Happy Lohri!

Today is a special day in India.  It is Lohri – an Indian festival day which goes by a different name in each state.  Here in Haryana and Punjab, it is called Lohri. 

Lohri, as it was explained to me, has many significances.  Firstly, it is the coldest night of the year, and all the days following this night will be warmer, much like we consider the Spring Equinox to be in the west.  Today, we celebrate the coming heat, and many people are sitting around bonfires as I write this.  We, due to work and time restraints, are sitting in the living room, watching a special on the television of a beautiful woman singing and dancing.  Lohri is for singing – even Harpal broke into song when we arrived home earlier today.  Let me tell you – a Punjabi man with a belly, singing fresh out of the bath with his hair down (as opposed to its typical location inside a turban), in a voice that was astonishingly good, and shaking hips in the way that only Indians can, is quite a sight.  His wife was arguing with him for something, and he responded by singing and dancing around the living room.  I giggled with joy, and it was the first time I realized that I could learn to love this man. 

There’s just so much joy hidden inside his gruff exterior.       

Another reason for Lohri dates back to mythological times.  The story line is a bit blurred for me, because it involves events and places and times I’ve never heard of, and it involves a religious mythology I have very little knowledge of, but to the best of my recollection, in a time out of mind, there was an army of moghuls, one million of them, and they came across 40 soldiers.  Those forty soldiers decided to forgo the wisdom of their master guru (holy man), and they wrote down on paper that they would not follow his words any longer, and they did not wish to fight the army, even though the holy man told them that if they fought the million men, they would win. 

Their wives and children were to hide in the hills, and the wives shamed the men into fighting, saying that they would take off their bangles and they themselves would go to war, and the men who did not heed the wisdom of the guru could wear the bangles and protect the children.  Ashamed, they went to war, but without the blessing of the guru (and therefore, the gods).  When they came against the opposing army, they were annihilated, all except the leader.  Then, the guru came down and asked the leader what it was that he needed, and he responded by telling the guru to tear up the paper that said they would not follow the words of the guru, and then he died. 

How exactly this ties into Lohri, I don’t quite understand, but I listened attentively as the story was being told.  Harpal is quite a good storyteller, it turns out.

Coincidentally, it is also Friday the 13^th today. 

Another way Lohri was explained to me was as the Indian New Year.  Today, we bought sweets for the workers, and we visited some family friends in the village and brought them sweets also. 

Not related to the holiday at all, I finally managed to go to the doctor today.  Actually, I might as well start at the beginning of the day.  I woke up feeling really sick, but I was super hungry, because we skipped dinner last night, except to eat a little bit of dhal and chapatti (I forget why, really).  I was going to just boil some water and make instant oatmeal, because I still have a few packets left, and then Surrinder suggested making pancakes, because it was still early enough in the morning for a real breakfast.  The prospect delighted me, let me tell you.  So, merrily, I started to make pancakes, and...it turned into a fight. 

I made the batter from an eggless recipe that I had never used before, and it involved 2tsp of baking powder in it.  First, baking powder was ‘not good for the stomach’ and I shouldn’t use so much.  Second, it called for white flour, and I was told to use ‘whole wheat because it is more nutritious’, even though I thought the recipe was better suited for white flour (and it was, I found out when I made a second batch from the white flour).  Then, when she saw me using butter in the frying pan, she got upset and told me I should use ghee because ‘it will be tastier and not make the pan so brown’.   Then the pancakes were too thick, and I should thin them.  Then I should have made them sweeter.  Then I should have added fruit like blueberries or bananas or peaches.  We don’t have blueberries, bananas, or peaches.  Finally, I got annoyed, and told her to go away and that I wanted to make them North American style, not European style (thin and sugary) or Indian style (salty).  She got angry with me and started to tell me that it was her house, and I should not order her around in her house, and that her own daughter doesn’t even treat her so poorly, and that no wonder I lived alone, because how would anyone want to live with me?  She even went so far as to tell me that I would never find a husband, because no man would want to be with me, and that I will always be alone because I can’t compromise. 

I was really upset, and I have only two default settings when I get more than mildly upset or frustrated.  I either see red and hurt you really badly, or I cry. 

I started to cry.  In front of her.  I tried to come to her and tell her I was sorry, and that I just didn’t appreciate the way she was trying to tell me things all the time, and she started to tell me she was just looking and wanted to learn how to make them, because she’s never made them before, and that was it.  I was in tears – I couldn’t even finish my sentence.  I think she felt a bit bad, because she started to tell me about how Harpal thinks of me as a daughter, and that I should not be so upset, but I should just learn to compromise a little bit, and that when she offers suggestive help, I should take it because it is her kitchen and her country and her culture that I am trying to fit into.  Things will not be tasty for everyone if it is not done the proper way. 

And I believe her, I think this whole time she has just been trying to be helpful, just like I have been, but we are both helpful to each other in the wrong ways.  Sometimes, people’s personalities just don’t work well together, and I think that might be the case for us.  Her way of helping makes me feel useless and horrible, and my way of helping makes her think I want to do everything myself and that I am ungrateful. 

But either way, I ended up having a near-breakdown.  I just couldn’t control myself.  Normally, I can just sniffle a bit, maybe let a tear or two go, and then shove it all back inside and I’m reasonably okay again.  But for nearly an hour, every time I stopped working, my eyes would fill with tears, and I’d have to go hide for a minute or two to control myself.  Eventually, I gave up all pretences of working, and grabbed my phone and went to the roof and called Tim.  We talked for a while until I felt stable and was a bit happier (he’s good for that) ...although my poor phone bill is going to be atrocious.  We’ve talked on the phone a few times this trip so far, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to have at least a $500 phone bill at home for me.  I hope it’s not more than that, anyhow.  After that, I was called in because we were supposed to go to the doctor.

We didn’t go to the doctor for FOUR hours after that.  I was told to get ready right away and then we would go.  I waited four hours to go, and had to ask three different times if we were still going today.  Farm life isn’t conducive to being on time, apparently. 

Anyhow, we went to the village doctor (for some reason, I pictured a voodoo man when I said that), and it was a strange experience.  The doctors building was completely empty, and we saw a surgeon, who is their family doctor, and he served us water and Indian tea (I always take mine black with loads of sugar to offset the lack of milk – that shit is spicy, otherwise...and loaded with caffeine) ...and yeah.  I was served biscuits and tea by a surgeon in a small village in India.  What.

Anyhow, he checked me out, and Surrinder knitted (I think she lives to knit), and thank god he spoke English!  Much better than my Thai experiences with doctors.  Anyhow, temperature was way below normal – 97.3 – and I don’t quite have bronchitis, but I do have a minor infection of some kind in the chest, so I was prescribed a weak anti-biotic that I’ve never heard of before, and a ton of other things: cough lozenges, cough syrup, pills for the throat, etc.  I paid 110 rupees for it all.  My medicine cost me two dollars.  Naturally, I’m not going to take any of it, except the one thing I went for: the antibiotics.  And maybe the cough lozenges, because they are tasty. 

We wandered around some of the shops in the village after visiting the doctor and the chemist, and we bought the sweets for Lohri, and I’ve eaten so many of them.  I had them once, at Thomas’ house – they’re these weird tubular sweets filled with a sugary syrup.  I distinctly recall disliking them the one time I tried them at Thomas’, but here they are good.  Maybe my tastes have changed being in Asia.  I know my spice tolerance has gone up.  Jaspal made some grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner for himself, and put hot chillies in them, and offered me half a sandwich, and I immediately regretted it because of all the dairy – I’m practically resigned to the fact that I’m going to have GI problems until I get home – but they were delicious.  They were so hot my eyes were watering, and I loved the taste.  Crazy spices. 

Speaking of home, it’s only two weeks away!  I’m stoked.  SO STOKED.  Going to spend a week on the beaches of Goa refurbishing my tan, one last-minute shopping spree in Mumbai, and then that’s it.  Time to go home.  When I get there, I think I’m going to go vegan for a while, just to offset all the fish sauce and dairy I’ve been forced to eat over the last three months.  It’s pretty hard to think that I’ve been away from home that long, but thems the breaks.  I’ve got vegan, non-gluten, things to eat, and nectar of the gods (wine) to consume, and it’s gonna be damned glorious, I tell you. 

It’s ridiculous, the simple mundane things I’m looking forward to doing: wearing pajamas, doing my taxes, going for Booster Juice, and Starbucks, and Tim Hortons and IHOP.  Being rained on, and browsing in Chapters, and feeding the ducks, and going to Granville Island, and the Naam, and La Trattoria, Commercial Drive, and playing XBOX at Thomas’ house, EMP, and cuddling my cat. 

And 3G.  Oh my god, 3G.