Alternatively titled: Mystery Excursion: Tagore, Uncertainty, and the great Jumbo Slumbo
[Pre-emptive apologies for the itinerary style of this post.]
(Jan. 23-25) We zipped off for a few days to our first rural Indian experience, and suddenly, I could breathe again. During one heck of a swervy car ride through villages upon villages, past scores of cows, goats, hammer and sickle graffiti, and potato chip stands, we made it to S(h)an-ti-nik-i-tan (sound it out). Our place of lodging was considerably different from all up to this point; we stayed in a school building for a switcheroo. Quick introductory lesson: there's this dude named Tagore... and he runs this town. Well, historically so (he's been dead since 1941) but his legacy lives on, as legacies are wont to do. The whole trip was focused on him; Tagore, a poet, philosopher, song-writer, and Nobel prize winner, had a lot of things to say, and say them he did. He heavily influenced the towns of Santiniketan and Sriniketan with his view of education, that is:
-Everyone should have it!
-We should be in constant communication with nature, so class outside except in X-treme weather
-People should have exploratory liberal artsy-type classes (ahem) instead of a defined academic path
-It should be done not in a rigid setting like typical Indian schools (fun fact: Tagore went to Xavier's aka MY college for 2 months but dropped out because he did not like it--but that didn't stop them from dropping his name in their historical documentary).
Blah blah Tagore Tagore Tagore. To be quite honest, I learned very very little about Tagore from the whole excursion because uncharacteristically, pretty much all the speakers were mumblegusses/had super heavy accents/weirdly held a hand in front of their mouths. It's cool though; I read a chapter on him when I got home and now feel like I know everything about his life.
This trip was one of blind ignorance. I found out where we were going two or three days before we left, only vaguely knowing who Tagore was, and we were given no information of what we were doing for any part of the excursion (three days! That's a whole flipping lot of mystery time). After arriving and some playground tomfoolery, it was evening, and we hopped back in our motorcade to an unknown destination. We learned upon arrival we were at an ashram, which is a Hindu monastery. Quick summary--lovely flashlight tour followed by a worship service that was actually pretty crazy (dancing with swords and incense and smelling fire eep). After returning, we had a traditional Baul (pronounced "bowel" -- father, I sense you chuckling immaturely) music performance and hit the sack.
The beardier, the better
Our next day consisted of going to a funky rural university, the original touring a leather producing company (made of goat, not cow; I asked), and visiting Tagore's five homes--the guy collects houses the way Mughal emperors collect wives. Following that, we saw a traditional dance involving balancing pots on heads. It was fun, but what the best part was the kiddos of the school who 1) got rambunctious with a few of our own members before the show began and 2) joined in when the dancers invited us up for some Bengali style get-down. I taught some impressionable young boys the "Yesssss." fist-action from Napoleon Dynamite. "Thank you, ma'am!"
What I really want to talk about here is our sleeping amenities. First night-- flipping freezing. Window open, thinnest blankets ever, and wooden cots with about an inch of thick fabric for our mattress which made us long for our board-like beds in Kolkata. Whine whine whine. The next day, all twelve girls gathered our beds in one room for a JUMBO SLUMBO and were given more blankets and it was considerably more pleasant.
Bed tea makes for a happy camper.
Yup, great weekend. The country-side is awesome. But, as LeVar from Reading Rainbow would say, you don't have to take my word for it! Check it out!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9nFs2PeWw0
No comments:
Post a Comment