First Day of Spring

No kidding. In Punjab, it's officially the first day of Spring. According to the Sikh calendar, the second to last month of their year began today, and the new year falls on April 13th, or Vaisakhi day, about which there will be much more to come. Anyway, the day is called Basant, which translates to 'spring', and so for the last few days I've been learning the raag called Basant (which actually has many variations, but also many appearances in Sikh scripture). I was pleased with myself to be able to go to a major gurdwara in town on basant day and recognize that they were playing basant raag, in various forms.

Over the end of last week, I spent a few days in a village called Chugawan, about 30 km from the house I'm staying in Amritsar. Village living is a whole other side of India from city life, as anybody who's been here can attest. It has its disadvantages, namely that westerners are even more of a foreign sight, and the center of attraction. Even when I would go out accompanied by someone, down the narrow alleys of this town (by narrow I mean you could reach both walls if you put your hands out), I felt slightly uncomfortable. It didn't help that the power was frequently cut even at night, blacking out everything but generator-run single lightbulbs, or that the kids of the village who had heard about me being there would come up to the door of the house to stare in at me.

However, the plus sides is the relaxed pace of the families, the sense of being more in touch with community and nature. I say that in an idyllic way - this is a subsistence life, and probably the pastoral charm that I see parallels the hunger that many people here feel to get out of there and go have a nice car in the West, etc - things I take for granted.

We also saw some lovely village gurdwaras by driving through the countryside. That was definitely a high point. The sun was out, the fields were green (wheat, basmati rice) with yellow flowers (mustard leaves which make a delicious treat), I was riding on the back of a motorcycle down roads that were barely roads and trafficked by oxen, wedding parties, and bicycles. This is one historical gurdwara in a little town called Sorhian. My music teacher was telling me that he will serve as the hazuri ragi (hired, in-house musician) here in the fall for a few months.I also put in an appearance at the local school, where my host teaches English. This is the 8th standard class (a little unclear on the comparison to the US system). I was brought in as a ringer, so they could hear the pronunciation of a native English speaker. Especially at schools like this, they primarily are learning grammar for a written test, and there is a very marked accent when they are saying their English lessons - it resembles British pronunciation more (which I tried to correct as much as possible), but with many oddities of the local languages thrown in. As a guest teacher, I correct their lessons, and they all wanted me to sign their workbooks, then I gave an impassioned reading of the day's lesson, a short story called "The Monkey and the Crocodile." (Note: it's not a girls' school, but the girls sat separately from the boys, so the pictures are separate).

A view of a crowded road outside the Baba Deep Singh gurdwara in Amritsar. Baba Deep Singh was a famed warrior at the time of the Gurus and became a famous shaheeda (martyr). Legend goes that he vowed he would fight his way through the occupying Moghuls to liberate the Sikhs sacred tank (at the Golden Temple, literally "Amrit-Sar"). Unfortunately, his head was chopped off during the confrontation. However, when a loyal Sikh nearby reminded him of his vow, he got up, picked up his head, and carried it all the way to the edge of the sacred tank, where he expired.The other tradition on Basant Day is the flying of kites. These are some of my friends who live in adjoining houses. When I arrived home at the end of the day, they were just sitting in the park, and I incited them to act like true Punjabis and fly kites. Fortunately, they were obliging and not offended, and we went up to the roof, to add our kite to the many that were flying all across the city. These boys have also included me in their nightly cricket game (believe it or not, it's actually not as dull a game as I long though, I actually know what an "over" is now, and I seem to have enough athletic ability to hold my own).