Waterfalls

Kathakali in action

I suppose a spiritual transformation is due on any trip to India. I was beginning to suspect that it wasn't going to happen to me - the much fabled "reaction" to this place, i.e. crying on arrival, breaking down in hotel rooms, or going completely crazy. None of these things have happened. I feel pretty comfortable here - many things are familiar about where I am, like the daily television consumption and use of the internet. Some things are new, yes, but I can easily adapt to the reasonable practice of washing my bum with my hand and eating with the other, or taking a crowded bus and not being able to get through the wall of people and missing my stop... I can adapt. Nothing the TTC hasn't prepared me for. And then, amidst the immersion, it happened.

I was watching music videos on the TV. Well, I'm not sure what I was watching - it was like a short movie with background music, or a really long trailer. But the film quality looked old. The background music was constant but not dominant. The story unfolding was the main focus. It was about a boy and his mother, and their playful and loving relationship. I was rapt.

The first half of the mini-film consisted of their games and tricks and kisses, with shots of them running around being cheeky together. In one scene the boy has a clay bowl with the Kathakali face painted on the bottom, and he's walking bent over, swaying to and fro, with the bowl over his face. In the second half there is a man, not a boy. Now I don't know for certain, but my feeling watching the events unfold was that the man was the boy as an adult. It looks like he's searching for something, or perhaps running away. He wanders a rocky cliff, and the wind blows through his hair. He sits and reflects. Then, there's an old man. The old man is sitting inside at a table. On it there are little rectangular wooden pieces on a board - looks like a game. The old man gets frustrated and picks up the pieces as best he can and throws them to the floor. He breaks down with his head in his hands. Cut to a scene of the young man reflecting on the rock, who is now crying into his Kathakali mask. Then, another scene of the little boy walking up stairs to his mother at the top. She has her back to him. Last scene is the man crying.

I ran upstairs and cried my eyes out. The feeling overtook me. I could feel it in my gut, and outside of my gut, and in my gut's gut, where the words "Greece, Turkey, fertile crescent" bounced off it's walls in darkness, and I thought about the blog, and telling all of you what had finally happened, and the darkness went away, and I begged for it to come back, but it was gone. It wasn't coming back. I could only replay the memory over and over again.

And that's what happened.

Earlier that day Fanny and I had been walking up the mountain, and to top off our little journey we decided to pay another visit to the temple. We were standing at the gate - we had agreed we didn't want to relive the last experience and get home after dark - when we talked about places we'd like to go. Maybe I said, "there's so many places I want to see," to which Fanny immediately responded, "yeah, like GREECE!" It hit me like a shot in the heart. I'd never thought of Greece. I said, "yes, and Turkey." I had thought about going there. "That's the second place I was going to say!" she said. I got so excited I could hardly contain myself. The experience just made the desire explicit. An indefinite period of time (that was the darkness) will be spent in those places. I know it, I can feel it.

Some further context regarding the mother-son dynamic. In January, I'm giving a presentation on the Great Mother archetype to my Jung class. I've been reading "The Great Mother" by Erich Neumann during my stay here, and I realized by the second day that India is probably the best place to get in touch with the archetype. The veneration of cows is one example of the value that is placed on the mother (what with being female and producing milk, symbolizing fertility, life, sustenance, etc.). On that second day I found a shop that solely sold framed pictures of gods and goddesses (including a plethora of Jesus and Mother Mary photos) when I saw Kali. She was immediately purchased and placed in a very visible spot in my bedroom.

A few days ago, I bought my second picture of a goddess: Saraswati, the goddess of knowledge, music and the arts. In my version (which I couldn't find on the internets), at her feet is an open book. On one page there is the symbol of Om, and on the other a swastika. It is going clockwise. The day before yesterday I was trying to remember whether the Nazi's perversion of the ancient symbol went counter-clockwise or in the same direction. I was also trying to figure out what it meant in the first place. But then I went out, took the bus, ate dinner - that is, I forgot.

Later that night Smitha (one of the matriarchs of the house) did a little henna on my left hand. She started on the bottom right corner, and worked her way diagonally to the tip on my index finger. She did my thumb, and my middle finger, and my ring finger, but when she got to my pinky she pondered. Hmmmm, I could hear. She had run out of ideas. Then...



swastikas! She drew four swastikas! I was surprised - obviously - not only because I had been thinking about them earlier, but what the reaction would be if the henna lasted until I got back. I'm not a nazi, I swear it! I did look forward to explaining its significance though.

And that's my interior landscape at the moment. Let's go back to India, shall we?

Yesterday Fanny and I took a bus ride to the waterfalls, which is a burgeoning tourist spot in Kerala. For good reason too, it's pretty breathtaking. But no batteries means no pictures so you'll just have to take my word for it.

I had to tinkle so I went to a nice porcelain hole a bit off the beaten path while Fanny walked down to the water, some ways away from the falls. When I was feeling free and relieved, I walked out and saw her at the bottom of the rock face. I followed her. I watched as she put her bag aside, take her scarf off, and walk straight into the water. I waited for her to come back before I did the same. I will follow someone off a cliff as long as they come back to watch my stuff, know what I mean?

The great thing about being in a hot place is that drying off in the sun after being completely drenched takes only twenty minutes. We laid there like starfish in the oven (accept this analogy or DIE). Unfortunately I was a little OVER DONE and realized I was burnt on the way home.



I'm wearing an overpriced Ayurvedic face "pack," k. It's for the better because I'm looking a little Ronald McDonald anyway.

I will try my best to take more pictures of landscapes and people who aren't me. Fanny and I are renting out a hotel for two nights tomorrow in Cochin, which is probably an hour-long bus ride from here. Hopefully there will be batteries and more adventures to be had there. And maybe internet! I hope everyone is good back in the T-Dot!

OH! The people in this house and also the house we visited think I look like this lady:



With a little make up I think I could convincingly pass as a North Indian. What do you think?