This blog chronicles our trip to India in 2011. For a blog describing our 2013-2014 Fulbright 'Following the Box' project, please see: http://alanteller.wordpress.com.
Bilip picked us up for the ride to Bishnupur. Once we got out of Kolkata, a feat in itself, we saw yet another aspect of Indian life—the countryside. As in the cities, life is lived alongside the road, but here, small knots of shops, homes, people and animals alternate with fields, a visual break that is refreshing. We loved it. It was chaotic, then calm.
Hawkers tried to sell everything imaginable to us at intersections where traffic stalled, which happened often in the denser areas. A man brought his snake up to our our window, asking 10 rupees for the privilege of seeing it.
We had Indian sweets at “Lancha Kuthee—the Name is Enough” which might make sense if we knew Hindi. I took a swig of water from the bottle offered to us. Then Emma reminded me that though the water was in a bottle, it was filled from the tap. Drinking the water in India is not a good idea, even for Indians (Max's neighbor often complained that her children were getting sick because of the water.) Fortunately I was fine, but that sense of uneasiness about the possibility of illness can be paralyzing. Do I dare eat this? Am I at risk when I remove my shoes and walk barefoot in a temple? Is this paranoia or caution?
The countryside is also an area of widespread support for the Communist Party, as well as a Maoist faction. The Party has been in control of West Bengal for many years, but has not done very well in terms of answering the needs of the people. So various other parties are challenging them in upcoming elections. Flags were everywhere. We were stopped in one town by a group of men who ran up to the car demanding contributions for their party (it had a red star on a white field but was not the Communist Party of India.) Bilip talked our way out of it (another reason for hiring a car and driver rather than trying to navigate this type of trip on your own.)
After 5 hours, we made it to the Bishnupur Tourist Lodge, a newly renovated property of the West Bengal Tourism Association, a government agency. It was a wonderful place, with good rooms at about $35/night. After a short rest, Bilip took us to see the terra cotta temples that are the town's claim to fame.
We visited the Rasmancha, Shyamrai, Jorbangla, Lalji, Radhasayam, and MaDurga temples. The Shyamrai temple was achingly close to one of our photos, with its distinctive Bengali roof, but was not the one we were looking for.
At the Jorbangla temple, a harmonium player was singing religious songs for tips, although no one was around but us. A cow mooed loudly from the woods somewhere nearby. Admittedly, we are easily stirred, but this was wonderful, adding an overtone to an already intense experience. We told him what we were doing there, then Jerri went back to the car and got out our book. The locals gathered around and offered their opinions. Meanwhile, kids were playing sandlot cricket in front of the Lalji temple, that dates from the middle ages. A young engineering student, Abir Banerjee literally jumped over a fence to talk with us. He said “I'm so excited!” We exchanged email addresses.
Then Bilip took us to a sari workshop, down the street from our hotel. Old Jacquard looms were crammed into a tiny room where men were working quickly, weaving beautiful cloths. The click-clack sound of the looms filled the room; yellowed punchcards controlling the patterns. It takes a week to make one sari. We took off our shoes and went into the showroom, where we ended up buying several shawls, all of which had been made right here. Emma had not come with us on our excursion, but when we got back to the hotel and told her about the sari factory, she wanted to see it. So we walked back and had a second chance to see old technology and artistry at work.
Bilip picked us up for the ride to Bishnupur. Once we got out of Kolkata, a feat in itself, we saw yet another aspect of Indian life—the countryside. As in the cities, life is lived alongside the road, but here, small knots of shops, homes, people and animals alternate with fields, a visual break that is refreshing. We loved it. It was chaotic, then calm.
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| On the side of the road between Kolkata and Bishnupur (JZ) |
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| Snakes! (JZ) |
Hawkers tried to sell everything imaginable to us at intersections where traffic stalled, which happened often in the denser areas. A man brought his snake up to our our window, asking 10 rupees for the privilege of seeing it.
We had Indian sweets at “Lancha Kuthee—the Name is Enough” which might make sense if we knew Hindi. I took a swig of water from the bottle offered to us. Then Emma reminded me that though the water was in a bottle, it was filled from the tap. Drinking the water in India is not a good idea, even for Indians (Max's neighbor often complained that her children were getting sick because of the water.) Fortunately I was fine, but that sense of uneasiness about the possibility of illness can be paralyzing. Do I dare eat this? Am I at risk when I remove my shoes and walk barefoot in a temple? Is this paranoia or caution?
 |
| Lancha Kuthee sweets shop (JZ) |
The countryside is also an area of widespread support for the Communist Party, as well as a Maoist faction. The Party has been in control of West Bengal for many years, but has not done very well in terms of answering the needs of the people. So various other parties are challenging them in upcoming elections. Flags were everywhere. We were stopped in one town by a group of men who ran up to the car demanding contributions for their party (it had a red star on a white field but was not the Communist Party of India.) Bilip talked our way out of it (another reason for hiring a car and driver rather than trying to navigate this type of trip on your own.)
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| Coomunist Party flags, W. Bengal (JZ) |
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| Che, West Bengal (AT) |
After 5 hours, we made it to the Bishnupur Tourist Lodge, a newly renovated property of the West Bengal Tourism Association, a government agency. It was a wonderful place, with good rooms at about $35/night. After a short rest, Bilip took us to see the terra cotta temples that are the town's claim to fame.
 |
| Rasmancha Temple, Bishnupur (AT) |
We visited the Rasmancha, Shyamrai, Jorbangla, Lalji, Radhasayam, and MaDurga temples. The Shyamrai temple was achingly close to one of our photos, with its distinctive Bengali roof, but was not the one we were looking for.
At the Jorbangla temple, a harmonium player was singing religious songs for tips, although no one was around but us. A cow mooed loudly from the woods somewhere nearby. Admittedly, we are easily stirred, but this was wonderful, adding an overtone to an already intense experience. We told him what we were doing there, then Jerri went back to the car and got out our book. The locals gathered around and offered their opinions. Meanwhile, kids were playing sandlot cricket in front of the Lalji temple, that dates from the middle ages. A young engineering student, Abir Banerjee literally jumped over a fence to talk with us. He said “I'm so excited!” We exchanged email addresses.
 |
| Harmonium Player, Shyamrai Temple, Bishnupur (AT) |
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| Jerri showing 1945 photos (JZ) |
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| Cricket at Lalji Temple, Bishnupur (AT) |
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| Abir Banerjee, my new facebook friend (AT) |
Then Bilip took us to a sari workshop, down the street from our hotel. Old Jacquard looms were crammed into a tiny room where men were working quickly, weaving beautiful cloths. The click-clack sound of the looms filled the room; yellowed punchcards controlling the patterns. It takes a week to make one sari. We took off our shoes and went into the showroom, where we ended up buying several shawls, all of which had been made right here. Emma had not come with us on our excursion, but when we got back to the hotel and told her about the sari factory, she wanted to see it. So we walked back and had a second chance to see old technology and artistry at work.
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| At Sari factory, Bishnupur (AT) |
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