Transition Town Louth

Letters from India

Anisha Ayappa

Nisha was central to the first year of Transition Town Louth but is now in India, from where she continues to inspire us with her regular messages, reproduced below, newest at the top.

08/09/2009

Millions of beggars legs hanging arms missing waiting grey fizzing days as millions step over their beaten bodies
Millions of husbands
Millions of wives
Leading a million kaleidoscopes of lives
Millions on the train
General class higher caste
Ladies 2B and lower fuck off
Millions of games of Join The Dots
To Keep millions (of people/gods) happy
Millions repeating the same words a million times
Trying to make 1 rupee from a million people
But as the sun rises over a million rooves
I feel a million smiles from dancing childen under a broken water spout x

So here are some thoughts from my last week. As discussed with a heavily drunk (though strangely lucid) Swiss chap in Goa ( tax free beer amongst other things..) we realised that, in Mumbai for example, its not necessarily an issue of eco-choices, its that the gridlocked streets are accompanied by sheer volumes of people capsizing buses and overflowing from trains. There are just so many. And the exponential curve has not dropped in years.

In the past week we wound our way from the Southern tip up to Goa, ambling through beaches, dripping green hill stations. Mathematical tea plantations (and 6 wild elephants +baby!) heaving markets, melon and feni filled conversations on a moonlit beach and now Taking in the Andalucia of the South – Panjim. The Portguese still breathe through the names, the latin matriarchs that march the streets wielding their produce in coastal tongue, and the rather whimsical catholic cathedrals (Jesus soaring through the neon air on a purple star…..it is Goa after all). Seeing the women freely walk the streets dressed in 60s suits and aiming umbrellas at lary men on street corners, it dawns that India as a country is merely an idea. Methinks an idea for a comic strip occurs – the evolution of women – beaten onto all fours with sari covered faces in Rajasthan, to the painted freethinkers of Goa... any takers for a visual interpretation would be appreciated!

Some observations from our 23 hour train to Goa... pressed white starch. Dampened by the sweat on her freckled forehead; her fingers blend with her nut brown rosary as her milky eyes search for god through the train window. Shy looks, a bent draped head. The compartment fills with the acrid smell of her counting fingers and his avoiding eyes. Reading of white knuckled magazines, arms touchung, hands sweating as the trees rush concrete children playing dogshit landfill; a future daily life clipped through the rusted train window bars.

There’s a huge privately run cooperative across India – FabIndia – run by a half US Indian known as William Nanda Bissell. I already had a lot of respect for the ethos – not only making strong links with village crafts and bringing back lost skills, but genuine accountable fair wages throughout - but its only when I picked up and started reading Bissell’s book – Making India work – that I realised there is true hope. The first line of this wonderful mainfesto reads – India is not a poor country, but a poorly managed one. Love to all and Watch this space xxx

01/09/2009

Alright you can all laugh - I am officially taking 3 days out to sit on a beach, stay in a bamboo hut and spend an evening with a pina colada (local pineapples woohoo!) and my guitar. Kerala (south west India) is stunning, green and palm tree filled in the monsoon, and full of bustling festivites for the main state festival - Onam - celebration of the first harvest, and their official new year.

Men with bowed heads and white lungis throwing the first tender coconut leaf wrapped in banana into the ocean. Whitewater claims it and the chanting continues, progressively joined by more and more people until the chant deafens the children running across a cormorant covered shore. I wash myself in the sea and immerse my thoughts.

Sitting in this beautiful place my mind reels with all from the past few months - still feel a barrage from the North - failed project, ego and pride in the face of such detrimental welfare, but the realisation that my life is to help change this gets stronger by the day (aide by a few pina coladas..) My life project slowly takes shape in my small orange book. What amazing ideas can spill from the mind in front of the sea. And now, onward to Alleppey - land of estuaries tangling crocodiles, package tours and orange skinned Brits (oh yes..they get everywhere.), thoughts of plastic India is ever present in my mind, as so many people I meet here still have an amazingly hard life . And an interesting fact is, some seem genuinely happy, others don't and both often don't want it to change. xx

24/08/2009

OK so transition jaipur may have taken a divebomb (along with my sanity..) but in the past 2 days I have come across an amazing new idea..

I'm sitting in Coorg in the evening having a good chinwag with my cousins over a glass of toddy (all the best ideas obviously happen this way..), and we observe several things;

So, the three of us have hatched a plan - an educational eco-community in Coorg

Big I know but it makes sense. My cousins have already set up a dental college in the area, so they are pretty au fait with how to get things moving, plus Coorg has some hope in terms of its society - a beautiful habitat that needs preserving plus people that still retain the culture of rural skills and resource (and women's cooperatives), plus international volunteers would pour in..also Im willing to take on the responsibility for funding research, marketing, think tank (thats you!) - we can all see it working in a place like Coorg - we're thinking of producing a photo book to launch it. When I'm back in the UK I'll need the help of all of you plus the transition network to work out the logistics and generally exploit your rather large brains! Im so excited that this could really make a difference to one of the last really beautiful places left on earth - in a transition direction..xx

18/8/09

It's official. The Swine flu/marketing gimmick epidemic has swamped India. I recently had the entertaining pleasure of attempting conversation with around 15 Darth vader impersonations through various forms of surgical mask on a train from Bangalore to Coorg. Its quite amazing quite how many different ‘alarmed’ expressions can be made via a piece of blue material..the mere mentioning of BSE, SARs, avian flu and/or the fact that I am a vet and hence the filthy vector for all four, raised many hands to many mouths…

Since I last wrote I have travelled from central to south India, from Mumbai to bangalore to Coorg, the land of Green gReen and greeN. As I sit amongst coffee, pepper and musical beetles I feel ready to disclose the vast contrasts of experiences and feelings of late. Boomtown bangalore is in pieces. Some roads and have been carved apart,stitched back together and broken again. Sewage flows freely and people live in gutters. But Progress Cannot Be Stopped. Here are some words to describe my thoughts here;

A steaming cup of Starbucks served by a ‘darkie’ that can’t read the label and fears for his children in the slum drains. Beaten up for wearing skirts outside Mcdonalds (The True Indian Cuisine). Bleached. Obese men in italian suits - lovely is only fair, after all. Inconvenient slum subculture concealed with Subway. Ayurvedic remedies prepackaged by Glaxo selling like hotcakes in Bangalore supermarkets.

Further south the main bonus – actual progress- compared to this is Education. Rural is way ahead of urban in this situation; the rajasthani 10 year old brides and girl children in dustbins are not accepted in the South. My rather prejudiced parents got the shock of their lives when their ‘illiterate’ driver (in front of whom they bitched wax lyrical in English) – ‘oh yeah my mate lives in Cooktown I'm meeting him for full discussion over a pint of lager…’

Family and what it really means to me has been something to mull over this time. As a second generation immigrant (missing link..) I have always felt a bit lost up the creek with this – never quite belonging anywhere, from bindi wearers and the BNP in the UK to shy Rajasthani women not knowing whether or not to cover their faces in my presence (normally ends up with a ‘binocular’ effect..) After Jaipur I was feeling a bit open to the quick. The grace of Bangalore was remembering how warm and stimulating a lot of my family is, and how much more laid back about halfway house tradition than those that left. What follows are my thoughts on family –

Blood vessels flow plastic across oceans, computer screens, built to crack. Red earth buries love choice duty under a bent branch. Disembodied voices call to the ancient hindustan tree, clasped by beer chips friends and english hills. I sit cross legged and meet my maker, my adopted heritage. Rituals of temple and tea filled conversations collide. Present an ID card of marriage and career, acceptance covered in raw silk furnishings, clasped hands at temples, tasteful saris, steaming dahl. Standing pranayam in Lincolnshire, feeling my dead aunt’s voice alive in my arms, limbs, blood. Blood.

See you all very soon, nisha xxxxxxxxxxxxx

07/08/09

Just went to see this in the Mumbai National Gallery o Modern art- The Art Place To Be - there is hope for transition India yet.....SOAK Mumbai in an estury, [Soak is about making peace with the sea; about designing with the monsoon in an estuary] love to you all, and Im still fighting, nisha xxxx

05/08/09

Apologies for the delay in my blogs. I miss you all very much. I write from Mumbai where I am staying with my lovely aunt an uncle. I left HIS early, and in much pain. But I spent my last evening with the people that I cared about so that revived me somewhat. I write in a slightly broken state, but much relieved and looking forward to the next phase. Here are some words to describe the last week.

A circle of train tracks lulls my coma. A coma from north to south. A coma of broken dreams and horses hooves. Of sweat covered arguments and late night whisky on a wall of thick, pink stone. Of smoking bidis on palace walls with mottled music swaying the breeze. Tears bite my eyes, cooling pain from arguments passed, naked fear in a horse’s gentle face, smiles after lies, plastic friends and enemies. An era of sinister symmetry.

The train stops halfway, my chest beats double the tracks. The animals. The pain. My desertion. The guilt surges through me with the pain of a donkey walking on ankles for 5 years. The tears come thicker with the bane of people, a break in my strong metal chain. The relief pours over my body as I finally go deeper.

Wake up to steaming chai, wallah calls and conversations of code 366 with a friendly Hishra (flared scar on throat with flowered clothing tells many stories).

The feud melts with a bear hug from my 8 year missed uncle. Tears in my aunt’s eyes, sepia tinted conversations over tea, mutual admiration over life choices, good food in our bellies and karaoke to New Orleans. My family. My family.

The chasm lies tempting me. I jump across and know I’m ready for something great.

Check out Auroville- this could be next.

Here are some more practical ideas I have for my new project. I would love critique/ideas from my lovely friends. Nisha xxxxx

MY PROJECT – think tank

25/07/09

I want to say first that for the past few weeks I have truly realised what amazing friends and family I have and how much I miss and love you all and hope you're all well (esp. Kat at this minute!).

After the realisation of the worst corruption I have seen in an international charity and the heartbreaking truth that no matter what you do with some people, selfishness can abound, I am leaving Jaipur in a week. This place has educated me and broken me, but it has also given me a drive to do something big. And I have realised that I have the capacity to do it well. After a rather comical evening of desperate pleading from the head trustee (desperate no doubt to hold onto an international asset) to work for the camel team, with the small animal clinic, to start a peacock rescue and last but not least to work in Darjeeling chasing cows up hills but not actually being able to treat them because they are holy (!) and an afternoon of clawing my way through Gandhinagar train station to purchase a train ticket, I am leaving for Mumbai, then bangalore (for a month), then the UK. After this experience I require a rest from veterinary for a short while to regroup. My plan is to write this down properly and find a smart way to expose Brooke India for who they are, followed by a brief sojourn at Sunseed desert alt.tech, Almeria, followed by a job in the UK and a plan to set up a cooperative dedicated to Working animal welfare from three angles - treatment, community education and legal enforcement. Also producing as holistic a project as possible - encooporating all elements of transition - this is the only way it will work. I know you'll all continue to inspire me with this, as you have been doing from 8000 miles away. Much love, and I will write from Mumbai. nisha xxxxxxxxxx

20/07/09

So, a decision has been made.

I since found out, after the previous rather deflated email, that further politics was in store for me. In brief, I have been badmouthed by all the management staff for 'working too hard' and lies have been spread about me by the previous vet - which have been supported by the CEO, and I was directly told that by refusing the rather subpar vet graduate for the Brooke vet job, I was 'creating problems'. Brooke themselves recently gave me an ultimatum - either I register and become a permanent employee (4 yrs minimum) or find a new vet in 15 days. This was entirely supported by the HIS CEO and trustees. This, plus a few other bombshells made me realise the situation. My poor father then had to be on the other end of the phone for a minor hysterical fit, which seemed to be a culimination of everything, but since then I have chilled out, slept, played the guitar, seen the sunset from the top of a fort, and have figured out a word I may have mentioned before - 'malalegriya' - the concept of beautiful things being right next door to heartbreaking things. much love, nisha xxxxxxx

10/07/09

Missing you all lots. Apologies for the delayed blog. This past 2 weeks has been the hardest of my life. Ive had to deal with politics from two major charities, verbal abuse from a senior vet (previous brooke vet - now jealous of my work), severe dispute with my paravets, the general degrading view that men have of women over here and a general realisation of a sheer lack of compassion. This is the situation of late:

Apart from the project, India itself is getting me down. I am trying my hardest to find the love and spiritualty and compassion, but Im afraid my search is not proving successful. Everyday here there is cheating and ripping off, and general severe lack of compassion for human and animal welfare. I am trying my hardest to see the positive sides, but the daily lies from horse owners, paravets, vets, other staff, friends, men, and a major international charity are wearing me down. The fact that Brooke are turning away an experienced english vet with a welfare focus and someone who has actually pulled a project together from pieces, for a graduate who has no basic compassion or common sense is beyond me. I write this mail deflated - however it has given me fuel to organise my own project - a cooperative system perhaps rather than an NGO. I am realising the difficulties of living in India longterm as a woman. much love to you all, nisha xxx

29/06/2009

This week has been a breakthrough. I managed to crack a joke in Hindi. Now, seriously I can feel your bewilderment at my elation with this. However, during my time here I have realised the importance of being able to laugh with people. It is something I have craved for 5 weeks and am finally getting somewhere with. However my ensuing attempts to prove myself as ‘Desi’ (local) failed at the first post – I drink my water in the wrong way – how unfair is this! That a mere basic consumption should render me ‘Ingrezi’ (foreign English – not just English), but there you have it. Hand gestures, a sideways shake of the head and not touching the bottle top with your lips when you drink. Ah well, 2/3 is not bad. Numerous drenching attempts in the bathroom follow.

India this week has proved much more positive. Over the past few weeks, I have slowly come to understand the cultural differences in communication – ie – people here like to get fiery. However – it kind of works – they yell at each other (possible including some mild fisticuffs) then its over (fists turn to hand holding and ‘achhaaaa bhaai’ in the space of 2 minutes). This applies to anything from discussing salary to the traffic (dodgems on acid) to buying chai (which I have now discovered is the oxygen of the nation). So, after being in the environment for 5 weeks, and getting progressively more pissed off with being put in charge of a project with no work ethic, minimal welfare ethic and an office full of rats, I decided to try it. It was probably quite entertaining for a fly on the wall, and resulted in a spotless rat free office (they even burned incense inside!) and 2 hugs from 2 very sorry paravets plus a cup of chai. What do you know – and I didn’t even have to resort to black eyes. Also, the Brooke team has taken community education to new levels. After a v successful meeting here are just a few of the following breakthrough ideas:

Also I have redefined the job titles:

Obviously I plan to install gold plated nameplates outside the office;)
As you can tell I have learnt that a little bit of misspent youth here and there is all good.

Finally I have a scene for you – the thick air hangs to one resonant voice, a throbbed mantra. All eyes close. His hands slowly rise and lilt, carving valleys to the changing depth. His eyes meet mine with a gentle curved smile as his song radiates his soul. A rattle clack across fingers and rings breaks the drone; heads start a pulse. The beat drapes over to a plucked melody; a brooke running through the audience’s captive ears. Then the drum and bass kick in. The crowd jumps to their feet, all hips and necks. The night begins. I am having the marvellous privilege of playing music with Rajasthani village musicians, organised by a splendid NGO (Rajsthani roots) that works to give village musicians an international platform, bring together west and east and also bring indigenous music back to the locals (not just tourists). I have met Moushi - a man who has sung since he could open his mouth, Cutla – the one man rhythm section with juice harp (mourchand), Indian castanets (Karthal) and various weird and wonderful drums, Ramwal – arresting flautist and Islam – The Tabla (the man is actually one with his instrument. In Rajasthan, musicians live in isolated colonies; a karthal player is born into a family of karthal players – and their lives involve all night devotional musical jambourees and playing for money. In history, the locals embraced the music, but the people were classed as untouchables, so the connection broke down. Since its beginning, Rajsthani roots has provided a platform for 45 rajasthani musicians, who now tour internationally. Amazing. Im playing another gig with them next week…so much love to you all, Anisha xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

19/06/2009

It seems that I have found my way into the local communities here with a mixture of adequate veterinary work and a keenly honed sense for the most comical errors of Hindi at the most crucial times. My newly appointed title ‘Dr Babu’ has occurred via ‘penis’ instead of ‘serious’ (nodding of head and serious expression for this penis, penis case) and banana instead of ‘chair’ (Im quite ok without sitting on the banana thank you.)

I have got into certain routines now. I have a marvellous next door neighbour – Mrs. Driverji (wife of driverji – the HIS rescue van driver) who owns a rather fat cow. Every morning I give her (and the cow) my leftover food – in return I get beautiful chaach (dhai/curd/yoghurt) and the most beatific smiles from all 7 children – don’t ask me to remember their names). There is something else about the smiles here – so genuine and consequently disarming. Coming back to the UK to see the plastered grin of a Saturday night socialite will be a killer.

Saturday nights are turning into a way of observing the local flora and fauna – designer label ‘chittis’ (women that appear harder than the orange skin ladies of Liverpool – force- and spend RS 6000 at the drop of a hat) to a Kingfisher beer (oh yeah dad – the local brew!), an onion paratha and a good chinwag, Often the two worlds overlap – the chittis enjoying 3am chai at the railway station with the onion paratha eaters. Both worlds ignoring each other of course unless it becomes politically correct to do so (as a newcomer I am gaining the sense of a socialist PC regime merely wiping the table of the carved castist nation in Rajasthan). I cleaned a room at the shelter with my two paravets – my my did that cause a stir..its kind of fun here that such a small endeavour can break so many massive boundaries.

Now, in the whole of blog I have not yet truly divulged about one of the most celebrated parts of this country – from kachouri to fruit juice rajasthan has an amazing mix of desi (local) food. Beautiful spices marinading okra (bhindi), potato, chick peas (chana), pulses and the local sabhji – tiinda – a small green gourd which never loses its crunch to oil. Unfortunately I have been witness to some truly heinous crimes to cholesterol – 5kg of oil for 6kg of veg…. Needless to stay my stomach remains undelighted by this change but I persevere and temper as best I can. However there is nothing like drinking a full papaya unskinned and arriving as a liquidised version in a glass for Rs 10..

Work continues to challenge and fascinate. I have now witnessed a temple blessing of a horse with hindlimb paralysis. It was a difficult situation as the horse got v stressed, but I couldnt help feeling for the priest who was trying his hardest with scented water, flowers, incense and chanting to heal the creature.After a relatively successful meeting with the horse team and the trustees, some changes have been made which means we have more money for medicines (big yay) and have full permission to link the current welfare project with the veterinary team. And I have been officially made the HIS-Brooke vet and manager. Argle. I have been asked whether I would stay a year – it may need some thought. I am just settling into local communities and of course my endlessly entertaining language skills, but if I survive the heat of June maybe. I know to all of you it may sounds a bit wet fish like to base a decision to stay in a vet programme greatly on the climate – but I now know the pain of treating 25 donkeys in 47 deg heat. It is one of the hardest experiences Ive had and Im not sure I could repeat it. Obviously theres the question of whether I could just uproot to India. Im not sure. The more I live here, the more I realise just how much of both countries I have in me. There are ways and means of life here which I settle into much more effortlessly than other international volunteers (the inventive electrics, the cars that pretend theyr having a day at the fair) but I am British in so many ways – and I miss my amazing friends a great deal. We shall see. In the meanwhile, the Mission to Play Beautiful Music has encountered a room stopping voice with an electronic tambura. Dr Jas is a friend I have made via a 2 hour jam with her, me, her tambura and my guitar. The kind of music that transports you was my experience. Watch this space. Much love to you all, nisha xxxxxxxxx

10/6/2009

I think its of rather useful (and comedic) value to flag up hindi words that are said to me on a frequent basis. This week the word is ‘Chuti’ – day off. It goes as follows:

‘Why haven’t the horses been treated today? – Nandu chuti Nishajii

‘Why has the power been cut for 72h? – admii electricity chuti Nishajii (admii electricity prob gone on chukar to Cambodia…)

‘Why is the dead horse still here (4 days later)’ – bodyman chuti nishajii

However – a major riot broke out on the chai wallah’s chuti – good grief we think England revolves around tea.

So my week has been spent treating beasties of the horsey variety, improving my Hinglish with a cup of chai in one hand and a loaded syringe in the other (i/v injections whilst drinking tea is a skill I tell you) and bumbling around various stunning villages in the Brooke horse team van. Havent had the balls to take photos whilst working yet – tastes slightly of circus – however they gawk at me like Im the missing link so maybe it could be a mutual arrangement. I have been inspired to draw it though. And who wouldn’t – thick mud houses coated in white chalk, vivid colour and patterns adorning doorways and ladies’ fingers, acid saris working mustard crops on a desert background, women covering faces with lurid palous, beautiful beautiful children. Everywhere. Almost alien eyes stare from a mop of matted hair, skinny arms jangling with glass bangles/bits of plastic. And the best part of working in all of this – the weird and wonderful cuisine that is a cardinal sin to refuse! Everything from kachori (a sort of deep fried bun with potato masala inside), various gungy condensed milk sweets, dhai churrie (seasoned chickpea husk in sweetened yoghurt – v yum) to everything that can be done with peanuts (mufli) – fried nuts, fried husk, deep fried with cardamom and cloves (can you see a theme..) – and my favourite, caremelized with sour dried mango…

Life wth the horse team has had its ups and downs. The charity is v low on money, hence management are tryng to keep strong tabs on the donations we receive (ie – making sure it comes back to the charity – even though considering there are two charities involved – Brooke horses and help in suffering, there is inherent politics in that) – however total lack of man management skills has left my two paravets v upset (being spoken to as though they are thieves basically). The senior vet then had an idea to run the team from inside – ie – I become manager and keep tabs on everything and defend the hardworking paravets if needs be (ridiculous when the charity is meant to work as one but there you go). So this is whats going to happen – I do fear the politics but so far a lot has changed and Im hoping it will continue. In 47 deg heat it gets quite tiring but comes with the package.

Also, I went for a walk. Now, little as this sounds, it is actually one of the hardest things Ive had to do so far. Saving the environment is no joke in 48 deg heat. I work in the mornings and the evenings are too dark for a lone odd looking female to be wandering the streets, so late afternoon was my time of choice. But, as I found out, people don’t walk here in the summer, let alone foreigners. That didn’t stop me obviously (and prob idiotically), I was determined to reach the Jawahar Kala Kendra – a rather splendid Govt run arts centre that has a beautiful building, small café sparking off interesting political debate and arts discusson. A dome covered in abstract art leads you through to a v atmospheric open air theatre, all in keeping to feng shui by its symmetry and angle to the sun. A very calming place to be.

Oh and The Most Beautiful place –Nahagar fort to the North of Jaipur. A few of us took some beers and went at night – Jaipur lit up is beautiful – and wasn’t I amazed to sit with a cold beer at the top of this stunning fort with bats overhead and the entirety of Jaipuir below! Something Ill be doing more of I hope.

Miss you all, lots of love, nisha xxx

1/6/2009

There isn’t a word for ‘emergency’ in Hindi. This just about sums up India, as I discovered in my last week. We were merrily attending a khana party to celebrate, as is fairly common, the unknown event of an unknown person (but the food by sunset was excellent) only to discover that the babble of hindi 1 hour earlier had been regarding a donkey colic in the village next door. On frogmarching the two paravets to the site of said emergency, the poor creature in question had passed on. Needless to say my slightly perilous grasp of Hindi has had to improve 10-fold since then as well as instilling a true sense of matriarchy in the ranks (one has to point out that chai comes after an emergency)

I have been installed into a new room, the reason being there is a fridge present, which is marvellous for storing other food apart from v oily cury (stomach in swings and roundabouts), however I have been waging war against the worst enemy in Rajasthan – ants. Not just a few 100, oh no….with the use of my broom, a tin lid and some rather scary staff members I appear to be winning, but I feel the force lowering within (time for more chai…) especially at what has now risen to an average 47 deg. Other friends of nature include a rather lazy lizard (Dooley), who’s fingers stretch like a taxman about to receive his prize, and a rather crazy squirrel (dougal).

The horse and donkey work continues to fascinate and challenge. From what I am observing, lack of water appears to be a major cause of many problems here, as well as 14 hours work under a beating sun. Many owners here seem to think that a 500kg horse will be absolutely fine with 10L of water throughout the day. The more accurate figure of 50L sends them into an absolute frenzy of local dialect and shock. The result of this lack of water results in severe gut impactions, heatstroke and muscle damage. But bit by bit the education is happening. Our little veterinary van is covering around 7000 equine areas – not bad for us three methinks. Other moments of note: loading a 200kg donkey into a 600kg tin auto rickshaw – oh such fun was had – not least the award winning melody of hee-haw plus the scream of a child falling out of a slow moving rickshaw, followed by donkey near garrotting itself on the door, and eventually belching off leaving a trail of a few melons. Very tasty melons too!

My favourite cultural event to date was being blessed in a mandir (hindu temple) in a faraway village after successfully getting a collapsed horse back on its feet again. The temple itself was stunning – simple all white marble with a cracking carved swastika, followd by a beautiful serenade of cyclic mantras to different gods – 6 groups all sat in the centre, each with their own colour, singing a different mantra but in rhythm with the other 5. All moving in a Mexican wave type trance. Splendid. At the centre were three massive barrels – doodh (milk), pani (water) and bhang (a mild solution of marijuana)surrounded by Prasad and flowers (offerings to ganesh – the main god of the temple). Behind these barrels was a line of men mixing the three fluids together in small cups, then making it enter their system in as many ways as possible – drinking it, tossing it on their head, dunking various body parts in it. We were to make our way into the centre of this melee and join in! Needless to say we were all rather placid afterwards! my head was not impressed a bit later on…

I have decided that I like it here, Im not sure if this particular project is something Id want to be involved with longterm, purely through issues of sustainability, plus Im not sure I could hack the desert nature of Rajasthan for 6 out of 9 months every year longterm, but Im remembering exactly what Ive missed about India – affection, one man 5 brothers and their wives performing a Chinese circus act on a motorbike, and of course – chai! The desi (local) staff here couldn’t be friendlier, and with upside down guitar lessons and rajasthani roots music underway, for now Im content Ive made the right decision. Even though I desperately miss my friends always. Much love and speak soon – anyone whos on skype let me know! Nisha xxx

26/5/2009

Let me just say, being a medical practitioner in a region where the same word means yesterday and tomorrow and tree=perde, foot = per and stomach = pete is highly entertaining. lets just say some v interesting diagnoses have been made. Life here is settling, - I opted to attempt a hacking through of the corruption - ie - going to the top and having a lot chat in a 'I am an international vet with scary glasses' sort of approach and Ive ended up, for now doing something Im v interested in with lovely people. Im the Brooke horse wallah (all singing all dancing term for vet, teacher, pupil, dogsbody in the horse team). My daily role includes desperately trying to find out why every horse in the country gets a diuretic with or without a problem, treating weird and wonderful (and sometimes not so wonderful) conditions, teaching one of the lovely paravets english whilst he teaches me Hindi (at the same time folks, in a jeep with no suspension - oh yeah!) en route to various donkeys/horses in the wilds of Jaipur.

To let you know where I am, its in Maharani Farm, Durgapura, South Jaipur. Jaipur itself is massive - about 150km diameter (which is our apparent emergency catchment area...) and is complete diverse metropolis with the famous Pink City only making up a tiny region of it. So far I have been into some of the roughest slums, epic deserts, and relatively well to do (ameer) areas - with my Hinglish ranging from 'Kyaa paisherani hai' (what's the problem) to Gadi me per dharth (my broken equivalent of - can you please get your fat donkey off my foot - or some such).

As for the rajasthan we all dream about, its very much there, Stunning ruins, daily life and people in technicolour, wonderful and rancid smells in a melting pot, dessicating heat, roads disappearing into deserts with miles of mustard scrub...Jaipur was never a natural settlement - there were no natural resources that attracted people here. The king at the time built a fort in Amir (Amber = the anglicised vesion), and ordered people to come and live here. What resulted was a mass iflux of population with minimal land for growth and minimal water, which still stands today. Jaipur is one of the many places in the desert region that imports water.imports it would you believe!

As well as the direct clinical work, theres a chap here who's working on a community development project for 21 surrounding horse owner communities...v interesting and something Im getting more involved in - the growing idea of incoorporating an ecosystem approach to health and welfare in both animals and humans, and looking at ways to make preventative health and basic welfare education sustainable. A challenge when people and their horses drive people/goods carts for 11 hours a day under a throbbing sun and think that beating their horses' backs and thrusting a flame to the backs of their legs is a useful way to keep them walking, but all part of the challenge....more soon, miss you all v much - enjoying the transition updates! nisha xxxx

20/5/2009

Hello and love to all! how are you? life here so far has been fun, challenging and - most importantly - hot. Dessicating, sweating one's own body weight/hour sort of hot. I arrived in rather shambolic fashion (in India it took me a while to get used to the total lack of body space - men push in front of you to buy a ticket even when you're in the midst of exchanging rupees for ticket yourself, swiftly solved by picking said man up and firmly stating 'ek minute admi; - whilst receiving a handful ofnotes in one hand and sweat in the other). The 5 hour bus ride between Delhi and Jaipur bumped along with stunning views, all manner of spiced goods in various states of deep fry and a rather charming older sikh lady who rattled away in v fast Rajasthani Hindi, immune to my weedling repetitions of 'Samaje hindi nahi; (I dont understand).

Having arrived, looking like cousin It after a dustbath, I was immediately surrounded by all members of who I know now as the paravet team - all 16 of them. Again the rattling hindi - this time stopped quite succintly with true british style - 'I am hot, tired and would like a cup of tea; (in a very pronounce estuary english accent which resulted in strange looks and several cups of chai'). Since then I have learnt that they are great, caring people and what 'team' they work with (cats/dogs, camels, horses etc)

Since being here I have driven out to deserts where the roads simply disappear (dust erosion at an average temp of 45deg) and the locals freuqently get lost, eaten the loveliest fruit and had a good crack at speaking terrible Hindi (the kind that receives wide eyes in a strain to understand and a nodding smile that warrants men in white coats). As for the work itself - the past few days has revealed a great deal of confusion due to the departure of many members of staff, severe financial issues and corruption, and a basic helping of noone really knows where they are meant to be. The paravets appear to go off and treat most cases themselves, sometimes in a good way and sometimes not, and the few ideas Ive had on how to move forward have been greeted with 'This is India, it will not work' or just a rant about the local politics (abundant). All in all I am not sure about what will happen here. I have ideas, and there is a meeting soon to restructure, so hopefully my next email will be much less deflated. much love and letters soon! nisha x

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