Go away, geckos!

There are 8 geckos in my bathroom. One is on the light switch so that I am forced to pee in the dark. And I have a squat toilet, so light is particularly important.

Also, another gecko just fell from the ceiling and landed on my bed. Not on me this time, but clearly this was an intended attack. If not an attack on my person, then an attack on my sense of safety and as a result, my sanity.

Furthermore, that other gecko still hasn't left my mirror. I know he's not dead because (1) he'd probably fall to the ground and (2) I've seen him move around. But only on the mirror.

And did you ever notice that geckos have CLAWS?! I noticed yesterday that they have sharp cat-like nail-claws extending from their toes. I didn't know lizards had friggin' claws. Think of the damage these creatures could do to me in my sleep!!

These geckos are evil incarnate.

Unrelated miscellany

Today I started taking tabla lessons from a guy who makes tablas for Zakir Hussein! Being a good tabla maker doesn't necessarily translate into being a good tabla player/teacher, but I think the photos of him jamming with Zakir on his wall are pretty friggin' sweet.

How did this happen? I had free time yesterday and was aimlessly wandering through some galiyaan (tiny alleyways). (Varanasi has a whole web of these galiyaan and it's fun to get lost in the maze.) As I was walking back toward the main road, I randomly stumbled upon a tabla-making workshop.

Unexpectedly, I ended up spending two hours in the tiny shop. We sat on the floor among half-made tablas and assorted tabla parts as the owner explained, in a mix of Hindi and English, the process of making a tabla. His two apprentices showed me how it's done, and then we all chatted some more about the shopowner's tabla-playing and -making history over chai. The owner's family has been in the tabla-making business for generations, since his father's father's father's father's father's father's to-the-infinitieth-power father's father. After chai, they let me hit the drums a bit!

applying ground iron ore to the center of the tabla

I really enjoyed the atmosphere of the workshop and have always secretly wanted to learn to play some percussion instrument. So, despite my utter lack of musical talent, I signed up for tabla lessons! And here we are.

*******

Today I was supposed to go to Ramnagar Fort, across the Ganges from Varanasi, with Surabhi, one of my new Benaras Hindu University (BHU) friends. However, she had to cancel because all the students are protesting the mess (cafeteria) food and obviously she had to be there.

Aaahh, deja vu. When I spent a semester at Pondicherry University, the students there protested the mess food as well. Guess that's pretty common here in India! But I'm fairly certain the administration ignored them and nothing came of the protests. Fun times. Hopefully the BHU students will have better luck.

*******

A few more reasons to love Pyaar Kii Ye Ek Kahaani, or PKYEK, as it is affectionally called:

11. The sound effects that accompany facial expressions. For example, when someone has an epiphany, the "ah-ha!" face is supplemented with a spring-like "boing!" sound. And crushing disappointment, such as when the boy you like asks out your worst enemy to prom, comes with a car crash noise. Each face has its own distinct sound, of course.

12. The echoing voiceover when characters are thinking. When the characters are thinking, not only do their faces contort in all sorts of strange ways I didn't previously know were humanly possible, the thought voiceover echoes. "Mujhe-jhe-jhe asha-sha-sha hai-hai-hai ki-ki-ki voh-voh-voh mujhe-jhe-jhe prom-prom-prom le-le-le jaaega-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga." ("I hope that he will take me to prom.")

13. The occurrence of prom during college. That's just... incorrect. I would say it's an Indian thing to have prom in college instead of high school, but I've actually never heard of a prom happening at all in India. And I would find it surprising if a college administration allowed such an event. The show is trying to adopt a classic element of American teenage dramas, but it's all wrong! But it almost doesn't matter, because they do it so much better than those American shows and movies.

14. The 70's theme of prom night. It is unfortunate that the PKYEK website doesn't have any good pictures of this episode, because I want to show you the boys' bitchin' costumes. Only three words can describe their attire: stereotypical flaming homosexual. One character actually is gay, and he was the one who chose the 70's costumes for the others (who do not know that he's समलैंगिक ("samalaingik"/gay); I think they must be blind and deaf). And he did excellent work, because my god do these people come off as overly-flamboyant caricatures of gay disco men (and their little dance number at prom only reinforces this image). Also, one was dressed up as Elvis.

PKYEK is the best thing to happen to television. Ever. In the entire history of television.

*******

Geckos are my newest enemy. Not only did one of them face-plant me (in that he planted himself on my face, not that he fell onto his own face), they are all over my room and bathroom and always in the way. One hasn't removed himself from my mirror for the past two days so I can't examine the post-Holi damage (my pores are so clogged with Holi colors that I now have purple- and greenheads).

Sushma and I clog each other's pores during Holi.

I think the entire animal kingdom is conspiring against me. Except the elephants. They still love me.

Look at this elephant's happy face! If this isn't unadulterated love, then I don't know what is. But I'll tell you which creatures don't know how to love: monkeys and geckos. Heartless bastards.

*******

It is possible for women to pee standing up. I know because my thighs were sore from going to the gym for the first time in.... uh, I'm too embarrassed to say.... and I really didn't want to squat (the family with whom I'm staying doesn't have a Western toilet). The trick is to spread your legs far apart (warning: remove your pants). TMI? Too bad. You should expect this kind of talk on my blog by now.

*******

Speaking of women, here are two interesting articles about women in India:

Minding Their Gaps, about Western women on their gap year in India being exploited for the sexual and status-raising appeal of their white skin. Courtesy of Alice.

Rapes of Women Show Clash of Old and New India, about, well, the headline is pretty much self-explanatory. Courtesy of Sam (you need a blog or website so I can link your name!).

*******

This song has been stuck in my head for the past week, and I love it:

"Darling" is a Hindi take on a Russian folk song. WIN. Also, you should see 7 Khoon Maaf (7 Murders Forgiven). It's based on a book by Ruskin Bond and is a very unusual movie for Bollywood, in a good way.

*******

This song has been playing repeatedly on the filmi songs channel, and I swear it's copying an (or multiple) English song(s):

Does anyone know what song(s) it's copying? I've Googled it and people seem to disagree about whether it's copying Flo Rida's "Low," Black Eyed Peas' "My Humps," and/or Lady Gaga's "Pokerface." When I first heard it I thought elements were from "Low," and I suppose I can hear remnants of Black Eyed Peas, but I don't know see "Pokerface." But I'm not so sure. Thoughts?

*******

ZOMG A MONKEY JUST INFILTRATED THIS CAFE. ZOMG ZOMG ZOMG! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED IN HERE, MONKEY DEVIL!!! THIS IS MY HAPPY PLACE AND I WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME!!!!

Er, or maybe I will, for now. I'm outta here before the monkey ends me and all I love.

My new favorite TV show: Hindi Vampire Soap Opera

Here in Varanasi I'm staying with a nice host family that spends their evenings watching Hindi "serials" (soap operas that air during primetime). I used to be unable to stand these TV shows. That is, until I saw Pyaar Kii Ye Ek Kahaani (This One Love Story).

Basically it's a vampire soap opera. Here's the back story, as told to me by my host sister Pooja (she had to get me up to speed, naturally): in the 1800's Siddharth, Abhay, and Maithili were all regular people living regular people lives. One day Siddharth and Abhay, who are brothers, get turned into vampires and Maithili gets killed (how did this happen? I don't know. Pooja left these details out). Siddharth's and Abhay's transformations give them the ability to live forever without aging as long as they don't touch silver, in which case they get seriously injured or die (I guess their equivalent of Superman's Kryptonite?).

Fast forward to present-day. Siddharth is the "bad" vampire and Abhay is the "good" vampire. Both Siddharth and Abhay are in love with a college human named Piya, who looks identical to Maithili and is supposedly Maithili's reincarnation. Abhay is dating Piya while Siddharth is a player who seduces women in order to kill them and drink their blood. Siddharth's targets are usually girls he thinks are easy--"T" (that's her nickname, I don't know her real name) dresses like a slut (by Indian standards) so he goes for her. And he was right in thinking she's super easy; she really does act like a slut on their date, practically throwing herself all over him. But Abhay comes to the rescue, which leads to an epic battle of facial expressions (see below). Meanwhile, Piya's best friend Panchi (who is also Piya's half-sister, but Panchi doesn't know that) is in love with Siddharth. When Panchi finds out Siddharth went on a date with T, she is super jealous. But Siddharth understands that it will be even easier to steal Panchi's blood, so he dumps T and tells Panchi that he loves her. Abhay warns Piya to keep Panchi away from Siddharth but doesn't say why (Piya doesn't know they are brothers or that Siddharth is a vampire; it is unclear to me if she is aware that Abhay is a vampire). Piya responds that if Siddharth makes her friend happy, then she doesn't want to interfere, and she gets pissed at Abhay. Another layer to the story is that Siddharth and Abhay's father is the caretaker of some all-powerful vampire ring, and of course the evil Siddharth wants to steal the ring from his father to acquire the superpowers. I have surmised from the license plates (everyone is rich and has a car) that this show takes place in the Himalayan state of Uttarakhand, probably in the capital city of Dehradun. This provides for lots of creepy hill forest scenes.

There is also a slew of other characters who have complicated back stories with each other (for example, there's some story about another girl who is pregnant but unmarried and her friend Misha, who is also Panchi's sister, pretends to be pregnant to protect her somehow, and then Misha's father finds out that she's "pregnant" without knowing it's a lie. another example: Panchi and Misha's father is also Piya's father, but the father is completely unaware that Piya is his daughter. And these just two of many, many stories). You can read the insanely long and complex paragraph here in Wikipedia describing everything that has been going on in the series (yes even more insanely long and complex than what I've just written, and no I didn't read the article).

...and I love every second of this show. Why?

1. The language. The Hindi isn't spoken nearly as quickly as in other serials so I'm actually able to pick up most of what is going on. And the vampires speak unusually large amounts of English for a Hindi serial, and their English is excellent (who knew vampires were multilingual?).

2. The fight scenes. They involve absolutely zero fighting but employ the classic Hindi serial technique of rapidly spinning the camera around the characters to the point of making the viewer dizzy and repeatedly zooming in on the same unmoving, unnaturally overexpressive faces (the expression during fight scenes: I am really, really, really mad and am going to kick your ass like no other ass has been kicked before) (but the ass-kicking never actually happens, you only see the threatening faces). One fight scene was put to an end when Siddharth and Abhay's father rushed to intervene and out-facially-expressed both of them into submission.

The teeth-baring (and associated hissing sounds) indicate that they are angry. The background is blurry because the camera is spinning around them at a very quick pace.

The father out-stares his sons, thereby putting an end to the fight.

3. Siddharth's art of seduction. He is super smooth and not at all creepy. ...that was a lie.

Siddharth seduces T by telling her she smells tasty. He even calls her "Tasty T" several times.

4. The aforementioned creepy hill forest scenes. Always at night and with lots of mist. Siddharth's favorite place to take girls on dates. Of course these girls find the forest romantic, despite the darkness, mist, middle-of-nowhereness, and scary music, and can't wait to jump into bed (er, under a tree?) with Siddharth. Also where fights take place. See all of the above pictures.

5. Vampire smell detection. Vampires use their sense of smell to detect the location of other vampires, even miles away. This involves several characters exaggeratedly sniffing for extended periods of time. These actors really know how to take a good, long whiff!

6. T's response to Siddharth dumping her. "How GAY are you?!" (said in English)

7. The intellectual challenge. There are so many characters with so many intertwining stories I could never possibly dream of understanding or following it all, especially starting in the middle of the series.

8. The ginormous amounts of drama. Did I mention the battles of the facial expressions?! The constant camera-spinning and face-zooming are not limited to the fight scenes, but happen every time something dramatic happens. Which is quite often.

9. The lack of logic. Nothing on the show ever makes any sense.

10. The frequency of new episodes. In America, our TV series give us a new episode once a week. That means we have to wait one entire week to find out what happens next, and god knows how agonizingly painful that can be! Not in India, folks. Here we only have to wait 23.5 hours, because there is a new episode every single day! (Except Sunday. After Saturday night's episode you have to wait 47.5 hours, and man will that be difficult for me!)

Ok so I guess several of these reasons are really the same reason: this show is HILARIOUS. Seriously it's like nonstop laughter for 30 minutes (ok, fine, there are stops for commercials) (actually, many of those commercials are also laughter-inducing). I can't wait to spend more quality time with my host family following the lives of these vampires and their human love interests.

In other news, I'm awake now because a gecko woke me up by landing on my face while I was sleeping. Yes, a gecko actually fell from the ceiling and landed on my nose, with one leg in my right nostril, another leg on my left eye, and the tail crossing my lips and curling around my chin. I had no idea what to do (screaming may have resulted in the gecko falling into my mouth so I stayed quiet) and just lied on the bed with my face paralyzed for about a minute before the gecko decided to move off my face and back toward the wall. The longest 60 seconds of my life, man. I didn't even know it was possible for geckos to lose their grip and fall (India is full of surprises, I suppose). And now I'm too scared to fall back asleep, so I decided to kill a few hours writing this blog post.

Second Impressions

As I think I mentioned in a previous post, I'm currently in Varanasi studying Hindi. This is my second time in Varanasi; the other time was back in November 2007, when I was backpacking around India post-semester abroad program. And oh what a difference 3 years 4 months makes!

Last time I was in this city, I thought it was a truly magical place: sunrise on the Ganges, constant activity from simple daily bathing to extravagant weddings to cremation on the ghats (stairs leading to the Ganges), ancient architecture, mazes of tiny alleyways, etc. I had described this city, which could be seen as India's Jerusalem (Hinduism's holiest city and the oldest continuously-inhabited city on the subcontinent), to many as "India amplified" or "all those stereotypes of India rolled into one." No other place had so many animals in the streets, no other place had so much religious activity, no other place was so colorful, etc.

Or so my memory told me. Now, well, Varanasi seems like your typical mid-sized North Indian plains town with a dirty river and a splash of religious fervor. It doesn't really have more cows roaming the streets than other places in North India. To be fair, the last time I was here it was my first visit to a mid-sized North Indian plains town, and by now I've visited more than I can count.

A few things do set Varanasi apart from the rest, but the most obvious thing: tourists. So. many. tourists. And I know I'm about to go all hypocritical on you (if I'm here as a foreigner, obviously other foreigners should be allowed to come here too), but here's why that annoys me:

1. Tourists = hassle. Where there are tourists, there are people looking to get your money. People try to sell me things (anything); rickshaw-wallahs follow me asking "where you going, madam? rickshaw, madam?"; children run up asking me to buy them chocolate; beggars beg me for money; and then there are your creepy snake-charmers and monkey-handlers who want you to pay to take their photo. I cannot walk two feet down the street without being bombarded by someone. And it's exhausting. (I never had this problem in Delhi or Shimla, where I lived outside of tourist areas and people knew I was a resident and left me alone.) (My Hindi teacher teaches in a touristy area and I would like to live within walking distance, hence why I'm in a touristy area in Varanasi.)

2. A noticeably large minority of tourists dress inappropriately. This morning I saw a Western woman wearing a tube top and booty shorts. In Hinduism's holiest city. And you wonder why almost all Western women who come to India get unwanted attention at some point? Because of women like that, who dress with no regard for the local culture, who give off the image that Western women are overtly sexual and looking for action. A few Western women dress like whores and all Western women get treated like they're whores.* Anyway, almost nothing annoys me as much as people dressing inappropriately in someone else's culture, and I get irritated every single time I see some white chick in a tank top.

This #2 brings me to another topic: foreigner types. There are a few types of tourists that visit Varanasi, but I'll save that for another post. Let me gather some visual aids for you first (in other words, let me sneak some pictures of them).

I don't know why the tourists annoy me so much more now than they did over 3 years ago. My guess is that tourism is seasonal, and perhaps March is during high season and/or November is during low season. So maybe there were fewer tourists and thus less hassle.

I guess I'm not really being fair to Varanasi. There is something special about this city, that attracts pilgrims from all over India and tourists from all over the world. It is difficult to put into words, but you feel it in the atmosphere at certain ghats while watching the Hindu hair-cutting ceremony or a wedding, you feel it from a boat on the Ganges at 5am as the sun rises to illuminate the age-old riverside temples in a purplish hue. But you know what? That special element can easily get lost for the long-term foreigner in the everyday hassle. (And it's only been one week for me so far!)

In other news, this past weekend was Holi! Luckily, this year I wasn't arrested. I celebrated in my Hindi teacher's village in the state of Jharkhand. My skin is still stained rainbow. :)

*I am no way trying to say that the men who catcall and ass-grab are not at fault. Obviously they are behaving in a disgusting manner. However, that doesn't mean that Western women can dress however they want, outside of cultural norms. They are, in some ways, inviting the attention.

Braving Hanuman's Lair and the snow

The day before I left Shimla, I decided to be a tourist for a day. I had never seen the sights before, and I didn't want to pull another Pondicherry (despite living there for an entire semester, I never visited the touristy places in Pondy).

First on the tourist agenda: Jakhoo Temple. That's right, I finally braved Hanuman's Lair, even though I swore I never would. All the tourists go, so I figured I had to see it.

And it was every bit as terrifying as I imagined it would be.

At the entrance, there was a man warning people to remove their glasses (so the rumors about monkeys stealing glasses off of faces are true!! luckily I had come prepared, with my contacts in) (I probably wasn't fully prepared. I bet monkeys can steal contacts out of eyes, too!) and renting out sticks. Apparently, these sticks are meant to ward off monkeys. Of course I had to rent one; I needed any form of protection I could get! Nevermind that I could have just walked two feet into the adjacent forest and gotten a stick for free--that would've required risking my life at the opposable thumb-clad hands of crazed forest monkeys!! I thought my life was worth the Rs 5 ($0.11).

monkey weapons for rent. Rs 5/stick. because you should only enter this temple fully armed.

Walking from the gate toward the temple felt like walking toward an electric chair, but the killing device would be even more "cruel and unusual." This was it; I was walking into certain death. I now know what it feels like to be on Death Row. I suddenly wished my previous dinner--my last supper, if you will (and you will)--was more extravagant than Maggi (though I knew it was the right way to go, and let's be honest, I wouldn't really have it any other way) (unless I had cheese) (or maybe some combination of Maggi and cheese. yes, that would have been divine perfection).

This walkway was crawling with monkeys on all sides. To my left was a playground--not that a child could ever play on it, mind you. Monkeys and their babies were climbing up and subsequently sliding down slides, thereby making it completely unsafe for young children. Or even adults. Fine, I must admit: I laughed. It was legitimately cute.

climbing up the slide (note the one in mid-air on the right)...

...and sliding down.

But I shouldn't have let my guard down. The monkeys must have sensed my vulnerability when I laughed, because suddenly I found myself surrounded. Desperately trying to hide the fear that must have been so obvious on my face, I semi-squatted into my basketball boxing-out position (...that I haven't used since middle school) and swung my stick around threateningly. This somehow seemed to work and the monkeys left me alone.

Upon reaching the temple, I saw something absolutely horrifying: a monkey jump on a woman and unzip the front pockets of her jacket. A MONKEY. JUMPED ON. A WOMAN. AND UNZIPPED. HER POCKETS. As you can imagine, I panicked. I didn't know if I should turn around and run as fast as I could out of the temple (not that I could ever dream of outrunning monkeys), or if I should keep going (I came this far, right?), or what. I defaulted into boxing-out position, holding my stick like a sword, and froze like a statue. Finally a group of Gujarati tourists approached my paralyzed, petrified (in that I was both terrified and turned to stone) self and calmed me down. (Ok not really, but they tried to call me down.) Somehow they convinced me to walk the last 50 feet to the temple, sword-stick at the ready.

The temple wasn't worth it. It just wasn't. It was tiny and simple. No fabulous architecture, no extravagant decorations. Nothing more than your average local temple. Just a small orange-roofed house with some idols inside. This is what so many people risk their lives to see?! I wasn't expecting anything nearly as spectacular as Konark or Khajuraho, but geez I was expecting something tourist attraction-worthy, especially for braving all those monkeys. I was baffled. I didn't get it. I still don't get it. I feel so robbed of a morning I could have spent without fear of death.

really? REALLY?!

The rest of my day was less eventful, other than the fact that I had been wearing only a thin fleece (it was 60 F when I left my apartment) and the temperature unexpectedly dipped 40 degrees and it SNOWED. Yeah, needless to say, I was freezing. And unprepared. But at least the Oxford-like Viceregal Lodge (where British India was ruled in the summer, where Partition was signed, and which now houses the Indian Institute of Advanced Study that has hosted such scholars as Aung San Suu Kyi) looked especially beautiful in the snow!

dancing in the snow on my way toward the lodge because activity keeps me warm when I'm wearing weather-inappropriate clothing

Viceregal Lodge in the snow

My newest happy place

My newest happy place is Flavours Cafe in Varanasi's Lanka neighborhood. Why?

- beanbag chairs

- big windows

- good lighting

- cute decor

- white chocolate raspberry lattes

- desserts made with eggs (a rarity in India)

- tons of university students

In fact, I'm sitting in a beanbag chair in Flavours right now as I type.

4 hours and a visit to the tailor later, I mailed my packages.

I left Shimla and am now in transit to Varanasi for an intensive Hindi course. More on that later. For now, here's how I spent my last day in Shimla:

Naturally, I couldn't take everything in my apartment with me, so I had to ship some stuff home. I put everything in two cardboard boxes and headed to the post office, thinking this would take only 20 minutes.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

At 2pm, I arrived at the Sanjauli post office to find my landlord's wife Geeta staring at me from across the counter. This was my first surprise: I didn't know she worked at the post office! I thought she worked at a bank. Anyway, Geeta informed me that the Sanjauli post office does not send "parcels," as they call packages here in India. "But it's the post office's job to send mail!" I insisted. "No parcels." "But parcels are mail! The post office sends mail! Therefore the post office must send parcels!" "No parcels." "But you received my parcels when my mom mailed them from the US!" "No parcels. Go to Shimla."

I went to the Shimla post office--not that close, by the way, especially when you're carrying two boxes amounting to 18.8 kg. En route I passed a few private couriers and decided to check them out, but they were all absurdly expensive. So back to the post office plan.

I arrived at the Shimla post office with my two packages, certain that these people would be able to send them. "Seal?" the postal employee asked me. I was prepared for this, I thought. I purposely kept my packages open, because in Delhi they had opened up my box anyway to see the contents. I knew not to waste any tape this time, and I assumed the guy was asking me for a seal because he saw my boxes were open. In response to his seal inquiry, I smiled and held up my tape. "I have a seal!" I exclaimed triumphantly. A look of confusion crossed his face. "No, not tape. Seal. SEAL!" Now a look of confusion crossed mine. "But... tape does seal the parcel. Tape is the seal." "No, no, SEAL!" then rapid-fire Hindi that was too fast for my slow mind to comprehend. Luckily Harsh was with me, so he explained that the postman was telling me that I needed my parcel wrapped in a very specific white cloth, said cloth must be sewn and not stapled, and a "M.O.M." seal made of red gooey stuff would have to be stamped along the seams. Now this sounded familiar to me; when I sent a package from Kolkata in June 2008, the postman there wrapped and sewed my package for me (but this had not been required in Pondicherry in November 2007 nor Delhi in June 2010). I handed my packages over to the guy, assuming he would do all this. But no no no, I was told to go to a tailor.

Thus began the hunt for a tailor with the right cloth--not just any ol' white cloth, mind you, but a very specific material--and MOM seal. I went to the alley of tailors in Middle Bazaar below the Mall and had to visit several tailors before finding one with the right material. First the tailor asked me to come back tomorrow, but (a) I wouldn't be in Shimla the next day and (b) I'm not leaving a box with semi-valuables at a tailor's!! I insisted it was an emergency, and he agreed to do the job right then and there. But the tailor took AN HOUR AND A HALF to wrap the packages. I have no idea why he took so damn long. In Kolkata, I swear it took the guy about 5 minutes. AND the tailor charged me more than I pay for a salwar kameez. Ridiculous.

And then the tailor didn't have the MOM seal. Even though he said he did. So I had to run around with my packages to find another tailor who did have the seal. Luckily, he turned out to be only two doors down.

Finally, FINALLY my packages were ready. I RAN to the post office--and I do not like running--to mail them. I showed up at 5pm, and the post office closes at 5:30pm. Barely made it! I thought. Or did I?

"We don't accept parcels after 3pm." "I was here at 3pm, and you didn't tell me that. And there is no sign that says that. The post office is still open." "But we don't accept parcels after 3pm." "Why not?" "Because that's when the day's parcels are sent." "So? I don't care if you send them tomorrow. Why can't you accept my parcels and just send them with tomorrow's batch?" "We don't do that, madam." "But that makes no sense." and the conversation went on like this for a while.

Then I remembered: this is India. When you keep your voice at normal decibels, nobody listens to you. I turned into the madwoman I would never recognize in the States but I so often turn into in this country. I yelled at the postman, telling him the whole story, starting from Sanjauli. I think I ended with "why on earth does one have to go to a TAILOR to MAIL a parcel?! and if you're going to require something as stupid as white cloth, then why don't you provide the wrapping services yourself?!" The postman sat there stunned (I think my ranting in English--when I'm flustered my Hindi pretty much goes out the window--was way too fast for him to understand), and he sent me to the postmaster, the guy in charge of the post office (and no, he was clearly not intending to get his superior involved before I raised my voice). Harsh came with me to explain the situation in Hindi, and the postmaster agreed to send the packages. By this time it was 5:30pm and the post office was closing. This of course led to another argument, because the employee didn't want to stay overtime, but I won. It took a surprisingly long time for the guy to register my parcels in the system, but at 6:02pm on March 11, 2011, my packages were put in the mail room for delivery.