treat them badly. I know that their feelings likely come from multiple experiences with this kind of treatment, and racism is always hurtful and should not be tolerated, but I still tried to say that certainly not all North Indians are like that and maybe this guy just had some bad curry today. . .or his child decided to be an artist instead of an engineer. . .or perhaps he has 7 daughters and can't afford to pay all of their dowries so he has to put other people down to make himself feel better. . .I wanted to go talk to him. My friends wouldn't let me.
Anyway, back to the journey back from Chennai. My friend starts trying to explain, "Manipur" and finally switches to Hindi to make himself better understood. He seems embarrassed and claims his Hindi is bad, but it's much better than mine, anyway. Besides, if you can already speak 3 languages fluently, you could be forgiven for some difficulty speaking your fourth. The man tells us he is from Agra but is going to Jaipur to see his daughter who is studying accounting at college there. The man seems satisfied for the time being knowing where we are from and soon after we all climbed into our respective berths to sleep.
The next day, on the way back from the bathroom I was accosted by another man who asked if he could talk to me for a few minutes. I found his formalities somewhat funny. He asked: "Where are you from?", "What are you doing in India", "How do you like India", commented on my answer saying that "even if you didn't like India, of course you would say that you liked it", "What do your parents do?", "What is your religion?". . .then he proceeded to try to convert me to Christianity by telling me about how he used to be a Hindu but realized that it was far better to put your faith in Christ. . . .*sigh*. I said that I thought it was important to love everyone and treat everyone how you would want to be treated (like in Christianity! he replied! Yes. and in Buddhism and Islam and Hinduism. . .etc) and that often times religions teach this rule, but at the same time teach that other religions are wrong or bad and cause hate between each other. . .which doesn't make sense to me. He didn't buy it. . .Eventually i got out of the conversation and headed back to my seat.
This had given the other man sitting across from us enough time to work up the courage to practice his English by asking me more questions. He asked similarly what I was doing in India, how many brothers and sisters I had, why I was in India? He asked me if I didn't love my parents. I said, of course I love my parents. He asked me why I would come to India when my parents are in Canada and why I would travel so much without thinking about staying close to them. He said that in India the sons always stay close to home. Parents take care of their children until they get married, they pay for everything until then. He was shocked that I paid for post secondary school by myself and that I was doing everything by myself. He said that in India families live together and usually the son brings his wife to live together with his parents to help take care of them. Daughters stay at home until they get married and then stay with their husband's family. He decided that it was just a difference in culture. I figured that there were also some other factors, namely that the younger generations tend to be moving out of their family homes and away to cities or foreign countries where there are more opportunities (for lots of reasons that I won't get into here)and leaving their families behind. I commented that families didn't used to separate as much in western countries either but it's been the trend for a number of years. He felt that I must be very smart, and broadminded from traveling so much. I felt that living in a smaller community and learning a more communal way of living wouldn't necessarily make you any less smart and could provide equally important, but certainly different experiences. . .
He asked me to talk to his daughter on the phone since he was so impressed that I was self-dependent. I talked to her for a few minutes, but it was of course, awkward since we don't know each other and difficult to hear because of the train. But in the end I really enjoyed the conversation I had with this man on the train.
Parental concern and love for their children is, I think, universal, though it sometimes shows itself in different ways, there is usually at least an element of awkward or "special"-ness in the ways parents show their love. Having children get in touch with random contacts of their parents' who they think can guide them and give them assistance (or possibly dissuade them from doing something their parents are afraid of them doing) is something my parents have done too. . .so I understand the awkwardness that his daughter was probably feeling. . .but at the same time, it was quite cute and endearing.
When we arrived in Agra, it was sad to see him go.

Field trip to Chennai (aka Madras)

The other day my flatmates and I were sitting around, enjoying some after dinner mangoes, when Jang announced she was going to Chennai on Tuesday. It seems that, because she was accepted to JNU for her masters, she needs to go back to Chennai (where she had been living with her sister previous for her undergrad studies in Delhi) to get some papers to register her migration (to a different school). I jokingly said "Can I come!?". She said "yes!, please come!". I said ". . . .wait, seriously?". She said "seriously?!!!! Yes!!! Come!!!!!".
So. . .after confirming that it would still be possible to be in contact with potential employers/organizations that I might be working with, I've decided to take a couple days to visit Chennai and stay with Jang and some of her family members!! Yay!
I've wanted to visit Chennai for quite a while. I'm not entirely sure why.  Before I left Japan to go to India my "Japanese mom" 平野さん, who I was staying with for the last month I was there, showed me the pictures she had from when she visited India in the. . . 70s? 80s? I'm not sure exactly when the pictures were taken.  She looked quite young though :) hee hee.  Anyway, she went on some kind of study tour in Chennai and told me about a temple that she was taken to by their guide one day that did Naadi readings.  She explained that it involved some kind of leaf. Everyone has a leaf specific to them and each leaf, if read by someone trained in Naadi reading, can tell your past, present and future. . .apparently.   She said she didn't really believe it at first but that it was really 不思議; mysterious. She explained that the astrologer, to determine her leaf, asked her questions that she didn't think it would be possible for him to know about and eventually told her that it would be a good idea to open a shop. . .which she did end up doing!
It doesn't look like it would be very possible to travel all the way to the Vaitheeswaran Temple which seems to be the most famous and historically reputable place for Naadi readings. . .but it might be possible to go somewhere else. I'm not saying I totally believe in it. . .but i'm in India! Why not? :)

New home away from home away from home. . .(rep.)

Another long train journey and I’m back in Delhi.
We arrive to a busy station platform, crowds rushing to get home and out, or settling into the long wait ahead of them until their train arrives later in the night. We make our way outside and find a cab to take us to our respective places; Majnu Ka Tilla (the Tibetan colony in Delhi), Kamla Nagar, Delhi University. The drive is chaotic in comparison to the comparatively much smaller city of Guwahati. Ahead of us is a van like ours with 3 smiling faces looking out at us through the trunk window. Somehow, 10 people have crammed into this 5 seat vehicle. . .I’m sure that is not the greatest number of passengers these vans have seen. As we near Majnu Ka Tilla I’m reminded of the couple of times I stayed there when I was last in India. Burgundy robe clad monks dart in and out of alleys, prayer flags strewn in various places, Toran door hangs on most entrance ways, momos and Thukpa in every restaurant, lots of singing bowls and Buddhist books for sale, and advertisements for buses direct to Dharmasala (Dalai Lama’s residence), Bodhgaya (where Buddha attained enlightenment), Lhasa (capital of Tibet), Lumbini (Buddha’s birthplace). Two of the girls leave the taxi and we continue towards my new home away from home. It is located close to the University in a small alley that is difficult to find and requires the lady renting the room to come out and meet us in the middle of the street. . .which is conveniently also host to a parade/festival, complete with fireworks, marching band, dancers, cows, and lots of noise! An auspicious beginning? Hopefully!
The room is small and has been sectioned off from the rest of the flat by some wood boards and plywood, no window, no furnishing besides the bed, the cot has no mattress but I can borrow one for the time being, until tomorrow when I can buy one of my own (I knew I should have brought my thermarest and sleeping bag!!), the shower is in 2 other girls’ room and comes from a bucket, the toilet is outside and requires going through another tenant’s room (not to mention it is a squat toilet).  I will probably be sharing the room with another girl eventually.  I suppose I could complain about all of these things. . .but it’s cheap and includes 3 meals a day. . .and after practically being a nomad for so long and also living off of a bike for the past month and a half, the definition and acceptance of “home” becomes much more inclusive, at least for me.
The sparkly silver lining (besides the obvious: shelter, food) are my flatmates. Yesterday night when I arrived, the landlady told the two girls that I would be staying here and would probably need some help getting my bearings. Jang and Tai Mei have been very welcoming, extremely nice, helpful and are also very interesting girls. They are both from Manipur, and are from one of the Naga tribes (the same one, coincidentally?) that we learned a bit about during the study/research circle (btw, sorry for so many wikipedia links, I don't have much internet time at the moment to research for better links). Jang has applied for her MA in sociology and Tai Mei is going into second year of chemistry. This morning we had tea together, ate lunch and then Jang showed me how to get to the main road where I wandered around for a few hours trying to make a mental map of the area (and I didn’t get lost once!). I managed to get most of the essentials; converter plug, hair clip, tea and spices for chai (hehe). In the evening I went to meet up with the study circle gang in Connaught Place for our last tea before the 2 girls left for Canada. We had a good time just chatting and laughing together before boarding the metro and going our separate ways (I accidentally continued to hold onto their cookies for them as the subway doors closed and whisked me away in the opposite direction! Oops!). On the way home the rickshaw driver dropped me off to a place I hadn’t visited earlier on my “walk-about”. . .and I was slightly concerned that I may not actually be able to get home. But I followed the basic rule I have established over time in following directions and observation. . .put your worries aside, look around, and then follow your intuition.

Field Trip to Nalbari District

It’s 10am and 2 jeeps are waiting outside to take us to Nalbari, a district of Assam just outside of Guwahati. We are going on a field trip to supplement what we have been learning about: dams, conservation and environmental degradation in North East India. We climb into the jeeps and begin the hour-and-a-half long journey to the villages.

As our jeep approaches central Guwahati, traffic increases and there are more rickshaws, auto-rickshaws and cars to manoeuvre around, more stalls line the streets and more people are going about their morning routines. Tea stalls are busy with customers getting in their first chai of the day. No milk; black and sugary is the custom for Assam tea. Fruit and vegetable vendors, their spread of produce nearly reaching the road, calling to the passing crowds, looking for their first purchase of the day. Left merges into right. Lines and boundaries are arbitrary. Near-collisions; a constant occurrence. It is confirmed that our driver is following the jeep ahead of us and doesn’t actually know where we are going. Maintaining eye contact of the lead jeep becomes that much more important than road rules. Despite all of this, I’m feeling calm. Our driver expertly dodges road hazards and oncoming traffic that have wandered a little bit too far over, all the while maintaining sight of the other jeep. He’s got this under control.

On the way out of the city we cross the great Brahmaputra River, one of the largest rivers in the North East, by a large bridge. The water is rushing towards the Bay of Bengal, swirling and churning in protest after pushing past the pillars that have impeded its natural flow. The scenery changes and becomes slowly less inhabited. The number of cars, rickshaws, stalls, people, have decreased. Road obstacles are now four legged and oblivious to laws, order. Near-death experiences are frequent, but not for us. The landscape is changing to increasing shades of green. Finally we arrive at our destination, a smaller river. We see men throwing fishing nets from the banks of the river, stopping only to glance at the strangers watching their work from the bridge.

We meet some NGO workers from Gramya Vikash Mancha (GVM) who take us to see a small and dried up canal, built illegally by the villagers in an attempt to irrigate their dried out crops. The villagers have been forced to abandon their efforts and are no longer able to produce three crops per year as was common in the past. We have a following of about 30 children from the village, taking pictures, and staring at us with shining eyes; curious. We load back into the jeeps and continue to another village further away.


Roads divide land containing houses and flooded rice paddies. Many of the flooded areas are choked with water hyacinth (invasive species introduced during colonial rule) and other plants. Some of the less weed infested plots are being ploughed by man or cow-powered equipment. The NGO workers inform us that this land is only above water for 180 days of the year. Within two months, everything will be flooded and the villagers will have to seek refuge elsewhere until the flood waters recede. An area that used to be able to produce three seasons worth of harvests per year can now only produce one.
We are taken to another part of the river, upstream to where we first arrived. Nalbari is situated between two rivers that originate in Bhutan, the Pagaldia and Buradia rivers. The area between them is considered a wetland but is drying up during the winter months in recent years. Yet another area, inhabited by few villagers, has been bought by the government for small carp and tilapia fisheries. It seems that the water-logged fields behind are a “favourite location” for more gruesome government activities.

We’ve spent some time over the past week of our study circle listening to researchers and activists talk about the mega dam construction proposals for North East India. There are plans to build some 160 dams in the North East to produce 70GW, (more or less) of energy. Most of these dams are planned for Arunachal Pradesh (estimated to produce 50GW of that power), a more Himalaya abundant area, but there are plans for more dams in Assam, Nagaland, Mizoram. For reference, the 70GW proposed to be added in the next ten years or so, is just less than the total hydropower capacity added in all of India during 60 years of independence. The whole North East cumulatively needs about 1.2GW to be sufficiently powered. The rest of the power is proposed to be transmitted to the rest of the Indian subcontinent which already has a very rocky relationship with the North East (there are many-fold reasons for this, a few of which we have talked about during this study circle).

There is concern building for the more well-known negative impacts of dams on existing ecosystems; silt deposits and mineral displacement, sand banking when embankments are breached, decreased diversity of species due to unfavourable conditions. Despite laws which require proper environmental assessments and approval from the minister of environment and forests, as yet, very little research has been done on the environmental impacts of these mega dams on the land, communities, ecosystems and agriculture downstream of the proposed dams. Very little research has been done on how these dams will fair with the drastically changing weather patterns and effects of climate change. Research that has been done doesn’t seem to be getting much attention. Did I mention that the North East is a seismically active area? The devastation from a breach of any of these mega dams, once they are built, by a large earthquake or earthquake induced landslide would be catastrophic.

Hydro power is certainly considered to be a more favourable energy alternative to coal, oil, gas and nuclear power but there are also much less invasive and destructive ways to harness it. Smaller, localized, run of the river dams may not result in as much power generation but would have much less long term negative effects on the surrounding ecosystems, agriculture and communities. In a time of increasing climate change, land disputes and food security problems, it seems that a much greater precedence should be placed on the importance of maintaining a livable and productive environment than expanding industrial capabilities. So why go through with such a destructive project? It seems there are a lot more corporate sector players encouraging the concrete constructions from behind the scenes. . .

There is, of yet, no dam built on the rivers surrounding Nalbari but a dam is proposed to be built where the rivers join. More likely than not, the inhabitants of this region will have little say in whether or not construction of a dam goes forward.