REPUBLIC DAY – January 26

Since there was no work scheduled for today, we were invited to two different celebrations. Eight years ago, I had attended the Republic Day parade in Delhi and it was quite remarkable. Our group and two million of our newest friends lined the streets, standing on bleachers that had been erected by the government along the parade route, while three jet helicopters streamed down past us, showering the crowd with rose petals and marigold petals. It was an amazing experience.

This morning, we ate breakfast at the farm and boarded the bus to take us into the village. When we arrived, we first visited the home of a young girl, Arasthun, who had befriended one of our team member’s daughters this past year. Two years before we were to leave for this year’s trip, Cari Roberts (daughter of Sean and Pam Roberts from the 2008 team) contacted me and asked if I would take some gifts to Arasthun. Last year, Arasthun kept coming by the day-care center and eventually designed and painted some flowers on either side of the mural that Ray Sykes had drawn and members had painted on the wall of the day-care center. It was difficult for Arasthun when we all left, because Cari, her new friend, was leaving and she was afraid she would never see her or hear from her again. When Cari asked me to take some gifts to Arasthun, I said of course I would. The package arrived on Thursday, and I packed it into my bag to carry across to Arashthun. Back to the present…

We walked over to Arasthun’s home, from the school yard where our bus was parked, and were welcomed by her family – her mom, her dad, and her eight sisters and her little brother. We were invited to sit down and enjoy some hot milk – water buffalo’s milk. To be welcomed into the home of Muslim family in the village, was in itself an honor. But to be offered hot milk was singular. Arasthun’s parents showed us their home, We saw the corner where her mother cooked over burning dung patties and sticks; we saw some of the beds where the children slept; and her mother showed us her dowry – a magnificent gold choker necklace, which she wears all the time. On the front gate of their home, I noticed some markings in chalk. I figured out that these were numbers marking the times when the children had been immunized against polio. The last time was in December. It was good to see that even though there was not a formalized NID in Chahalka, volunteers came to the village to distribute the life-saving vaccine. After our visit, we walked across the road to the school yard, and walked to the other end to the computer training center. We had been told to expect a special ceremony organized by the students.

Special it was. When we entered the school yard, all forty-five students were standing at attention waiting for us to sit down. There were chairs for us set in a line across the front of the building. The instructor invited me to come to the flag pole and to unfurl the flag of India, that was already raised to the top of the pole. I snapped the rope and was showered in a burst of rose petals and marigold petals. What a contrast from eight years ago, when we were showed by rose petals and marigold petals, bursting from the jet helicopters! This celebration of the start of Republic Day was equal to if not exceeded that of 2001. At that point, the students sang the Indian National Anthem, while we all stood at attention. After this ceremony, the students invited into the center for a formal inspection. WOW! Since I was here a year ago, and we had finished the painting of the outside, the inside, built the walls around the school yard, and raised the banner in front of the training center, the desks had been purchased and installed; the computers had been purchased and set up; the generator had been purchased and set up outside in the school yard; the floors had been swept clean; and the students had been attending classes for more than six months. I recognized some of the students from the two previous years, some who had carried rocks alongside us; some who had mixed concrete (masala) in their bare feet; some who had simply sat and watched us during the extreme makeover of this building into what it is today. All of the students sat at their desks working on current projects. I was then invited to come to the front of the classroom, while each student introduced himself to me, proudly announcing his name, the name of his father, the level of course study he had achieved before entering computer training and the courses he had completed and those he was still working to complete. The age of the students ranged from seventeen to thirty-nine years. We learned that the students come to classes five or six days each week; they study two to three hours each day; they take examinations one each month and if they fail to meet the minimum level of proficiency, they are moved back two levels to begin again. It was most rewarding to see this program working and providing opportunities for young men to enter the workforce in neighboring Sohna or Gurgaon. When we had finished at the computer training center, we walked next door to see the day-care center. It is currently used by about a dozen families each day, being able to leave their children in a safe environment, while their mothers could work to help the family income.

By this time, we returned to the bus, and went to the farm for lunch. We were in for a treat, not only for eating our lunch out under the trees near the coy pond and amongst dozens of rose bushes, but also for what was planned for the afternoon. We shared and enjoyed a few bottles of Kingfisher beer, salads, and other veg and non-veg dishes. We re-boarded the bus and drove to a neighboring village, inhabited mostly by Hindu families, and located in a very fertile valley, a complete opposite to the barren landscape of Chahalka. One of the village leaders had visited the previous day at the farm, to invite us to his village’s Republic Day celebration. When we arrived in the center of the village, we stepped off the bus and were greeted by the members of the Gram Panchayat. These venerable looking gentlemen all stepped forward and placed garlands around the necks of the men in our group, while women garlanded our ladies, and embraced them warmly. What a welcome! We sat down and learned a little more about the village, with the help of Sanjiv’s translation. While the men sat in the center of the group, the women sat a bit to the side. We were then invited to join the members of the Gram Panchayat in smoking the water pipe – or hookah. One of the senior members smoked it first and then turned the pipe stem to me. Not wishing to offend our hosts, I participated and passed the stem to the next member of the team and then around the circle. The women were invited to smoke the ladies’ pipe, and some of our team members did so. Following the welcoming ceremonies, we were asked to walk down the road to the school. We were shown a room that was available to be used to house a computer-training center, similar to the one in Chahalka. There were several substantial differences between the two facilities – this village appears to have considerable wealth, as opposed to Chahalka. The schoolroom already exists, while the building in Chahalka had to be totally rehabilitated. The final difference is that the people in this village are interested in educating their girl children in computer training, rather than confining the training to boys and young men. Some of the team members may be interested in pursuing this project for assisting with the funding of another computer training center.

Following the tour of the school, we were then invited to climb onto a trailer behind a tractor and to be driven to the parade ground about a half-mile down the road, where the traditional outdoor wrestling competition was already under way. Teams from neighboring towns challenge the local wrestlers out on the dusty field. Four wrestlers join arms and a wrestler from the opposite team crosses over into “enemy” territory, and taunts the foursome into trying to take him down. Once he touches one of the four wrestlers, it is his goal to escape back over the center line without being pinned. We all stood in the trailer and the tractor hauled us down the road and into the parking area of the parade ground. Once we rounded the corner, several of the locals turned and noticed we were a group of white westerners. We caused quite a stir as we neared the reviewing stand, and when we climbed down off the trailer, and walked toward the field, the crowd parted (sort of like Moses parting the Red Sea!). The village event organizers had arranged chairs for us right down on the edge of the field, in front of the stage where dignitaries were seated. Sean Dolter had been a class wrestler several years ago, but he had never witnessed an event quite like this one. At the time we arrived, the competition had progressed to the semi-finals. Unfortunately, the local team had been defeated in the semi-finals, but the villagers remained at the match to cheer on their favorite wrestlers. Our team was invited to join the dignitaries out on the field to greet the wrestlers of each team. These young men, probably between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, were very fit and obviously somewhat curious as to why a group of white westerners were coming onto the field to shake their hands.

Back at our seats, another event was announced to occur prior to the final match. This separate event was to be a race, twice around the grounds, and to be run by two gentlemen, each of whom was past the age of seventy! One man was straight and thin, while the second, although thin, had quite badly bowed legs. The race was started and the two runners were flagged off for their race. The taller man moved out in front quite quickly, and remained so all the way around both times. He won the race, outpacing his opponent by nearly one full trip around the course. He was honored with a standing ovation, and his opponent was also heavily applauded for his efforts.

The final match began and all of us were entertained by the gestures and moves of one of the referees – a Muslim gentleman, with a Henna-dyed bright red beard. He moved into watch the wrestlers, stepping almost like a flamingo. It was quite a performance. The match finally concluded, the winners announced, and it was time to board our bus that Suresh and Ragu had moved onto the edge of the field. We shared our garlands with the winner of the race, as well as his opponent. It was not back to the farm for some wine and another wonderful dinner.