Don't mess with my nerves!

I missed Yoga yesterday, but as it turned out this morning, there will be no more training sessions for us. It's over. Without hesitating much I knocked on the priest's doors (arranging his arranged marriage is smoothening out, last week he dropped in to evaluate his future wife's family and dowry.), he unlocked the ceremonial room and I did Yoga by myself. I felt immature and cold :)

Anyways, we had a "green" lunch on Monday, consisting of lentils and beans:


















Then, we visited a temple which is next doors to our modest accommodation:


Finally, in Bhuntar, got a few more pictures and headed for Kalheli.


As we've lost Bashing, the more and more time is spent in this ashram. And this time the children were slightly bored by us: watching Smackdown (Undertaker vs. Kane - I enjoyed that one as well!), Bollywood hits with Govindah and doing homework.

Last day, we awarded them with a few nicely printed and laminated scripts. Surprisingly today none of them were present, so I lost my patience easily, shouted. Imagine me exploding on them. BJ calmed me down. BJ is a 12 year old boy. Just like the majority of orphanage kids in India, he has both parents, who take him back for a holiday season and summer. Instinctively I am convinced that the reason behind the low girls population in orphanages is due to female infanticide. Staggering numbers, over 10 million each year. The boy dreams of becoming a police driver and attending a +2 school in the English medium. Hindi schools are cheap, only 100 Rs. per year, compared to English ones 800 Rs. It's heart brekaing to realize that the child's future is determined by $15.

In the end, they have lost my new ball from the Juggling collection! (^ ^), on top of that we inadvertently refused to eat the dinner there, which my stomach regretted ever after. We'll manage them better next time.

Third visit to Paramita's house, rehearsing at Kalheli and Dalphur's song competition

On Saturday we visited Paramita's home once more. I was really nervous and erratic that day, and guess at whom my anger was released? True, Anine. I kept on blaming her for disrespecting time, writing too much stuff on Facebook and walking slower than I did. In short, I was in the "ass-hole mode". All we needed to do wasno less than editing the script, making the letters bigger, cropping lines seperately for each person, etc. Yet, our dynamic duo ended up quarelling in no time, just in front of Joy (husband) and Lavania (Paramita's daughter), whose father (a famous photogapher) just came back from Stockholm and contributed some "utterly amazing" stories from Scandinavia.

I felt fed up with my partner, strangers praising her country, me introducing myself as Sergey from Russia. Listen, I grabbed Lavania by her hand and brought her to play. We played badminton and table tennis, which she either was not familiar with, or a lousy little girl child player. Being the latter, I supposed we could go to the blackboard and "draw". I taught her how to draw a cube: "Draw 1 quadrat, draw another on top of it, connect the edges." I taught her some logarithms as well, of which Joy was really pleased. I congratulated him with his daughter finihing the high school mathematics course at the age of 7!

You cannot imagine how big a relief do children bring to the irritated and angry people, as I was before. Accompanied by paramita we went to Kalheli and rehearsed the skit again. Our boys are spitfires and hyperactive, only Diwan being the omniscient leader of this hound gang :)

We gave him Lakshmi's part, it's around 200 words, making him the main figure in our modest play. God provide Diwan with memory and ating skills, we'll do the rest! Paramita taught them how to sing an "another" Nationalistic song, God should reserve her a buqiet of flowers and candies. Speaking of which, Northern India is the hell on earth for the chocolote lovers. Sparse chocolate resources and "cultural" vegetarianism (in europe it is rather "popular" to say the least) are the key factors separating our cultures. So, I got a Kit Kat.

Worth mentioning, after making chapatis the day before, we felt well accustomed in anat asharam's kitchen, and on Saturday we saw the kids frying a derivative of chapati, namely, "Roti". It was oily and greasy, once submerged into boiling fat it would inflate like a balloon and collapse afterwards. I was fascinated by its nutritional supremacy. Hence, we stayed for a dinner. I got Alu (potatoes) in the tomato soup. Therefore, AluTomato! Kids and the managment were heartedly surprised that we loved orphanage's food. So went on and explained them how much would this menu cost in the European restaurants!



On Sunday we planned to establish further contacts with the blind and Bhrat Bharati (Bharati - means "Indian") schools. We knew it was in Dalphur, but where exactly? The bus came handy with the nod of his head, and guess where did we end up? In the mid way between Kullu and Bunthat, some 5 km from Bhrat Bharati. We promised to work on our gullibility, and never trust bus conductors again! We hitchiked to the place with a beautiful family car, whereas the father was blessed with 4 beautiful daughters. He seemed unhappy. But one of them was particularly attractive and talkative, a cumputer netwroks student. In Lithuania computer science sill stands as the last bastillia for male dominated student bodies, radically reverse situation is here in India.

We followed one group of 20-30 nicely dressed up girls and ended up in a big out doors singing competition. School representatives from all around the Himachal Pradesh (or simply HP) were present. Occasionally we felt 6 thousand eyes staring at the two of us, but how much joy and interest we received from those young nice girls! They taught us ingenious games with the pebbles found right there in the grass and someHindi as well. Panch baje giro - it's five o'clock! Tomorrow I'll go to Yoga, and Anine will try playing Sitara with the girls' teacher. Her name is Flower.

In the end we got ice-cream and corn in Bhuntar.

Me ne anat ashram me Chapati banay !!!

(Yesterday I made Chapatis at the orphanage)

We were supposed to work on the theater skit, yet some of the most talented pearls were away for a badminton competition in Kullu. So watched BBC Life on Mammals and talked about..mammals!

Afterwards we were invited to the kitchen to make Chapatis. God gracious, making Chapatis is a laborious task.

Yoga and Herbage

This Saturday, just before going to Basing and hearing the terrible news, we paid a visit to masala/spice shop. It’s run by an astounding couple, both late into their 60’s, still having a crow black hair. Besides spices one could find anything ranging from butane gas to Nestle milk powder, of which I am a great fan myself!

He belongs to the active intelligence of Kullu town, together with several elder family heads runs a school, serves morning prayer at 8am and does Yoga on a daily basis.

He’s taught us how difficult it is to find a partner in India and rebel against family’s favorite pick. As a matter of fact, we are not aware of any divorced couples in this down, married people are smiling and helping each other. This comes at a price, whereas a woman has to play a submissive role and man is her “God”. Do we remember our grand-parents marrying in the same way? The smiling shop owner stops doing so once he hears about the US. “It’s a self-destructive parody of democracy”, he claims.

On Sunday morning we were invited to have Yoga with him and other Kullu people, also a new Yoga teacher has just came from Rajastan. Here we were, at 5.30 am flexing bodies and squirting lungs. The last exercise – stand up as a dog and whilst breathing in and leaning back upwards, laugh laugh laugh!

I went there on Monday, and Today as well. We great our guru by sayng “Om G”. I You still remember “Bro G”?! There are a few differences between two concepts, as ”Om G” helps to stretch one’s tendons and happiness whilst “Bro G” speaks Bronx.

Yesterday we had the biggest carnage party ever! Wait, what’s the Latin equivalent for vegetarian carnage? Herbage. For 70 Rs I ate like a king, leaving two extra chapattis for a cow outside. Today I’m drinking Re-hydratation Salts solutions J

Anine is feeling even worse, as she had a fever even before yesterday. We aren’t visiting any institutions today, but tomorrow we’ll go to Kaleyhli and continue the skit preparations. I went there the day before, but as long as both Anine and Paramita couldn’t show up, we watched an incredible nature documentary series “Life” by BBC. This afternoon kids saw a chameleon shooting out its sticky tongue at the praying mantis in Madagascar and Komodo dragons hunting down a...buffalo. Shortly afterwards evolutionary discussion followed, driven by those keen to discuss the adaptations of reptiles and amphibians.

When the sun went down at 6.30, I was challenged for a game of badminton by Raj Mohan. I bit his dust.

How should we get back to Bashing? How to strengthen the connections with Bhrat Bharati and Blind school? Tonight I’ll try finish Bashing profiles, despite the fact that we aren’t allowed to fund raise for their cause. I missed my Princes, her soft skin, tender touch and smart ideas, which are the necessary attributes for each self respectful princess. But mine is special, I have no doubts about it!

Lunch with Paramita, expulsion from Bashing and this morning’s Yoga

On 17^th we came to Paramita’s house. We agreed to have a lunch first, afterwards leaving time t finalize the script and bring it to Bashing for a tryout.

Although being an upper middle class family woman, she cooks outside (gas is too expensive!), on the most peculiar degenerate of what is known as the European barbeque. Recipe as follows: a few stones placed in a circle, fume collector, finalizing into a tall pipe with a roof on top. Her house maid puts a thick metal bowl on the stones and cook trout with masala, dal and ladyfingers. Paramita is Bengali, so fish commonly ends up on a table in her house, just as well as mutton and chicken.

A pressure cooker is exhaling hot vapor – less than 15 minutes and rice is ready. I remember, my grandmother , with a species name of Homo Sovieticus, was explaining me, Homo Post-Sovieticus, the dangers and cons of “rusky made pressure cooker”. It exploded often enough in her, her neighbors and their friends of friends’ kitchens, to create a popular mistrust in it all around the country J

There I was, now a man, facing that smoldering steel volcano. And God bless the pressure cookers around the world for a g/food reason – stuff inside tastes delicious. Paramita served us first, and then she ate a humongous plate. Her daughter, 6, came back from Cambridge school a few minutes later and we watched her previous school videos. Children of all age and undoubtedly rich parents were dancing and shaking their “budies” together with Akon and Beyonce. “Vanity fair”, a foreigner might say, but rich schools’ shows were always pompous and dry in content.

Later on we presented our script to the kids in Kalheli. They didn’t know how to read English! Haha, we will adopt a dinosaur of education – memorizing J Money for the trip is organized, Paramita will work on clothes, make up - we’ll make it. So far so good.

On 18^th we finally got expelled from Bashing..by its own board! These guys who fund the orphanage appeared on several occasions previously and were curious how British were we, and what on earth brought us there to teach English, Geo and initiative games. This time they told us politely “Do not come here again”. We cried we called Ankit. Wegave them the last lesson on Geographic orientation and waters. I sang them Lithuanian basketball anthem “Ant kalno murai, joja Lietuviai..” and Anine spun them with “Uncle Jakob”. That is it. We aren’t allowed to meet them again, and what hurts the most – absence of any reasonable arguments against our teaching.

We were rippedof in our traditional eating place again. I fully understand that the bargaining foreigners look stupid, but to see others paying 30Rs and then being asked 60Rs reminds me of…racism . Splendid and pure as milk – people who’sskin is “gora” (white) are being mistreated quite badly. Evidently I’m struggling with some self expression, let it be.

Listen, today we wokeup at 0530 and went to the morning prayer and yoga followed. A real yoga guru is visiting Kullu for 7 days, so we couldn’t miss the chance. Previously I had Yoga with my Mom, but today’s experience was beyond comparison. For 100 minutes we breathedand flexed. Afterwards I felt relaxed by the dopamine. I promise to go to yoga each morning from now on.

Later on, we met Das. Das’s cook is a gifted artist. When reading Gunesekera’s “Reef” I pondered how could the food deserve so much attention. Now I have tasted and loved it. Das promised to buy us a flight to Sai Baba’s city. We’d spend 1 week in South India and witness Sai Baba’s miracles first hand J

2010 Hashish and other earthly addictions

Time is passing too quickly… nights follow days and vice versa. Have I run out of time? Too much time spent dreaming about the future. Let’s get back to reality.

Why am I so confused? Because Flash games rule!!! For the last few days Modestas have been trying to unlock level 19 of the Dog Fight 2. No excuses, but those WWII fighter plane games are addictive as hashish. And the latter one is getting closer to us every day. It’s being grown in our garden, processed in the kitchen conditions, sold straight here on the street. In the morning I’m being awakened by an unmistakable marijuana odor!

Yesterday we visited Papu, a crazy guy who’s wife is long dead. He lives by himself and “grows stuff” for his own “consumption”. However, we didn’t smoke hash, instead, made Italian coffee. I brought the Machinatta, Illy ground coffee and Anine. What else would Papu expect from me? So the coffee was too sweet, and he didn’t even try it. I remembered my long forgotten (2 weeks) addiction, oh pretty caffeine molecules! The very same guy likes speaking with us too much, thus living up his own addiction. However, apart from speaking, we watched two movies: Bollywood one and Scary Movie first part. Guess which one was Papu’s favorite.

Today we finally managed to get to the drug de-addiction centre and do a 1 hour session. I will tell you the way this organization works. There are around 45 men in there, who were all addicted to either Alcohol, Hashish, Heroin or Carabin (marijuana). Some of them were poly-addicts, for instance, the youngest inhabitant, Jarekesh 15. The oldest is 55.

Even the director and chefs were all once addicted. Usually, their families themselves bring their sick men to this institution, telling them a white lie instead of the truth. White lie typically is “They will detoxicate you and take some urine samples”. Reality, however, is 6 months of Yoga, Hinduism, no drugs. All f them went cold turkey, alcoholics were given no booze and hashish lovers were deprived of joints. Now they tell us it takes around 1 month to “get in touch with oneself” i.e. become content with the fact that proper treatment is a must. And so a few people stay even longer, like our English speaker, whose name’s vanished from my head now. He speaks like guys speak in Aberdeen!

They are insanely polite and different men, what an age and social class and race difference. Yet all are equal in their fight against drugs. This time we played “human knot” and conveyer belt”. The former being too boring and latter – a smashing success. Everyone wanted to have a go on their friends’ hands, unfortunately time was our mentor again. After each session, a bell rings. They say a prayer and leave. So we left as well.

Enough addictions for tonight.

Hitchhiking and other thoughts

We love hitchhiking in India! Would it be a 1000 colored TATA truck, white Toyota pickup or a three wheeled symbol of the country - Rickshaw. And, don't catch yourself saying Indian auto industry is backward, as TATA owns Jaguar and Daewoo and sell more passenger cars in India than any other company.

Tata buses are our favorite, although a reasonably expansive (20 euro cents per 2 hour trip) alternative. One can see a few uncovered holes in the cockpit, bus driver's say its good for gas convection within the vehicle, for us - another way to break a leg.

Steering wheels are big and clumsy. Pedals are naked aluminium. Each truck, car, rickshaw or motorcycle has a message on its back "Blow Horn" and "Use dipper at night". Overtaking a car without a horn signal - equivalent of provoking a traffic accident in Europe. Thats why majority of buses and truck have their horn signal pads moved away from the steering wheel, straight on the panel, otherwise there would be no time holding the steering wheel, as the urge to "Blow" occurs.

Two days ago we hitchhiked from Kaleyhli orphanage with a Rickshaw pick up. In other words, there was a driver just up the front wheel, and a huge spacious truck behind. The roads were as bumpy as driving on a mine field. Anine was constantly complaining of feeling cold down her bum, yet the problem was resolved at least for me - rickshaw's engine was just below the truck. Honestly, after a 10 km ride in this thing I felt like a beef steak.

Beef steak... My pleasurable life long friend. Why'd You abandon me now?! Throughout the OZ, we'd often say "prisoner 204553, convicted..", and now it's my turn to be convicted on September 1st for entering Indian borders. Sentence - 6months without meat and..without the possibility of parole!

At a time, we could see the most magnificent view: valley, starting with a violent brown and dirty river (overall it looks like Chai!), rising itself upon mountains, whereas thousands of years ago glaciers have formed their walls. The sky was full of stars, and so were mountains - little houses, advantaged with electricity. We couldn't decipher heavens from earth, and that filled my heart with warmth (my bum had already been warm thanks to the engine).

Yesterday, we hitchhiked separately. And surprise surprise, although Anine started the first, I was back as it turned out to be 40 minutes earlier. She stopped a dirty Toyota pick up, with three guys. Could it be even worse? :) Apparently, they let her go by the bridge, which was a few km from our crib - she walked back. Meanwhile, I got a ride with a guy who spent 6 months in total in Norway. He could speak some Norwegian as well.

Listen, nobody happens to know where Lithuania is, hence the word "Russia" appears often in our conversations. However, all of them know Norway. Norway invests, Norway volunteers, Norway charity, Norway good tourists, Norway friends, Norway....

By the end of the day there were two of us, me and the Bronze medal. I can't believe I played cricked on the exactly same time when Lithuania was cruising over Serbia to fetch the World Championship medal!!! Let the basketball Gods forgive me :]