South India Trip -- day 4

Pondicherry to Tanjore

Today our only agenda was a 200 km drive from Pondicherry to Tanjore, so we stopped a lot en route to check out whatever interested us.

Along the way we saw many people working the fields – mainly rice – along the road. Hard work, lots of bending over and tending to younger plants; in other spots people were harvesting, carrying stalks atop their heads to transport them to machines.

Ramu said people who work the rice fields do so for six months of the year, “relaxing” the other six months.

Over and over he talked about how the village life is relaxing and peaceful, but without opportunity to make money. He grew up in a farming caste, which he said is a middle class occupation. He, his brother and brother-in-law are all drivers, having left their villages for Chennai in hopes of making more money. It sounds like they all rent small houses in the city.

Ramu said the transition was hard, particularly for his wife, as he described city life as less personal and much faster paced – “no one stops to chat.” (And in India, I see groups everywhere gathered, visiting; it’s more rare to see people spending time alone. There must be a very strong bond in these small villages where people are so interdependent, with generations living together or very near to one another, and family/friends going about chores such as bathing, dish washing and water gathering together.)

He also said several times that it’s very difficult to be middle class in India – you must work so hard, yet it’s still not possible to buy real estate. The best occupational pursuit (not exactly a direct translation), he said, is to own your own business.

Back to rice. In fields where there wasn’t a machine to separate the rice from the chaff, people were doing it by hand, beating the stalks against something hard. Again, I must remark on the beauty of the paddies – verdant green young plants, those ready for harvest had hues of sunset in the tops of their stalks.

Regarding the workers, Ramu said Muslims rarely work in the rice fields. He noted that in one village we drove through, where many Muslims live and own large houses, many in that that area had gone to Dubai for a couple of years to earn money, returned and built nice homes.

He also said that marriages between Muslims and Hindus are rare, as too many cultural and religious differences exist between the two groups. Hindu/Christian marriages are more common, he said.

Ramu’s marriage was arranged; he said the matchmaking was difficult for him because of his astrological profile. The 7th girl was the one who made the grade! He was in his late 20’s by then, which is “old,” he said – most people are married in their late teens/early 20’s.

Ramu said most people in Tamil Nadu have arranged marriages. He said that love marriages can be extremely divisive (parents can walk away from their children if they choose an alliance that families don’t agree upon). He also mentioned something about the importance of following the arranged marriage process to help ensure longevity (that of parents’ or bride and groom – or both? Not sure).

Many of our stops were at temples as we travelled; the first one Ava and I tromped off to see (Claire’s not too big on taking shoes off and she’s had her fill of temples). It was called Nataraja Temple in Chidambaram – it was huge, colorful, with several temples and a tank (many temples have the latter given the central role water plays in life and religion for Hindus).

We were both amused by the goats wandering around the temple, eating offerings provided by visitors.

Later we stopped at Gangaikondacholapuran (how’s that for a long word? And I thought German words were lengthy.) Incidentally, puram means village. This village was the capital of the powerful Chola dynasty during the reign of Rajendra I (1012-1044)/ The temple is called Brihadishvara Temple. It features beautiful sculptural friezes (lovely stone carvings).

Others we saw included the Kashivishvanatha Temple and the Adikumbheshvava Temple, both in Kumbakonam, where we stopped after lunch).

We landed at our hotel late in the day and promptly hit the pool, then had Ramu take us to dinner at a local restaurant he described as “cheapest and best.” It was both – a 2-level narrow, non-descript restaurant serving Indian food, no alcohol, lassis, milkshakes or juices (the latter 3 were on the menu but apparently are optional for the restaurant to serve…). No pasta with sauce either, much to Ava’s chagrin.
The place was packed – mostly locals – and waiters scurried around – thankfully the kids liked the fish tikka. I had a fabulous prawn curry. A beautiful Muslim family came in before we left, the dad doted on Claire and Ava.