In a strange land...

Happy pesach!

I have just returned from celebrating Passover in the deserts of Gujarat. Camels still walk in lines down the dusty streets of Ahmedebad, and the dry climate provided some relief from humid Mumbai.

Yael and I boarded the early morning Spicejet flight, backpacks and suitcases loaded (at the very last minute!) with Matzah, plague puppets, and other fun activities. We arrived, bleary eyed & blinking into the sun only to be whisked around town: from the community's' one synagogue to the Rifle Club where we would be staying to a visit with the ladies who were baking matza and making all the final preparations for the Seder back to the guesthouse and back for the Seder...

The incredible volunteer staff in Gujarat had done their homework and painstakingly copied out parts of the Haggadah by hand to be read by different members of the community during the Seder. The familiar Beit Maxwell's Haggadoth held their place at each table, along with a single Gujrati transliterated sheet of all the Passover songs, and small glasses that would hold the evenings four required cups of pressed raisin juice. The Seder plates included teen ( three) small, round, hand baked matzot; roasted zeroah shankbones symbolizing the Passover sacrifice; eggs symbolizing spring and renewal; Marror bitter lettuce , green carpas, and date spread haroset. Small tins of hand squeezed lemon juice are used here instead of salt water for dipping, and the entire Passover plate is customarily covered, rather than just the matzah.

Thanks to Mr. Pingle, the Chazan, and everyone's hard work, the Seder ran quite smoothly, with parts being read in English, Hebrew, Gujarati and Marahti. The Kids played guessing games with the cardboard cut-out frogs, locusts, and wild beasts ( aka miniature Tigger doll) found the afikomen, and helped in serving the simple rice, veg and non- veg curries. Wine was spilled directly onto the floor during the mention of the ten plagues, rather than just timidly dipped with pinky finger onto the side of the plate, and the cups washed out in water before refilling. The entire Seder was run outside the synagogue in the courtyard, with the nights' cool breeze and candle light adding to the calm environment.

Another American woman, also in attendance at the Seder, remarked that during this season we recall how we once were strangers in a strange land, when our ancestors were living as Jews in Egypt. These words have never rung more true for me as they have this year. In the Jewish community here and in India at large, every practice and custom here is new, each language and accents unfamiliar. I am beyond lucky beyond words to have been so cared for in these varied and new communities, who know how to treat guests and welcome the stranger. I only hope that I can bring back a small taste of this warmth to the world out there beyond this desert...




this year we are slaves- next year may all be free people.