*Previous subject lines for this post included: "How I Stank my way through India," later changed to the more geographically correct "How I Stank My Way Through West Bengal," and "Indian Bling."
It is already likely clear to everyone that neither Leah nor David is writing this post. Not only because of the geography and sartorial hints, but largely due to the fact that despite all their outdoor activities, we're all aware that neither of them sweat. They either glisten (Leah) or perspire (David). Instead this post was written by Irene, Leah's sister. Now usually I don't sweat either—I glow. However, most recently I did indeed sweat. Believe it or not Leah and David wanted me to write something about my recent trip to India. It's not as though they were dragging the bottom of the barrel for ideas or anything to keep the blog updated.
When Leah asked if I would write a post about my recent trip to India, I thought that since they will be traveling there in the near future, writing about what they can expect would be beneficial. I quickly discarded this idea for two reasons. The first is that they will be in southern India—in Bangalore, whereas I was in West Bengal (which is actually in the mid-eastern part of the country). As is the case with most countries, there are large cultural differences based on location in India—therefore anything I might have gleaned during my time in India would likely be less than helpful. The second reason is that they've traveled so often and to such varied countries that I think they'll be fine wherever they go.
So no, this post is going to focus solely on my meandering reminisces of my time spent in India. To start off, this was not my first trip to India. I actually was there for about one month four years ago. Last time I went with my friend Meheli who is Indian. We met in graduate school—I was going for my master's and she for her PhD. I clearly remember one of our first conversations dealt with me explaining (or trying to) what quiche was to her at the annual "get-all-the-students-and-faculty-together" party at the beginning of the year. Our friendship grew from there and we actually shared a house for a while until I graduated. Anyway, that trip was lots of fun—we spent time in Kolkata (still frequently called Calcutta even by those who live there), New Delhi (India's capital), Agra to see the Taj Mahal and Darjeeling to experience some much needed cooler weather and Kharagpur, the town where Meheli grew up.
I had always planned on going back. In winter. Four years ago I went during May and June. It was hot. Very hot. And very humid. Believe me when I say it was very hot and humid. One might say extremely hot and humid. And naturally it was one of the hottest summers they had had in about a decade. I do not enjoy hot and humid weather. Meheli and I talked over the next years about our next joint trip to India—where we would go and when. We were in agreement that it would be in winter. Despite professing complete agreement of this plan, she called me back in March to announce that she really, really wanted me to come to the reception held for her and Philip in Kharagpur—in August! Philip is also working on his dissertation and they've been together for a few years now. They decided to make it legal and signed papers (no one is allowed to even breathe the "m" word anywhere near Meheli) in May. Since her family and vast majority of friends could not make that, it was decided that a reception would be held instead. Did I mention this was in August? Not only is it summer in India then, it's also monsoon season. So while everyone (well, namely Ma, Meheli's mother) was worried about the heat, she was also incredibly concerned about the possibility of it pouring on August 4th.
It didn't. No, it didn't rain at all that day. Not one tiny drop to alleviate the heat and humidity that persisted all day. Truth be told, it was cooler this trip than the last. Not what I would call pleasant weather, but cooler. Last time I distinctly remember that after showering and slathering myself with talcum powder (my favorite was Icee Cold—it had the excellent addition of menthol), I would start sweating again within 2-3 minutes. This trip, however, it took 7-8 minutes before I started to sweat. Sorry, glow. The actual sweating did not occur until the actual reception.
As with most large celebrations—350 people were invited by the way—it was comprised of various opportunities to chat and stuff our faces. On the morning of the 4th, we all dressed in what might be called our second best outfits (all having been previously approved by Meheli as being acceptable attire) and trotted down to one of the guest houses that are located on the campus of the India Institute of Technology (IIT). IIT is where Babba, Meheli's father, taught for many years as a professor of geology. And while I don't completely understand this—the campus also houses both the primary and secondary schools that Meheli attended. Anyway, we met in what I suppose could be called their banquet facilities. And proceeded to meet lots of people and eat good food. It was kind of a very long brunch—we arrived at the facility around 9ish and left around 2 pm. This was so everyone could nap.
Around 4pm people started getting ready for the evening reception. Again, we all dressed in previously approved Meheli sartorial apparel. In all modesty, I looked fabulous. Very, very nice. That just isn't my opinion either. A number of people commented on how lovely I looked. And, curiously enough, how well I wore the saree. That's right, I wore a saree. And I looked good. It's a beautiful saree—royal blue and burgundy with gold accents. Thankfully I had help dressing—I'm not sure I could have managed all the folds otherwise. Considering it's essentially one long piece of fabric, it's surprisingly comfortable to wear. I put my comfort in wearing it—and therefore my grace—in the fact that there was so much fabric. If it had been a mini-skirt or something similar that was the traditional dress, then we would have had a problem. But it covers a lot of your body, actually. There are a rather amazing range of sarees that can be worn depending on the occasion. Much of the difference depends on the fabric. From cotton to chiffon to different types of silk—there's a wide range of fabrics that can be made into sarees. Patterns also come in a wide range—though often the most elegant (and expensive) ones are those that seem simple. It further amazes me how easily women can move in them. While I admit that I wore mine with what I think was panache, since they are the traditional way of dressing throughout most of India, women perform chores in them as well. Including scrubbing floors, washing clothes and cooking—all tasks where I think excess fabric would be a hindrance, they handle with effortless ease. This excess of fabric did concern me a bit with my saree, but Chico, a childhood friend of Meheli's who helped dress me and arranged the garland of jasmine in my hair, ensured that it was not a problem. The first secret is that it is pinned at my left shoulder so that it stays in place and does not slip off the shoulder. She then wrapped it around my back and pinned it in place at my right hip. This second pinning is not always done—it usually hangs free, or is held to the body by the woman wearing it—but was done for me to ensure that it wouldn't bother me during the evening.
Wearing my silk saree (it is a particular type of silk, but despite Meheli repeatedly telling me what kind it is, I can't seem to remember the name of it), the evening started around 6:30 at the Technology Club, also on IIT's campus. I wasn't entirely sure what to expect, but I certainly did not expect to be confronted with two red velvet thrones placed side by side on a stage. But lo and behold, there were two high backed chairs that were covered with reddish/maroon velvet that had gold threading on a dais. There were strings of flowers—marigolds and jasmine and something else I couldn't identify strung in an arch over the chairs. Philip and Meheli then sat in the chairs and accepted well wishes and presents from guests who trooped across the stage. To make things even more interesting, chairs and small benches were set up parallel to the stage so that family and friends could sit and watch as other family and friends trooped across the stage.
There is little air conditioning to be found in India. It's only in the higher end hotels, restaurants, stores and businesses that can afford it. Meheli's parents do not have AC and while some of the campus does (labs, professor's and administration offices, etc.), the Technology Club does not. Granted there were several ceiling fans both in the throne room and in the banquet area, but frankly since around 350 people were invited, and it seemed that most of them showed up, the fans did little to cool things off. Plus, most people were wearing their finest clothes, which means silk. Added to that, it hadn't rained in a few days so it was particularly hot and humid. It was in point of fact, very hot and humid. Hence, I went from glowing to sweating in short order. I took a number of photos and it's rather easy to tell the order in which they were taken. By the end of the evening, the sweat stains are all the more prevalent, unfortunately. Still, despite the heat and humidity, it was a lovely evening and I enjoyed myself tremendously. But I'm declaring here and now that next time, I am definitely traveling to India in the winter!
With apologies to Irene for horning in on her guest-post, I feel compelled to point that David and I do sweat. Quite a lot, actually.
