Monday, May 7, 2012

That is, perhaps, all she wrote.


Alternatively titled: An anti-climatic and indefinite attempt at closure or something.  

Well folks, this is my last night in India. I don't know what to say. I wish I could just put my head sideways on this keyboard and my thoughts would all flow out my ears, but no dice. Here's a fun fact: I have a slew--A SLEW--of blog topics I was going to write throughout the semester but never got around to them. So many things that I wish would just fly out of my brain; alas. We'll all bear the burden of that disappointment.

Frankfully, I don't know how this is possible right now, but I feel nothing. I'm veering away from feeling anything because I know investigating anything about the significance of this experience or the great people I've met or the family I've made etc etc will just throw open the dangerous floodgates of crippling emotions. Obviously if you're reading this blog, you are more than likely gong to talk to me when I get home and I can tell you more then when I've sorted it out (which comes after I stop being in denial). This trip has been incredible and changed me so much, but that's all I'm saying, no further reflection because I don't want to poke a hole in the membrane that is holding back the goo of feelings. 

I'm going to Nepal tomorrow for about a week. This may or may not be my last blog post because I fear I will be far too depressed to write when I return, so I want to acknowledge the trip's end of this on here--precisely what I did not do for Land of the Dolls ("Spain" if you will).

It's 3:17AM and I should probably start packing.
Either way, I'll probably see you soon. 

Love love love.

Sunday, April 29, 2012

No such thing as time


Today we had a fancy luncheon with our profs in a restaurant named Marco Polo. It was awesome. More about them later.  More importantly, today we all realized something we have been subconsciously avoiding at all costs: we have about a week left in India.

I am freaking out. 

Tomorrow we leave for Puri. I still have approximately 25-30 pages of writing left. I REFUSE to spend my last few days in India writing papers.

But let's think about something happier.

Bauls are traditional wandering musicians especially in the state of West Bengal. Sometimes we have them in our neighborhood, the sound of their singing combining with the laughter and mischief of the child next door who Puja tutors, the hawkers who ride around on their bicycles with melon carts with their strange calls, and the occasional honk from the primarily calm Salt Lake auto or car. I can usually catch a few words of their songs (especially "manoosh" - mankind) as they sing praise to humanity. They are beautiful.

Sound quality isn't very good and I very foolishly recorded sideways on my camera, but this is for me, not for you.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5gkp9kqQRxc&feature=g-upl

Much love. See you...soon.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Hyderabad to the bone


And we're off.

Always traveling in style
(April 4-9) End of classes begot the eagerly anticipated South Indian excursion. Mentally prepared for the heat of the weather and spicy foods, we got the heck out of dodge and hopped on an early flight to Hyderabad, city of mystery. First impression at the airport: Houston, we are not in India anymore. Hyderabad is one of the Indian cities known for its business and technology sectors which have made it incredibly wealthy. The growth is obvious; huge and modern buildings, very little visible poverty, and very fancy malls. Additionally, the architecture is very pastel. We checked into a fancy hotel and were wedded to our new tour bus, a large purple pink vehicle of comfort reminiscent of our orange chariot in North India.







And the tour commenced. We visited the Chowmahalla Palace in a Muslim district; in Hyderabad there is a huge Muslim population and let me just say that Muslim ambiance is awesome. The architecture, the clothes, the Arabic on signs and Urdu spoken in the streets. I felt like I was in the Middle East, which to me is a most pleasing sensation. Anyway, the palace was fancy and huge and we sang Aladdin in a most politically incorrect fashion and it was wonderful. 




You can't take us anywhere.
However, upon finishing we learned our bus would not start. No matter, we are a patient bunch. We got off the bus as to not be suffocated by the heat and watched the cricket yard next to us. One thing led to another and there we were making friends, taking a picture or two, our boys taking questions from the young lads about girls, when a dance circle emerged. We impressed them with such synchronized classics as the Macarena and Soulja Boy, and continued to dance and sing to the delight of local families. It began to warmly rain just as evening set in, and our festivities came to a close with the arrival of thunder. 


Our lives are a movie. 



Day two we rode a few hours to a boat and took that boat to an island, which was hotter than blazes and absolutely rife with Buddhist ruins. We pretended some of them were time portals and jumped through them as though we were entering a different dimension and other standard study abroad hijinks. (I apologize for the uncouthness of this blog and our lives. This trip was historically spectacular, visiting ruins and temples thousands of years old. And what did we do? Fool around. Desire to return to the hotel with its soft beds and air conditioning. Collectively sing Britney Spears horribly off-key.) 







One heckuva Buddha

Time travel
Back from the future

Just say no, kids.






Footnote: Drew double dog dared me to walk barefoot on the side of this path for a particularly long stretch. I accepted. My feet ended up swelling with large blisters from the heated ground, which I sucked up as part of my swami training. Next goal: hot coals.

Day three we hit up the new part of Hyderabad, called Hi-Tech City! With a name like that, it's got to be good. And it was. The freeways were big and clean. The traffic police booths had "Cyberabad" written on them. We pulled up through a series of gates into the elaborate complex of the Indian School of Business. Fun fact-- ISB costs 40,000USD per year, basically the same as a private college in America. Not a huge deal, until you realize what other Indian schools cost (my college St. Xavier's, for example: 500USD a year)--ouch. 






Footnote: We went to a mall to hang out while waiting for a market to open and got some lunch. We weren't the only ones eating though--conveniently tucked away in a portion of the giant food court was a little salon at which one could have fish feed on one's feet for a mere five dollars. If you ever get the opportunity to do so, take it. It is THE strangest sensation I have ever experienced.





Day four marks the grandeur of old Hyderabad. First, the Golkanda Fort--one of my favorite architectural places in India, the fort is this beastly thing constructed up the side of a mountain. We had a pleasant hike up and down that took a few hours, and the view from the top was amazing; you could see the whole city though we were a couple of miles out. It was all only enhanced by the fact that Sucharita was having knee problems so we held hands as we conquered those nasty stairs.



      
Charminar - quite charming.
After the fort, we hit up the Charminar. This was my favorite place in Hyderabad and definitely the most Muslim. We didn't go in the Charminar itself, but we did attempt to go into the mosque just down the street. The guard was power-tripping and didn't let us, based on some standards he made up about clothing. There are basic requirements for most temples we enter, but this was bogus. Suchers was as mad as a hornet. But we didn't let it spoil our day! 
My American hands were far too big for the average bangle
Both the Charminar and the mosque are located on this area called Bangle Street, known for its insane amount of bracelets. We had fun bartering and letting shopkeepers load our wrists up with bangles despite constantly assuring them that we were not in fact going to purchase anything. Everything is just so glitzy on Bangle Street, even the burkas! All over India, particularly in the conservative areas, we see very few women. In Delhi, 
there are virtually none visible, and in Kolkata, it depends on where we are. Usually in Muslim areas, we haven't seen very many out and about; maybe it is because of the more progressive Hyderabad attitudes, but there were tons of women around, mostly Muslim, some with their faces exposed and some with them covered. 

As we were walking through the crowded area, I was straggling behind a little, and a lady with her face covered said something to me in Urdu and gestured to me with her phone--a picture. I don't mind letting women take pictures of me, so I nodded and gave her a big smile. After the first snap, three of her friends had zipped over on either side of me; they pulled down their burkas to expose their huge, beautiful smiling faces. We took another one and they all giggled and (I can only assume) thanked me while pulling their burkas back up. They did all of this with confidence; their burkas were not oppressive. I am thankful for moments and interactions like this that awaken me from my preconceived misconceptions about the lives of others.

You can't make beauty like this up.
Late in the evening, a bunch of us went by taxi auto for Easter Vigil mass. Our church of choice was the Shrine of Our Lady of Health (oy), which happens to be the biggest octagonal church in Asia! A real treat for us. The vigil mass itself was outdoors, and there were a few thousand chairs set up, all of which were eventually filled and then some. It turns out we were given the wrong times, so we arrived an hour early thus picking prime front row seats. Mass itself was in a combination of (mostly) English, Telugu, and Tamil, and in true Indian fashion, everything was fourteen times more flamboyant. When midnight officially came, we lit our candles, bells rang out, and Christmas lights dazzled and danced.

Jesus Christ Superstar




Day five begins with an appreciation for your endurance. Thank you for bearing with me. After wrestling with some more corrupted guards, we managed to scope out a cool Jain temple which was two thousand years old. The day proceeded with some ruins we didn't really understand, followed by a Hindu temple known as the Thousand Pillar Temple. Our guide had been talking about it today, slyly saying he'd show us why it was so titled as such when we arrived. He later revealed with great relish that it doesn't have a thousand pillars; it was all merely a hyperbolic literary device.  

Give or take a few.


















Footnote: Due to the black granite of the temple sitting in the sun, actually getting into the temple was an ordeal for all of us. Our feet were severely burned in the process. Should have been called the Thousand Blister Temple, oh-ho! (Buh dum chhh.)

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Things considered highly illegal in America that are totally commonplace in India

Every possible moving and parking violation
Public indecency
Public urination
Sexual harassment (especially on metros)
Jaywalking
Government corruption
Loitering
Health code violations
Building code violations
Truancy
Communism

Saturday, April 21, 2012

If you can't stand the heat, let's get some ice cream


Nomoshkar, dear family and friends! Finals week is coming in hot! LITERALLY! I have written approximately 7000 words in the past few days and have to finish about 4000 more by Monday, so I apologize for the hiatus. After my finals I will procrastinate my last three papers by writing a whole slew of blogs--I solemnly swear.

Until then, here's a fun fact: it is currently 100 degrees, but it feels like 111! And there's no place to swim here so sometimes we just pretend (astonishingly easy to do so when lounging in a pool of your own sweat).

Okay. Miss you. Love you.
Latah, hatahs.

Monday, April 16, 2012

"Digestive health" (a long overdue posting of a most excellent email)

[Dated January 1, 2012 while I was still in Delhi, just a few days after arriving]

We finally found your blog.  You could be a travel writer.  Be sure to take your probiotics--those up and up and culturelle caps.  Go easy on the tap water.  I drank some bad water in Burma or Nepal and got the parasite giardia. We love you and are very excited about your adventure.  If you do get diarrhea take azithromycin for 3 days.  
Dad

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Twitch


The poor Dover Divas have had a heck of a time. In addition to mice, lizards, cockroaches, snakes, and a footlong rat (aka Ranjit), they recently had their first encounter with the worst creature of all: the horrific Hand Spider. The name alone should fill one with dread as, indeed, it is the size of one's hand. Gag me with a spoon. For pictures, please check Kate's, Kelsey's, or Rachel's facebook. No flipping way am I posting a picture on here. Rachel made the world a better place by killing it with a squeegee. The silver lining to this disgusting cloud was Sujoy's speculations on which household member would play the role of Miss Muffet ("clearly not Kelsey; she detests milk products" when confronted with the line about curds and wey). 

A few days later, I was taking a shower (surprise!) and I noticed a dark spot on the ground. "That's odd," I wondered. I hadn't noticed it before. It must be a hairball I had dropped; surely it could not be anything else (forbode). I stepped out of a shower and the thought occurred to me that it might be a bug. I mused that of course it would be, as it was three in the morning and I had no one to protect me. As I put on my glasses before I left, I chanted "don't look don't look don't look" and promptly looked. It was a spider with a body the size of a nickel. Of course it would be. This is just too much, I despondently observed and went to bed.

In the morning, I woke up to the sound of my roommates waging war on the beast. Shrieks escalated as the thing made its way into my room. Brenna beat it to death with a broom. 

Monday, April 2, 2012

Darjeeling: It's Transcendent.

Tomorrow we leave for Hyderabad (our South Indian excursion) so I figure I've got to get this blog out while I still remember what it is to be cold. 

(March 16-19)

Our group hopped off for the weekend with Sujoy, Arundhati, and Vinayak (the Dover Divas' host parents and brother) to the previously British hill station of Darjeeling. Let's start with getting there. The Salt Lake Crew walked into the bustling Sealdah train station like Flik from A Bug's Life walking into Bug City. We experienced our first Indian sleeper car, which was an adventure in itself. After a few rounds of Goosebumps and having a hijra solicit to us (google it), we hit the sack. The next day we hopped in a few jeeps and drove for hours up crazy hairpin turns--definitely the most psycho roads I have ever seen, any roads elsewhere pales by comparison. Sujoy raved and raved about the wonders of Darjeeling, of the hills and mountains, and indeed, the immediate surroundings proved truth to his words. According to him, 80 percent of the appeal of Darjeeling is the geographical makeup. This begs the question, what constitutes the other 20 percent. Old World Charm of course, Sujoy will tell you over and over throughout the weekend when admiring any sort of architecture or city planning. The British just don't make 'em like they used to (primarily because they were ruthless rulers and were rightly thrown out).
Old World Charm

Darjeeling is completely different from every place I have been in India to date. For starters, it's cold. The ethnicity of the people there looks more eastern (like Nepalese) than south Indian. There are a great deal of tourists, a few Europeans and Americans but mostly Indians, and the effect this has on the city is very interesting. Darjeeling is kind of cosmopolitan already because of the British history, but nowadays it is westernized enough to cater to those tourists, but still very much maintains its own culture without getting overly commercialized. It's just the perfect balance! Also, it's very developed with very little visible poverty, comparable to a European town.

It was a pretty packed weekend. We woke up at 4:30 and 3:30AM respectively to watch the sunrise with the mountains, which let me tell you, sure is something. The Kanchenjunga (3rd highest mountain in the world) is astonishing. You can't see it so well during the day because it is too foggy, so it is very much worth it to wake up so early. After the sun rises, we enjoyed a myriad of adventures throughout the day: A plethora of Buddhist monasteries and temples, a sick zoo (sick as in gnarly) that had a spot with a tiger across the path from a wolf pack (add that to favorite spots on earth), a cable car that goes over the tea fields which snapped eight years ago and killed people, etc.


Hills of tea
AHHHHH
Just a morning jaunt with my monkeys
You can see the shadow of our cable car... and we didn't even die
Kangchenjunga barely visible... but visible nonetheless

This is getting too long. I'll summarize. Darjeeling is like heaven on earth. It is crazy beautiful. Everyone seems happy there, and how could you not be?
The only graffiti I saw was a wall tagged with "I LOVE DARJEELING".

This next part is really more for my benefit, but feel free to read through it. Favorite times:
-Rapping to Encore/Numb remix at the gas station on the way
-The moment I realized all the clothes I brought for the weekend were purple (subliminal messages courtesy of my hair)
-Experiencing the abundance of old world charm around every bend
-All those minimuffins at that restaurant with the waiter in the argyle sweater
-Bartering in the markets (I'm a pro now. Not in my wildest dreams!)
-The market in the cemetery, one of many momo stops
-Ending the cable car ride perfectly alive
-Exploring and our whole youthful group meeting that dude from Wisconsin
-Frolicking in the the tea fields
-Initially unintentionally then very intentionally photobombing the people in front of us at 5AM
-Flat tires which cause us to dance to Aaron's Party (Come Get It) on the side of the road
-ANYTHING SUJOY SAID AT ALL
-When the sun turns orange and the mountains emerge from the morning fog and you are surrounded by wonderful friends and an unbelievable view
-Walking through the forest trails on the hill and knowing it doesn't really get better than this.

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Return of Saturn tour

Just for the record, my hair is still pink from Holi. Just the top half, really, so it's nice and awkward.

I fear it will stay this way forever.

Friday, March 30, 2012

A poem.


There once was a man from Calcutta
Who developed a terrible stuttah
I heard he once said
That he'd like some bread 
But wouldn't have any b-b-buttah.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

This one's for you, Barbara.


(March 9) Thanks to Grandma Barbara McGinnis, I had the opportunity to meet her sponsored child. Courtney and I joined Children International staff on a trip to his house for a few hours. As it turns out, people were playing Holi for the third day in a row and doing so with "bad" colors (colors that stain you 4-ev-er). Courtney and I were nervous pervouses as we wound through the neighborhoods and avoided eye contact with dark pink people. 


Skipping ahead to the visit: it was great! Harsha himself was a little shy, but his family and neighbors were all so welcoming and friendly. We all hung out and spoke Bangla (some better than others), while people fed us nonstop. The girls of the complex were a little more forward with their feelings.
Girls: So how long have you been in Kolkata?
Me: (proudly) Since January!
Girls: (accusingly) Why have you not visited us yet???
Me: Uh--
Girls: Are you staying here tonight? 
Me: I don--
Girls: When are you coming back?
Me: I'm n--
and so on. They were really great. I would like to go back a second time but I am fairly certain I will not have time. One thing I know for sure--Kakima would NEVER let me have a jumbo slumbo in that neighborhood, though I'd so very love to.
Harsha and me just shooting the breeze

Receiving blessings from the house

Harsha HATED smiling for cameras. Or something.

Our ride was going back to the main headquarters right near Courtney's house. I asked to be dropped off at any metro, for they all could get me home easy as pie. I confidently marched up the stairs only to be stopped by a guard. As it turned out, the metro was closed indefinitely for unknown reasons. Rita loose on the streets of Kolkata?
   
Game on.

I ask around, find a bus, seamlessly hop on, and get to my connection where I usually catch my auto rickshaws. Success! Despite being left alone in an unknown location, I got home smoother than the butter on the muffin. 

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

"I'll cut yo hair"


Brenna had Tiffany cut her hair short. The result was shorter than expected and a little uneven, so Brenna went someplace professional to get it fixed, which was even shorter. Upon seeing it, Kakima was greatly distressed. She lamented Brenna's hair, telling her how she used to be so beautiful and making all sorts of woeful noises. She then forbid Brenna from looking in the mirror until May (so she wouldn't get sad), then actually made Tiffany cover the mirror with a shawl. 

My house rocks.

Holi cats on toast

(March 8) Holi! What's it about! Who knows! Who cares! A holiday embodying the essence of India by combining color with chaos. If the Midwest tried it, there's no doubt it would just blow up because it would be too much to handle. BUT WAIT! You still haven't described the festivities in detail!  Cool your jets, kid. I'm getting there. 

Holi, the festival of colors, is pretty much about covering your friends/enemies/neutral strangers with color. In the process, you too will be covered in color. Yup, that's it. No point system, no benefit to avoiding the color. Color comes in harmless powder form or the much more serious liquid form. Some colors ("bad" colors) will pretty much dye you, your hair, your clothes and sometimes give you rashes. Totally worth it.

Holi started a day early for Brenna, Adam, and me. Outside the back gate of school, initially a few school friends but then mostly randos would run up to us and rub powder on our faces, wishing us a Happy Holi (the social implications of this are mind boggling). Brenna and a little girl bonded as the child ground powder into her face.
Fresh faced and fancy free

Cute and violent.


Day 2: Kakima and Kaka start things off right.


We head to Shreya's apartment complex and start with a little American tomfoolery on the rooftop. Things don't get too bad.


We challenge the local children. Things get a little more intense.





Life is great.


I slept over at Courtney and Kelsey's that night. After saying goodbye to Shreya, we got off our auto and began to walk to the metro. I glance to the right at the people paying for their auto. Wait, they are not emptying a coin purse into their hands, but rather, a powder packet. Realization sets in as our eyes meet with a shock, and my body enters flight mode. "RUN!!!!!!" I scream, and we zip to the entrance. Kelsey wasn't so lucky.

We emerge from the metro. It looks like a warzone. We spend the rest of the walk down the (mostly) barren streets and markets (unsuccessfully) avoiding the few brave souls. 

In summary: 
Holi is amazing. CSB|SJU 2013. It has been weeks and my hair is still pink. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Holi 2012. Boom.

Sunday, March 25, 2012

I'll take you to the ball, Barbara Manatee.


On Monday, our Prayasam boss, Amlan, discussed our invite for the event they were having on Saturday called Connecting Girls, Inspiring Lives.
It was a surprise in two ways:
1) Prayasam wanted to recognize Tuktuki, a 16 year old girl who came from the slums who recently graduated cosmetology school and received third on a nationwide test, by unexpectedly giving her a kit of beauty products to use on her customers.
2) Becca and I were to plan it.

It all happened so quickly and smoothly I am not sure if I should feel suspicious or not. It started with an appreciation meal Amlan brought us because we'd been working so hard recently and he wanted to recognize that. Thanks, Amlan! Aww, we feel so loved. Chat chat chat. Yes we can come to that thing on Saturday you mentioned a few weeks ago.
Amlan proceeded to tell us Tuktuki's inspiring story. Tuktuki had a fairly hard life; her village had been destroyed by a natural disaster, so her family moved to Kolkata. Even before they moved, she had to drop out of school in order to start working to help her family. After they arrived in Kolkata, she was employed as domestic help and mistreated by some of her employers. Knowing she didn't want to live that way forever, she, with the help of Prayasam, started going to vocational school so she could learn other skills while still working at multiple households a day. Now she is sixteen, just graduated from beautician school, and about to start a job at a salon at the city center. She is an example of how to break the cycle of poverty by getting a job where she has rights and much better wages. The celebration fell on International Women's Day, and was to be focused on stopping child labor with a spotlight on Tuktuki's story. Amlan harbors the philosophy that we cannot individually encourage a thousand girls, but we can encourage just one, and she will inspire the thousands.

Then in the course of this motivational talk, all of a sudden Amlan, wily shmoozer that he is, whirlwinds us into a fantastical idea of what the event on Saturday could be in all its glory and splendor. Becca and I are Americans, he reminds us! We know drama! We know grandeur! We know how to throw a party! Becca and I are in charge of the ordeal. We dub it the Sakha Gala for the sake of pretentiousness. 

After a week of planning, writing, gift makeup shopping, and evading more work (so it actually amounted to us doing relatively little), we arrived tardily on Saturday, hauling along an enthusiastic Tiffany and a very drowsy Brenna. We, the staff at Prayasam, and like 50 youth leaders, hung out in lectures on stopping child domestic work (illegal but commonly accepted) and the importance of education, then watched youth-made documentaries. This one was made by my gal Sikha (a mere 13 year old), featuring my gal Apurna (talking at 2:30) and Tuktuki herself (2:00)--there are a whole bunch of things preventing girls who are poorer/living in rural areas from getting educated, including insufficient funds, pressure from family to drop out to help in the household and early marriage.

WATCH! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gTXm6Fx7dr8&list=UUE61RMDmdRaFl58-16R5dSg&index=1&feature=plcp

After watching this and talking about it, Becca, Tiff and I presented roses to the girls for their achievements (Brenna had left by this time because she was falling asleep too hardcore during the lectures--even when Piyali was translating to her face. Brenna is serving as my Rosie abroad; my little narcoleptic baby). Finally, eventually, Tuktuki was recognized for her hard work and accomplishments and given the makeup case. That was a wonderful thing to see; she was so shy and humble, one could not help but be so happy for her! Everybody was so excited for her. Tiffany, Becca and I became her first clients as she gave the makeup a test run--international fashion strikes again.

Props to you, Sikha and Apurna!

When in India... take advantage of the privileges of your pale skin I guess

The lady of the hour herself--Tuktuki! (Also, lest you forgot how huge we are in comparison to Indians--Tiff is 5'3" for reference)

Cotton balls. Becca and I rolled them with our own bare hands.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Rompe (Break It Down)


After suddenly coming down with a bad case of boogie fever, the 1/3 Herd (aka my roommates and me, as we constitute a third of the group) came to the consensus that dancing must be done ASAP. There is a fancy club/bar/restaurant in the City Center (aka mall) about 10 minutes from my house, so we headed over there to meet up with our friend Ishani, plus Adam and Erik. As we approached the boys, we eyed them skeptically for they were wearing matching outfits, which, as it turns out, was just a happy accident. When we eventually made our way to the club (Erik totally broke the elevator), the door men informed us that Adam and Erik were not up to dress code standards. Men must wear pants; shorts (even matching ones) were not permitted. Erik gave them a sidelong glance and slyly inquired if women could wear shorts. Yes, they said, women could wear anything they wanted.

Instead of racing time to go home and change (we were working on an 11:00 curfew, people) we found a set of restrooms. Brenna acted as a courier between us as Becca and I exchanged our gender neutral Indian pants for their shorts. The guards chuckled a bit as we marched in with our heads held high, breaking no rules (but definitely committing some crimes of fashion). We danced and danced to the rhythmic stylings of Daddy Yankee, MIMS, Rihanna and other artists you may not remember from the mid-2000s. Indians watched our unconventional movemetns with awe and disbelief.

It was a night they'll tell their grandchildren about, the night a few Americans, though improperly clothed for the setting, completely annihilated the dance floor.

Saturday Night Fever


Adam and Eric's host parents, Shyamali and Ranjit, had a party of their friends and relatives and we made the cut! Score! However, there was a conditional: we must perform for them a talent show.

It all started the night before (as these things occasionally do), when somehow Ranjit wormed our performance talents out of us. 
Tiffany: traditional Thai dancing
Becca: I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston 
Me: a little lyrical/ballet
Drew: whistling
Adam: juggling
Brenna: singing like Louis Armstrong
Eric: Piano accompaniment for everyone

He and Shyamali enjoyed it SO MUCH they required a repeat performance for all their friends at the large dinner party. All the guests heartily approved of our antics; Anterin (Erik and Adam's late 20s host brother) did an impassioned rendition of Julius Caesar complete with lots of shouting and a sword, consequently making a small child cry. By this point, Ranjit was a little tipsy and did a very spirited version of King Lear. He wore one of Shyamali's saris as a toga. I think I'll end on that visual.