Sunday evening, January 22, 2006

Following our meeting with the Governor of Pondicherry, we drove south for one last time. We stopped at the village where we had worked all week long, and assessed the progress which had been made from when we first arrived. (There will be a separate entry for this side-trip).

From there, we continued on to Cuddalore and went to the home of Arunachallam and his two sons, Rajan and Umasouthan. We had expected to meet all of them and have them ride with us to a very special dance program, which was sponsored by a dance master, who is currently the president-elect of one of the Rotary Clubs in Cuddalore. She had met us earlier in the week and personally invited us to attend. Her students ranged in age from about six years to sixteen. When we arrived at the home of Arunachallam, we were invited in for tea, but we told the two sons that we did not really have time for tea, if we were going to make the dance program on time. They told us their father had not yet returned home from another function, and we should come in and wait. We entered their yard, just as their father was arriving home, and so I wandered to the porch, where their grandfather, formerly a Brahmin priest, was sitting. He was pleased to see me, and although I speak no Tamil and he no English, we communicated well, and before I left, he took my hands in his and offered a prayer of thanksgiving and one for safe passage back to Delhi and then to home. His great-granddaughter, Ajita, told me he also prayed for my long life, and I thanked him.

Time to get back on our coach, along with the entire family, and head for the Dance program. Well, as usual, that was going to be delayed somewhat, because Arunachallam insisted that we attend (just for a minute or two) a handicrafts show, which was being held right down the street from where the dance program was. Naturally, if you attend a handicraft show, you can not simply poke your head in the door and then walk out, you must show proper respect and walk around, visiting all of the exhibitors' booths, and then go once more around to see if you want to purchase anything from them. I found one or two small items and we proceeded to leave, but had to join the line of patrons leaving, as the exhibitors did not take payment, but rather the person at the exit took all payments, once the items had been brought to them by a runner from the exhibitor's booth. It is really quite an efficient system, employing far more people than following western practices. We finally checked out and then walked back to the coach, which Kumar drove to the location for the dance program. We were concerned that we were very late, and that we would be interrupting the hall during a portion of the dancing, but to our amazement, the program had been held up awaiting our arrival. Another somewhat embarrassing moment...




When we entered the hall, we were greeted with blessings, a sprinkling of holy water from the Ganges River, and then escorted to our seats. We watched as tiny girls in very elaborate costumes were brought onto the stage and placed in what appeared to be giant lotus blossoms. They were each tucked down into a hiding position, to be brought out later on. In the meanwhile, as we sat in the front row, we watched as various chapters in the life of Dancing Shiva were depicted by the different age groups. The first chapter lasted for nearly a half hour, and when we looked at our programs, we noticed there were six chapters to be danced that evening and we were concerned that we would be leaving terribly late from Cuddalore to return to Pondicherry, to pack and prepare to leave very early the following morning. Since Arunachallam was sitting next to me, I turned to him and inquired if there might be a way we could leave very quietly and unobtrusively so we could return to Pondicherry. He told me he would check on it. When I turned to look across the aisle at Mark to bring him an update, I found that one of the youngsters from the village had found a perch on Mark's lap and was enjoying the program from that vantage point in the front row! How wonderful to see the innate trust in a little child, to know that she was safe sitting on the lap of a total stranger, without the least bit of hesitation. We could take a number of lessons from the Indian culture.

Word was passed on from Arunachallam to a young gentleman, who then spoke with the husband of the dance master, who then relayed the request back to the dance master, and then, in turn, word was passed back through the chain of command to Arunachallam, who informed me that we would be leaving quietly through the side exit within the next fifteen minutes. As I looked toward the exit, I was pleased to see the Rotarian from Cuddalore - Central who administers the orphanage, where we had taken the clothes the day before. She whispered to me that most of the children from the orphanage were upstairs in the balcony, enjoying the program, wearing their new clothes! Just as I thought we were ready to leave, the program was brought to a halt, and Arunachallam was invited to the stage. He began to speak, and in three languages - Tamil, Hindi and English. He proceeded to tell everyone (well over five hundred people attending) that he was welcoming us to the stage and introducing us. He told those gathered why we were there and what we had been doing all week in Pannithittu Village, and that through our efforts in the USA and UK, we had been able to raise funds to pay for nearly one-half of the one hundred permanent homes for the fishermen and their families in Pannithittu Village. This brought a round of applause. We were then presented with framed prints of several of the Hindu gods. So much for a quiet and unobtrusive exit, stage left!!!

We descended the steps from the stage, and as we were doing so, we looked to the back of the hall, and up into the balcony, where the children from the orphanage were waving to us, and calling to us to come upstairs to say one last goodbye. We went outside and along the colonnade, and then around to the other side of he building to be admitted to the balcony stairs. We all went upstairs and were greeted by the children, with many hugs and hanging on to our legs. They all had smiles on their faces and it was pretty difficult to simply turn and leave. We took a few photos and then Rajan told the children we had to leave. We said goodbye and told them we would be back again, someday. They knew we would return, but when was the question. I know Mark and I both plan to return to this part of India in future, whether it be with another work party, or just on our own. Plans are already in the works for future projects in other parts of India, but for each of us, I know that a part of our hearts remains with the children in Cuddalore. Farewell...