Andrew Finkelstein '13/'14 

BRIDGE YEAR in VARANASI, INDIA - DISPATCH #6 by Andrew Finkelstein '13/'14

EDITORIAL NOTE: Andrew offers his latest thoughts about working in India (below).
As you may know, the first Bridge Year is concluding, and its participants hail from
the Class of 2013. The goal: Give freshmen a year of overseas community work,
then bring them back to Nassau to launch their actual freshman year. These 20
students entered as '13s, but after a year's work abroad, join the Class of 2014.

This competitive program for incoming freshmen has opened many eyes.
Below is the SIXTH in a series of dispatches from Andrew.

And PCW will host Andrew's "Review of Bridge Year" in mid-June - STAY TUNED.

For DISPATCH 1 in the series, please LOOK HERE ....
For CHAP. 2, GO HERE....
For CHAP. 3, GO HERE....For CHAP. 4, READ IT HERE...
For CHAP. 5, GO HERE. 

DEPARTURE PREPARATIONS

This weekend I left the house I have been living in for the past six months
loaded like a donkey with a backpack, a duffle bag in each hand, and a
tapestry thrown lazily over my shoulder. Though it would seem as though
I was fully packed and ready to leave Varanasi, I was merely traveling to
a post office to send home a sampling of the items that I have accumulated
over the course of my journeys.

I could not send the items home in the bags I was using because I had
borrowed the duffels from my homestay family and I needed the backpack
for the remainder of my trip. As I unpacked the contents at the post office
and, with the help of the postman, packed the box bound for home. I was
pleasantly hit with memory after memory.

As the postman handled a large tin box I had purchased not too long ago,
my mind wandered through the alleys of Varanasi. A few weeks back, I
discovered a new gulley in one of the main markets with the help of other
Bridge Year participants. As we traveled down the uncharted lane, I noticed
tea merchants.

No Einstein equation could begin to calculate how much tea I have drunk
in India, and until that point I had never seen a tea merchant. Naturally,
I was fascinated. However, what attracted me the most was not the teas
the men were selling, but the containers in which the teas were being sold.
I approached a shop with a man slowly fading in the midday heat. “Tea?”
he asked as he sprang awake. I then explained that although I am a fan
of tea, what I really wanted to purchase was one of his finely decorated
tea boxes which bore the name of its contents in a neat script. “Oh…”
he replied in a way that implied, “why?” while his searching eyes
seemed to convey, “let me see what I can do.” After scanning his five
by five foot store for a few seconds, he retrieved a tea box that had
been retired long before my arrival in Varanasi. We agreed on a price,
and I was the proud new owner of a piece of Indian tradition. The box
had a past, and I ensured its future. Its beauty is anything but superficial.

I handed the postman a painting, which he gently rolled and wrapped
in cardboard. Meanwhile, my memories of the Ghats, the stairs that
lead to the holy river, sprang to life. Every Ghat is different. Some are
burning Ghats, where bodies are burned and ashes are submerged in
the Ganges, liberating the dead from the cycle of rebirth. Some are
where dhobis, washmen, choose to dry their customers’ clothing by
draping them in everyway imaginable. Stairs adorn the drying saris
as beautifully as any Indian woman. Some are destinations while
others are looked over. My favorite is Chet Singh Ghat, where a small
palace dominates the scenery. Sadly, none of my photos had been
able to capture the magnificence of Chet Singh Ghat, so I decided
that my explanations would have to suffice. One evening, while
walking on the Ghats, I saw the image of my favorite Ghat on the
canvas of a young artist. At that moment I realized that a picture is
truly worth a thousand words and quickly made up my mind to
support a local artist.

The largest item placed into the oversized package was a tapestry
I purchased many months ago. Before the box was sealed I relived
my trip in Rajasthan. While exploring Jodhpur, Joe, another Bridge
Year India participant, and I found ourselves inside an enormous
antique warehouse. The shop maintained an abandoned museum
type atmosphere, except the products on display were actually
available for purchase. When we entered the store it appeared to
be a small shop, but after a few moments we were led down a flight
of stairs into what appeared to be the largest yard sale of the century.

After a few minutes we were led to a much cleaner and more organized
area. While the previous room was overflowing with ancient artifacts,
this one was a spacious presentation room in which multiple men CAST
Rajasthan’s finest tapestries right before your eyes. Once we sat down
on an unusually comfortable couch, a rare commodity in India, we were
immediately offered chai. After accepting, the man asked us, “with or
without opium?” Ten silent seconds later he laughed loud enough for
us to realize that he was joking. He then started reciting a commentary
about the fabrics that he was unfolding. The combination between the
striking patterns and the wave-like manner in which the material unraveled
was mesmerizing. Once the man’s monologue was complete, I found
three out of the dozen or so pieces laying on the floor in disarray to be
particularly captivating. After a tedious negation was concluded smiles
replaced poker faces, hands were shaken, and I left the store with my
tapestries.

Once the packing process was complete, I signed some papers and
the box became the postman’s responsibility. Some people enjoy
postcards, others enjoy Taj Mahal snow globes. I have encountered
tourist objects such as these in all my travels and, for me, they are
neither special abroad nor at home. Unique finds and successful
negotiations make for distinctive purchasing experiences.

When asked about the tin tea box, Ghat painting, Rajasthan tapestry,
or any one of the other trinkets I've picked up along the way, I look
forward to sharing my stories. Until then, all I can do is pray that my
well packed collection of memories arrives home safely! On April 25th
my group will leave Varanasi for the last time, and make our way
towards Ladakh, a Himalayan region of India. There we will travel,
run an educational camp, and reflect on our trip during our one week
transference period before returning to America.