You just never know

I'm pretty sure I could live in the city of Mumbai for ten years, and be surprised every day. You never know when you'll turn the corner, and there will be a gaggle of identically-dressed smiling schoolgirls with knee highs and matching looped braids with red ribbons. Look the other way, and you might see a group of women covered head to toe in black burkas, with only their eyes showing through a slit in the fabric, one carrying a baby boy with black kohl eyeliner. There may be a beggar with long matted hair who is a double amputee rolling through the train station on a board on the ground, asking for change. Turn the corner, and a big brown cow is tied by a rope to a hook in the ground, eating greens and calmly abiding all the passersby who touch her for blessings.

For instance, right now (9:00 am on a Thursday) there is a marching band with a large percussion section playing outside my window. Apparently they only know one song. Ah, India.

Why fight it? Instead, I'm goose stepping around the house in time with the music.

As another example, a few days ago, Karen and I were walking to the "women only" waiting area at the train station, and came upon a group of four hijras (eunuchs in saris and make up) on a bench. Karen and I exchanged wide-eyed looks - she knows how excited I am to see hijras. I've been teaching about them for years.

I asked them if I could take a picture for 10 rupees each (about $.01, but equivalent to a tip in a regular family restaurant). They each blessed me by placing the money on my forehead. (So, I'm pretty much untouchable now that I've been blessed by not one, but four hijras.) We all chatted a bit in a friendly way, but it was clear that one of them was more fluent in English and quite articulate, and had just met the other three, who looked rougher. I thanked them and we boarded the train, following the talkative one, Zoya, into our train car.

Hijras at the train station, Zoya on the right in pink

She worked the car for handouts by approaching passengers and clapping loudly. She got a few donations and blessed each person who gave. When we came to our stop in Bandra, Zoya also got out, and approached us. She wanted us to know that if we were doing "a project," she would be happy to talk to us about her life: what her community was like, how the police harassed and fined them for begging on the trains, how no one would give people from her community a job. She was looking for someone, maybe an NGO, who could provide help.

We found out that she lived with her mother, and had attended Catholic school - certainly not the usual path for a hermaphrodite or transgendered person who joins the hijra community. In some cases, parents may simply leave their TG infant with a "family" of hijras, renouncing their ties to the child. Zoya's acceptance by her mother and schooling was likely why her English was so good and her communication skills so strong. We told her as much, and encouraged her to keep up the fight for her community.

I wish Karen or I would have known an organization who might provide the help she seeks, but Karen says there really isn't one in Mumbai. Other cities are more enlightened; for instance, Karen lived in Chennai (Madras) for years and remembers public bathrooms being built specifically for hijras (stalls would read Men, Women, Transgender). Mumbai is behind the times on this issue. But however much a city might attempt to accommodate them, they still bear the brunt of a lot of discrimination. For Karen and I, it was a truly unique and rather inspiring encounter with someone who is breaking the stereotype.

On a different evening, we were traveling in a taxi, and came across an series of enormous lighted areas, as if four soccer fields in a row had dressed up for a night on the town. There were twinkly lights and stage lights, huge colorful backdrops and flowing fabrics, palm trees, fountains and even Roman statuary. We got closer and realized the signs said things like "Pia Weds Suhas." They were wedding receptions! The wide-eyed look was exchanged once again. Of course, we stopped the taxi and got out to explore. You just never know what you'll run into here.

Wedding banner with the happy couple

The best I can do to describe the four wedding scenes is to have you imagine an enormous lighted area, the size of a fairground, curtained off completely from the surrounding neighborhood with 15 foot draped fabric. Elaborate sets were created for each reception with large constructed pieces at the very front and on a big stage inside. The sets were so big they towered into the air, and each one was designed uniquely. It struck me as very Disney, but with a lavish Indian flair. Some aspects seemed fairly kitchy to us, such as the banner with a photo of one couple in each other's arms, but all of this was done in earnest by the families hosting the reception.

We wandered around, peeking in, and of course, in inimitable Indian style, were encouraged to crash the receptions by multiple people standing at the doorways or coming out of the draped foyer. So we did. We went inside two of the four - we had a cab waiting for us so we couldn't stay long - and my jaw just dropped open. I'm afraid my descriptions won't do them justice, so I'll include some photos so you can see for yourself.

Entryway, Wedding #1 

Entryway, Wedding #2

One of two ladies hired to toss
flower petals on arriving guests,
Wedding #2

Reception for a thousand,
Wedding #2

Wow. Just wow. Wedding #2

I've got to think that the families who threw Wedding #2 were pretty psyched that their sets towered over the other three. Note the closed-circuit screen capturing the reception line like Diamond Vision at the ball game. Looking out across the grounds, you could see several booms for cameras and mics in the distance. There must have been a staff of 200 or more to run the catering, parking the cars, security, making the video, etc. The entire event was on a scale that is hard to imagine for a wedding in the states. Who knows that many people?

You'll notice in the largest picture of Wedding #2 there is a long line on the stage. This is the reception line, and it is basically what the bride and groom do for the entire reception: greet and take photos with each guest. In some traditions, the bride stays in a back room while the groom handles the reception line on his own. This may seem unequal, and it is. On the other hand, I think I would rather not shake hands and take photos for 5 hours straight.

Wonder what will happen today?