Linda: Mamallapuram: Final Moments

Mamallapuram: Final Moments

Our sojourn here is near its end. The town is small enough, that as we walk the few city blocks from one place to another, shopkeepers and beggars become familiar, street hawkers are less likely to call (having shown no interest in buying), and we are becoming known amongst the local population. Calls of “very nice sari, very nice” abound, partly as a ploy to gain attention and possibly enter a shop, but also quite genuinely and spontaneously. Yesterday, Eleanor was having significant sari troubles that resulted in our maid, with smiles and much good will, giving us a sari lesson. I’ve a few new tricks … but still not the art of it. At least my sari has stayed on. Several times, people ask about our wearing the sari. “Do you wear the sari in America?” “Do many people wear saris in America?” “Are you Christian?” “Are most Americans Christian?” “Do Indian women wear saris in America?” “Where did you buy your sari?” etc. And, despite wearing my hair in a braid and having on a sari, it is quite clear that I am a foreigner. I think it’s the way I walk.

Today, I was sitting on the side of the street, watching the rich parade of life going on all around. There are a few beggars, mostly rather quiet, but each with their own way. One man wandered the streets, a can in one hand and sometimes a little monkey on a lead in the other. He was old, with a white doti and a kind of head scarf. He had a radiant smile and wonderful presence. I hope to see him on the last day, as I would like to give him a little bit before we leave. Others also are near, sometimes asking for help, sometimes content to smile, sometimes being a little bit pushy and insistent, but not too much. It can be hard to walk by, especially mothers with young children, but in this town at least, being on the touristy side, I think that most of them at least have food to eat. In Chennai, it was different. Urban poverty is so much more devastating than rural poverty. There is no beauty in the surroundings from which one can take consolation. There is no hope of a little plot of land to gather or grow food. In Chennai, there was some begging, but there were also people lying on the streets - no smiles, no lightness, no movement. From all accounts, southern India is much easier than the north with regard to begging and destitution, so this is a theme to which I may return.

Today we bought a beautiful marble statue, carved locally, of Krishna and Radha. Krishna is a much beloved god, whose endearing childhood and young manhood have inspired much in the world of dance, poetry, and artistry. Radha is Krishna’s first love, and this particular statue shows Krishna playing his flute for his beloved. Krishna is also the speaker in the Bhagavad Gita. It took us three days to buy this statue – in fact, we had intended to buy another. We’d chosen a modest sized statue of Lakshmi, but my husband was standing in front of this larger statue and decided to purchase it, though it was rather expensive. I think the shopkeeper was as surprised as I was, and had come down $50 in the price. The shopkeeper was a young man, closely associated with one of the stone carving enclaves in town. Of all the shops I’d seen (dozens), his had the most beautiful statues and the best prices. At any rate, the experience of buying here is setting the stage for future endeavors. We’ve made a few decisions. First, we will try to buy whatever is local. Mamallapuram = stone. Kanchipuram = silk. Dharamsala = pakshima wool (exquisite). Rajasthan = textiles. Second, I’ve learned to spend days scouring around, looking at prices, getting a feel for the quality, and finding a shopkeeper that is engaging and kind (that part is easy). Finally, I’m trying not to feel guilty about not buying something in a shop in which I spent a lot of time. This part is not so easy. AND, we still have to carry it, or deal with postage.

Today is Sunday and the town is teeming with Indians coming to the beach for the day. There is a festive climate, many many types of people, and flashing smiles. I’ve seen several Muslim women today in full black dress, head to toe, with a bit of black gauze over the eyes so the women can see. And yet, what a glimpse. Beautiful eyes, painted with kohl, observant, quiet, intense. Despite being completely covered, these women walked with immense personality. Some were lithe and graceful; others forceful; others playful. In a strange sort of way, taking away the details of the person’s body almost enhanced the more subtle qualities of personality and style. I would love to be able to speak with some of these women – perhaps later. I’ll try to sneak a photograph. And their shopping was every bit as animated as mine! Some things are the same everywhere.

As we were wandering around some of the sites, a bus load of school children came up the path. We’d seen them earlier on their bus, hands out the window waving to everyone who would wave back with cries of delight when someone responded. Again, some things are the same everywhere. There they trooped, all in orange uniforms and followed by dutiful parents in colorful garments acting as chaperones. Needless to say, I was right at home and enjoyed waving, smiling, and taking photographs. They clambered over rocks, stood for photographs with tourists, and were lovely in their animated joy. The parents looked a bit tired and the teacher a bit worried (perhaps I was relating to this scene too much), and the whole of the scene was quite lovely. I love seeing what is the same in all that is seemingly different.

Tomorrow, the Eagle Temple, perched high on a hill outside the town, and then Tiruvanamalai and a 3 night stay at the Ramana Maharshi ashram.