A day in the life

At a Hindu ceremony for women with my downstairs neighboors;
Coming up to a train station in Southern Bombay;
Posing with neighboorhood women in blue on Republic Day ( note my patriotic flag!)

Seasons may change

Seasons in Bombay are full of rhythms, tastes, and rituals for its many inhabitants. Many different religious festival seasons overlap, the oil lanterns of the Jews at Chanukah reminders of neighboring Divali lights, the Dandiya dancers rhythmical merrymaking alongside the floats of Durga-Puja coinciding with the overflowing and noisy markets at the breaking of Ramadan fasts.

This week marked the beginning of a new season for the Hindu families in my building, with everyone greeting one another with special sweets made for this time of year, Ladus, or sticky sweet roundshaped teel sesame-seed clusters with assorted pista and badam nuts and other dried fruits found within . It is a season for women, married and unmarried, with simple flower-giving rituals and spiced (hot) milk drinks alongside traditional ceremonial orange and red tikka painting on ones' forehead.

Within the Indian Jewish community, winter here with its relatively cool nights, is the peak of the wedding season. In the last four weeks there have been five weddings and even more engagement ceremonies. Large outdoor fields around town are transformed into cloth covered halls, with elaborate wall hanging and gold covered chairs for the bride and groom, small lights covering the trees and fancy gates at the entrance of the man-made outdoor hall. Fireworks are set off above the heads of the guests as the newly married couple arrive, and the celebrations don't end until well after midnight. The guests at these functions often number in the thousands.

Winter here is also the season of guests and tourists. December brought with it several guests coming in for visits to friends and family. Along with several interesting conversations between myself and those who had grown up in Bombay but had been out of this country for decades, I met youth who had recently made Aliya to Israel. Meeting the aunts and uncles of people I work with here who are also ( now) foreigners in their own land gave me a glimpse into the past life of Bombay. "The Magen David synagogues was once painted a majestic bright yellow", moans an elderly Baghdadi Indian Jew who nows resides in Israel, but remembers precisely where his kindergarden was located in the Byculla neighboorhood. Meeting him, and other Indians who have picked up Hebrew, has given me insights into the trials and tribulations these people face not only when they move abroad, but also when they come back.

Non-Indian Foreign Visitor season was also in full swing at my office this January. Five different delegations from around the States came to visit Bombay and meet with the India Jewish community. Strange and Satisfying to now confidently be able to explain and describe the Jewish community here and also answer questions, both for our guests here in India and also for the Indian kids and youth who are curious about these visitors. I once again see the city with new eyes, traveling around with the delegation from State-side. The city takes on a different look, sparkeling, crowded and exotic on an airconditioned coach bus. How different the city looks from on high, where the dust and heat, the noises and smells, cannot enter. How different the hot winter season in Bombay from the crisp sunshine refelcting over dry powdery snow back home...

Remembrance for a blessing

Early last sunday morning in the East Village in NYC, a 25 year old woman was hit by an allegedly drunk driver and killed instantly. This woman interviewed me and all of my colleagues who are working right now around the world, helped us all get to th eplace where we are right now. She was tremendously helpful, superbly organized, and always would take the time to answer any questions she could and put my worries at ease regarding this position. She went out of her way for each of us.

Even before I met her, she did anything she could for me and for all of the current volunteers. In those months last year during our application process she was always calling to check in, reminding me of forms to send, asking about my life. I remember clearly her huge, bright smile upon our first meeting at the NY office, her way of making me feel so at ease when I was incredible nervous about my interview. She touched the lives of many, zichrona lebrcha.

India/Israel culture shock, part two

Perspectives shift and change throughout my stay abroad. Whereas six months ago I once made a wrong turn on my way home from work, I now navigate the roads of Mahim with confidence. I recognize the pungent morning smell of mothers cooking with dried chiles, tumeric, and ginger over open fires on Tulsi Pipe road. I know how to flow into (and out of!) the mass of people entering and exiting the trains at rush hour, and I smile and shrug with an Indian ' What to do?' when the water runs out in my apartment as I am washing dishes.

I even have picked up a bit of the Indian "yes-no" head wobble in my day to day conversation, and I find myself emphatically using the nasal "Haaa" ( Hindi for Yes) in my responses, even among expats who only speak English.

Stepping off the plane to Israel, I felt my cultural perspective shift once more. Things that were de riguer in any international airport were now suddenly bizarre and exceptionally large, not to mention stunningly beautiful. The new Ben Gurion Airport is dazzling, its walkways so clean that I would eat off of them, so vast that I smiled to myself picturing rows and rows of people sleeping on them as they do in the streets of Bombay... But where were "my" steps directly out of the airplane into the lush Israeli air? I walked halfway out onto the passage between plane and airport, before realizing that the entire airport as I had known it had been revamped, my mini busses taking crabby passengers to the terminal gone, the large outdoor 'Welcome to Israel' sign, the small dark baggage claim... Its funny the things which are personally sentimental.

Also the Tel Aviv traffic, which once seemed considered unbearable and frustrating, seemed seamless. I even witnessed ( sit down, mumbaikars who are reading this) a SILENT traffic jam in Jerusalem where not one person laid a hand on their horn. During the morning rush hour.

Adjustment to Israel, however strange at first, was a snap compared to re-entering life in Bombay. I didn't realize how different it would all seem once more, and how relieving it is to be a virtually anonymous tourist/Israeli in Haifa, all while running into acquaintances and friends in the midrchovs of its cities. My American accent and whiteness no a big deal, no second glances, no conversations I don't understand. In some sense it had been tiring in Bombay, being stared at all the time, the novelty of being interesting and 'other' wearing off quickly and weary in it of itself. Hearing foreign languages in Israel that you do for once understand is liberating, stimulating, as opposed to frustrating and exhausting.

I had a moment of clarity the flight back to Bombay- Israel is central in its importance in my life, and The Untied States of America and Israel are an intrinsic part of my identity- and the people who are closet to me and know me best reside in those countries. A bumper sticker in the gift ship of the hotel summed it up cheekily- " America, don't worry, Israel is right behind you ". I understand and in some sense ' live' this connection between Israel and the States, as do many of my friends who have bridged America and Israel. As I sat in the middle seat between a turbaned Sikh man and Gujarati woman I had recurring thoughts- What precisely am I doing in India? How did India become my place abroad, when for the last ten odd years of my life the longest plane rides were between my two homes of the States and Israel?

While I do feel certainly that I belong and am welcomed in the Mumbai Jewish communities, I at times am unsure of my place and position in Bombay as an American citizen for the next number of months, especially since many of the expatriates I am friends with here are leaving for home in the next few weeks.

Leaving Israel and not knowing when my next passage out of India would be taking place frightened me. My perspective regarding India had shifted once more on this second trip into the Bharaht (India), perhaps because some of the unknown of this country- its chaos and its crowds and its communities-- is now familiar, while the future of my stay, the potential impact of my work here still unclear.

kajrare ( Khol eyeliner)

Met this cute kid and her mother at the Mumbai airport the day I came back home.

India and Israel connections

With Indian friends at the beautiful new airport in Israel



With American/Colombian/Kiwi/South African/Israeli ex-pat pals in Bombay *( one local Indian guy)

Hilla of Lonavla, Jerusalem of blue sky

Two thousand and six came at a small dance party in the hills of Lonavla, just outside Bombay. Went with all the youth who had helped out with the Khai Fest, a weekend treat to ourselves after months of hard work. Our Shabbaton was a low-key weekend of walking around the dusty town of Lonavla, eating way too much chikki (an idnian nut brittle snack) and kulfi ( ice cream made of condensed milk)

Only a few days later I went to Sahar International Airport for the first time since my arrival in July- and now I am here, breathing in the crisp air of Jerusalem's hills. Cold, fresh and exhilirating for me, being here, seeing friends and family. Feeling like I am home.

I am sipping almond Wissotsky tea, having just gotten back from a run in green Gan Sakar. The streets, the stone buildings, the clear blue sky- everything to me clean and beautiful, and I am just simply happy to be here. Best wishes for 2006 everyone!