Vote for me, the Blue Lotus

Elections in India begin today, and the candidates from each party are campaigning in full force, marching with groups of supporters in the streets. Depending on how financially lubricated the candidate and/or party is, these marches can be basic flag waving affairs, or wild circuses with loud speakers and music, floats and lights.

Unlike in America where there is one official day for everyone to vote (of course there are early voting opportunities and absentee ballots, but everyone knows that on the Tuesday after the first Monday in November, they can vote), here there is a four week time span and you vote depending on your region and constituency on a specific day. Because India mobilizes about 600 million people to vote, there's not enough machinery, security, etc. to handle it all at once. To give you an idea of the kind of manuveuring required, they had to move cricket season in order to have enough security available for the elections!

Many of these 600 million voters are illiterate. How do you make an impression on a voter who can't read? You use a symbol and a color. Take for example, the man pictured above. I don't know who he is, but in the flyer that his people handed me as their parade passed my rickshaw (captive audience--we were stuck in his traffic jam) he says to look for the blue lotus on the ballot. In addition to his symbol and color, his flyer was actually a 3-page booklet translated into 3 different languages: Hindi, Marathi, and English. Intense.

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Vote for me, the Blue Lotus

Elections in India begin today, and the candidates from each party are campaigning in full force, marching with groups of supporters in the streets. Depending on how financially lubricated the candidate and/or party is, these marches can be basic flag waving affairs, or wild circuses with loud speakers and music, floats and lights.

Unlike in America where there is one official day for everyone to vote (of course there are early voting opportunities and absentee ballots, but everyone knows that on the Tuesday after the first Monday in November, they can vote), here there is a four week time span and you vote depending on your region and constituency on a specific day. Because India mobilizes about 600 million people to vote, there's not enough machinery, security, etc. to handle it all at once. To give you an idea of the kind of manuveuring required, they had to move cricket season in order to have enough security available for the elections!

Many of these 600 million voters are illiterate. How do you make an impression on a voter who can't read? You use a symbol and a color. Take for example, the man pictured above. I don't know who he is, but in the flyer that his people handed me as their parade passed my rickshaw (captive audience--we were stuck in his traffic jam) he says to look for the blue lotus on the ballot. In addition to his symbol and color, his flyer was actually a 3-page booklet translated into 3 different languages: Hindi, Marathi, and English. Intense.

Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

Blessed Bananas

The dog, Uma, has introduced me to a whole new set of friends on my little lane in Khar (Mumbai). In the house to the right is a little boy, about 3 years old, with curly brown hair who screams DOGGIEEEEEE every time we walk outside. Down the way are some girls who love petting Uma on their way to school. And across the lane, just caddycorner to me, is a saintly man--literally, he is a disciple of one of these big-time gurus--who is obsessed with Uma. He is skinny yet supple, has a long wispy grey beard, and long grey head of hair, and he just scoops her up in his arms, and pets her vigorously. When he puts her down, he says, "See, she's happy now."

Tonight he invited Uma for a walk in his garden, and invited me along as her chaperone, although he made me let go of the leash and just drop it on the ground. "She won't go anywhere. She knows this place is good. Dogs know. They know good people from bad." He was right. She didn't run away. Just went around mouthing his plants, tasting the leaves with her tongue, but not biting them.

He invited her inside his house, which is filled with cats, and whose focal point is a small smoking shrine. The wooden shrine hangs on the wall, and incense pipes out of it throughout the day. He reached his index finger into a little pot sitting on the ledge of the shrine, and with his finger, he marked Uma's forehead--a blessing. Then, he did the same to mine, giving me a white dot above and between my eyes. Then he gave me two small fat bananas, as "prasad," an item that is first offered to a deity, then consumed.

I wasn't sure what he wanted me to do with the bananas, as I knew that they were blessed bananas and I felt that they would be wasted on me. What are these, I asked? He said, "These are bananas. Have you not seen them before?" No, yes, I have, but what should I do with them? It seemed bad to just polish them off. Shouldn't they sit on a shelf somewhere, I thought? "You eat them," he said. "Have you had them before?"

The man thinks that he is introducing me to an entirely new fruit.

I swallowed my smile, and said thank you. He asked us to sit down. Uma would have loved to. I wouldn't have minded. But, we needed to go. I hated to tell him why--how do you tell a saint that you're about to be late for a Skype conference call? Particularly when he's just given you the fruit of the Gods? Priorities. A message from above, me thinks.

Not sure what happened...

But I came home last Saturday with a dog.

Never a Dull Moment

Here in the West Village of Mumbai (the New York Times' words, not mine), there's always someone chanting something. I live next to a temple (as many people do in India--they certainly abound), and am used to hearing ululations coming from next door. So, it took me a minute to notice the tinkling of bells and lilting voices tonight. When I finally went to the window, it turned out there was a bit of a ruckus, if you will, on the street. Already in my PJs, I threw on a scarf for modesty's sake and went outside. Everyone else on my little lane was already at our front gate, watching a traffic jam develop.

My neighbor, a woman I've never actually spoken to before (seen but not heard), turned to me and said, "You must know that there is an Indian festival today." A statement. To be honest, I didn't know, and I was surprised that she spoke English. We've passed each other numerous times on the stairs and never said a word to each other.

"No," I said, "I didn't know." "You must know Hanuman, then? It's his festival day."

Ding. This explains a lot actually. At every temple in the neighborhood for the past few days, there have been elaborate gatherings, and always, always those amazing marigold marigolds. India is a festive land, so sometimes, one overlooks the occasional festival--opting out by not asking the what or the why, and just letting it be.

I had intended to sit this one out.

Another neighbor, an old man, came up to me. "It's Hanuman festival!" Yes. "Do you know Hanuman?" "The monkey god, right?" I asked. "He is a symbol of strength," he told me. Hmmm, I could use a little at the moment.

The old man, with a palsy that makes his hands quake, dressed in all white, urged me to go touch the passing shrine, being carried by nearly 10 men. "No," I said, "I don't want to interfere." He urged me twice more. No, I said. But as I did, I hoped that maybe Hanuman would send some strength over to my side of the road. Yes, he is a monkey, who is a god, but you never know...The man turned to go up to the shrine again, lighting some incense and wafting the smoke of the candle towards his face. As he did so, I snuck away from the crowd and went home.