CSR Annual Day

Very awaited by me for a number of reasons – the occasion has come. One the 28th of April Centre for Social Research, India where I work held its Annual Event. But the release of the Annual Report (which for me was already good enough) CSR was releasing its Manual for Police Trainers, such a colorful and playful book devoted to the serious issues of domestic violence and trafficking in women. You can get acquainted with the content of the event and the major points that the guests of honor touched upon here, but for some backstage material carry on with the reading ;o)

The last month I’ve been working so hard on the CSR’s annual report. On the contrary to the opinions of many, an annual report for an NGO has not much to do with various financial reconciliations and forms even though it includes basic financial information. Yet, an NGO’s annual report is mainly to document the major projects, accomplishments and initiatives of the year. So, my task (was about to write – the trick… believe me, it was one) was to get information from our 3 departments, to edit it and put into the format so to give it to the publisher who’s add some final touch and would nicely pack this baby. Needless to say, the report, while being quite important for the organization as such, appeared to be the lowest priority for the people working in it. And as many things like that (much wanted by the bosses, but attended least by the employees) it was on my sake to compile it. Think of it: on the sake of me – me being non-Indian, most junior in every sense and therefore having no authority or credit for it whatsoever, yet energetic and determined to accomplish stuff. So……I ended up with extracting information from whatever sources available and at times not available at all, writing most of the chapters myself, working out the format, upgrading the template, proof-reading after a number of proof-readers just to still find weird abstracts not making sense (that is what happens when 3 people, one after another, think they can make the text look better), working in PageMaker and CorelDraw to make the report look neat and the cover page appear nice… Many times I found myself in the desperate situation waiting for some information to come… as it is essentially people who possess the latter… unless documented it does not exist on its own… But I am happy I gave a life to this information in a way: now it does not belong to anyone and anyone can access it freely by going through the annual report.

Anyway….. the night before the Annual Event we got the first copies of the annual report - freshly printed and still warm…. Just to figure out two worst spelling mistakes on the last page (after every change made I requested the upgraded copy from the publisher to confirm…. But the last one made on phone… I would never think that “Amount spent on various sectors” would appear as “Amount spend on various sector”) and ugly dark-orange stripes on the whole cover (the color appeared very uneven with some vertical clots)….. The publisher got his “bahut, bahut acha”….Which he, very patiently making whatever and however many small changes captious me requested to make … But for me the “bahut, bahut acha” never came….

Anyway….. the report was released. … check it out here, the event was a success and the pictures turned out nice ;o)



Yep… me… me… again in my sari…



Again tons of surprised smiles and compliments… The funny thing was that at the tea break Pooja, the major contributor to the Manual, was approached by one lady who was praising her in the great work… la-la..la…. And you look beautiful in your sari, she added…. My dear Poodja, thank you so much for commenting on that this is our trainee with a number of impressive backgrounds etc. Otherwise I would feel ultimately….. beautiful… I believe the lady wished nothing but to appear nice… I hope so at least….

My two new colleagues: Piyali and Rindhu. We are already having fun…



Kavita, Pooja and me. They both used to work for CSR with Gender Training Institute. Ladies, I miss you both…



Women with flowers are beautiful



Our whole team

People leaving...

In mid April she told me, “My friends back home expected me to come back in early April. It’s already 18th and I still haven’t told them I am coming later”. I got to know she is leaving on the 26th just 1,5 weeks before. Some of our friends got to know about 26th just some days in advance. She did not want to leave however well she knew she had to. She did not confirm the date for the return ticket until a week before she left….

Even her leaving did not feel like leaving at all…. People are just hanging out in Lajpat Nagar house as if for some other occasion or without any at all. Me and Roel were making pancakes (hoped Dutch-Russian fusion did not happen: after preliminary discussion of the recipe we figured out there are serious discrepancies in the way each of us views pancake-making process, so we decided to do it both ways, but separately – that’s what I love Western mentality for – freedom of ). . and releasing it one by one… served with banana, yogurt and chocolate sauce…. Anya tried to finish her packing – there are always those items either so unimportant or on the contrary so significant that it’s difficult to decide on their destiny… Anya was chatting with people, receiving calls, packing, having some bear – i.e. being herself the way she is…

Linda, who was leaving the same day showed up in an “India” T-shirt, jeans, high boots, alaska and sun-glasses and all of a sudden I recognized a trendy North-European girl she basically is…. Somehow here you really get used to see girls wearing bangles, sandals, long ear-rings, colorful skirts and ethnic tops…. And not any more…



Anya put on everything she could: alladine pants, Tibetan skirt, Indian kurta, 6-7 bracelets she had, couple of heavy necklaces… Her look only reinforced the phantasmagorian notion of the gathering…



Joking with ease, giving away hugs, promises to meet and invitations to visit Russia she was saying bye in her own way. did not feel sad at all as I was going to the airport with the girls, so the moment of departing seemed postponed. Once we loaded into Kanak’s car (best guy ever, decided to drop girls to the airport), Anya breathed out and pitifully said, “I don’t wanna leave”.. Holding hands, chatting and just keeping silent we did not notice how soon we reached… Even in the airport I did not get the feeling of the girls leaving for real…. Neither now I can be sure they did…..



However… all the way to the airport my thinking was revolving around one idea – I’m gonna be so miserable once my turn to leave comes… I am truly enjoying here… despite… Yep, despite 40 C by day, despite major water problems, despite sticky men at the streets, despite the unscrupulous rickshaw-drivers and fruit-vendors… But this is not only that… I am freaking out when I think of leaving because frankly speaking I do not have a place to be heading to.. Yet… To put it this way….. In 4 days it’s gonna be 4 months I’ve been here…

Happy birthday, dear!

I could clearly remember 25th of April was the day for Vishnu to sit the final exam for his course.

I eagerly came to Aalaedine Bday party on the 25 of April: he decided to celebrate it before Anya and Linda leave even though his actual bday on the 27th.

I was definitely aware that Anya is having a farewell dinner with her Hindi teacher on the 25th of April, and that Karoline and Daniela, my flatmates, are reaching Goa on the same date.

All this important and at times junk type of information I store in my short-term memory. I do.

But I failed to keep in mind that a year ago, on the 25th of April, at Sina’s kitchen in Hatleberg in a purely German company at midnight I was hugging Klaus after a long time and wishing him happy birthday.

One year later…no Hatleberg kitchen, no German people around, no cake by Christoph, no two Mermaid girls, no tender hugs. But me still loving you, dear! Wishing this important year in your life be abundant in great happening and great people, beautifully lived and truly enjoyed.

South-Indian dinner

Last weekend Rahul, Juan-Mi and me went for a dinner. To a south-Indian restaurant at my request…. And this was first time in my life (here in India too) when I got this kind of treatment. Usually at places like that (quite a decent place restaurant it was) you are very respectfully received. Hello, mam and bows and this and that…… This time the division of roles was as follows: Rahul was a considerate host, constantly requesting for stuff to be arranged for the dear guests (water, food, tissues, extra food). Juan-Mi was a hungry guest, male one… Me was… beautiful (I remember once Polina told me how Klaus was assessing roles of the group members in the project management class ((NHH): you are this and you are this…and Polina is beautiful…. However well I know Klaus with his double tricks this was a nice way to say, “your presence does not make any difference dear…”). So that is how I felt that night – beautiful. The waiter would first serve Rahul, then Juan-Mi and then – me. The story repeated with menues, water (refill I did not get at all), and water for washing hands…. Amazing Rahul was passing the stuff he got to me, so I did not feel completely awful… But otherwise I was frustrated to be treated like next to nothing. Even the food which was quiet good did not give me this fulfilment I usually get.

Actually, it seems there is a whole huge difference in the way a foreign girl treated when out with other foreigners or when with Indian guys. In the first case you are most likely God as Delhi Tourist Board proclaims. In the latter – most likely a girl with relaxed moral principles. He would be the man to talk to, you’d be non-existent because woman and because foreign=fallen one. I notice this extra-wondering looks whenever I am out with any of my male Indian friends. I notice the way people look at those western girlfriends of Indian guys – she’s been easy for him, she is in general - oh, God, please, save me from those!!!

Life is improving

Tap water, internet connection, active social life, good mood and physical well-being - all has come back at once. Welcome dear things, I was missing you the whole last week.

Mind the people

Ieronically this post comes right after the "Do not mind the place". ;o)

My Sunday started at 6-40 when my mobile sang its cheerful tune and I heard hilarious voice of Thomas, a German guy from Lajpat Nagar, “Olga, what are you doing?”…Completely taken aback by this seemingly simply question, I replied not without uncertainty in my voice, “Sleeping…” Thomas was hardly discouraged thought, “Olga, we are at India gate”. Still half-conscious I could make out though that the farewell party for Linda was too good and people cannot help carrying on with the fun they are having. Anyway the call was actually from Anya: she was asking to postpone our meet up tomorrow as they would probably love to sleep a bit. Ha!

I could not make it to the party that night, but I was planning on breakfast with Lajpat Nagar people anyway. Being in an obvious advantage, I got up reasonably early and.. in the anticipation of great summer day I headed to Lajpat. Bought mangoes (25 Rs/kg), melon (20 Rs), watermelon (10 Rs) and banana (10 Rs) for the fruit salad – wanted to treat my hang-over suffering friends to something healthy, refreshing and nice.

Arrived around noon when they all were still sleeping, so I started meditating on my fruits. Soon one by one they were waking up and crawling out of their rooms – soo sweet to observe after-party, still sleepy people roaming around with no energy left unless it comes to food or drinks that they grab in desperation. The cleaning lady and her mom came and we involved into some chatting with them. Despite they speak Hindi, we speak English and some Hindi words it still might be fun – making jokes and easy going chatting on both parts come easily. The real communication problem starts once you try to educate the cleaning lady – then she would not get a word, obviosuly. Otherwise, if you let her be and chat with her about cleaning-unrelated issues the complete understanding would be there.

Once all the inhabitants of Lajpat Nagar are awake, we open all the windows and the marble-decorated ground-floor apartment gets filled with the morning freshness. Even no fans needed so far – luxury completely unthinkable for the upper floor flat at Malvia Nagar.

Anya is getting ready for the brunch at Imperial hotel and we all advise her on the proper outfit.



Roel is studying matrimonials in The Sunday Times hoping to grasp cast relations and regional peculiarities.



Oliver is watching rally on TV (they have arranged for a TV-card for the lat-top, those lucky guys)…


Later on we all are breakfasting….



Happy and carefree after-breakfast us, Linda and me, left for Pahar Ganj as the girl wanted to get a pair of Aladdin pants (not sure this is the name, but I heard it once at least) – exactly the ones I got in Dharamshala and the ones that all the girls are complimenting me on ;o).



Pahar Ganj, is an area nearby New Delhi Railway Station. In the market there, as Sinthya told me once, you can find everything they would sell elsewhere in India. Proved to be true: for example, Tibetan dresses can be fount here at a price 1/3 less then in Dharamshala, small textile bags sold at ½ of the price. Mmm… What is the point of shopping at the tourist destinations for the “authentic” stuff which appears to find so easily in Delhi only ;o) And Pahar Ganj is such a hub with the stores-warehouses like this one we walked in…..



The pants were desperately sought – I had a par on me, so it was very easy to explain what we want to the shopmen. Too easy at times, though: at one shop I stretched my pants a bit and pointing at them told the guy, “Pants”. He looked and said, “Very good”. So embarrassed I was….

As soon as Anya joined us and 3 pairs of the mentioned pants were obtained (oh, if only those alone …) we headed to Sarojini. At the latter within 10 minutes (including bargaining) me and Anya got about 10 pieces of clothes altogether. Later on she got 10 pairs of ear-rings for presents and I played a role of greedy elder sister – the target was met: we’ve managed to bargain down to a very nice price. But at the end of the day all this bargaining at both markets and with rickshawmen really got me – after this eternal fight or rather the necessity to pursue it I get furious and then…

Anyway with 200 Rs left in my wallet I joined 9 people from Lajpat Nagar for dinner at a marvellous Chinese restaurant - good company and good food appeared to be the pillars I could start building my good mood on…However much I was grieving for us not going to Sagar Retna, a very popular South-Indian restaurant, Aka-Saka (at Defence Colony, also) appeared to be a great choice too.



We got full-fledged service and even a group discount which anyway we did not enjoy (you know this “anti-synergy” law? if everyone pays his or her own dish the money collected is always less than the sum in the bill. VAT and service fee considered……) But still – we were exchanging and passing around yummiest dishes, chatting endlessly and simply relaxing after such a hectic day.

Do not mind the place

Yes, it might be my shity mood that really takes over right night... but also I’ve been going through my pictures and to my great astonishment realized that I haven’t posted really important ones.

It does not feel like bursting into extensive narrating either, so just pictures and some brief comments.

Here we go: to find out how the other part lives in India you do not even have to go in a slum area. Just stop by an AIESEC trainee house in Vinoba Puri, Lajpat Nagar.

There are two types of bathrooms in India: Western style and Indian style. The picture shows a prominent example of the latter even though it does not show the major attribute that helps to draw the distinction.



Souvenirs brought from the numerous weekend trips and books purchased by bulks as unspeakably cheap by Western terms make up for a large exciting chaos.



A couple of mattresses in the living room substitute sofas and give shelter for drunken guests or excited visiting friends staying overnight. Can be easily transformed into cinema seats.



Have never been to a Russian dormitory – look here. Even thought strictly speaking it is not - the look and the spirit are the perfectly identical.



There are three bedrooms in the apartment with one of them being not really a room. It has just walls – three of them… and no doors. It is a massive curtain that demarcates the room somehow. Absence of furniture there is compensated by the presence of a huge bed that serves as a sleeping, eating, chilling out and storage place. When me and Sinthya stayed in the curtain room it looked like this.





The girl has moved out and new people, not less cool ones, have come. But I felt like moving out shortly after…. The second day I could precisely list everything my new flatmates had in their suitcases as the room was richly garnished with their contents…



This is kitchen which looks the same should you enter at any point of time….







Unless you enter right after the cleaning lady has gone – so you can get shock of you life by noticing how spacious the kitchen could be when not littery…. In those precious moments you want to stay for good… if you could only…

Kashmiri wedding

It’s thanks to Klaus that I got to know one Kashmri family in Delhi and I met them in February At... This is how I got an invitation to the Utpal’s niece wedding that was to take place in mid April. With my hectic life and what is more – poor self-discipline I did not manage to meet Utpal’s family before that. But, at least, I made it to the wedding.

I just got a nice salwar-kameez from Vishnu’s mother (my first proper one), but I opted for sari. It appeared however, that I completely forgot how to wrap it and I had to take help from a neighbouring lady (so amazed she was to see me with kinda wrapped sari at her door). Yet, I managed to break the heal of the newly bought shoes when climbing our steep and dark staircase. Went to the shop – they gave me a new pair… of a smaller size though.. But shoes are so gorgeous (quite an exception for that ugly range they’ve got at Malvia Nagar) that I can even forgive a little bit hanging heel… Anyways, my sari look was a highlight of the night ;o) So humble I am ;o) But this was a topic of the discussions with women I got to speak with that night – oh you look great, how you managed to put it on…



When I got introduced to Priyanka, the bride, the first thing she told me was “oh, you are so beautiful”. On men’s part … one cousin brother of Utpal told me that when I entered he though I was an Indian girl (Kashmere girls have rather fair complexion). Utpal told me at the end of the night that people did not comment on that to me, but discussed a lot with each other – yep, me, gorgeous me… Long live sari and this princess-like look it gives ;o)

The wedding was carried out according to Kashemiri Hindu traditions. Yet, it was a Delhi, therefore, - a somewhat reduced version of it (dynamics of big city prescribes…): it took only two days, functions were conducted in the evenings, guests’ outfits were not as flashy as they might be in smaller cities. Still the timing in the invitation appeared very tentative: the concept of IST (Indian Stretchable Time) rules in the capital too.

I got to meet Utpal’s family. Brothers, sisters, daughters, sons – I got meaningfully speak to many of those that night. Again, everyone wonders if I like the country, whether I am enjoying the wedding, whether I had food etc – amazing features of Indian hospitality.

Not at least, I got to meat two Danish ladies, mother Ole and daughter Kristina, friends of Utpal’s brother. Prominently tall, blond and very nicely dressed they certainly captured attention of the public.



It takes some hours for the guests to come and here it starts. The groom (barat) arrives along with all the guests and relatives from his side.



Drams play, cameras are ready and the bride’s side welcomes the groom and his family with marigold garlands.



The groom takes a seat on a podium at the reception area. After a while the bride’s sisters and cousins walk her to the groom and she takes a seat nearby.



They just seat (later in they exchange marigold garlands), pose for pictures with relatives coming up in various combinations and quantities.


The job of a guest is a less difficult one than that of the couple – walk around, stare, get to meet both families, gossip and discuss, help yourself with snacks and fruits, take pictures with the couple, have dinner not forgetting the desert and leave. So did many people before the midnight. I stayed for the religious ceremony too – that one was attended only by some family members.

In course of the ceremony the eldest person in the family “passes” the bride to the groom. It could have been bride’s father, but he’s got an elder brother. In Hindu traditions elders are always prioritised and given respect, therefore the elder uncle passing the bride to the groom. He’s been on fast for some time before the wedding.



The bride and the groom still wear heavy garlands and once the ceremony starts an old lady interferes and angrily protests. As far as I made out she was insisting on relieving the burden for the couple - she wanted to remove the garlands. After a minor discussion the priest agreed…

The settings are as follows: the couple, the priest, his helper and bride’s maids are participating.



Priest is chanting mantras, his helper is taking care of all the routines to be carried out. Both the bride and the groom are obediently following the rituals. The bride maids are holding an umbrella and a shawl above the couple so that to symbolically protect them.




Hazelnut, sandal tree powder, herbs, dahi (yoghurt), gee (refined butter) – both sponsored by MotherDairy ;o) and marigold petals are the major auspicious attributes of the ceremony.



At some point the groom is given a mirror and suggested to look into it. As Utpal explained to me later it symbolizes that before taking important decisions one should have a look into himself to see where he is. Later on the real fire on stones is started and the room gets filed with smoke. The couple is supposed to go around the fire several times. Fire is present as a witness. Obviously, there are humans witnessing the ceremony, but it is fire that is eternal. It is in front of fire that bride and groom promise to stay together for good, to take care of each other and to share joy and misery.



The religious ceremony is the one that is considered binding: once it’s carried out the couple is married. To my astonishment, I got to know that it’s very uncommon for people to register their marriages in India. This couple will just because they are leaving for residence in the US soon after the marriage, so their marital status has to be officially confirmed. One uncle of the bride told me he went to register his marriage 15 years later after the marriage happened (again, for immigration purposes). The officials asked him to bring the person who married them as a witness. There was no way to do that, so he brought his wedding pictures to show and it worked. And what do you think now – is it for fun they spent hours for taking pictures at weddings?..



I asked how then Census figures out number of families in the country: they go from door to door and ask, was the answer. Interestingly enough, whenever they go from door to door and ask in Russia, they invariably figure out that there are more married women than married men…

I do not really want to overload the description of this beautiful wedding with my heavy elaborations about arranged marriages, and I will not - later, later. But just some opinions I got to hear. The Danish lady I met was taken aback when she got to know that the bride and the groom just met 10 times before getting married and that this girl had to make it work with the guy her parents selected for her. Later on I got to hear Indian perspective on the arranged marriages. According to the latter, those two touchingly in love cannot really decide for themselves whether they can marry. Yet, parents are cool-hearted ones, therefore they can select a party for their child – there should be a match (nationality, religion, cast, level of educational etc) to ensure a good family. And they say that in 90+% cases this marriages work out. Due to the initially right choice of visionary parents or due to the immense tolerance of women or due to the outstanding value attached to the institute of family when the latter comes above all the personal aspirations…. I don’t know…. And lucky I am - I do not have to.

Indian salsa

Salsa exists in India… not only exists but also flourishes in some instances… Linda and me joined a friend of mine who used to take classes and his friend who’s been into dancing and teaching for 5-6 years. The guys brought us to a salsa night at Tapas, bar at Vasant Continental. The latter is obviously 5-star hotel and I still cannot get why you have to get so posh to dance salsa… and in general…. The very concept of going to 5-star hotel just to hang out at a nice bar or a disco appears weird to me… However… 2500 Rs people paid to enter the party… No need to mention how nice and worthwhile to have friends ;o)

At the entrance I am taken aback by the looks of Indian girls in the queue – high heals, bare shoulders, short dresses with flowing draperies. Some couples already rehearsing in the lobby. Once inside we join the crowd of observers (losers ;o(). There are about 20 couple dancing and wow… many of them are really good. If fact, one was so astonishingly good that everyone stopped dancing and stood in the circle watching them. I guess, it must be a divine feeling to be so good at something so that to make people watch you in admiration…

My dancing experience that night comprised of 3 different parts. First I was dancing with the guy who’s been teaching and dancing for ages. I begged for some steps (all my salsa experience has been limited to pure observing by far), he smiled and said, “Enjoy the music”. I tried to the limit of my capacity. But I still believe that to enjoy the music you need some confidence and the latter comes once you master at least a few steps….

I remember this discussion with Abishek, Vishnu’s brother, an amazing dancer himself. We were dancing at the wedding and later I told him I was so impressed. He said he never specially learnt dancing… neither many other people did. He said it takes observing, trying… and just enjoying the process without thinking how nice you look and what people around might think. Golden rule, it seems…

Second, I was dancing with Piush who had even less clue about salsa then I did, but we enjoyed so much.. There were just two of us and we were improvising to our hearts’ content – each on our own, but generously giving feedback to each other… Free-style Latina it was…

Third, I was dancing with my beloved room-mate Juan-Mi for whom dancing is as natural as sleeping or eating. It was that first time we danced reggae-tone when I got the idea hot easy it is to follow him as he really leads… So, I just followed… Well, not at least, I believe we’ve already managed to develop some sort of confidence with each other so it helped a lot… It felt just so natural dancing with him… he asked where I’ve learnt… was really nice to see nicely surprised eyes of Kanak, Award for the Best Observer at the Salsa Night…. Not a rocket science after all this salsa is – some confidence in the partner, inner freedom and…. enjoying the music…

Married couple

I think I’ve missed that part before in this journal, but now our flat is fully packed with residents. Yes, we are six. Instead of the Polish girl which we were about to cordially welcome in the flat we got a guy… And guess which one….. Yep, this Columbian wonder-child…Oh, how seriously I freaked out when I got know that our female oasis in the terrain of this male-related hassles got invaded. And what kind of invasion it was – a bed next to mine got taken!!...... I’ve been knowing Juan-Mi for 3 months (he arrived one week later then me), but from a superficial hanging-out-now-and-then side. As we all are quite busy and self-sufficient, during his first days in our flat I was left wondering about my new room-mate (or bed-mate, how he calls himself as our beds used to make up one big until very recently when we put them aside).

The thing about Juan-Mi is that everyone loves him. For his never-ending energy, for his seriousness immanent in each and every act he would put up and yet for his overall unseriousness. This one has his own agenda whatsoever and he would respect yours… But I still wondered what kind of room-mate we’ll turn with this guy spreading reggae-tone philosophy at the numerous parties of Delhi trainees.

Now… few weeks passed I am so ashamed of my reservations and those short-cut conclusions I jumped in so soon…

More and more we appear to co-exist similar to an old married-couple with very tender and sweet relations. Before going to bed and after waking up we hug and cheek-kiss… In those mornings when I’ve got some minutes I’d seat on his bed and him, still sleepy and lazy, would be hugging my heap and carelessly chatting. We see each other brushing teeth, removing contact lenses, roaming around wrapped in towel…. We enjoy our before-going-to-bed murmuring…When we meet at friends’ houses people would be taken aback by observing us hugging for 5 minutes so glad we’ll be to see each other. More easy-going and way more rewarding with any girl. It is with Juan-Mi I can realize my huge needs in physical intimacy (oh, get me right): just like with my smaller sister I can pour out on him my endless hugs and little kisses on the cheeks, neck and shoulders. And all that would be reciprocated. The other day he said we are like brother and sister …

Good Friday…. Lazy day-off for me.. I woke up at 6-30 and could not sleep any longer.. So, I went ahead with various domestic chores: grocery shopping, cleaning, laundry…. He was sleeping long… There was still no sun on our side and it felt just right - pleasantly warm. He woke up, I seat on his bad - hugging and talking. He got up and put on Bob Marley – the perfect match for the morning mood… I was hanging the clothes I just washed at the warm, not yet sunny balcony and he was narrating about some months he once got to spend in a tropical island…. And Bob Marley is on and the tropical forests, natural life, coconut milk in abundance and no people around…. Later he put on instrumental music from Colombian tribes, got his musical instrument (comprising of two rows of pipes of varying length) and started playing perfectly following the tune…. I was looking at him ultimately astonished.. How happy a person who is able to fully express his aspirations, experience, interests and character in simple acts must be…

Greetings from Dharamshala

At the opera festival on the first day at Dharamshala me and Anya got approached by a Tibetan monk who saw me with a camera and wondered if I had taken any pictures of the performance. Why? – I got a bit stressed… Well, he just wanted to ask me to send some to him. We talked a bit. Tenzin is Tibetan, lives and teaches in New York. We exchanged contact details, agreed to have dinner together tomorrow and departed.

Some half and hour later me and Anya were checking out a stall with some accessories: she put on a ring that she could not remove…. we both tried hard…. until we saw our new acquaintance passing by. he asked what happened, we explained the matter, he said let me see…. and he carefully managed to remove the ring… Bye-bye, again……

Later on that night we were looking for the return tickets in the ultimate desperation. We divided into groups and were shuttling back and forth along the tiny town of McLeodganj. At some point we met Tenzin again. He asked what our desperation was about, we explained the matter. He promised to come to the hotel the day after to get in touch with those of us who would not go for trekking…. Next day Kanak sorted all the tickets, but unfortunately we did not get to meet Tenzin again. Neither the day after that me and Anya stayed there we came across with him at the streets of McLeodganj.

In the morning of April, 11 when I woke up at 9-30 am (time I should be at the office) I got a call from someone saying that he would be flying to New York tomorrow night and wants to meet up before. I did not make out much of the conversation so sleepy and stressed I was.. and I thought it must be one friend of mine calling…. Later on this day Anya told me that our Tibetan friend had come to Delhi and wants to meet. Clarified….

So, we met over a dinner at a South-Indian Restaurant. Tenzin who became a monk when 10 y.o. is Tibetan. Having status of refugee he travels around the word with a wallet bursting because of various currencies and ID cards of various sort collected in it and his refugee passport flashing with various long-term visas… He looks a bit alert (with filtered water he immediately replaces with just bought bottled one, with white sugar in to put in chai with the carried on tiny packs of brown one)… Alert or just conscious? He says that according to Buddhism it’s vital to keep your mind clear… Ultimate consciousness. He smiles a lot as he assures as he has been always happy since he became a monk as he never hates. So we talk about love without attachment (=physical aspirations), about compassion (as a core concept of Buddhism), about helping people about karma (as your deeds in this life determining your next lives to come), about releasing from any material temptations (again, as a core concept of Buddhism, the way Buddha showed ) in the sense of not being overtaken by them. We ask, he explains, he teases us, we joke, we opposes, he proves…

He was pouring out presents on us: Tibetan calendar with lunar phases, picture of Dalai-Lama, some books on Tibet, and……. Dhamma text in Tibetan language; all the contact details of Tenzin, some interesting web-sites on Tibet and Buddhism. Moreover, we got a bag of dried apricots from him mother, some packages of snacks and bottles of mineral water.

Fixed 2-week trip with him to his monastery in the South of India in January. Wonders....

Bday

I have never had such a happening Bday as this 24th one. Happening in may instances, I should say. After a splendid evening with a friend on the eve I started receiving one call and sms after another. The most dear people were calling right after the midnight to bring up their congratulations first. A bit later than midnight I came home– still on phone – and my flatmates already sleeping by that time – woke up to great me with the Bday song.

Next morning Juan-Mi woke up earlier than me (who wakes up first in the house) to get groceries for his special breakfast. Last night he announced that tomorrow is a special day for him as his room-mate is having Bday.



So he, with the help from the girls, made an amazing North-American style breakfast in honor of the occasion. Even more significant it was as first time all 6 of us got together for a meal. During the breakfast my aunt and grandma called.

Then I shopped for masses of fruits so that to arrange small celebration at work. When reached the office, on my desk I found a bouquet with a note from my intermediate boss. Fruit chat, ice-cream and sweets made up our gathering with the colleagues later on.



And… calls and sms throughout the day… Including a call from Karoline, my flatmate who mysteriously wondered when I’d reach home.. Needless to say, when I actually got home they did not let me in just like that… after a couple of minutes of exhausting waiting I got in… to see our warm and nicely lit living room with Bday decorations, music on and the cake served. Later on I got to know that Daniela and Karoline spent their day off (the one they had to work so hard for) cleaning the flat and buying stuff for it. Juam-Mi repaired the speakers for the tonight’s party. With some gin-coke and great chocolate cake we toasted for my Bday.

Right after ….me rushing for the grocery shopping… It’s not half an hour before the cooking I realized what exactly I’ll be cooking for 20+ people. Light vegetarian version of borsh (Russian beet-root soup), cold cucumber soup, potatoes and vegetable ragout did the job. Hours of cooking and pure improvisation – juggling the ingredients, scarce pots, coming guests and the mobile phone…. Once again with realization how happy I am to live with girls and enjoy all this help…



Masses of people started showing up (luckily… and hei this was the plan…. beginning from one hour later when appointed… and throughout the night) with the greetings, congratulations, best wishes, hugs, smiles and presents…







Running around, serving food, having a word with each and everyone… this is me… who considers the very thought of a chilled out Bday as a sacrilege ……

Dharamshala trip: Way back

We are getting into the bus just to figure out that our seats are the two last ones nearby the door at the back. The first hour people are just jumping in at every bus-stop and no one gets out… The bus is getting more and more social and we are somehow thinking about our smarter friends who opted for deluxe… But then… what the fuck…. Once you get into the government bus you are to live it… I hear a small boy behind us singing…

Jhalak dikhla jaa…
Jhalak dikhla jaa…
Jhalak dikhla jaa…
Ek baar aaja aaja aaja aaja aa ja

And I start singing along

Ek baar aaja aaja aaja aaja aa ja
Ek baar aaja aaja aaja aaja aa ja

And here it pick up so far… Realized quite quickly that Russian ones would be more like our domain… Do u remember that one? she asked and started singing.. for more than an hour we were introducing people in the bus to folk, soviet, modern rock and pop-songs of our motherland...

One short stop… Road-side dhaba: amazingly speedy service that McDonalds should be benchmarking….

This was the first time I was sleeping while seating… without any chance to stretch my legs… half of the way an old lady who obviously did not get a ticket with the seat was sitting in the passage between two rows… yep, on the one hand she was really preventing me from falling from my seat as if providing for the missing handle on the seat… but on the other had I was even more squeezed without any chance to take a reasonable comfortable position….

Getting into the congested smoggy and way-too-sunny Delhi did not seem real, but inevitably came

Dharamshala trip: Day with Anya

Was so amazing just to spend one day together… without really rushing for anything and being stressed with endless group decision-making… This is not that we did not quarrel with her…. Oh my God, I was about to kill this girl when thanks to her being nice and smiling to the people at the reception of the hotel we could not get rid of one of them visiting our room….. And I hate this…. sticky men, ok?!… So conflicts are there, but how does it matter if we can hug each other and no words would be needed to say how much we appreciate each other and how essential we became for each other within such a short span of time.





We are taking out time to have breakfast in a nice Tibetan eatery, make the necessary calls to let people know we are staying one day longer, walk to the waterfall so that to stay there for a while and climb it down, go to the temple again to study its premises properly,





do some shopping eventually….. It’s pleasantly warm, but sun hides now and them – so perfect weather to enjoy before getting back to Delhi.

Somehow was unpleasantly impressed with shopping in McLeodganj. My Footprints says “It is pleasantly relaxed to shop here. You are usually quoted a fair price from the start by the Tibetans” … Quite different impression we got… First, the prices are quoted as usual in India:
- Kitna?
- 800…
- us leaving
- how much u want, how much, mam?

It is what u call fair quoting from the beginning? Moreover, they are really reluctant to bargain there… Anyway got amazingly cool pants for 170 (instead of 250, he looked at me as if I was the bitchest customer ever, but gave the pants… those people do not sell at loss, right? so let them save their physiological aikido for those “first-time-in-India” ). Anya got the Tibetan long skirt for 200 (no bargaining) and hand knitted Tibetan cardigan (350 instead of 450) – very sweet authentic pieces….. Decided to copy my pants and her skirt at a tailor in Delhi….

People in the shops easily identified us as Russians…. In fact, the Dalai Lama is not allowed in Russia, therefore Buddhists with Russian residence (and newly converted ones) are heading to Dharamshala…. Russian speech u can just hear on the streets…