walking the days away

well, last wednesday i just watched as Dr. Rebecca Paul, older sister of one of my best friends Peter Paul, walked down the aisle with sparkling smile leaving her father's arm to be united for a lifelong journey with Dr. Benjamin Ross, now her husband by way of the ceremony in the school's packed chapel, the presentation of the thirumangalyam (a gold neclace worn constantly by married women), and the reception where the couple sat festooned with colorful flowers on a stage while all the guests consumed biriyani, tandoori chicken, raitha, and a runny reddish sweet sauce with cashews called halwa, while the groom serenaded his bride with a self-written song on guitar

and on saturday and sunday i took a few walks with my family down the beach at Kovalam, a coastal tourist town in the state of Kerala, on the southwestern edge of India, looking out over the stormy monsoon-season Arabian Sea with a vicious riptide running under the powerful breakers, imposing rock promontories between separate stretches of beach, and black sand draping the shore

my mom and i took our own little walk to do a little shopping for postcards, wade in the unpredictable water, and taste the fresh coconut water we were craving in our sweaty dehydrated bodies until the coconut-walla cracked his curved knife across the top of one, stuck in a straw, and walked around while we sucked down the wonderful warmish but refreshing rehydrating liquid

and yesterday i walked up to school to meet a friend for the afternoon, ended up meeting four of my classmates to go out for dinner to a new restaurant in Kodai called Cloud Street, where they advertise as serving Israeli, Mexican, Thai, Indian, and Western food; we talked, listened to the interesting background music they were playing, ate, and laughed, before walking Pavi home, playing with her puppy named Toshi, and the guys walking me home

and this morning i woke up at 6:30 to meet Peter for a walk around the lake and a cup of coffee at Amsa's, that popular little steaming hole-in-the-wall 'hotel' that serves up the sweet milk-made stuff in a small glass cup for four rupees (=10 cents), ladled hot out of a tin vat for its local customers to sip, either standing on the crumbling cement sidewalk or sitting on one of the rickety stools with peeling blue paint in the tiny cubicle out of which the restaurant operates

we pass a lame beggar on the side of the road
mi amigo gently jingles a bit of change into the rag in his lap
with that genuine gesture i almost believe the offering could help
my pockets are empty, but i bow a little in respect to say 'good morning, sir'

Pushpa and i were sent around 10 a.m. to shop for some necessities in the bazaar, walking the cobbled potholed cow-and-motorbike-dominated streets up and down the slopes of our mountain-town to get to the vegetable market, the egg stall, opposite the meat shop with the chickens in cages or hanging stripped from strings tied to the tin roof overhead, and then over to the coop for sugar/flour/butter, to the bakery for some muruku and mixi, and finally on our way back up the budge hill, stopping to buy a bunch of bananas from a makeshift roadside hovel, 'sorry, not today' to the mango sellers hawking their mounded baskets of ripe fruit, and then home

she wrapped artfully in her silky blue sari

me squeezed self-consciously in my fraying blue jeans

she's in her everyday element
i'm thrilled when i hear and understand the word for 'eggs' in Tamil (=muttai)

my dad and i set out about 11 a.m. in search of 30-liter water cans (more like gasoline tank-shape) to take to camp with us tomorrow, asked in a few shops before finding the last 3 of these cans in Kodai, at the M.M Stores, which insists on selling everything "from A to Z and Pin to Plane", and my dad got excited at seeing a big green bin like the ones used for collecting rainwater or recycling plastic, and he bought it, so we tossed the water cans inside, each grabbed a rim-side of the bin, and walked back through the budge and home

my mom and Kara and i then walked to Tava's for lunch later, to eat our delightful pav baji and aloo paratha, then up to Meenakshi store for some mango juice...then home

need a walk
need to work out in my head and heart what i
need to do to love this world,
to love the widow-beggars and weak child-laborers of this country,
to love my weary family,
to love my wonderful friends,
to love the wisdom and works of God more than ever, more than everything

kodaikanal international school

KIS CAMPUS MAP

KodaikanalInternational SchoolChurch

images of india [2 = rendu]

entrance to KIS (back view of chapel bell tower)

KIS chapel (front view)

inside the chapel

the flag green = that elevated, oval-shaped patch of grass on which these girls danced around the flag pole for republic day in january

the fiery-headed kid on the left is the one we said goodbye to the other night...the other two trumpets are my dad and my youngest sister, kara

day's work and night games

Psalm 90:1 "LORD, in all generations, you have been our HOME"

it really is such a rush to see a whole hall full
of massive linen bags and trunks and boxes and piles
of clothes, shoes, clocks, lamps, pillows, sports accessories,
whatever the dorm students leave behind at the end of the year

and start to sort it out,
pick out the pairs of shoes and line them up,
stack clothes on different tables according to some system
of types and genders and sizes
so that in a few days all of the school workers
(the ones who sweep the grounds, who dust the desks, who mop the floors, who fix the generators and pumps and wires and roofs, who cook and serve the food, who drive the buses, who clean the toilets and sinks and showers, who set up the sports equipment, who collect the garbage, who really make the school run smoothly)
will be able to come in and pick up their five free items
before we send the rest to Goodwill and Corsock and other local charities

so. much. stuff.

and then to come back to campus in the evening,
hang around flag green while the group gathers for the night games
ready? set, run around in the dark
trying to make it back to the flag pole before getting caught
strange to be the oldest, but the one least familiar with the game...
means i've been gone too long, but easy enough to settle right in,
especially when we sing in church:

"it only takes a spark to get a fire going,
and soon all those around can warm up in its glowing
that's how it is with God's love, once you've experienced it
you spread his love to everyone, you want to pass it on

what a wondrous time is spring, when all the trees are budding
the birds begin to sing, the flowers start their blooming
that's how it is with God's love, once you experience it
you want to sing, it's fresh like spring, you want to pass it on

i wish for you, my friend, this happiness that i've found
you can depend on him, it matters not where you're bound
i'll shout it from the mountaintop (hey world!) i want my world to know
the Lord of love has come to me, i want to pass it on"

(otherwise known as the Arson Song)

ending the evening with a silly-dance in the middle of Seven Roads,
standing on top of the little dinky traffic island
with whitewashed rocks sticking out of the round cement structure,
illegal water trucks rumbling through the intersection,
a few drunken tourists stumbling to their hotels
and a group of kodai staff kids reluctant to go home at midnight
coz we have to say goodbye to one who is leaving the next morning

just a normal day and night
here
in my temporary home
just another reason to store
treasure in heaven, instead

blip

beep...99.1...beep...100.4...beep...101.6...beep...102.7...beep...
burning-sweating vs. shivering-shaking = frustratingly febrile
downing brufen like lifebreath and getting nowhere
finally visit the dish (the school clinic) to be diagnosed with tonsilitis,
dumped with a packet of meds
of which my nurse-mother advises me to skip most,
just take the antibiotic azithromycin
drink this lime juice, sip this barley-soup broth,
slurp this rice and russum
curl on the couch for a couple days
home is the best place to be sick anyway, don't be sorry
and beep...101.4...beep...99.6...beep...96.1? haha
i'm fine...it was just a blip ;)

graduation gala: their beautiful existence

fresh flowers garland the chapel
pews packed with impatient parents-turned-photographers
processional of the students two-by-two up the aisle
to wed themselves to gratitude for what this school has given them
and to possibilities for their futures out in the human race

"be thou my vision..." to see your beauty in every baccalaureate face

"morning has broken..." on the festivities to farewell them from this place

"and he will raise you up on eagle's wings,
bear you on the breath of dawn,
make you to shine like the sun,
and hold you in the palm of his hand"


benediction and recessional,
round tables dotting the covered courts,
set with the school's fancy creamy-speckled ceramic plates, cups etc,
con candles, foil-wrapped chocolates, slightly doctored bottles of KISAQUA ^_^

the menu: sweet lime water, dragon fish, stir fried vegetables, steamed rice, chicken tikka, mint chutney, dhall makhani, palak paneer, parathas, pappadam, curd, chocolate cake and kulfi, mmm

the speaker for the evening was Paul Wiebe, who was principal of KIS from 1986-2001, but attended it and served in various capacities on staff and board since 1930-something. PhD in sociology, a history buff, sort of a Santa Claus figure in the way of his generous smiles, and rivets the whole crowd with seemingly endless stories of some of the special people who have passed through Kodai School. then later lets my mother and me know in no uncertain terms that we are his family. that is definitely an honor that touches my heart, to be considered 'family' by this wonderful wise old man. i love Dr. Wiebe, and his never-fail saying: "this is my school; this is your school; this is our school together"

yes, we've all been KISed

commencement took place the next morning on the covered courts,
oh weirdness seeing all those little people on the stage,
seeing another valedictorian cry through words of love to her classmates
poitavanga, go and come;
poitavarain, you will see me again

then the semi-circle line-up to shake their hands,
hug the tearful ones, take pictures,
spin around with my sister for a few minutes,
go get milk-tea and mixture and date bars
on plates of banana leaves and newspaper sewn together
stand in the sun, sit on the warm stone wall
say hello, hello, hello, to former teachers and dormparents and ayahs
say goodbye, goodbye, goodbye to the graduates

adios; va y ven; poitavanga, personas bellas

images of india [1=wonu]

arrival in madurai--seeing my dad!

view from above Kodai Lake valley, where my town is nestled

hugging my graduate sister Lisa!