Some day I won’t be poor. I will be successful, be able to pay my bills and maybe even have an extra dollar or two to spare.

What is it that I would do with that extra bag of pennies? I would come back to India and give a little TLC to all of the forgotten animals.

In a country where the majority of the people follow a religion that believes in reincarnation and the potential to come back as any sentient being is possible, why are the animals treated the way that they are?

Recently someone attempted to tell me that in a country where there are so many people that don’t have anything to eat, it makes sense that the animals are the least of the people’s worries.

Now certainly the cows are supposedly gods. And there is Hanuman, the mischievous monkey god. Even the dog is considered the vahana (animal vehicle) of the Indian god Shiva.

So how do you explain worshipping something in the allegorical form, but treating the real thing like “udder” crap.

Yesterday I went with the fellows on a trip to “Jog Trickles”. (ok, jog falls, but not the season for falling…) It was the first time that I have seen a little filly in India. The little chestnut beauty was probably around 8 months old or so, maybe even a little younger. It was simply hanging out in the tourist trap from hell and eating from a pile of rocks and gravel. As I got closer I expected to maybe see a blade of grass or two poking out of the grey bump, but no such luck. The adorable little thing was really just munching out on the rocks.

So, I meandered up and fed it some Parle G’s (those are little tasty glucose biscuts). To Chester the chestnut I am now a great friend, but to the Indian men staring at me and taking pictures of my lunacy, I was a psycho.

I couldn’t convince the group to let me take it home with me… so unfortunately I had to say my goodbyes.

I went to get a bottle of water. While heading toward the shop there was a man now chasing Chester and hitting her with a stick. I don’t think he will want to come back as a little colt any time soon.

Around my dorm there is an adorable dog. I have been calling it Beavis. Beavis has a cross burnt into its forehead. Beavis looks hungry and has mange. Beavis also is one of the sweetest pups I have ever met.

Now I know that I am an animal lover. I had horses as a kid. I wanted to be a vet. But I’m sorry, no one will ever make me believe that just because the people have their own problems that there is any sort of excuse for taking it out on the animals.

Just check out this guy. He actually married a dog in Southern India when years prior he had stoned a couple of dogs to death then hung their bodies in a tree. Apparently the astrologer told him that it would cure him from the paralysis of his legs and hands and his loss of hearing which came not too long after his doggie troubles.

Maybe there is such a thing as karma.

Yesterday I made a statement that I am not a joiner. Well, today I ate my words…

I participated not only in an organized group activity for the Sandbox fellows, but to top it off it was a traditional Indian dance lesson.

Ok, so I am a Bollywood fan, I adored the dance lesson scenes in Kama Sutra, the movie, but this un-coordinated tom-boy was certainly hobbling around on two left feet trying to learn a dance to a Hindi song telling the tale of the monsoon rains. Its the hand movements, the eye gestures and even the hip wiggles. And this is supposedly a conservative place?

I admit that I can be found hiding out in my basement back home, popping on the Bollywood tunes, and spinning around in circles in my own fantasy world. But, this lesson was beyond my personal choreographed creations.

I actually kind of offended the instructor when I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically. I had to try and explain that really dry humor is how I cope with situations and that I was most certainly laughing only at myself and my horrible coordination.

Perhaps after 6 months, I’ll post a picture for you to giggle at. Perhaps not. But I am trying to convince everyone that we should surely have a recital.

Did I mention how hot and humid it is here? I am constantly sweating. Damn hypohydrosis of the head! Bikram Yoga has nothing on dance lessons in a concrete classroom in Hubli!

Your up all night packing to move to India for a year, you find yourself throwing things all around, bringing things that are useless, forgetting things like your bathing suit, and worrying yourself to death that 25 pairs of panties just won’t be enough.

Maybe it won’t be enough, but no matter what anyone tells you, they do sell them here in Hubli. I have even seen silky frilly ones, though I do prefer function over form in the underwear department.

Its during that sporadic and hectic, unplanned, chaotic packing session that begins this euphoric game of mind control. Or lack there of… It seems that as soon as you say yes and agree to move somewhere exotic, developing, and new to you, all sense of normalcy of thought gets thrown out the window. You become filled with wonder and awe and believe that this is going to be an amazing adventure.
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Today was quite an adventure.

I woke at 6:30 am to begin writing a speech… First of all let me say that those of you that know me, may be thinking, big deal… That Girl LOVES to talk. Which I do… But not so much on short notice and in front of strangers.

The first little speech was at 10 am, prior to the keynote speech given by Narayan Murthy, founder of Infosys and one of India’s great philanthropists.

Following that there was a round table like discussion with other industrialists and business people from India and abroad. This was really a great way to begin the dialog about what the fellows were brought to Hubli to accomplish and gave me a great platform to begin to bounce ideas around with people about the need for media and the relationship between community news and social change.

Then it was time for a little shopping. I headed to town with Amy and Rebecca to get some last minute items for the wedding that we were invited to. Yes a HUGE Indian wedding… and even more impressive was that I wore a sari.

The wedding was amazing and turned into two full days of dressing up, feeling pretty, and meeting many interesting people time and time again. It was a great break from the daily routine and certainly an honor to attend. I hope that this is just the first of many…

Check out some photos from the days:

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.