udaipur... our adventure continues

udaipur... known world over for it's lake palace (which was featured in a 007 movie) and abundant wealth and rajasthani wealth, and considered the most romantic city of all of india. well, the extent of what we saw in udaipur was mossie's house, the hospital, and the train station. actually nisarga never saw the train station, i went with one of mossie's sons.

originally we were not goin to stay with her, i figured if we are stuck here for a few days lets stay near the lake palace so at least we have a good view. but the reality was that nisarga was still very dependent for basic things and he wanted the reassurance of being close to others. i agreed. he had no idea what udaipur is known for, it didn't matter. and boy did we ever get "help".

Now we were in the city. Running water, toilet, shower, even a washing machine. Mossie and her husband moved into the boys room and the brothers moved in together in one room. The one thing about Mossie is that she likes to feed people. I was already feeling a bit whale-ish since i had not been doing much activity and eating heavy food in Rajpura. But boy does she pile it on! Breakfast, which i usually don’t have anyway, then tea and biscuits, then lunch, then tea and pakoras, then dinner and tea. What??? No way!!! That was my answer and i wasn’t going to be guilt tripped into it. Nisarga on the other hand ate ate and ate some more! He realized later he was numbing his feelings with food, but in the meantime he sure was enjoying Mossie’s cooking. Her sons told us that it’s great when guests come and stay because the quality and quantity of the food increases. Bless them!

He had a CATscan done, fancy!!! It revealed two fractures in fact, one on each side of the ankle. The original, white, cast was removed with a pizza slicer that made Nisarga quite anxious. We were both surprised to see how swollen his foot was and how bruised. And his psoriasis was totally inflamed. A hi-tech cast was put on... using water to seal it. A blue one made of fibreglass which was lighter and water resistant. The doctor said he had to spend the night if he wanted his insurance to cover it, which was bullshit probably but Nisarga accepted. A skin doctor prescribed some ointments for the psoriasis and he was taken upstairs to his room, the best category available. I went back with the hired car and Mossy to pick up a few things for the night. The way it works in India is that it is assumed, and expected, that an attendant, usually a member of the family, stays with the patient at all times. Likewise it is assumed and expected that the family bring over food for the patient. At the public hospitals food is indeed crap and you even have to bring your own bedding! But this was a super fancy private hospital. We assured Mossie she did not have to bring any food over and that we would be ok. Hell, if this was the only way we were going to get some privacy then i would gladly stay at the hospital with him.

the doctor said that in order for his insurance to cover it we'd have to spend the night... which in all probability was not true. but we accepted as it would give us a night alone after a whole week. well... so we thought. every 30 minutes someone kept showing up, to clean, to check on him, to do this or that. so much for our romantic get away in the hospital! we watched movies on the laptop and laughed at the situation. Mossie and Mohit showed up with dinner, of course. And then later the father and the other son also showed up to check on us. So much for a peaceful and restful night at the hospital... never mind romance or playing patient and nurse!

as a side note, every time a nurse or doctor came they spoke directly to me, not him... because i was the attendant. it was hillarious! I realized they were not serving him Indian food and assumed it was again that they thought a foreigner would not like it. We complained and after a couple of phone calls and a visit by a kitchen staff, he was served Indian food; which was much tastier and 10 times the quantity of the “western” option.

so with a new fancy shmancy cast on and walkin sticks, the only thing left was to send the bike to our final destination, goa, and get ourselves there. the bike could go ahead, on the train. oddly enough that was the cheapest and most reliable way to do it. wow. had it packed as cargo and had to fall back on trust (uuugggg). i convinced nisarga to go to bombay for a layover so to speak instead of straight to goa on the train. since i have to manage this transition i know i can get us from a to b to c on the bus. but the train and train stations... not one-legged friendly! so off we go on the overnight sleeper bus to bombay!

so that was our 4 day adventure in udaipur. we are grateful for the home and family care provided to us by mossie, and we hope to return when we can actually see the city!

moving on...

Anita, being the all rounded saviour that she is, suggested we move to Udaipur when we were ready. Dr. Yamuna had stressed that it is important that the second cast, which is put on a week after the first giving the leg time to heal a bit and for the swelling to stabilize, be placed by a proper orthopaedic not a general doctor in a village hospital. We agreed. So did Anita.

At this point Nisarga said “I wish i had health insurance!”. I looked at him and said “you do!”. That’s right! He had health insurance!!! He forgot. When he was in Poland over the summer he paid for 6 months coverage and it was still valid. He started to call Poland and see what was covered. We found out that from that point on the only medical bills which would be covered would be at doctors and hospitals of their choice, and transportation to and from. Not lodging? Well... if he agreed to go back to Poland they would pay for lodging while he was seen by a doctor, and his flight back with whatever special requirements he had to keep the leg elevated. That way doctors from Poland could attend to him back home. But if he did not agree to go back, not even lodging was covered. Does that make any economic sense to you??? Not us either!!!

No problem says Anita! My mosie (aunt from the mother’s side) lives in Udaipur, go stay with her. We needed to get him walking sticks (crutches for the americans reading this) and i was very ready for some privacy, so either way we needed to go to Udaipur soon and we always had a backup plan if we needed a place to stay.

The boys and i went to hire a car, one that Nisarga could fit in with his leg across the seat... a van of course. Anita talked to her mosie and she said that yes we could stay there for as long as we wanted! And, as luck would have it, she owns a photo studio where we could develop the pictures we had taken (hundreds) on the spot, and give them to the Kumars. Perfect! And she has two sons so if need anything, they are at our disposal. Wow!

The night before we left the women gathered around and put mahendi on my feet and hands. There was a special dinner cooked which was super tasty! The next morning papa angel put on his turban, set it well, and then placed it on nisarga’s head. There was so much pride in that moment. Then the mom went and got her dress up wear and put it on me, along with some jewellery. And so began a beautiful photo shoot with the whole family as if it was our wedding actually. The night before the wedding the woman gets mahendi, just like i did, and then there we were... in the celebration afterwards with all the family pictures being taken. There were blessings given and even the monkeys came out to the road to wave good bye. Papa angel had tears in his eyes. And wouldn’t you know it? We drove past those Jain temples we had wanted to come to this village to see. We didn’t stop, as there was no way for Nisarga without crutches to be able to go inside, but we hope to be back to visit our host family and those temples one day.

thank you for everything

We spent 4 nights in Rajpura with the Kumar family. Before going to work or school the biggest of the males helped Nisarga hop outside to the charpai there, and after dinner they helped him hop inside. The first few times i watched them do this i was so touched and filled with gratitude that i started to cry. Jackie, the cutest little doggy who also suffers from leg problems (she doesn’t have enough calcium in her bones so they bend) kept Nisarga company outside on the hay stack to his right. Most meals were cooked to his left. We were given a pan so that he could pee and poo in it and i carried and dumped it out on the field instead of him having to hop over there each time and try to balance.

At first we ordered our food but by the second day we realized we were spending way too much money and of course someone would have to go out and get it because there was no delivery, so we might as well give the money to the family and save them the hassle of getting our food from outside. Plus, the first time we ordered enough for everyone but they all refused to share and ate what the mom made so we had to throw away a whole bunch. No point. And that shady mechanic who took forever to replace the burst tire gave us a shitty one because the next day the boys went to pick up the food and the tire burst again. They took the bike to the guy and chewed his head off. (My gut tells me our flat tire was due to the mechanic placing pins on the road just before getting to his, but then again i have trust issues) We felt awful they had to go through that, but were grateful this was discovered in time and close by instead of on the road a ways away. But we couldn’t communicate our request regarding food.

So enters our other angel friend, whom you have already met, Anita. She is the one we stay with in Delhi and whose mother’s basement i have stored all my crap in (indefinitely). Yes, a total life saver. I explained the situation and after the initial shock and all, she became our translator!!! Up until then we were mute basically but now we had some exchange! And i had forgotten she’s from Rajasthan (kind of) so that went over very well with the Kumars of course. “Anita please note, we are married, since a year, this is our honeymoon” I prepped her. “Yes of course you are” she replied. I mean come on. We are in a village town in bumfuck, no need to scandalize ourselves or our kind rescuers. She explains on the phone to them that we would love home cooked food, nothing special, whatever they eat we eat. They explained to her that they were worried we would not like their food and that we wanted something else. Great! Sorted!!! And it was good... although very heavy and rich for my taste. Anita insisted we pay for the ingredients they insisted on not taking a rupee; papa angel said to her that thankfully they have enough to feed two more mouths.

We got a 50 litre water jug so that we didn’t run any risk with the well water. Papa angel (Sri Durga Shanker Mobarsha) tied a rope to the roof of the shed under which Nisarga lay every day so that he could keep his foot elevated. It worked magic and relieved Nisarga of lots of pain, adjusting to the cast was no easy feat for the leg. He did the same in the room where we slept because nights were tough for Nisarga with the pain and the awkwardness of the cast.

I started to take pictures of things that were going on beyond Nisarga’s view so that i could show him, keeping him connected. Soon they started to ask me to take pictures of them, the family and extended family. I was super glad to.

Then they decided to take me out for some fresh air. Didi (sister), Bhai (brother), one of their cousins and i went walking to the dam, where fish are caught and sent off ... to where??? To a cave cum shrine up on a hill. Past the German lady’s house who is a camel doctor and has been living there for ages. By the huge cactus. By the well and some smaller temples. Past all the ladies carrying water on their heads. Past the ladies carrying knives out looking to collect wood to burn.

By the next day word had spread that foreigners were at the Kumar’s and some extended family came for a visit, as did Parveen’s father probably wondering if this entire story could possibly be true or if his son was telling tall tales. The village panchayat (council) secretary also came! The first person around to speak English, somewhat. He asked if we were alright, if we were being treated well, if we needed anything, where we were from. The basics but wow, it was a big thing for him to come by to check on us!

At night one of the cousins would sincerely try to teach us Hindi. We failed him miserably. Suresh got a hold of Nisarga’s IPod and rocked his head off. We had a spa afternoon. We played with the baby. We got rackis (special bracelets) from the temple and didi put one on me and one on Nisarga and this culturally made us brother and sister with them.

There was even an excursion to a main temple. Parveen drove with me in the back, and Suresh drove the Honda with his cousin on the back. We stopped to feed the monkeys along the way. To turn the well, and then we hiked up the never ending set of stairs to the temple. It was a beautiful ride. And as we were resting there along the steps who turns up? Papa angel and the younger brother!!! It was a family mini-yatra! (pilgrimage) They sang devotional songs as they approached the main shrine and prayed. I started to cry, out of pure gratitude for all the love and kindness and protection this family had given us. They thought i was worried about Nisarga and i was praying for him. I was actually praying for them.

No matter how i tried to explain, they could not understand that i might be crying out of joy, gratitude, or just sheer overflow of emotions rather than sadness. When they would see me cry, which was almost every day no matter what i did to fight back the tears, they would worry and tell me everything was ok. I believe that in some way they felt they had failed us in something or done something wrong, that we weren’t comfortable or something negative reflected on them. This of course was not the case. But this aspect of living with an Indian family was quite difficult given that there was no privacy. We could not show our true emotions. We had to smile and be happy, or feel guilty if didn’t because they couldn’t understand (linguistically but maybe even culturally) that it was not because of them. And this started to eat us up inside, like a corrosion that slowly spread.

On our last night there Nisarga had hit rock bottom. He had been pretty down for most of our time there but that day was particularly bad. It was understandable. He wanted to have some time and space to himself and he didn’t want dinner. They were making a Rajasthan specialty however. He said he wasn’t feeling well and asked to be helped inside and the brothers helped him. Then everyone moved to that room to keep him company, they blared the TV and chatted away. After he couldn’t take it anymore he hoped himself outside and everyone went out there and sat around him. He said he needed the bathroom in hopes of just getting a few minutes alone in the shitting field. He started to cry, helpless and frustrated. They were very concerned as to why this man was crying, up until then only i had been crying, and as to why his wife (me) was not with him. I was trying to lead by example but it wasn’t working. Since Nisarga had said he wasn’t feeling well, they said they would call a doctor to come to the house. It was time to call Anita! I tried to explain the near crisis situation we were in, and that Nisarga desperately needed some breathing space. Till this day i don’t know what she said to them but within a minute of hanging up they all dispersed and left him alone. Way to go Anita! That volcano almost burst.

It was a huge learning and sharing experience for all of us. I don’t know that i have ever received such kindness from strangers ever before in my life. They even offered to give us some money in case we needed it before we went! The father works nights at the water or electricity plant, as a guard maybe. The oldest brother sells stuff (like henna and cookies and other stuff). The youngest brother is in school. Suresh works with Parveen sometimes on electrical stuff. And they offered us money to get by; they thought my tears in part were due to lack of money. Can you imagine? I tried throughout those 4 days to keep myself open and to expand in my capacity to receive. Just receive love and kindness. To be taken care of. To be helpless, lost, to not understand, and to receive. It was such a huge gift! It was amazing.

lessons in making a turban...

papa angel took great pride in preparing his turban ... so that nisarga could wear it on the last morning of our stay in rajpura. he looked dashing in it, took such great care to form it and puff it and mold it just right. it was such a loving moment...

lessons in home made ghee...

we woke up one morning to this weird shwishing sound. and what do you know... our sister was making ghee. nisarga was intrigued completely with this thing called ghee. so i photodocumented the process so he could see it, instead of hoping on one foot for the entire time. afterwards, the ghee was used for cooking, for making sweets, and even for hair oil! nisarga loves this stuff!!!

at the spa...

in rajpura! so i figured if we are "stuck" here... as in we literarly can't go anywhere else for a few days, and we are the novelty... lets go full force with this. didi and bhai asked me what to do regarding their zits so i figured... a psuedo spa experience was needed. we scrubbed our faces with the well water and apricot scrub i had. we applied a fruit peel off mask (and bhai's attempt at getting it off was rather painful), followed by a mud mask and finally some zit cream for the infected areas and face lotion for the other areas. we had a ball!!! all by the hay stacks.

lessons in carrying water

... i failed miserably!!! my neck felt like it was going to just buckle under all that weight and that the pots would go flying in all directions. this is definitely an art.

our guardian angels live in rajpura

Nisarga decided last night to forgo the adventure on a camel in the desert, reasoning that the starting point was just too far to get to and come back from. The decision was his largely because he has to drive the bike, and because it is not such a strong desire of mine to do this. So there we were, back on our original route. We could go all the way to Udaipur all at one go, or we could stop about 100kms away and visit some beautiful Jain temples (according to the guide book). We decide we’ll cut the trip in half and stop at the temples. No sense being totally worn out from the drive. We set off bright and early, stopping for breakfast at our favourite little street stall, which specializes in Israeli food on the go. This picture was taken while we were waiting for our falafels. My big concern for the day is... we need to find a TV with cable tonight so i can watch the inauguration of President Obama without having to check into a 5 star (not that there will be one in this village area where the temples are).

Once we set off i entered unchartered territory. I had gone to pushkar by land (including by enfield) from delhi before, but not beyond. After driving for a few hours on the beautiful NH8 we realize we have to take the village road, and the signs indicate that it’s still another 45kms to go. That may not sound like a lot, but in India that means it would take us another 1.5 hours to reach, minimum. At this point we have the option of staying on the highway and going to Udaipur, the city. But we decide to stick to the plan and take the village road. Eventually we stop for Nisarga to pee, and i take this picture.

About a half an hour later the bike feels like it’s going out of control. Nisarga doesn’t say anything except “oh fuck”. I assume we’ve lost the brakes somehow. As is my automatic mode in such situations, i don’t panic and go into “everything’s ok” mode. Nisarga is trying desperately to keep this heavy bike, the two of us, and our luggage up right. The bar handles are swinging right and left, and all i can do is say “it’s ok... we’re ok...”, and brace myself to crash stop. It’s a pebbled village road and luckily there isn’t any cliff on either side or traffic or other people around. We crash to the left and skid a bit. I push myself out from under the bike fearing that my legs will get crushed or that it will blow up (mind you, i know nothing about bikes or accidents, only what i’ve see in movies). I look over at Nisarga and he is moaning and groaning. Still in my automatic “everything is ok” mode, i approach to help him. I thought he was just traumatized from the fall, but he’s actually in pain. He doesn’t want me to move his leg or lift his pant to see because he’s afraid it’s broken and there are bones sticking out and blood everywhere. I try to calm him down.

Not more than a minute has passed since the bike and us fell over and two young guys almost crash stop their bike in order to stop and help us. These two guys were on a honda and we had been passing each other on the village road for about half an hour. They were starring at us and we were both quite annoyed by this attention. They throw their bags on the group and come to help me move Nisarga. Nisarga is by now in a lot of physical pain, afraid of what might have happened to him, anxious over the crash, and overwhelmed by the whole situation. The guys help me take off his layers of jackets and i give him water. I convince him to let me look at his leg, while he looks away. No blood, no bones sticking out, but an ankle swollen like an elephant’s trunk above his boots.

At that very moment, Nisarga’s mother calls. Less than 5 minutes since the crash and she calls. I tell him who it is, we laugh a bit, i pass him the phone, he gets off quickly and says nothing about what happened. However, she manages to say to him that she hasn’t been able to sleep for several nights worrying about him, is he ok. Although her stressing out and worrying about him annoys and pisses off Nisarga (he isn’t a father yet!), he is the first to admit they have an amazing energetic connection... like an energetic umbilical cord is still connecting them. Since we’ve been together, on several occasions when he has been emotionally down, sick, or been thinking or talking about his mother with me, she calls! She knows!!! And there she was, on the phone a couple of minutes after the crash saying how she had been worried about him and had a feeling something was wrong. Amazing!!!

Anyway, the boys don’t speak English and I am trying to manage with what Hindi I know. An empty jeep pulls up. The boys pick up the bike. The source of our problem... a blown rear tire. Amazingly enough there is no damage to the bike or our luggage (including this laptop). The leg guard in the front and the steel luggage racks on the sides saved our legs and luggage. Nisarga is in a daze. We are in a dilemma now. I don’t drive and he can’t drive. He needs to go to the hospital and we need to get the bike repaired and have our stuff somewhere safe. I urge him to take advantage of the fact that we have these two guys here, since i can’t get him up on my own, and an empty jeep. As it turns out, the hospital is less then 5kms away, and the mechanic less than 2kms away (this still seems suspicious to me! Based on Anita’s advice from before). One of the guys thankfully knows how to drive an enfield, so we get all our luggage off and put it in the jeep and he drives the enfield slowly to the mechanic. The other guy drives their bike. And Nisarga and I go into the jeep. We wait forever at the mechanic for the tire to be replaced. We finally decide we can’t wait any longer, Nisarga needs to see a doctor. We remove his boot and his ankle is completely swollen and bruised and looks like it’s going to burst at the seams. Against all my inner fears and lack of trust, we leave the bike with the guy who can drive it, Parveen, at the mechanic and ask him to meet us at the hospital when it’s fixed. The guy who can drive their honda, Suresh, leads the jeep to the hospital.

We reach quickly and again, against all my internal fears and lack of trust, we leave our stuff in the jeep (including this laptop, hard drives, ipods, cash, passports, etc..) and Suresh leads us to find a doctor. It’s more of a clinic with an open courtyard in the middle, but in this village it’s a hospital and we are grateful it is there. At this point it occurs to me that there is no way i can really understand what is going to be suggested or said, i just don’t have that vocabulary in hindi, but i do know the medical system in india and i know that many times treatment is prescribed which is not necessary (that’s the case in most of the world actually, including the US big time). So i call my friend and ex-coworker Yamuna in Tamil Nadu, she’s a paediatrician, but she’s a doctor and i trust her. She says that he needs to get an xray as soon as possible and meet with a doctor. Nisarga is petrified that they will have to operate, put in some screws or something. What do you know? This little clinic cum hospital has a digital scan! (I sure hope it’s not for sex selective abortions to get rid of those female foetuses!!!) I call Yamuna again and pass her to the lab technician and he explains to her in Hindi and she then tells me that there is a fracture in the ankle, but its clean and simple so nothing more than a cast is needed, and that it will take 6-12 weeks to heal.

My world stops. What??? Up until then i was on automatic “everything is ok” mode but this shocked me back into reality. Everything was not ok. Nisarga has a fractured ankle, we are stuck in a village in the middle of nowhere, no one speaks English, i can’t drive the bike and we have a shit load of crap with us. Ok, calm down Antigoni, one thing at a time. I go to Nisarga to explain what is going on. I assure him no operation is necessary and that he will be ok but that he needs time to heal. He is relieved that it’s not major, but the news regarding time also hits him with quite a shock. Suresh urges me to carry on. We have to go to the pharmacy next door and buy the material for his cast (there is always a set of supplies for one in the Indian public hospitals but the patient needs to replenish the stock, that’s how it works). We do that. In the mean time Nisarga gets his cast put on, a “plaster of paris” kind (the white heavy duty kind). A bunch of meds are prescribed. I call Yamuna again, run them by her and see what they are for and if they are necessary. Anti-inflamatory, calcium, pain killers and a shot for tetanus (I think). We don’t go for the antibiotics since there was no major cut or wound. Back to the pharmacy with Suresh leading, buying the meds and the syringe for his shot. I return to Nisarga, who now has one leg in cast, and reassure him he needs this shot and all these meds as confirmed by Dr. Yamuna and that it’s a fresh syringe so no worries (this is a major problem in India). He hates shots, has even passed out while blood was taken from his arm, but this is the last stretch and he agrees.

In the meantime i have my first, and very much needed, little break down. I go by the side of the hospital and i start crying behind the jeep with our stuff. I’m scared, i’m lost, i’m overwhelmed, i’m sad, i’m not in control. I can’t hold back the tears. I just start bawling!!! Suresh and Parveen, who has returned with the fixed enfield, see me and, as is the custom all over the world, tell me it’s ok, not to cry, to be strong, everything will be ok. Yes, everything will be ok, probably, but i need to cry. I’m overflowing and i need to cry! Nope, not acceptable. Ok. I wipe my tears, wash my face with some water and return to Nisarga.

So now what??? Fuck! Now what??? Suresh asks me if we want to go to a hotel or if we want to go back to his family’s house. I don’t know what to do. I know an Indian family home means no privacy and lots of cultural niceties, on the other hand i don’t think i can handle taking care of Nisarga on my own right now. And there are no crutches to be bought here. Nisarga and I agree, we will go to Suresh’s home. He calls his father and tells him we are on the way. Parveen drives the enfield, Suresh the honda, and we head over to our new home.

By now several hours have passed and i realise suresh and parveen never left our side. Two complete strangers crossing paths with two other complete strangers, without a common language, without anything to gain... they never left our side! Whatever work they had that afternoon, whatever family commitments they had, whatever plans they made, all was sacrificed for these two strangers who were in desperate need of help. We arrived to our new home to be greeted by Suresh’s parents, sister and brother, his 1 year old niece and a couple of cows, lots of hay, a well and an empty field. This was like a scene out of a movie. Actually no, i’ve never seen this scene, i just felt like we were in a movie. I mean, this was not my life, this was not in the plans, how the hell did we end up at this point? My automatic was clearly wearing off and i was going into shock. The boys helped Nisarga hop over to a charpoy, the typical Indian “bed”, and the family slowly crowded around to meet us and observe us. Still, no common language or culture.

This was like one of the many village houses we whisked past while we were driving. Now we were invited to come in and stay a bit. Wow! I could not believe this. This village family in the middle of rajasthan took us in, just like that. I wondered what would have been my mother’s response if one day i showed up with a couple of strangers who just had an accident, with whom we couldn’t communicate. I mean they opened up their homes, their lives, their hearts to us simply because we needed it. Now i REALLY needed to cry! there was no toilet or out house (that’s what the field was for) and no running water... but we were welcome.

That night i watched the inauguration of President Obama on a small black and white TV set they have. I didn’t understand a word, but i watched with so much excitement. What do you know? Nisarga had managed to ensure i got to see it after all!

I went to sleep on the charpai next to him, grateful that we were alive and to be among these angels.


http://picasaweb.google.com/nisargaanddeepa/RajpuraRajasthan?feat=directlink