Durga Puja

Durga Puja is a massive ten day Hindu public holiday from the 10th-20th of October in India which celebrates goddess Durga defeating a demon. It's the biggest holiday of the year in West Bengal so where else would you go but Kolkata which is the capital city of the state?

By this time of my placement, I really needed a holiday. The kids were getting more and more rowdy due to the end of term which made me pretty exhausted by the end of the day. The teachers seem to dislike Jordan and I, as they never send us smiles but instead shoot death glares, especially during concert practice. And the Principal attempted to manipulate us for our money. That's quite a long story. Also John, an English volunteer whom I grew quite fond of because of his wisdom, quirkiness and his absolute certainty in what he wants, was finishing off his placement and heading back home. So when the time came to pack up my bag and head for the train station, I was pretty stoked.

But that didn't last too long. The Sleeper Carriage in the overnight trains are infamously known for the ladyboys, apparently not just transvestites but hermaphrodites, who hop on the trains and ask for money and if they don't receive some, usually touch men on their chest until they do give them money. The ladyboy that happened to hop onto the train at this particular time was not a very good ladyboy, I must say. No wig, no makeup, no fake breasts, no smile, and a little stubble. Just an obvious male in a sari. He grunted at me, touching my face quite roughly until I handed over ten rupees. But I have to say, that's better than what happened to my friend! She got a bum grab as an attempt to wake her up! However, the ladyboys on the way back to Pokhriabong were very nice, and quite pretty! You can hear them coming from the clapping of their hands and they sit with you and call you beautiful and if you politely refuse to give them money, they simply smile and walk away.

After ten hours, we finally arrived at Kolkata and boy was it quite a shock. In Pokhriabong, I often forget that I'm in India. Almost everyone is Nepalese so the culture is completely different. It's also cold, clean, quiet and empty. But Kolkata was definitely a reality hit that I am in India. It's hot and humid, dirty (my boogers turned black from the all the dust. Too much information?), extremely crowded, loud, cows randomly roam the streets, the constant staring, and there are beggars everywhere. One of the most shocking images I saw and will remember for a while was a skinny and blind father carrying his 8yr old daughter who was unconscious and extremely skinny. Many times I'm quite skeptical of beggars as one time I saw a woman carrying a baby boy in the morning but in the afternoon, she changed into a different sari and had a different baby in her arms. But this man staggered blindly, literally, passed us – an obvious bunch of Westerners. It was heartbreaking. There was another time where a few of us walked into a bunch of street kids. I'm pretty sure they weren't actually too poor because they looked quite healthy and their clothes looked relatively new, but they followed us for quite some time. They grabbed my hands calling out, “Didi” (sister) or “Auntie” and would not let go. There was one girl who refused to let go of my hand so I looked down at her and asked for her name. “Tiya”, she replied with a smile. For a minute or so, we walked down the street together swinging our arms. I gave her my newly bought water bottle and she ran down the street. One time, a woman grabbed my side so suddenly I thought she was trying to steal my bag. It was out of desperation for money that she grabbed me, but I was so shocked I leapt away before realising. Often men with amputated legs or legs turned backwards that they can't walk crawl up behind me and tap my leg gently. 

It's easy to think of beggars as just that: beggars. It's easy to distance myself from these people and group them into something that I can't relate to but often it's not their fault that they are poor and live this way. If I remember that they are men, women, daughters, sons, mothers and fathers and if I remember that they have names like Tiya, I kind of feel like I'm doing more then just give them money. I'm giving them an identity that most people often forget and overlook.

I'm not sure if it was the massive temperature change from 20degrees to 32degrees but I really started to feel the lack of iron in my body due to my Indian vegetarian diet. I felt so weak that I found myself napping at least twice a day and soon enough I got sick with a cold. This made my Kolkata adventures of shopping in markets (which is quite frustrating as people follow me trying to lead me to their shops) and going to museums and temples quite exhausting. So I was quite excited to go to Sagar Island. Although Sagar Island is basically untouched by tourists and there are only two websites on it, I was expecting Fiji-like islands with clear blue waters and white sand. I was wrong. The sand, which was quite soft, was grey and brown and so was the water. It wasn't bad, just not expected. We spent the day swimming, tanning and exploring the island. When we were tanning, a few young men came and sat 20meters away just watching us. All the girls quickly put our shirts over our bikinis and soon enough a few more groups of young men on motorbikes came and circled us on a 20m radius. They would stop, rev their bikes and stare. They all stayed for at least 30minutes just watching us. It was weird.

The island has a tiny town away from the main town that probably have never seen Westerners before. I felt so intrusive walking into their town as it seemed so peaceful. I felt so tourist-y as I felt like I disturbed their way of life and culture by coming to the island for a holiday.

Because the main town do not get tourists, we got overcharged for almost everything that we bought. Kids came to us and begged, obviously not real beggars as no beggars would live in an island that has zero tourist attractions and we offered them food that they refused. They wanted money.

When we returned to the hostel, we were welcomed by the distressed manager. He couldn't speak English very well but he managed to say a few words that we managed to string together. We had to leave the hostel because another group has arrived. The day before, the manager said that we could only stay one night, which we were happy to do. But in the morning, a man who we thought was also a manager because he organised our dinner and breakfast and could speak relatively good english told us that we could stay for the whole four days. Apparently he made a mistake of translating “they can't stay until Sunday” to “they can stay until Sunday”. So within minutes, we had to pack our things and leave. One man stood in the corner of the room humming the tune of a random song that he insisted was the Australian anthem. It was just so random that it made me laugh so hard but made others extremely annoyed. We tried to find accommodation at several hostels and hotels on the island without success which is strange as there is nobody on the island to stay there, so within the hour, we decided to make our way back to Kolkata. After a rocky trailer ride, an hour long bus ride, an hour long wait at the train station and a 3hr train ride, we finally made our way back to Kolkata.

This time we explored heritage sites like the Belur Math Shrine where I sneakily took photos when “photographs are strictly prohibited” (Yeah I know, I'm living life on the edge), sat in the same seats as bohemians, poets and revolutionists in the Indian Coffee House, witnessed the aftermath of animal sacrifices in the Kali Temple and danced in a rave in the wave pool in Aquatica, Kolkata's water park.

By the end of the holiday, I was missing my kids so much I couldn't wait to get back to Pokhriabong. Can you believe that I only have ten more days of teaching left? Then I'll be travelling and flying back home. I'm so excited to go home but the kids! I only left the kids for ten days and I missed them so much! It's going to be heartbreaking to leave...