A day in the Life

Leaving our palatial hotel, we drove only a short distance into the "village" of Khilchipur (if one considers 20,000 people a village -- this is the location to which many villages were resettled when they were removed from the national park in 1972). Our first stop here was a visit to the school funded by Grand Circle Foundation. 

There are about 200 students here, grades K-8. Boys outnumber girls three to one, even more in the upper grades. Students "sang" (more like chanted) the Indian national anthem for us, then a group of four girls danced to music played by a boom box. A group of four boys then did something similar. This was sort of Bollywood type dancing. Mary led the kids in "Tiger Hunt" (an adaptation of Lion Hunt) and had their rapt attention. Then our guide had us do our version of Bollywood dance to music he played from his laptop. I don't think the kids were very impressed. We dispersed to visit classrooms. Mary and I went to a 10th grade “maths” class, all boys, and quite chaotic. We showed them family photos on my phone and tried to converse across the language barrier

Leaving the school we walked in the village, seeing scenes of daily life, and hearing from our guide about the caste system and arranged marriage practices. We watched some women getting water, and one group member even pumped for them. We watched them place on their heads multiple water jars, perhaps weighing 40 pounds total, and walk away gracefully without spilling a drop. 

We also watched a woman gathering cow manure with her bare hands, carrying the large bowl full of the same on her head, and walking on. The cow paddies are used for cooking and heating fuel. She, too, came to the pump to wash the manure from her bowl. We hoped she wouldn't be using that bowl to make dinner later, but it was a possibility.

As we wound through the village streets we came to a house where our guide had arranged for us to have tea. The husband was away at work somewhere, but the woman of the house welcomed us. Her two sons and a daughter-in-law were there, as was a neighbor man who spoke some English. Beds were brought out into the courtyard for us to sit on. 

As the daughter-in-law prepared chai for us over a cow dung open fire, the woman stood in the middle of the circle, with our guide interpreting, ready to answer any questions we had for her about village life. But this woman -- probably 50-ish by the ages of her sons, but easily passing for more, by U.S. standards -- had a bit of twinkle in her eye and was not shy, so when we didn't have enough questions for her, she started asking questions of us! 

She went around the circle, and asked the guide to ask each of us our name and occupation. She had a compliment for each of the couples, but she really had a hard time with the single women in the group. Never being married or being divorced just doesn't compute in this culture. After chai we were invited to explore the rest of the house, which really only consisted of a couple rooms, another room for animal feed, and a couple of small rooms that seemed to serve as closets. We were told that 10 people shared these spaces, all sleeping in the two rooms and under a roofed portion of the courtyard in winter and monsoon, but sleeping outside in the courtyard during the hotter months.

We returned to the bus and drove another fairly short distance to women's cooperative called Dhonk. We met about a half-dozen women and a couple of men who were sewing, embroidering, or block printing fabric. Various items were on sale (prices were not cheap). The woman who directs the project was introduced and spoke to us in excellent English. The purpose of the coop is to provide income to families who were displaced from their villages by the establishment of the national park. Many of the men of these villages had made their living as hunters or as hunting guides for tourists. The park disrupted that business, and many men were arrested and imprisoned for poaching even after being moved out. That left women who needed to provide for their families. This woman, who is the wife or a research biologist in charge of preserving the tiger population, decided that poaching would be reduced if other sources of income existed. With seed money from Grand Circle Foundation, women are provided with materials, and through this shop, a market for their handicrafts.

After we'd all had time to make a few purchases, we were invited to lunch with some of the women. The young woman at our table, from her dress and just the way she carried herself, was clearly of a higher class than the rest. We learned that she has a 10th grade education, including some English, which qualified her to be the assistant manager of the project. She supervises about 30 other women who work on site (though not all are there every day), and commutes an hour each morning and an hour each evening, by bus, from home to work. She was married at age 16 and has a 5-year-old and a baby, who are cared for daily by her mother-in-law. Her husband is employed by the local water utility. She explained to us the bindi, forehead makeup, and bracelets that indicate her marital status. 

After lunch, the women in our group were invited to receive henna on their hands. Some of the girls were obviously very artistic. The girl who did Mary's hand (not the same one with whom we shared lunch) obviously not so much.

We boarded the bus for the long drive to the OAT tent camp, retracing part of our route from the day before, and even stopping to use the toilet at the same tourist/truck stop place. At another spot along the way we stopped briefly to see a somewhat unusual Hindu temple. The architecture was different from others, and we were told that the style was more typical of southern India. As it turned out, the place was packed with people and there was some sort of visiting guru, with drummers and a citar band, having what may be the Hindu equivalent of a tent revival. It was all certainly loud coming over the PA system! 

Standing at the back we saw a group in bright costumes, one in a fake white beard, sort of like Santa Claus, and another in black wig and fake beard carrying a basket on his head with a real, live baby in it. We watched them march in, to the stage, accompanied by women who danced in front of and behind them, all captured by what appeared to be professional TV and press SLR cameras. Our guide explained that we were very lucky to see this somewhat rare re-enactment of the birth of Krishna -- a tent revival with a live nativity!

We arrived at the OAT tent camp to the sound of beating drums, marigold wreaths around our necks, and a welcome drink of lemonade. The sun was setting and there was a chill in the air as we sat around the open, thatched-roofed pavilion to be introduced to the manager and get our tent assignments. 

These tents are quite fancy, with two beds, a night stand, a couple chairs and a small table inside, and a couple chairs out on the porch. There is also a separate bathroom with sink, toilet, and something resembling a shower. "Roughing it" consists in having to unzip/zip the flap to go in and out, and the fact that hot water is only available for a few hours each morning and again for a few hours each evening. The shower is a wand type, low to the floor. A plastic stool is provided to sit on, or one can just squat. There is no shower curtain. But, it is useable. I'm certain these tents are delightful in warm weather, but with temps rapidly heading down to around 40, they left something to be desired. The staff went out of their way to provide that: a fan-less, radiator-type electric space heater was placed between the two beds and there were several thick blankets and a duvet. And, when our evening activities were over, we came back to discover a very warm hot water bottle had been placed in each bed as a bed warmer. We actually slept very well.

But I'm ahead of myself. We gathered outside for drinks. Hot chai went down quickly. The rum and whiskey looked like good options, but we were running very low on Rupees, so I skipped that. After warming up around the makeshift bar, our guide invited us into the kitchen for a cooking demonstration. He's quite an accomplished cook! The kitchen is a permanent building, not a tent. It is attached to the dining hall, which has walls, doors, and windows, but a single pillar in the middle to support a tent fabric roof. We left the kitchen to return outside while the rest of the meal was being prepared.

Small charcoal hot pots had been placed among the chairs, and a wood fire burned in the middle of the circle. Surrounding the fire huddled a group of men in traditional dress. They were introduced as a folk dance troupe. Most played drums and sang, but the group leader -- whose voice and graceful movement suggested he had had the benefit of professional training -- was the dancer. On a second number he was joined by one other dancer. 

On the third number they started pulling tourists onto the "dance floor," beginning with the men. I was the first to be picked on. Mary was more interested in the drumming, and with a little encouragement, was able to join the men for one number as a guest cymbalist. Following the program, we returned to the dining hall for a good meal, then off to our warm beds.