Saturday, October 28, 2006 Farewell to India- for now.
I write this on my last night in India. Seven weeks in India. Seven weeks of what? Of colour, lots of it. Colour as iridescent saris blaze around every street corner. Then the glossy black and yellow of taxis and the glaring orange of festival flowers. The piquant green of tea plantations. The lush green of coconut plantations. The lazy green of cardamom trees. The black of a girl’s oiled hair, the black of men’s moustaches, the pupils of eyes (you staring at them, them staring at you). The chorus of colour as Diwali swings into fare; fireworks painting the sky like a circus. The pink of pickle. The night blue of night trains. The bright light of bright days... I’ve been into temples. I’ve been blessed with blessed water. I’ve been given flowers, sweets, spontaneous hugs. I’ve meditated in Auroville’s matrimandir. I’ve seen a solar powered kitchen and a battery powered car. I’ve met people working to combat child sex abuse, child labour, child trafficking. I’ve met others working to promote rural innovation. I’ve met a women who creates beautiful children’s literature. I’ve met another who helps kick-start social ventures. I’ve met up with old friends from Ireland and met lots of new friends. I’ve seen flowers which bloom once every twelve years. I’ve seen ancient sculpture. I’ve been to a crocodile farm. I’ve touched a python. I’ve seen women stand up for their rights. I’ve danced with former child labourers and heard the stories of their liberation, from their liberators. I’ve given puppet shows, with mixed success. Seven weeks. I know. I can hardly believe how much can be packed in. A lot has happened, and there is still a lot more to come. I am thankful. I am lucky. I am learning. The journey continues. Onwards. Inwards. Outwards. posted by Clare Mulvany at 11:56 AM Dublin, Ireland
I write this on my last night in India. Seven weeks in India. Seven weeks of what? Of colour, lots of it. Colour as iridescent saris blaze around every street corner. Then the glossy black and yellow of taxis and the glaring orange of festival flowers. The piquant green of tea plantations. The lush green of coconut plantations. The lazy green of cardamom trees. The black of a girl’s oiled hair, the black of men’s moustaches, the pupils of eyes (you staring at them, them staring at you). The chorus of colour as Diwali swings into fare; fireworks painting the sky like a circus. The pink of pickle. The night blue of night trains. The bright light of bright days... I’ve been into temples. I’ve been blessed with blessed water. I’ve been given flowers, sweets, spontaneous hugs. I’ve meditated in Auroville’s matrimandir. I’ve seen a solar powered kitchen and a battery powered car. I’ve met people working to combat child sex abuse, child labour, child trafficking. I’ve met others working to promote rural innovation. I’ve met a women who creates beautiful children’s literature. I’ve met another who helps kick-start social ventures. I’ve met up with old friends from Ireland and met lots of new friends. I’ve seen flowers which bloom once every twelve years. I’ve seen ancient sculpture. I’ve been to a crocodile farm. I’ve touched a python. I’ve seen women stand up for their rights. I’ve danced with former child labourers and heard the stories of their liberation, from their liberators. I’ve given puppet shows, with mixed success. Seven weeks. I know. I can hardly believe how much can be packed in. A lot has happened, and there is still a lot more to come. I am thankful. I am lucky. I am learning. The journey continues. Onwards. Inwards. Outwards. posted by Clare Mulvany at 11:56 AM Dublin, Ireland
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