Merry Christmas!

Christmas in India

My friends often ask me what Christmas is like in India, and whether it’s celebrated. Christmas Day is an official holiday here, and it is celebrated by India’s Christian community – which makes up about 2.4% of the population – so that comes to 24 million people, which is more than the population of some countries in Europe!

For the past few days, some shops and restaurants have been displaying Christmas decorations. There are trees and decorations for sale. There are also street vendors selling Santa caps on the city's roads! In India, the tradition is to hang a big, colourful lantern in the shape of a star outside your house. These look beautiful when they’re lit at night. So I can tell which of my neighbours are Christian by the star lanterns hanging in front of their doors.

Being away from home is of course always a bit difficult at Christmas time. Many of my foreign friends have already gone home for the holidays. Others take advantage of the Christmas Break to travel. Schools will close for almost two weeks and many people are looking forward to the long weekend.

The advantage of being in India is that you can almost forget it’s Christmas. First of all, of course there’s no snow, and the weather is too warm. Overall Christmas is very low-key, without the commercialism which is overdone in the West. I admit that I don’t miss that aspect.

For this Christmas break, I decided to visit a state I have never been to and know little about. Also, I don’t want to go too far north because of the cold! So I’m heading to Madhya Pradesh. I have done some research and have learned that there are lots of interesting places to see. I’ll write about my impressions once I get back. In the meantime, Merry Christmas to all my readers!

Achala's pups

As I closed the gate and headed down the street I saw two schoolgirls crouching beside a car. Their attention was caught by something underneath it. It was a puppy! They were trying to get it to come to them. I thought it was theirs, but when they walked off I realized it was probably a lost, homeless puppy.

With the help of my landlord, I tried to catch it so I could put it inside the gate where it would be safe and I could give it some food. But this little puppy was too scared and only wanted to hide. That night I heard it crying. I phoned my vet to ask him what I could do. He suggested I call the animal shelter who would come pick him up. I phoned the shelter and explained the situation. They replied that they could only come the next morning and promised to get back to me. I went outside to see if I could try to catch the puppy again. It slipped under a stone slab in the gutter, out of reach. At least he’ll be safe there, I thought.

The animal shelter phoned me the next day, as promised. At 6am I got a call: “Puppy is there, Madam?” a voice boomed on the phone. I went outside to see if it was still there. I caught of peek of it sleeping soundly under the stone slab.

Later, the man from the animal shelter reached in and picked up the puppy by the skin of its neck. He was so small! All of a sudden, I felt a little sad: Will they treat him well? Will he find a good home?

If I had known Achala at the time, I would have contacted her. This young woman with a big heart has decided to do all she can for Bangalore’s street dogs. She helps lost and abandoned puppies by finding caring families to adopt and take care of them. Life on the streets isn’t easy for Bangalore’s street dogs. They aren’t often given the love and respect they deserve. Adoption is a way to keep these dogs safe and off the streets.

So far Achala has rescued and found homes for 55 puppies. She has created her own organisation called Let’s Live Together and regularly holds puppy adoption camps and awareness campaigns to sensitize the public about street dogs.

To find out more visit her website: http://letslivetogether.wordpress.com/


Photos courtesy of Achala Paani.

Hanuman Jayanthi

I was woken up by the sound of chanting coming from the temple. It was 5am. Living close to a temple may be auspicious, but it can affect your sleep. The next morning I again had the privilege of waking up in this lucky way. And the next day too...

I knew what was up. The temple is a Hanuman temple and Hanuman Jayanthi was just around the corner. I knew this because of the colourful banner that had been hung up in front of the temple informing (or warning?) the neighbourhood that Hanuman’s special day was on the 30th of November.

Hanuman is the popular and much-loved monkey-god. In the Ramayana, Hanuman flies off (yes, a flying monkey!) to (Sri) Lanka to save Sita from the evil Ravana and return her to Lord Rama. As a result, Rama and Hanuman are great friends and Rama Navami (Rama’s birthday) is also celebrated with much pomp (and noise!) at Hanuman temples.

On the evening of the 30th, the road in front of the temple was crowded with people. The temple and surrounding buildings were decorated with colourful garlands of lights. I was passing the temple on my way home when I saw the priests carrying the idol out of the sanctum. They perched it on a throne under a canopy made of flowers. A tractor then slowly pulled the idol in a procession down the street. Traffic had been blocked. The ceremonial drummers were there as usual, leading the way with their frenetic drumming. The procession stopped and the drumming got even more frenetic. The vibrations were so strong I could feel them bouncing off me. A few men started to dance wildly. Crowds of people were standing on the sidelines watching the scene.

There’s a picture I wanted to take but I missed it, so I’ll describe it here. The priest had handed the arati plate to a woman who took it to a group of women standing on the sidewalk. The women rushed forward to pass their hands over the flames and then over their heads, receiving the god’s blessing. The light of the fire cast a glow on their faces as they crowded around it. I wanted to catch this image but it happened so fast and then it was over. But I have it in my memory.

By the sea

I only recently discovered Karnataka's coastline and its tranquil, unspoilt beaches. This is a welcome change from some of the beach towns of Goa and Kerala which are becoming increasingly commercialized. I made a quick stop in Murudeshwar, a pilgrimage centre famous for its Shiva temple and tried to catch its atmosphere.

Taking an afternoon dip in the Arabian Sea.

Fishing boats.

A bangle seller.

Going out to sea.

The world's tallest Shiva statue!

Posing for a picture in front of the temple.

Byndoor Beach. 7am.

To and FRO

FRO. These three letters are hated by every foreigner living in India. Everyone has to pay a visit to the Foreigners’ Registration Office at least twice a year and submit themselves to the bureaucracy of applying for and extending residence permits.

My attitude is if that you can’t beat them, you may as well join them, so I admit that I kind of enjoy the experience of going to the FRO because it’s an opportunity to witness the infamous Indian bureaucracy in action (or rather, slow motion).

The scene is Kafkaesque. There are no queues. There are no signs. There is no one to receive you. The high-ceilinged room hasn’t been repainted since the last century. Half the room is divided into a workspace where men in shirts and big moustaches sit behind desks lined up in rows. They are busy writing in big ledgers. There are files piled up everywhere and not a computer in sight.

Separated by a low counter with a window, is the other side of the room which is arranged into a waiting room. Facing the rows of men with moustaches writing in ledgers there are rows of chairs and lots of grumpy-looking foreigners sitting on them.

You never go to the FRO once. No, you must go to and fro because there is always a document missing. Or one more photocopy needed (there is no photocopier here either – you must leave the office, cross the road and make photocopies at a little stall which probably makes a killing photocopying foreigners’ passport pages). The photographs must be glued and not stapled (glue sticks are also available at the little stall across the street!). Even if you have all the documents with you, there is something else you need that no one told you about. And you must wait. This is part of the process. It takes time to copy out all your details into the big ledger and file all the duplicates you’ve given them. I don’t know what they do with the six photographs.

Just to make things more complicated you must first apply for a three-month extension and then a nine-month extension. Every year. This ensures that you pay the FRO a visit at least twice a year. And even though they already have your documents and duplicates stored away somewhere in those great big piles of files, you have to re-submit all of them again. And don’t forget the fee. In US dollars, please! The rupee has no currency here.

Even though visits to the FRO are tests in patience and photocopying skills, foreigners cannot complain about India’s immigration system (if I can call it that?) which is quite simple and straightforward compared to other countries. There are no interviews, medical tests or fingerprinting required. The next time you are dreading a visit to the FRO, have a look at all the forms and documents an Indian citizen needs to provide just for a Tourist Visa to Europe. Be glad India hasn’t (yet?) imposed all kinds of restrictive measures that our own countries have to keep foreigners away. I’d rather be part of the Kafka novel.

(Photo courtesy of Sean Ellis)