Pune, Diwali, and Tel Aviv

It's been 4 days since my return to Israel... I arrived late Sunday night, feeling great about being back. I awoke Monday morning with culture shock. I was literally in the middle of Israel's major cosmopolitan and I awoke to chirping birds, green tree branches outside the window, and breathable air. I headed out with the a friend (Y) who graciously picked me up from the airport, to get keys copied and though I saw no one, interacted with no one, and was out for all of 15 minutes, I found myself bewildered, confused, and feeling lost... in a neighborhood I know all too well.
Warm showers with no buckets, sitdown toilets, fresh bread, silverware, and clean air are just among the things I'm rediscovering. I still hesitate before tossing my toilet paper in the toilet. And I'm amazed at how clean and sparkling toilets are... (if you know my OCD with bathrooms - you know this is a big thing for me).
But I miss na'ans and chapatti's, the freshness of cold showers (which I can't bring myself to take when the tap provides a warm one), the satisfaction of watching dirty soap suds whirl down the drain when I wash my hands, people who bobble their head like I now do, eating with my hands, Indian food...
I hid out in Y's apartment all day Monday until I broke a tooth on a piece of chocolate (of all things) and decided to head south to visit my dentist. My journey out of the apartment to the atm, and then to the bus station, left me feeling like a deer in headlights. A little frightened, confused, and unsure.
I was appalled at how people pushed to get on the bus instead of waiting in line. To say it's worse than in India would be a lie... but it's all relative. For in India if you don't shove you won't even have the priviledge of standing squished between one woman's bossoms and another man's laptop case or market bag. Whereas in Israel if you don't get a seat you'll sit comfortably on the floor or wait 20 minutes for the next bus.
Being in the south and hopping from relative to relative has helped me slowly ease back in...and maybe heading back to Tel Aviv today will prove a little less daunting.
My last week and a half in India were marvelous. Myself, a Russian, an Australian, and two Indians were all there to assist/observe a wonderful teacher named Rashmin. We all stayed at Anagha's (one of the teachers) apartment with her sister and parents who were there visiting. It was like staying in a mini ashram and we had a blast doing our practices in the morning, hanging around the house in the afternoon, learning to cook Indian food, going to the course in the evening, and occasionally discovering the city with new friends at night.
The course ended and one by one we departed Anagha's place and Pune... except me. I stayed behind to celebrate Diwali - the Hindi festival of lights (and firecrackers), and the equivalent of Christmas (I was told) with Anagha's family. I accompanied Amruta (her sister) to a classical Indian dance class she was teaching (she's a professional dancer and apparentally known in India). I caught up on sleep, read, wrote in my journal, and got to know Anagha's parents who fell in love with me (and who I was quite fond of as well). Her father requested I speak in Hebrew, so I said "you're very nice, I like you". When I translated for him he was stunned and said something in Hindi, which Anagha translated to "no one's ever said that to me before". And on two separate occasions, in total seriousness, he asked me to stay in India longer so I could visit their home in the north, and so he could find me a husband... which is what he and his wife were in Pune doing for Amruta. He appeared to feel sorry for me when he learned that no one was concerning themselves with finding me a suitor so I assured him that if I was unsuccesful in Israel, I'd return to India and let him find me one.
I enjoyed the week and felt so lucky to spend time with Anagha's family, as one of them, wearing Anagha's clothes, dressing in Sari's, and doing puja for Diwali.
Four days later (a seeming eternity) I find that I've noticed I speak much less - for when you're in a country where most people can't understand you - you don't speak unnecessarily - and I've found that here - understanding all the noises around me, I can more clearly see the deeper silence within me.
The images and memories that remain with me are the people squatting (as at a toilet) on the side of railroad tracks, the children lathering their hair at mysterious dripping taps between the tracks, the little boy who shyly stood by me asking for money and who ran to the corner store after I gave him two ruppees, looking back at me with the biggest smile, to buy some candy. I wasn't bothered that his begging led to candy, the smile on his face warmed my heart...
All in all I'm feeling good... bearing the cold with some warm clothes I borrowed from my cousin... and looking to settling down again.
I'll post the last of the pictures very soon. And as soon as I manage to retrieve my Udaipur and Taj Mahal pictures from the corrrupted memory card... I'll post those as well.
signing off
love
Roni
ps. Now that I'm back I can respond to you individually, so write me... and if you're in Israel call.
pps. If anyone's interested in reincarnation, I read a fabulous book called Only Love is Real by a psychologist named Dr. Brian Weiss who has written several books on the topic. I read the book in one day, it compelling, an easy read, and it raised lots of questions and thoughts. A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry (an Indian author) is a fabulous book which will illuminate Indian culture for you (I'm currently in the middle)