Family, friends and fortune

"We go on and on about our differences. But, you know, our differences are less important than our similarities. People have a lot in common with one another, whether they see that or not." - William Hall

So, the day of Dusshera dawns and the house is full of music.  Sunita often has the radio on in the morning, but this morning it is louder, and it is celebratory sounding music.  I thought we were leaving to SM’s brother’s house at 1030, but a last-minute purchase requires SM’s sister in law to make a journey to Rangpo, some 16km away.  I am not sure how that delays things, but I found it very amusing as I was sat on the doorstep in my ‘smart clothes’ and SM appeared up the stairs in shorts and vest, with a handful (literally) of cow dung and a pinky flower in his hand.  He looked at me and said, “Are you going somewhere?” with a raise of the eyebrow.  The sarcastic humour was not lost on me, although I think he was asking in a perfectly genuine manner.  Thus, I got changed back into my everyday wear and settled down to see what was going to happen to the handful of ‘not quite steaming’ cow dung.  I think I remember mentioning where he would be putting it in my last blog.  Anyway, sure enough, SM took the dung and moulded it into a thick pancake.  He pressed it above the main door of the house, onto the frame.  Into the dung he stuck the pinky coloured flower and some herbs.  The flowers represent good fortune and the herbs health and wellbeing (as they are used medicinally).  The family worship under the door to ask for the house to be blessed and protected from bad spirits.  The ancestors of the house are remembered during this time and asked to help bless the house.  SM cuts some more herb from the garden in front of the house.  He rubs it and tells me that they use the herb if they are dizzy and nauseous.  They smell it and it helps them.  The herb was all green, but on smelling it, there was no mistaking it as lavender – or a form thereof.  I told SM about people using it to help them sleep, putting it in their pillow, or to relax and he laughed “How do you know?” he said.  “Because that’s what some people do in the UK.”  “Is it?” he says with a great laugh.  I love these moments when the similarities in our lives our just so apparent, but still come as a great surprise.  SM continues with the prayer, lighting incense sticks and reciting his words whilst wafting the sticks in front of the doorway.  He completes the prayer by adding tikka to the cow dung.  Just before this he throws some of the rice to the left of the front door too. 

As you may remember from one of the other photos the dung will remain above the door for the whole year.  The plants will die and dry but will be left and the dung will dry and become white.  Nothing will be removed until the whole thing is cleaned to make things ready for next year’s Dusshera when all will be refreshed.

(Preparations for Dusshera in Kalimpong) 

(Walking Nat to Barranumba)

(SM preparing the mixture for above the front door)

(Adding the flowers, herbs and tikka to the cow dung)

A few minutes after completing the ceremony at the front door, I was called into one of the other rooms.  I was asked to sit on a woollen rug.  The rug is used only on special occasions such as the day of Dusshera.  SM asked me to cross my legs and then he circled my head with a bunch of herbs and then incense sticks – just like I’d seen at the ancestor ceremony.  He then said a prayer in English as he put tikka on my forehead (pink dyed rice although it can be any colour).  He blessed me for a long life, that I achieve good things and am healthy.  Sunita and their eldest daughter Reshna looked on.  I knelt before SM and then Sunita as they blessed me as part of the family.  We finished with a ‘Namaste’ and hands held together.  It was a very meaningful few moments.   I had never doubted that they treated me as one of their own family, but if I needed any proof, then here it was.  Following the short prayers SM presented me with 100 rupees – money is often given on special occasions such as Dusshera. 

(SM putting tikka on my forehead - tikka is rice, water and a little sugar to help it stick)

(herbs and incense for blessing, tikka and the plate of rice, coins and a flame for health and wealth of life)

(You've been tikka'd)

 If I thought that was special, then I was in for a further surprise.  SM, Sunita, Reshna and I went to SM’s brother’s house where SM’s mother also lives.  As the oldest member of the family she bestows tikka on all the members of her family.  We sat and ate a few nibbles and chatted.  I watched as SM’s sister in law prepared food, consisting mainly of parts of the slaughtered pig from the day before.  Reshna’s cousins were there – Neha (aged 16) is studying Biology in Kalimpong and Babul (age 18) is studying Mathematics in Darjeeling.  Not once did I feel like anything but a family member.  Neha and Babul speak very good English and, when alone, the conversation flows really well.  In front of others they are nervous of their English and let SM do the talking.  Grandmother conducted the same ceremony, as from before, on all of us.  Firstly, SM, Sunita and Reshna sat together on the woollen rug.  Then, it was my turn.  I wasn’t expecting it, but I sat down and felt completely at ease as the rest of the family looked on.  I have used the word ‘privilege’ before.  Well, you have no idea – it was, simply, a perfect moment.  Grandma even wanted a photo of the two of us after she had finished the ceremony.   SM’s brother, Santos and his wife (Bobby) then sat down and finally Babul and Neha.  Each time Grandma threw rice, wafted the incense and circled the herbs around our heads.  She said the prayers and finished by putting tikka on our foreheads.  As my part of the ceremony was happening, Santos put a hat on my head.  I had no idea what it was, but as I finished and looked at the hat, I knew it was the traditional form of Nepali hat.  He told me “this is present for you”.  Santos is not confident in his English and SM told me he does not speak much.  What another perfect moment as this man, who I have met just a few times, communicated a simple sentence that contained so much meaning in relation to his home, his family and his world.  We ate pork and chicken and rice.  It is a festival so whiskey and beer are on tap.  Even then, drinking is not a sport.  It is simply enjoyed because it is a luxury for when guests come over or for special occasions.  As the afternoon wore on I was reminded of Christmas.  It was all about family.  After our main meal, at about 3.15pm, we were sat outside – I had really wanted a whole family photo – and Santos started the music.  Well, for the next hour, music became the priority.  We danced, we laughed and generally just relaxed in the incredible atmosphere that had been achieved.  Santos loves a dance and, when asked, who was I to refuse?  Waving my arms around the whole scene videoed by out four mobile phones – luckily not mine!  Santos was a fantastic host and the dancing made him come out of his shell even more.  It was a lovely, relaxed and natural hour or so with a lot of laughing.  Let’s not forget that all of this also took place against the backdrop of the stunning valley amidst the beautiful clouds I have come to call home.  A wonderful and memorable day for sure.

(Ama putting tikka on SM, with Sunita)

(Ama and I)

(With hat and tikka)

(Bobby making pickles for dinner)

(Santos and SM being the dancing)

(Babul, Sunita, Neha, Reshma, Bobby

SM, Ama, Santos)

(...and me)

(Grandma/Ama's first selfie - with some of that amazing view)

(Curing the pork and beouf meat)

(Curing shed)

(No place like home)

 Since being back in the village after my visit to Darjeeling, I have slept like a log.  Two nights of extended sleep has been magic.  I have eaten so well and been extended the offer of beer everywhere I have been.  The day after being at Santo’s house, Babul, Reshma, Neha and I went to a neighbour’s house where the same ceremony for Dusshera was conducted.  The neighbours have known the three since they were babies and the relationship between the families reminded me of very good friends of mine and my family’s who I have known since being very young in Germany.  Whilst we were celebrating, I was acutely aware that we also had to celebrate that evening at Sunita’s parents house.  It was, as you can imagine, impossible to refuse the hospitality and as people arrived, they would say hello, chat for a little to find out more about me and then disappear to find food or family.  I was also wearing my Nepali hat which was a talking point.  I will admit, an hour-long power nap at 2.30, allowed me just ten minutes with which to get ready to disappear off to the second celebration of the day.

(Neha, Reshma, me, Babul at the neighbours house)

(Different tikka, different day)

Again, Babul and Neha joined us, which was lucky for me as it means I don’t have to keep interrupting the conversation or asking lots of questions as one of them will usually help me out.  Sunita’s father conducted the ceremony on all of us in turn and this time the tikka was white.  Tikka is a mixture of rice, a little water and sugar (the sugar helps it stick) which is used to mark the forehead whilst a prayer is said.   We didn’t stay long at the house, there had been a number of visitors and Sunita’s parents were tired – not surprising really.  Each time food is cooked fresh especially for the visitors and the ceremony is conducted without shortcut.  It was a great opportunity for me to get to know the wider family a little and to get to know the closer family more.  SM and Santos' Mum has claimed me temporarily as her third son.  The honour is mine and despite speaking no English her positive reaction as I joke with her saying 'Namaste Ama' (Hello, Mum) is clear to see as she laughs out loud.  

Neha had raffle tickets to sell for school.  10 rupees per ticket and the top prize is 7,000 rupees.  I bought ten and if we win I have promised to share the jackpot 50/50.  The ‘ticket’ is your name on a list – however many times you have paid for.  I am not sure how the winner is picked but I think each list is numbered and the relevant amount of similarly numbered tickets will be drawn from.  We’ll see.  It was a week before my birthday, so I was feeling lucky.

Family really is a lynch pin for life here.  The younger members fetch and carry, do jobs around the house, feed animals and generally help out in a variety of ways, just as the older members do.  Sometimes this includes the wider family too.  With Atit and Reshav away, Babul is often asked to run to the shop for SM or Sunita and Neha was assisting her Aunt to make the food for a visit for Dusshera from SM’s relatives in Sikkim.  



Santos’ house is just down the hill so a quick shout down and the call is answered.  As with Atit and Reshav there is never any argument or issue with fulfilling the different roles and it does seem that this instils a strong sense of self as well as work ethic in the younger generation.  In addition to this is the knowledge that young people have of their responsibility (when older) to look after their parents.  Families mostly live together anyway – Satish lives with his wife, son and parents in the house his Grandfather owned.  Land here is bought/or granted from/by the government here (needs more research) because it is a protected area due to the quinine rich trees that grow here which are such an important commodity and income for the state of West Bengal.  People may build their house and a small holding.  There is no buying or selling of houses between private parties.  It is different in Kalimpong and Darjeeling, but out here, because of the way property works, people do not really move house and generations have lived in the same property.  As such the community also remains quite static.  It goes a long way to understanding why there is such a closeness between families and villages.  Traditionally, the youngest child will be the one who looks after their parents.  If the two youngest children of two families marry then it will be the man’s parents they look after and another sibling will take care of the woman’s parents at her family home.  Santos lives a 1 minute walk down the hill from SM in the house he and SM lived in as children.  SM and Santos’ Mum (Ama) lives there also.  Babul (Santos’ son) will take care of his parents as they grow older if his sister marries a youngest sibling too.  If children move away because of jobs – Babul would like to work abroad at some stage – then their duty becomes a financial duty to ensure their parents are well looked after.

Anyway, digressing being a forte of mine, let's return to the celebrations!

Santos’ wife, Bobby, had asked me to attend the Dusshera celebrations at her family home at 16^th mile which is between Kashyem and Kalimpong.  Many of the sites along the main road out of Kalimpong are listed as a mileage rather than a name, apparently it is how the British army labelled everything to make it easier.  Bobby is one of four girls as I am one of four boys.  All the sisters were together with their Mum and most of the children too.  I seem to have started a bit of a love affair with family photos.  After our first celebration where I got the family together for a snap (or 30 as it turned out) we have taken family photos wherever we have been.  We have had a lot of laughs trying to get people to say ‘cheese’ to encourage everyone to smile.  Marriage, or rather the absence of it in my case, is a topic for great discussion.  As a man I don’t really escape the questioning although some of the younger, female volunteers get asked more about their single status.  In a community where marriage and family are central, people are very interested as to why myself and others are not married.  It is hard to explain how, in the UK and elsewhere in some parts of the world, being single is as ‘normal’ as being married is here.  The four sisters were laughing and joking, clearly about me and when I asked why, Neha said “It’s because you are 45 and you don’t have a girlfriend.”  Then she said, “but also how young you look and that you could be much younger.”  I asked Neha to say, “It is because I have no girlfriend that I look so young.”  She obliged, and the sisters all fell about laughing.  It is quite something when humour translates – it breaks down barriers and everyone is so much more at ease. 

 (Ama putting tikka on the family - Ama, her four daughters, Santos, Babul, Neha and two cousins)

(and another cousin)

(Bobby on the far left with her three sisters)

(Bobby on the far left with her three sisters and her Ama)

(Lunch is a cooking!)

(Me, Neha, Babul and Bobby)

(Family snap)

(Neha, Santos, Babul, Bobby and a cousin)

(Drinking beer)

 On my way home from 16^th mile, I was dropped at Munsong, which is the village next door to Kashyem.  Satish had invited me to his family home.  Having arrived at the Bobby’s family at 10am and eaten a huge meal at about 1230, I arrived at Satish’s home at about 1.45pm to find lunch waiting for me.  I can not tell you how much food I ate over Dusshera.  All delicious, but still, I remember thinking it was a very good job I had a four day trek coming up to walk off some of the huge number of calories I must have been consuming.  Satish’s family were all very welcoming and his son (who studies in Class 5 at the local government school) has fantastic English.  We took a walk down through the village and up to an old meditation centre that had been run by an English couple, but which was shut down – no one is sure whether it was visa issues or another problem, but the place is now run down and in need a lot of love.  BUT, the place sits on top of a hill, with the most incredible views, that we couldn’t help but feel it was criminal that it hasn’t been developed into something.  It wasn’t long before we were coming up with ideas of how we could make a business from opening some kind of retreat.  You can see from the photos that the spot is idyllic and is so quiet, it would be perfect for a few days of total escapism.  Next project?  Watch this space.

As we walking back to the house, I had my haircut by a local barber.  I was so tall for him I had to keep bending left and right so he could reach.  He used big kitchen scissors that squeaked and a comb.  Somehow, I still managed to almost fall asleep.  He didn’t do a bad job either.  

Before we reached the barbers we passed the cremation site for the dead when someone passes away and is of the Buddhist faith.  A simple concrete platform with four columns is situated just down from the meditation centre with the most incredible views.  Each time there is a cremation the wood is piled up and a platform built.  The body will arrive in a casket.  It will be removed and laid naked on the platform as the fire is lit and the prayers are said.  There is a sheltered area for people to pray and remember the person.  The casket will be burned after the body.  Once the body is cremated, ashes and a small piece of the skull are put into a mud pot.  The mud pot is then thrown into the river.  On some level this ceremony represents the earth (mud pot), water (river), fire (cremation) and air (the smoke and spirit) and, in all honesty, the more I am here, the more I feel a huge respect for this very life embracing, life respecting religion.  

                                         

(Cremation site)

                                         

(View from cremation site - Mt Kanchenjunga is visible on a clearer day)

As we were close to home, Satish uttered the magic word – vodka!  As I have mentioned, drinking is not something that is very frequent, but during festival time people do enjoy a few drinks.  Satish had obviously remembered a conversation a few of us had quite a while ago about favourite drinks and he had bought vodka especially.   

(...and relax!)

 (Meditation rooms - one single room each side of the entrance way)

(Meditation Centre main house - disused and in disrepair)

(View from the Meditation Centre down the valley with the river winding its way between the hills - cloudy I know)

(View across the valley to the hill upon which stands the Meditation Centre)

(Satish and I at dinner)

As with anywhere in the world a few drinks and conversation will tend to wind its way through most subject – religion, education, travel - Satish and his wife have a fascination with London.  I had noticed photos of London on crockery at dinner and later I would even see Tower Bridge on the blanket on my bed.  They have not travelled outside of the India/Nepal region and so it really would be something to be able to get them to London.  For Satish to see how differently things work in the UK, to experience schools back home and to help further his own interest in making lessons more interactive would be just incredible.  Not only that, but also, he would get to visit somewhere he would love to see.  From the first day we met, I have felt a great kinship with Satish.  Both professionally and personally he strives to be the best form of himself and he is a mine of information about the local area, its customs and traditions.  I hope that one day I might be able to host him and his family in our fantastic capital city because, just like me coming here, the differences for him will be immense and I think he and his family would absolutely love the experience.