Introducing Bajipura!

When I first arrived in Bajipura, it was around 2 pm, the hottest hour of the day. Seeing about three elderly people in the entire village, I thought, my goodness I’m in the middle of nowhere! But I soon found out that in the (relatively) cooler mornings and evenings, the village is full of life; there are children playing in the streets, students walking to and from school, workers commuting, and families socializing on outdoor bench swings (which every household here seems to have— we are determined to get one for our apartment too).

There are about 5,000 people living in the village of Bajipura. As we walked down the street to explore the village for the first time, I noticed that many of the newer houses have ornately carved doors and walls that are brightly painted in yellow, red, orange, green and blue. Every several hundred feet along our main street, there are temples of various faiths; there is one right in front of our apartment as well, and twice a day the songs of prayer ring throughout the entire street. There is also a river that runs through Bajipura; in the afternoons, there are women washing clothes, children bathing, and water buffaloes grazing on the green grass. My favorite spot is the bridge, where I can dangle my legs and read a book or do some writing—but some child would always manage to find me and curiously ask what I am doing!

All 5,000 people probably knew about us foreign teachers the day we arrived. The children were the first ones to greet us; any time they see us, they would stop whatever they are doing and scream out, “Hi Teacher!” Walking through the village, there is always some family that invites us into their home—the first several weeks were the peak of mango season, so every household would kindly offer us ripe orange mangoes that no matter how many I had eaten, I could not resist. Despite our non-existent Gujarati skills and the villagers’ limited English, we all somehow manage to communicate with smiles and wild gestures. Every week there is somebody new to wave to while strolling down the street.

On Sundays, Bajipura is at its liveliest. From the morning until the afternoon, there is an outdoor market that extends from the heart of the village to the river banks; the village square fills up with booths and vendors selling everything from clothes and jewelry to kitchenware and vegetables to samosas and shaved ice. There are mountains of chili peppers that reach up to my waist, and racks of clothes that seem to go on forever. We try to practice our awful bargaining skills, only to realize that the vendor is selling for a price lower than what we suggested!

Bajipura has proved itself much livelier than I had initially thought—and despite its small size, every week there is something new that I discover.

Namaste and thank you for reading,

Milly