Monday, April 9, 2012

Sweet Times

Just before we left Ooty, we had one of the most delightful experiences of our time in India. It seemed to pull together our visit to Ooty, like a delicate Indian pastry knotted at both ends with kindness. This experience had its beginnings on our first full day in Ooty, a couple of weeks ago, when we encountered a fascinating couple at a resto. We had noticed them arriving amidst hugs from the waiters, he with the biggest, warmest, smile imaginable and she, obviously a western woman, red-haired, tall and elegant, wearing a flowing saree. They made a striking couple - and they sat near us, eventually starting up a conversation with us. We liked them immediately and found that we had a lot of similarities in our ideas. He, Raj, is a doctor, trained in western medicine but now working in a practice that integrates western and eastern, traditional methods. She, Susan, is originally from northern California and is now an Indian homemaker (and Raj’s wife). After we chatted together non-stop for quite a while, they went on their way, offering to host us for a get-together of some sort before our two weeks were over.

We looked forward to the invitation, which got postponed due to Susan’s intervening illness. Just as we were running out of days in Ooty, the call came for an afternoon visit that day at their house, followed by a walk in the hills. With anticipation, we took a tuk-tuk about 5 miles out of town to their village. The road twisted up and down sharp curves, past beautiful, lightly shaded, glossy green tea plantations covering the steep mountainsides and through woods full of tall eucalyptus and cedar trees. It felt good to be out of the city and into the open air and peacefulness of the countryside. Raj and Susan live in a small home surrounded by a field where a couple of cows - the source of their milk and butter – were grazing calmly.

Inside, we were treated to chai and dates and cookies. Raj’s sister, also a doctor and the head of the school health program for the 14 million children of Kerala state (!), was visiting with a couple of friends.

After introductions and snacks, we all set out for a walk in the neighborhood. It took us down the road and through a tiny village populated by Badagas, one of the area’s hill tribe peoples. As befits the communal relationships of the Badagas, their homes were constructed to share common walls and were painted in bright, cheerful colors, with spotlessly clean front patio spaces. Little kids came to greet us as we passed through the area, which had an intimate feel.


The walking group, including Raj and Susan; Bruce; Raj's sister, Rani; and her friend and daughter

On the other side of the village, the wide path descended past more tea fields and a lush crop of carrots. A rustic white-washed stone home, sitting part way up a hill, reminded us of France or Switzerland. Farther along, in a low wet area, wild calla lilies brought thoughts of Guatemala, where I had fallen in love with the sturdy white blossoms.


                                                  tea field


White rustic stone house in the tea garden


                                                            Beautiful calla lily

As we walked along, we were met by a group of older women, dressed in the typical white robes of the Badagas. They were returning from harvesting garlic, small sickles in their hands. They stopped to exchange pleasantries with Susan and Raj and eagerly agreed to my photos! Bruce and I were surprised that women of their age were still working the fields and plodding the steep hills – but perhaps that’s what keeps them going strong! I loved that they were working together in a sisterhood of gardeners.


Badaga women returning from the garlic fields

On a small rise, we came to a surprisingly large Christian church, given the rural setting. Apparently many Badagas have been practicing Christianity for several generations. There was also a Hindu temple in the village. It was inspiring to see religious inclusion being lived right here. Certainly Ooty had churches, both Catholic and Protestant, as well as Hindu temples and mosques, all co-existing respectfully, it seemed.


Pretty blue countryside church

Our visit ended with tea at the home of one of the Badaga women whom we had met on the walking path. She greeted the seven of us and found seats for everyone in her cozy sitting room, formerly an animal stable but now a warm, sparkling clean space with shiny mint green painted walls. Attached to this room was a very tiny cooking room, replete with a wood stove, as well as an electric induction hot plate and a gas burner: equipment ranging from ancient to modern. Our hostess’ daughter-in-law slipped out to get water at the community spigot. Soon tiny metal cups of milky sweet tea were passed around the group along with sweet crackers. We chatted with our hostess’ son, a young man who had learned to speak English in the hotel industry. A spontaneous invitation for dinner was extended but we declined, while feeling great gratitude for yet another expression of Indian hospitality.


                                                   Our gracious tea hostess

We climbed the hill back to Susan and Raj’s home as the sky darkened, the full moon rose and stars popped out. It had been a wonderful opportunity for us to spend time with this lovely couple in their own home, to get out into the beautiful Nilgiris hills, and to catch an extraordinary glimpse of the life of a family living in the old but evolving traditions of rural India. “And there they were made welcome…after the custom of the kindly east.” (Kipling’s Kim. ) We felt very welcome, indeed!

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