St. Thomas Mount: Merriment is Forbidden

John took Mom, Dad, Kathy and Aly to visit St. Thomas Mount (and here) on Sunday afternoon. St. Thomas Mount is recognized by the Catholic Church as the spot where Thomas the Apostle was killed.

 

The church at the top of the hill is designated as a national shrine, and many local Catholics worhip here. Others come for the views.

 

 

 

If cuddling is on your agenda, though, you'd better find another spot. No merriment allowed here.

There's a little cemetery on the mount, as well.

The sun was setting as John took these pictures of a congregation preparing for a worship service.

As has happened everywhere else in the world, Indian Catholicism has taken on a local flavor. The Catholic weddings we've attended here have more in common with Hindu weddings than they do with Catholic weddings I've attended in the United States. Statues of Mary, too, are often dressed and garlanded like idols in the Hindu temples.

Christianity has an ancient tradition in India, though there are several theories as to why it's been around so long. It's another face of India, one that I had no idea existed before I lived here. 

Gopal and Sam

Kanchipuram silk

We whiled away our afternoon in Kanchipuram in one silk shop, where we saw a woman working on a handloom and then admired countless saris, scarves, pillow covers, table toppers and wall hangings.

 

The complexity of the handlooms is just incredible to me. This set-up is for a relatively simple sari, with a solid color body and zari border.

 

 

The Carter women admiring the weaver's work.

 

 

View from below as she works the loom's pedals.



 

The shop owner told us that most of his saris come from looms in family homes and that some families have worked for his family's shop for generations. Here (and here) are a couple of web sites I found with information about Kanchipuram's silk weaving industry.

And, to be true to my inner activist, I'm also including a link to this article about the industry's problem with child labor. In the 9 years since the article was written, the state government and several NGOs have worked to alleviate the problem while continuing to support silk weaving as the region's traditional craft and industry. One such group is RIDE India.

Here and here are articles detailing some success. There's still a lot of work to do.

(Note to the Carter sisters: The shop we visited was government approved, and therefore is supposed to be meeting the child labor restrictions.)

There's no such thing as "browsing" when shopping in India. At most shops the salespeople pull things out of shelved piles, and you end up going through stacks and stacks until you find just the right thing.

Shopping for scarves that way isn't too tough, but a sari is 6 yards of fabric. You have to see the body, blouse fabric and head of each sari, too, which means opening up the whole thing.

I could do it for hours, though. It was a beautiful end to our day in Kanchipuram.

Escape to Kanchipuram

Since arriving in Chennai, John and I have tried to attract visitors by waxing poetic about India's beauty and relative political calm. Totally safe, we said. Chennai's a sleepy backwater. Nothing ever happens here, we said. Everyone is friendly and wonderful, we said.

 

Then India had to go and prove us wrong.

 

That Friday started out well. John gave us a tour over at the Consulate, and then we met Dr. Gita Arjun, the director of obstetrics and gynecology at a local women's hospital. She gave us a tour of her medical center, which was really interesting. Dr. Gita clearly has a passion for educating Indian women about health during pregnancy and in general. I was glad Kathy had asked to see something in the medical field, because I never would have come across this place on my own. My medical experiences in Chennai have so far been confined to the emergency room at Apollo Children's Hospital, and while the doctors have been great, I sincerely hope I never see the place again.

 

We were heading home from the medical center when John called to tell us that the Consulate was being evacuated. This was the beginning of almost a full week of anti-American demonstrations in the area around the Consulate. I've written more about it here. Did I say Chennai was totally calm, a sleepy backwater, that nothing happens here? Whoops!

 

We spent the rest of Friday hunkered down at home, getting text and radio updates on the protest, which turned out to be more violent than anyone had expected.

 

Regional security gave us the go-ahead to spend the next day in Kanchipuram, a temple town a couple of hours southwest of Chennai, so off we went to find solace in the silk. There were more, larger protests around the Consulate that day, but in Kanchipuram it was business as usual, though I did hear a few comments about those crazy protesters stirring up trouble.

 

Did I say that everyone in India is friendly and wonderful? Well, almost everyone. We ran into a couple of nutters that day, the first being a little old lady at the Kamakshi Amman Temple who was either going to bless us (for money, of course) or kill us. More on her in a moment.

 

The temple elephant that stands at the main gate at Kamakshi Amman is always beautifully decorated, and on this day her handler was not as grumpy as usual.

 







 

This temple is known for its golden vimana, the tower directly over the central shrine. I took this photo from the temple tank, site of our forced blessing. The little old lady was not going to be ignored. When she couldn't get our attention in any other way, she grabbed Aly's wrist and forced some puffed rice into her hands. Then she touched each of us on the chest (not letting go of the wrist) and said something that I sincerely hope was not a curse. Then she told us to throw the puffed rice into the temple tank, and then she asked for money. Naturally. I did consider tossing her into the tank along with the puffed rice, but since that would probably be frowned upon I went ahead and gave her some money.

Luckily, most people in India really are friendly and wonderful, and we met a group of them shortly after we left the little old lady of the puffed rice. It was all smiles and photos and practicing English.

Our last stop at Kamakshi Amman was the wishing tree, where we found these wooden cradles tied by women hoping for children ...

 

... and these stacks of rocks left by people hoping for prosperity or a new home.

Our next stop was Sri Ekambaranathar Temple, where we met the second nutter of the day. We saw the temple tank ...

... and the outer hall in peace ...

... and then we tried to enter the rest of the temple. I know I'm allowed in, because I've been there before and because there are signs all over the place telling me that I'm allowed in and that it's free, but that second nutter I mentioned was barring our way. He kept telling us that we couldn't go in unless we paid some crazy amount of money and let him guide us around. Gah! I'm trying to show off how awesome India is, and you're ruining it!

The guy would not leave me alone, so I called Ashok in for some Tamil muscle. Ashok threatened to report the guy to tourism authorities (whoever they are) and he finally left us alone. Have I mentioned how much I love having Ashok around?

Unfortunately, I was so ruffled by Mr. Give Me Your Money that I had a hard time enjoying the visit, which is too bad because on our last trip to Kanchi I thought it was the most fascinating of the temples we saw. Sri Ekambaranathar is huge, and you can just feel the history of it as you wander the stone halls.

In one of the courtyards stands this sacred mango tree, which has four large branches representing the four Vedas. Last time I was here we were able to circle the tree along with the Hindu pilgrims, but they wouldn't allow it this time.

A view of a gopuram from the mango tree courtyard.

 

Mom and Aly sporting tikka marks after being blessed by the priest at the dancing Shiva shrine.

 



 

Here we are outside Sri Ekambaranathar. The jasmine around our necks reminds me of some of the other friendly, wonderful Indians we met. We bought the jasmine from a woman outside the Kamakshi Amman temple near where we left our shoes. Both the jasmine seller and the shoe guard charged us exactly what they'd charge the locals, which doesn't sound like anything incredible ... but it is.

Our last morning stop was the ancient Kailasanatha Temple, which dates to the 7th century. It's a working temple but it's very small, so it doesn't have the bustle of the other Kanchi temples and feels more like an archealogical site.

Part of the temple has been restored, but I think the new bits look a little too  ... plaster-ish. I prefer the old, weathered stone.

I like this one of Dad ...

This photo really shows the contrast between the ancient stonework and the new bits.

You can see some of the original painting throughout the temple.

Notice the flower petals someone has placed at this carving ...

I'm posting a ton of photos of Kailasanatha because I'm terrible at editing myself. I just love the details at this site, though.

 

That was our last temple stop of the day, since the temples close down at noon (because it's too hot to walk on the stones until later in the evening). We had a nice lunch at Saravana Bhavan ... masala dosa ... mmmm ... and then headed over to a silk shop. Woot! More on that in the next post.

A Taste of the South

After getting the older kids off to school one morning, we packed up Samuel and headed down to DakshinaChitra (and here), a south Indian heritage center about 45 minutes from our house. We missed the film last time we were there, and Ashok has been berating me ever since. How could I let Sarah miss out on the film?!?! I ask you. (Well, Ashok asks you. He also calls it the flim, instead of the film.)

 

So this time, the first thing I did was ask about this incredible film. We got pointed in the right direction and learned all kinds of fascinating stuff about south Indian homes. Then we walked around the grounds and toured some of the houses. I liked this "tree of life" artwork that was hanging in one of the art galleries.

 

 

Here's Samuel in the textile hall. He's trying to hold a water bottle, Lightning McQueen and Finn McMissile all at the same time. Do not dare to offer your help! He's fine, I tell you! (He tells you.) He can handle it!

We stopped to watch this weaver work a handloom to weave a Kanchipuram-style silk sari. Kesavan has been working around handlooms all his life. He started by winding silk thread, and made his first sari at age 13.

Samuel was fascinated. Here he is with Aunt Kathy, watching Kesavan work.

All the ladies had mehendi done. It was beautiful, but if I do it again at DakshinaChitra I'll do it earlier so it's dry before I try to buy anything at the crafts bazaar. Trying to negotiate vendors, stalls, craft options and money with one hand was not so easy. Also, Samuel kept diving into my lap while the woman was drawing my design, which made for many unintended squiggles. Oh well. Perfection would not have reflected what's going on in my life these days.

DakshinaChitra has a little crafts bazaar. I like shopping there because I'm buying directly from the artists, and also because the place is relatively calm. Shopping in India can be really fun, but it can also be overwhelming, so this is a nice break from the chaos. Kathy found some great bangles at this stall.

We stopped for a late lunch at Kipling Cafe, and made it home in time to greet Johnny and Evie at the bus stop. A nice day.