Our third day of volunteer teaching in Bodh Gaya was a short one; school was dismissed early because it was the first day of a two-day Hindu festival called Raksha Bandham, honoring the bond between brothers and sisters. Even though Bodh Gaya appears to be mostly Buddhist, the locals observe this occasion, on which sisters tie a bracelet onto the wrists of their brothers, and quite often the brothers give their sisters gifts. The sisters seem to get the better end of that deal.

In the afternoon we walked through town, up to the famous Giant Buddha, which stands 64 feet high, even though he’s sitting down. We didn’t go inside it, which would have required investing some time and money, but the view of it is impressive from the street. At least in the front, where all the monks and tourists and vendors mingle. In the rear, some people thought they had found an appropriate place to dump garbage. The contrast was stark and ironic, and interesting enough for Dennis to make notes about for a future poem.

Continuing our stroll, we came to another Buddha in the courtyard of a temple, which tourists were freely going into and coming back out of, so we went in to have a little look-see as well. Inside was a fountain with a miniature Buddha in front, and a little ladle beside it. As we stood there pondering this scenario, along came a monk, who evidently was under a vow of silence but communicated through gestures that the proper order of business was for us to scoop up some water in the ladle and pour it over the head of the Buddha. The Buddha had never done anything to us, but apparently this was a ritual that was supposed to bring good luck, or warm fuzzies, or maybe a cure for acne, who knows. So, always eager to experience other cultures, we played along.

It was then that our friendly neighborhood monk resumed his mime show in an effort to convey some additional information. But he couldn’t quite get through to us ignorant Americans, so finally he resorted to using his vocal chords to explain that we were expected to cough up some pocket change in return for the cultural lesson we’d just experienced. The attraction to rupees was strong enough to overcome his commitment to silence.

The next day we caught a tuk-tuk into the city of Gaya in hopes of patronizing an actual supermarket and picking up a few things we’d been unable to find at the local markets. We’d searched online and found an outlet called Big Bazaar; it looked like something on the order of a Wal-Mart Supercenter, perhaps minus the cheap stuff from China. But when we arrived at the site, we found that the market was permanently closed. Not only that, but the building was gutted, and a construction crew was preparing the site for the installation of another business.

So we had the driver drop us at another supermarket, which wasn’t nearly as big and all-inclusive, but it was the best alternative we could come up with. Actually, he didn’t exactly drop us; he came inside and waited with us, and even “helped” us shop. He lived in Bodh Gaya, so he was hoping to be the one to give us a ride back there, picking up two fares instead of wasting half a drive. And he seemed prepared to wait around all day for our business, or at least for a couple of hours. So we didn’t make him wait that long, but curtailed our outing and headed back home as soon as we’d shopped at the store, where we found some, but not all, of the items we were seeking.

Raksha Bandham

Back at home, we were invited to partake of a festive feast mounted by our host family for a number of relatives who came dressed in their finery, for the occasion of Raksha Bandham; the food, as usual in this country, was outstanding. As usual, some of the guests were amazed to learn that we were American, and as usual we were amazed that they were amazed. There were quite a few kids there, and, whether due to cultural differences or just the typical rambunctiousness of youngsters everywhere in the world, they had no qualms about barging into our room unannounced; so we had to take measures to prevent that from happening.

Late in the afternoon, Dennis walked along the main thoroughfare in town to our favorite local produce stand. Along the way, he was approached by a young man who introduced himself and offered to buy him a cup of tea. Nothing unusual about this; Indians tend to be very friendly and hospitable, often stopping us on the street to take a selfie with us, and it’s considered almost mandatory for them to buy or serve tea to guests and even strangers they meet. What Dennis feared was that this guy was trying to hustle him in some way or other, which has been known to happen in Bodh Gaya. But it turned out that the fellow was perfectly sincere and genuine and just wanted to chat with an American.

So they had cups of hot chai from a roadside stand, served in those ubiquitous little gray paper cups that look like miniature flower pots. Turned out the fellow was a film editor, and had just finished working on a Bollywood feature called “Education, the Terror”, for which he showed the trailer on his phone.

Monday and Tuesday were, once again, abbreviated days at school with little class time. But we did get in some sessions of tai chi and yoga. And the kids also practiced some acrobatics and gymnastics, at which some of them are quite adept.

But for the most part, these two days were consumed with preparations for a celebration of Independence Day on Wednesday (August 15). The students decorated, practiced speeches, and otherwise got ready for the Big Event. And when Wednesday came, we let our cameras go wild. So we’ll dedicate an entire post to that day, coming up next.

Birds in the Rice Paddy next to the house we stayed in

August 11-12, 2023