Last days in Rajasthan

So I have a 7th rule for driving in India, which I forgot in my previous email.

7) Honking here does NOT mean "get out of my way", it means "hello, I am going to pass you now." And with over a billion people, it is a veritable cacophany of hellos! They say that people buy cars, not for how nice they are, but for what kind of horn they have!

So today is our second and final day in Udiapur, we are taking an over night train towards Agra tonight. Yesterday we totally and completely museumed and forted ourselves out. I can't see another one for at least a week....at least. But last night we made it to a demonstration of typical Rajasthani dance, including women dancing while balancing fire on their heads and a woman balancing 9 pots (while she stood on broken glass....I wasn't sure why she needed to torture herself for our viewing pleasure...but then there are many things I don't get here).

Today however was eye opening. We got up and stumbled down the street to break fast at the roof top, Sunrise Restaurante, and while being served our jam and butter toast (that means a jam sandwich and a seperate butter sandwich) and our prerequisit morning pot of chai, we were told about a cooking class held by a lovely woman in her home under the restuarant. We had no plans, and we all like food, so why the hell not.

We went in expecting to learn how to cook some amazing Indian food, and we came out with an immensely enhanced understanding of India and its people. Shashi, the woman who ran the cooking class in her kitchen told us her story as she conducted the 4 hour class. She is a widow. Of the Brahman class, which is one of the highest casts. They are the priest cast, and are not allowed to work normal jobs. So when she was widowed, about 7 years ago, she was forced into one year of mandatory solitude where she wasn't allowed to leave the house. After this forced morning period she found herself and her two young sons with no money, and no source of income, since she was a Brahman. She explained that previously Brahman women were thrown into the funeral pyre with their husbands if they were widowed, but that is now illegal. But she said she actually thought that her fate was worse. She managed to get by washing cloths for near by hotels secretly, since it was not allowed in her cast. Eventually one lucky day a few years ago she met an interested Irishman who gave her the idea of setting up a cooking school. She struggled to teach herself English and has been giving small private lessons out of her one room house ever since.

Her story of sorrow however was heart wrenching. Her husband was killed by his best friend over a mere 30,000 rupees ($750), and the perpretrator only went to jail for one year, while she was in a physical and mental prison for many more. No one would talk to her, because widows are concidered bad luck, no one would help her, and she had to work extremely hard for VERY LITTLE money. Her husbands family (whom she lived with, miles and miles from her home village) rejected her, and she continues to live a floor below them and hasn't spoken to them in years. But NOW, she is perfectly happy to not talk to them. She is a sucess story of the most touching kind, and each of us was inspired by her perseverence and determination. AND it was a damn good story!

It made us all realize just how lucky we are.