A Pink American in India

1.1.2007...Home Home at LAST

2007-01-02T00:12:00.000+05:30

Just wanted to give one final FINAL post to let you all know that we returned to Seattle without event yesterday evening.

I enjoyed some French champagne (from a Paris trip 3 years back) and the comfort of my own bed.

Now comes the process of reintegration and unpacking.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL!

Hope you're dreams start to become your realities.

Peace,

A Pink American

12.27.2006...The Final Days, The Final Hours, The Final Thoughts

2006-12-27T13:55:00.000+05:30

Here is a New Year's Pict-o-gram:

INDIA...................................SINGAPORE

TOKYO....................................LOS ANGELES

SEATTLE.......................................NEW YEAR'S EVE
=

This is the recipe for making your New Year's Eve day the longest ever.

Although our flight is scheduled to leave Ahmedabad at 1145pm on the 30th I suspect we'll still be touching India soil past midnight.

I started the slow process of packing yesterday and realized I was more than half way done when I started. Three months anywhere threatens to send one home with more items than can possibly be allowed on the flight, but I spent months leading up to the trip prepping myself to be a strategic shopper and constantly reminded myself of my space and weight allowance.

As it is I'll still have to leave behind a few items for the next visit Surnish's folks make to the States, but they were unexpected add-ons anyways so I shouldn't miss them for a year or so.

I've been thinking a lot about life in general and am continually discussing these matters with Surnish.

After this experience I can't go back to life as normal for me or even back to the track I thought I was on before I left.

I had this vision of spiritual awakening whilst in India that had some semi-predefined result in my mind.

I thought I would never want to touch alcohol again. I thought that I wouldn't want to eat any kind of junky foods anymore. I thought I'd shun coffee and tea. I thought that I'd become more judgmental of others, in an all knowing way. I thought that I'd be more cynical of Western societies, especially America. I thought that India would present itself as some kind of quasi-utopian bliss to my modern American cultural heritage of over-consumption of everything that leaves you craving more and fasting from those things which would actually leave one feeling fulfilled...and I mean really fulfilled.

NONE of it happened. Well not that way at any rate.

Oh I did have my spiritual awakening, and it did put me in my place. I just don't think I can ever take for granted what it is I think I know of the world or the extent of my knowledge.

I suppose some may read these words and say: "Yeah well I could have told you that you didn't need to go to the other side of the world to figure this out."

And to this I'd say: "You're right, if only it were that easy!"

It just isn't the same to have some one tell you how you should feel or respond to a situation as it is to going out there and actually feeling or responding to that situation.

Sometimes the lives of two people can look identical on the outside, but what informs them on the inside is what makes them unique. If I use the knowledge I've tapped into to live my life in a more 'responsible' way while not letting the pressures of society dictate my internal drives, then I could be as happy living as a middle class American as I could living a life as a missionary of charity...as long as I embraced the choice peacefully as my own (which I did many years back).

My realization from recent times is that I am not inherently better or worse of a person for having chosen one of these over the other, even if the world at large would otherwise value the decision.

This knowledge I've tapped into isn't exclusive to me, but rather it is a universal knowledge. In this all humans have the ability to tap into the same knowing as any other being. But that's where it stops. We all have to go about it in our own ways (that whole free-will concept). I'd like to think that I dream of doing things because my doing them satisfies my curiousities of life rather than leaves me scratching my head. To be sure many things are still a mystery to me, but I have finally seen a general pattern emerging.

I don't take for granted the HUGE leg up I have having been born in the US, being Anglo, being from a decent working class family.

Good GOD, NO that doesn't make me better as a person in any way, but I was born into a situation that allowed a great deal more freedom to explore my mind and existence.

Despite the trials I have personally endured, I've never had to worry about racial prejudice, my family never told me 'no you can't, you're a girl', I've not gone to bed hungry ever, I never worried about where I'd live, I've never listened to guns and bombs as I try to sleep at night. There is no doubt in my mind that having a life free of regular onslaughts on one's mortality and self-dignity are the bedrock for human evolution as a species. Seriously, without them even the most adept sage could not attain nirvana. How can anyone under such circumstances contemplate ideas beyond societally assigned 'self-worth' or mere survival?

For me I'm still letting my mind fathom the fortune I feel for my existence. I don't know that I'll be able to do more than wonder at the circumstances of my life that have brought me to each moment I experience from this point on. As I said in the Kolkata post, all the good and all the bad were necessary.

One thing I feel more strongly about is the value of everyone's existence and the potential for personal development we each uniquely posses. I hope that this knowledge makes me more compassionate as I continue on with all the days of this lifetime.

And now that I've reached the end-game of my dreams till now and feel more satisfied than ever with the key decisions of my life-path, I feel so completely open to pursuing the next big adventure: parenthood. Trust me, when the time comes, I'll probably write extensively about that too.

I know this is a few days shy of the end of my trip, but I feel that given two more days I won't come to any greater conclusions than I have right now.

THANK YOU ALL, for tagging along throughout this adventure. I hope that some of my experiences inspire some of yours.

Any further correspondence, comments, feedback or photo requests should be directed to: jaruciaj@yahoo.com.

Take care in all your travels. Whether to your own back yard or around the world, the potential is...the same!

Peace,

A Pink American

12.23.2006...Happy Holidays...Looking Forward to Coming Home

2006-12-23T16:08:00.000+05:30

Well I wanted to wish a happy holiday season to everyone reading this.

Many birthdays have and are about to happen this month, so happy birthdays to: Shannon, Mary, Martina, Mom (today), Jeremy, and Anna.

Surnish and I celebrated our 4th anniversary the other day (21st) by spending the day at Cambay Spa with his mother. It's stunning just how far the dollar goes in buying quality treatments out here.

We've been meeting with many of Surnish friends from the past and catching up with them(or in my case getting to know them) .

We saw the new James Bond movie...VERY good indeed. The story itself was good, but the editing for the Indian movie audience left some things to be desired. The overall take away from the film was the 100% presence of Ford brand owned cars. There wasn't a single car shown that wasn't owned by Ford motor company. For petesakes, there was a Ford Taurus large as life behind Bolnd as he tied his shoe at an exclusively posh club in the Bahamas...a Taurus! That was so out of place in that setting. Go to the Ford website if you don't believe me: Mazda, Land Rover, Aston Martin, Lincoln and more.

So Ford lays off 35,000 workers and then pays the Bond Franchise over $20million for the most conscpicous product placement ever! This is the strategy for a comeback, eh? Well, keep an eye on it.

At any rate, we are just lazing about for this next week. Meeting plenty of people for lunches and dinners and coffees and brief 'hullos'.

I'm really ready to come home to the US and Seattle after this trip. I still love India, but I'm not quite ready to live here any time soon. From what I've met of Indians who went to the US and moved back here, their sentiments are along the same lines, but different reasons.

Take care and spread the love this season...

Peace,

A Pink American

12.17.2006...All the Way Up and Back Down Again (super LONG post)

2006-12-15T22:14:00.003+05:30

...says it all...

Saturday December 9…Last Day in Delhi…for now

I did post a brief description of our last day but I wanted to also share a few photos.

Since Friday night was Surnish’s last night of work he returned around 8am on Saturday and slept until 11am. I stayed up late the night before, so I napped with him as well.

As we made our way into Delhi, Surnish spotted this very interesting spare wheel cover on a two-wheeler:

This ‘bumper’ ad was probably one of the most thought provoking bumpers I’ve seen the world over. I’m almost surprised that more people don’t flash their political messages or philosophical thoughts in areas with high congestion. In this way your almost assured of an audience as people seek distraction from road rage.

We made it to Delhi Haat to meet up with Gagan (Surnish’s cousin) whom we last saw in Mumbai in 2004. From there we all went to Mummy’s cousin’s for lunch.

I took this photo:

Of course lunch at a family member’s house cannot end in just an hour or so. While we arrived around 2pm (nearly an hour late, but by Indian Standard Time (aka IST) it may have actually been an hour early) we didn’t leave until after 5pm.

We had about an hour to rest before we moved on to Surnish’s India-office party (the U.S. one is in another month).

Here are a couple of snaps:

The folks I met were really friendly and had a lot more energy than I felt flowing through my veins. I know that I’m not old at 30, but when you’re keeping pace with folks even a few years younger, it starts making you feel older. There really is a huge difference between 20 and 25 and 30. Seriously, when I think about what I was doing at each of these times, well it’s a HUGE difference.

At 20 I didn’t think I’d be living in New York at 25. At the beginning of 25 I didn’t think that I’d be married for 4 years by 30. Things happen. Wonderful and unexpected things.

Sunday December 10…Rajpura or BUST!

Now I don’t know that I would have made this statement at the beginning of the drive, but by the end it was well warranted.

The first hour-plus was a struggle driving through Delhi and out the other side. Once we escaped the grapples of the city the countryside really started to open up. I saw Pompeii grass and eucalyptus trees abound, neither of which I recall having seen earlier. There was a good deal of fog too, which may in part explain why these plants were there.
The fog was low lying and thick, the way it gets in the early morning on the sea shore. You can’t see very far into it but you sense a great expanse of something lying beyond the end of your sight.

Mixed with the fog was the smell of smoldering harvested crop fields, likely of sugar cane. It was a lovely experience to see and smell these things together.

When lunch time came upon us we stopped a themed restaurant and shopping area called Haveli. There were life-sized statues depicting traditional Punjabi daily activities in the central courtyard, which was edged by eating areas and shops. In some instances I had to double take to be sure I was looking at a statue or a real person as some people’s attire hasn’t changed much…

Many of the sights for the rest of the way to Rajpura were familiar, but I was amused most by some of the anti-drinking and driving campaigns:

We were caught in some heavy highway traffic for nearly 2 hours which delayed the end of our otherwise timely trip. This was the bust part.

We finally made it to Bacchi Mama’s (Bacchi is a nickname, mama refers to mother’s younger brother) for snacks and dinner. It was a chilly but very pleasant evening.

Monday December 11: Off to the Himalayas

I know that I said we were going to visit Shimla, but two things about this adventure I didn’t know…1) Kasauli is closer and 2) Both are part of the Himalayas.

The latter was a real treat to find out as we approached our destination.

Along the way my eye was caught by this young alms beggar:

This boy was dressed as Hanuman, the helper of Ram in recovering Sita from Ravana (from the Ramayana). It was one of the more creative forms of begging I’ve seen and seems to be rather lucrative. People can’t pass up the possibility of displeasing a “god” even when they can pass up a woman claiming to be a starving mother or a man with no legs or fingers.

The sights were lovely all the way up:

And there were new monkeys I hadn’t seen before. Brown and really fuzzy with bright red-pink bums:

Even more intriguing was the roadside work. Not a road expansion or a safety project. Rather it was the laying of fiber optic cables for high speed internet up to this more remote location. The amazing marvels and motivations of modern technology:

Once at Kasauli we stopped at a decent looking hotel by the name of Alasia hotel. I will say that the food was pretty good (the spaghetti was top notch), but it was freezing inside:

Outside gave the evidence we needed for the near bitter cold:

Despite this we were all smiles in the brisk mountain air:

On setting back to Rajpura we spotted this loner monkey…just another excuse for a monkey picture really:

And this Church:

Kasauli was developed by Europeans which is very evident by the legacy of Christianity as well as much of the rock wall and general architecture of the area.

As we headed back down the mountain side we were treated to lovely views again….

AND SNOW….

Yes that’s right folks I saw snow in India!

I feel as if I have nearly completed the ultimate India weather experience in 3 months.

These two were final parting shots as we reached the based of the mountain and began the final straight stretch back to Rajpura:

Overall it was a wonderful day trip!

Tuesday December 12: Driving North Through Punjab

Today we headed out (a tad on the late side) for what we believed to be a lovely 3 hour drive to Amritsar.

It was foggy again as we past the farm fields of Punjab, but the greenery was lovely to behold and fog was lifting nicely by early afternoon.

The first part of the trip revealed a road-side oddity...well two. McDonald's. A freestanding, drive-thru McDonald's. Nowhere else have I or any of my party seen this driving about the country. I made some guesses as to why these were in Punjab, only, but who knows why really.

After lunch at Haveli's (another one), we can upon Ludhiana.

This, I was told, is the largest city in Punjab. We were in it for a only short while before we came to a traffic diversion. This ran us through an army cantonment area. I covered my head because I didn't want to attract attention to the fact that I was a foreigner here. After spending 1/2 an hour navigating through this mess we came back to a main road and promptly got stuck in traffic.

As we crawled along we kept our eyes peeled for signs to the Amritsar by-pass with hope of avoiding further city congestion.

After another 1/2 an hour we finally did happen upon the bypass and again found ourselves promptly caught in another a traffic jam. But this one was even worse.

A political rally (a series really) had been organized for state ministers that were passing through. We crawled through massive crowds along marigold petal strewn streets past flat bed trucks balancing dancers and musicians. Busloads of villagers waving Congress Party flags raced by to a halt as the traffic merged and diverged over a series of fly-overs.

All told we spent over 2 hours stuck in this area. We tried to make the best of it. I was impressed at the turnout and political activity of the common people. Then I was told that most were paid Rs200 a piece and given food to ensure the density of the crowds. Tsk-tsk.

Here is an ALBUM of some of the sights we saw up through that rally debacle.

As a result of this mess we didn't land up at Amritsar until after 7pm (that made for nearly an 8 hour drive...oouch).

However, the night time sights of the Golden Temple (aka Harimandir Sahib) more than made up for it.

This is the holiest site for Sikhs (Surnish's family roots). It is said that the water of the tank-pool around the well can heal any ailment of those who bath in it.

We arrived just in time to see Guru Granth Sahib being put to bed for the night. The holy scripture is considered the 11th and final Guru in the line of Sikh Gurus.

The building which houses the Granth Sahib has an ominous story of it's own. It was the target of Indira Gandhi's Operation Blue Star. I was told that this action was intended to address some terrorist elements of the time, but ultimately it would be the catalyst for her own death.

We made a circuit around the complex and noted its many beauties. One such sight were the tree-birds, or as I like to call them the bird-leaves. There were hundreds if not thousands of these small puffy birds in each of the trees. Silently nesting for the night:

As it was extremely cold and we had to walk barefoot into the complex we may seem a little rigid, but really it is humility that is our motivation.

Wednesday December 13: Golden Temple at Sunrise and Back to Rajpura

We awoke at 5am to be at the temple by 6am. Well let the Golden Temple at Sunrise speak for itself...sunrise ALBUM. Sublime.

The crowds were eager to experience their religious and spiritual goals. Each in there own way though. Some pushing hard against others and others sitting silently on the perimeter simply watching in reflection. I'm definitely of the latter sort.

After we were finished there we made a stop at Jallianwala. A massacre occurred here that was a significant catalyst for India's Indepence movement.

Now the area is largely a memorial including artwork and an eternal flame, but there are still original walls with bullet holes framed.

The road trip home was thankfully uneventful. The trip was much quicker as no rallies were encountered along the way.

We did make a pit stop at one of the roadside McDonalds.

Afterwards I napped.

Thursday December 14: Goodbye to Punjab and a Pass Through Delhi

We had an easy morning and said goodbye to our hosts:

Our return to Delhi was half the time as our departure from it as the roads were clear of accidents and incidents.

We spent most of the rest of the day in Connaught place. We shopped a bit and people watched a lot. We ate at Zen's Chinese Restaurant and took coffee from Cafe Coffee Day. We peeked into the Metro tunnel...the station was as clean as a European Metro, and, thus, cleaner than the NY subway.

This last couple of weekends have also been the most auspicious for weddings so we saw one grouping of people after another. Particularly flashy were the bridegroom processions:

We slept early and soundly in preparation for the next day's journey.

Friday December 15: The Day We Missed the Train in Jaipur

We parted ways with Delhi for the finally time early in the morning so we could spend the most time possible in Jaipur sight seeing before our 10:30pm train back to Ahmedabad.

Along the way we snapped scenes of the developed and traditional byways of India.

A brick kiln smoke stack...

Surnish napped for a bit...hee-hee sneaky snap.

Does it ever get boring taking pics of lazy cows? Nope.

As we neared Jaipur we received some bad news. Our train had left that morning at 12:40am. Apparantly the schedule for this numbered train had been altered in the beginning of December (which we saw on the ticket) so that instead of 10:30pm departure on the 15th it was moved to the much earlier time.

We had no chance of rebooking and it was really tight in trying to make the last evening flight. Tensions got pretty high as we had been on the road each day for at least 4 hours for the past 5 days. We couldn't imagine enduring the 12+ hours of driving from Jaipur to Ahmedabad, but our options were filling slim.

So we ultimately agreed to stay on in Jaipur for the night.

If you are ever stuck somewhere at last minute and don't want to end up in a total dump of a hotel, check out Trip Advisor.

I've used this site for planning purposes before,but it saved our hides this time.

We were directed first a couple of other hotels that were booked before finally finding Hotel Diggi Palace in Jaipur.

This place was a marvelous oasis and haven for rest from the trials of the day.

At dinner we sat in their dining room and listening to lovely jazz music being pipe in via satelite radio as we sipped wine and whiskey (I the Sula wine, Surnish the Teacher's whiskey).

We happily landed into the welcoming beds shortly after ten and slept soundly through the night. We knew a gruelling day lay ahead of us as we had decided to push our way through to Udaipur the next day.

Saturday December 16th: The Big Fort Before the Big Push

We were greeted by a glorious morning at the hotel.

After getting ready we enjoyed a delicious breakfast and were treated to an amazing sight: Westerners outnumbered Indians at the hotel. In fact Surnish and his parents were the only Indians there other than staff. The hotel wasn't particularly expensive or anything, but perhaps the driver had hit on a good point when we had approached the entrance the night before. The entrance gate was a simple Mughal insipred arch with of soft blue glowing light...

"Are we heading into a mosque?" he asked.

Maybe others had thought the same way.

I had hoped to post on this day, but found that the electricity is turned off from 8-11am each morning, so that was a no go.

Instead we set out through Jaipur ,the Pink City. And yes it was very pink. Mostly painted now, but originally it was the red sandstone that cuased the color.

We picked only one spot to sight see at for the day and this was it:

The Amber Fort

It was pretty darn cool as forts go in India and the tour guide gave us some funny stories about its history.

After an hour of touring and another hour of fighting city traffic we said farewell to Jaipur and hello to National Hwy 8.

Our spirits were in good shape as we thought we would make decent time to Udaipur...at least less than 7 hours.

Here is some evindence of the levity in the vehicle...oh Surnish...sat sri akal.

When Hwy 8 narrowed from four lanes to two was the first sign that our optimism had been misplaced. When it didn't return to four after Ajmer we knew our arrival time would be pushed way back.

We made it to Udaipur just before 10pm; nearly 8 hours after leaving Jaipur city limits. We checked in at our second Trip Advisor find: Hotel Udai Kothi. While it was a bit more pricey than Diggi Palace it was just as comfortable and then some.
From the way the both were decorated they were likely owned by the same hotel group.

We squeezed into the restaurant in time for a 'final-call' dinner on the roof top. The views were lovely, the food tasty and the service okay, considering they were kept waiting for us alone.

As soon as my eyes closed I slept soundly right through the night and only stirred with the alarm despite the brightness of the room.

For all the views of the day check out the ALBUM.

Sunday December 17th: Good Morning Udaipur and Goodbye

In the morning we toyed with the idea of sightseeing but realized the idea of getting back to Gandhinagar was far more appealling.

So we did our sightseeing from the roof while we ate breakfast.

We hit the narrow switch back streets leading us out of the neighborhood of the hotel and emptied out onto the slightly wider roads of the city. We then were happy to find that National Hwy 8 from Udaipur to Ahmedabad was 4 lanes again...thank god for small favors.

Despite the expanse, one still must be prepared for the occasional road blocks:

Here are all of the final Udaipur and trekking snaps...ALBUM.

After 240km and nearly 4 hours on the road we were home at last.

Did I only say 240km? I meant after 916km (over 520 miles) from Delhi to Ahmedabad we were home.

The driver we had was like a demon on the roads, but a safe one that drives fast and not scary so we were glad for that.

Shortly after returning we were greeted by Hormazd...Surnish's best friend for nearly ever.

In the end we have travsersed more parts of India than most Indians.

I'm glad to be spending these last couple of weeks relaxing at home.

I think I'll need this time to get ready for the 30+hour trip back to the States.

Thanks for hanging in there till the end of this piece!

Postings will likely be a little more sparse as we are in 'hang-out' mode, but I promise there will be a few more before I go.

Peace,

A Pink American

12.10.2006...A Day Early on the Road

2006-12-10T10:35:00.000+05:30

Well we hit the road again.

We are heading north and hope to visit Shimla in our tour.

Sorry I don't have more time to write today...and the pictures aren't uploading either.

In brief, we visited a cousin-brother of mummy's yesterday and met up with Gagan, Surnish's cousin.

In the evening we attended Surnish's India-office party. It was a lot of fun and I met some very lovely people.

Look for a report (and pictures) once we return to Gandhinagar.

All the best!

Peace,

A Pink American

12.8.2006...Jantar Mantar and a Little More

2006-12-08T22:56:00.000+05:30

Another day in Delhi.

I suppose I shouldn't let it sound so routine or drab. Let's start again...

A glorious winter morning in Delhi greeted me. The chill of the morning air caused me to consider bringing a sweater out with me today. It could be readily compared to a sunny spring day in Seattle in feel and light.

However the similarity was to end with that alone.

Entering the city today gave us a view of an elephant battling the traffic jam. I must say that it seemed to be fairing better than we were at the time we saw it.

We made our way to the Connaught Place area to a music instrument store that mummy used to patronize as a youth. In fact it has been in place for over 120 years. We were searching for a smaller set of Kathak bells for me to take home. The ones I trained with were literally 5-7lbs on each ankle and the bells were so large that I cut my foot on them twice during some of the moves.

Next to this music shop was a interesting store called People Tree:

This place is like many in that it is supplied by a series of worker cooperatives. It isn't merely general handicarfts, though. It has a more focused and contemporary collection of items. Some of the crafts were surely directed to be created in this way.

Later we also went to the Jan Path shopping area on the outer rim of Connaught Place. This area was the first time that I encountered a wide variety of export-quality goods.
This trip as well as with the last to India left me wondering why all the cool stuff was sent to Pier One Imports or Cost Plus World Market in the U.S.
In this area I literally saw things that I had purchased in the States. It was like find a long lost twin that one didn't know existed. Well perhaps not that overwhelming, but something along those lines nonetheless.

The big trip of the day was Jantar Mantar. This place is really amazing. It is a combination of large scaled instruments used to map and measure celestial bodies. It is one of several across India in the 1700's.

After dusting off the red dust of the fresh paint we made our way to lunch at McDonalds. Yes it was only the first time since I've been here. Even though it is 'fast food' here it doesn't' seem as bad because the food choices are more veg friendly and 'appear' healthier. As a note to my fellow Americans, well to the ones who eat beef, you will not be getting any Big Macs in India.

On the way home I finally remembered to snap the construction of this mall. It claims 1km of shopping on each level. There were 7 levels. That's 4.5 miles of shops. Not too shabby by Western standards, but insane by present Indian ones. However, this is becoming less uncommon as the middle-class increases in this country.

In the foreground of this image you will notice some corrugated steel sheets standing on their side end. Just behind these are shanties improvised for the construction workers of this massive project. I could see people showering and cooking. Laundry was drying as well. On the top of one of the roofs stood a woman with her child looking out at the construction.

My overall impression of these large development projects, at least from the perspective of the day laborer, is that they are quite the same as those in the U.S. There is a want for a quick turn around and a need for as much cheap labor as possible. It's amazing how humans all over the world are capable of seeing others as expendable and replaceable when generating wealth for themselves is concerned.
It's funny that Karl Marx seriously tried to rationally address this issue in a way that could have possibly offered a new and pragmatic approach to understanding human and labor relations. However, this was corrupted by the reality of human limitations with regard to stemming greed and overcoming power lust. Perhaps someday we will get it right, whether it's Marx's way or not I don't know and I don't think it really matters. So long as it happens and those who herald it in are strong in character and open in mind.

Take care!

Peace,

A Pink American

12.7.2006...A Day for the Arts in Delhi

2006-12-07T22:37:00.000+05:30

After staying up till the wee hours of the morning putting together four days worth of posting, I figured it would be better to give a little each day.

Today we had one main aim and that was the National Museum of Modern Art.

Naturally we stopped at other sights along the way such as the India Gate...

The Indian Secretariat buildings...

And the President's house, also known as Rashtrapati Bhavan....

This was just one of several cool pillars topped by tough tuskers keeping watch!

How come the White House doesn't have statues of fierce Eagles surrounding the property? Oh right eagle vs. elephant, the imbalance in 'coolness' is quite clear now.

~~~

After losing our way over the 1km between where we were and where we were going, we landed up at the National Museum of Modern Art. Out front a number of sculptures were on display.

This one was of particular interest because I was left wondering whether the artist had formed the block of marble or found it like this and decided that the head and feet were needed.

Inside the museum there was an exhibition called "Edge of Desire: Recent Art in India."

Most of the pieces in this exhibition addressed the issues of violent religious tensions and India's courtship between tradition and modernity. Here are some examples:

Nilima Sheikh and Subhash Singh Vyam

Coca Cola cap sari.

Another artist who I enjoyed immensely was Amrita Sher-Gil. She met with an unnaturally early death, but managed to produce some very fine art before then.

I have to admit that I am often hard pressed to understand the motivations of modern artists. Many of the exhibitions that I've seen in the U.S. and Europe leave my mind reeling with one question: why?

This exhibition, however, was crystal clear to me. The themes the artists were addressing were big ones. Life and death and the definition of progress. Ones that are informed by large scale social experiences which are then condensed down into the vantage point of the artist. While these were personal expressions, I didn't feel I was missing out on some big secret.

Many modern Western artists often seem to be revealing an insight to a very personal struggle with a larger social creature. This raw exposure is contextually difficult for me to sometimes a) fathom or b) care about. Today I realized it was largely do to the 'fact' that the struggles often depicted aren't mortal ones. Rather, they are often so specific or abstract and can only really speak to a small number of people who feel they have shared the same abstract experience. This isn't to say that their turmoils are of any less intrinsic value to them, after all suffering is suffering. However, it is to say that they are so niched that they often miss the mark of conveying their message.

I can say that I do credit Western artists for trail blazing the endeavor of developing art styles that allowed for a more overt personal expression. From impressionism to cubism to modern and contemporary art commentaries, the Western artist did contribute significantly to the 'art world' as a whole.

~~~~

On the return leg of the outing we passed by a mandir village, of sorts. It was filled with dozens of temples and shrines to all sorts of Hindu gods.

This hanuman was at least 50ft tall if not more...

~~~

Once back at the Club we met up with Surnish and Papa. First tea and then dinner followed. Upon returning to our room, Surnish and I found that our laundry had been returned.

Now, you know this must be good if I'm talking laundry.

Two bags and a pile of plastic-ed and pressed clothes awaited us.

Each and every item had been sealed in a plastic bag. Most had tissue neatly placed between the folds. The work shirts were given cardboard collar supports. It was THE MOST decadent and thorough laundry service I have ever been privileged too.

The only thing was I was concerned about their claim...

Perhaps the process was eco-friendly but what about all the plastic?

~~~

And finally I had to add a picture of Surnish. He was enjoying some coffee as he was continuing to cope with working nights. I think he's doing a bang up job and looks pretty good to boot!

All the best to you all as this day draws to a close.

Peace,

A Pink American

12.7.2006...1-2-3 Delhi Days

2006-12-07T00:27:00.000+05:30

Well it is only technically the 7th as it is only just a bit past midnight as I start this.

We have been three days in Delhi and busy busy busy...

Let's begin.

Monday 12-4 Getting Acquainted:

I feel as if this day was all about being one with the traffic of Delhi. It was outrageous. Having sat in traffic in Mumbai and Kolkata as well, I can't say any are truly better than each of the others. Of course everyone here seems to have an opinion...Kolkata gets knocked on the most. It didn't feel like there was more gridlock, but the pollution from the vehicles seemed worse.

I will say that Delhi does get props for having proper freeway interchanges in some places. I haven't seen more than a basic flyover with street exits in any other city.

Enough about the traffic already.

We casually spent the day exploring a couple of places.

First stop was the Bangla Sahib Gurdwara. It was the loveliest Gurdwara I've seen yet...although I feel bad for it in that I will being seeing Amritsar soon and I don't know that any other Gurdwara can match that.

Afterwards we partook in some shop-sight seeing. After looking in EVERY state emporium I realized I was DONE with shopping for handicrafts. Each emporium did have locally represented items, but most also had items from many of the other states as well.

The best thing I saw was this...a YAK wool shawl. It was rough to the touch, but very smooth when my hand ran down it.

We also drove in the area of the capitol buildings.

Much of the rest was a blur to me as I was tired and was having too much info (is that possible?) fed to me.

Tuesday 12-5: Passing the Minutes Until Surnish

Well maybe I wasn't feeling quite that desperate, but I was really excited to see Surnish after 2 months.

In the meantime we began the day a with a visit to the Red Fort, aka Delhi Fort.

Not only is this a marvelously massive structure from the front, but the interior grounds are filled with many smaller daily and religious use buildings.

Here we have the hall for complaints and concerns...the ruler used to sit on the white platform in the background.

And here we have a Texan family visiting India. I really dug the cowboy hat. It totally says "don't mess with Texas!"

This was part of a rather long seating area that used to overlook the Yumana river. That is until the river receded out of view. Most of these panels used to be inlaid with precious and semi-precious stones. Thanks to the British, they were ripped off and now sit in museums and their store rooms in the UK.
Most of the colors you can see are from glass replacements.

This is where you would have seen the river if it were still close by.

The architecture of the Mugahl rulers of India is really quite phenomenal. I cannot forget the fact that they defiled so much of the older Hindu art and architecture though, as is often the case with invaders.

It is a real shame that peoples in the past couldn't see the beauty in all art and then simply proliferate their own when they ruled instead of destroying so much. In fact it is a shame that this still happens today.

For all of the day's pics check out the ALBUM.

The rest of the day passed with eating lunch and shopping at Connaught Place, before heading to visit a cousin of mummy's.

From there we went to the airport and picked up Surnish.

His flight was a little late, but when we saw him it was the best feeling.

I have to say, I don't think that I'd stay away from my husband this long ever again, BUT in doing so the level of appreciation I have for his mere presence around me has grown by at least 100 times over.

Even though he is 'around' you won't be seeing him in day pics for the next few days as he is working nights here until Friday.

Wednesday 12-6: Day 3 Delhi

Today we headed to the Qutb Minar, at the Qutb Minar complex.

Hands down this is one of the coolest structures I have seen in the world. It really is so amazing in color, shape and artistic elements.

Many of the other structures of the complex were equally awe inspiring.

It is really best to look at the full ALBUM from the day and read about the site in order to appreciate it.

After the Qutb Minar, we headed to Haus Kauz village. I was told that control of development of this area was given by Indira Gandhi to her primary clothing designer. It was meant to be a place for cottage industry craftspeople to converge and work on their craft. However, it has become quite a tourist draw today and doesn't necessarily resemble the idea of a crafting cooperative.

On the outer perimeter of the village are very old structures that were part of the original settlement, likely. They curve around a modest lake which was then used for bathing, as I was told.

I didn't think it would be possible, but as we got into the car I confirmed my previous realization of being done with handicrafts. I love Indian wares...LOVE THEM. But they are so pervasive in every tourist stop and the variety is almost identical from one place to the next...well I've simply lost the drive.

It isn't sad as you might think, and I will somehow manage to enjoy my last month here despite this epiphany.

Our final stop was the Bahia Temple. This building is in the shape of a giant lotus. Inside it is nearly all white marble with a 9-point geometric structural design that repeats itself from the smallest star in the ceiling to the largest exterior lotus petals.

The acoustics are so perfect from the design and marble used, that you feel as if a whisper of thought to god could be conducted straight up to heaven. It really was a lovely place.

Final thoughts for the day...I need to sleep. But seriously, I'm really enjoying Delhi. It makes me think of how so many people go to New York and think that's America. I've seen so many Westerners here and they will likely not see a fraction of the rest of India that I've seen. It really gives me pause in appreciation for being able to sample India as a main course rather than as an appetizer.

Until I post again...

Peace,

A Pink American

Delhi Day 2 Album
Delhi Day 3 Album

12.4.2006...Back So Soon? Yes, in Delhi!

2006-12-04T12:11:00.001+05:30

Sunday evening we boarded the Rajdhani train from Ahmedabad to Delhi:

We settled in to watch about an hour or so of lit travel scenery before the sun set for the evening.

Here I am contemplating the passing images...

They served us tea and snack early on and then dinner shortly after 8pm. Although I wasn't too tired, I thought time would pass better if I went to sleep on the earlier side.

Here's my bunk...

It's an odd thing travelling by train when you are sleeping. So many of the motions make you feel like your cot is bend at odd angles or that you will fall out. Nothing happened, of course, but it was strange nonetheless.

This time around I was a pro at using the toilet facilities. I knew the difference between Western and Indian...and it didn't mean who could use which.

~~~

In the early morning the light began to break through and the outskirts of New Delhi revealed themselves. Billowing smoke rose from the morning fires of slum settlements among the trees and dilapidated buildings along the rail side.

We were stopped for some time just outside of Delhi and I took this snap. It reminded me of times when I was stopped on the Hudson line heading into New York. There were places that looked just like this in my memory.

The sight that was most, I don't know, 'noticeable' were the morning squatters. Like small boulders and brush spotting the landscape dozens and then hundreds of people, young and old, passed the time casually while making the morning toileting rounds.

No, it isn't the neatest thing to bring up, but it is what it is. They were simply making do with the open areas outside of their slum dwellings.

We started to then see 'graffiti' along the walls and buildings lining the track.

And then there was this bosom bunch of holy rollers. I really only call them that because most often I see them 'rolling' along the countryside. It really hasn't been as common to see them just hanging out. I suppose the time of day warranted that.

Once in Delhi, we took on this porter to help with the luggage and made our way to the 'safe' side of the train station to meet the driver.

I was told the other side wasn't safe because a lot of foreigners hung out there and caused trouble. One group were the hippies.

"Hippies breed crime?"

"Yes, when they need money for their drugs."

"Oh."

Hippies aren't really regarded well in India from what I can tell. It's odd considering how cool they are in the States.

Our lodging while in Delhi was to be in Gurgaon, at the DLF City Center Club.

Gurgaon is part of Delhi's metropolitan area, but about an hour south of city center.

Along the way I noted another Gandhi statue...

I liked this one because of the other people depicted in it. Most often I've seen him alone...like he did everything alone...pah!

I was also interested in seeing the advertised use of Clean Natural Gas (CNG) on Delhi's buses.

After 2 and half hours from the time we got off the train we finally made it to the club. It literally is the nicest place I have stayed in India to date.

The adventure continues....

Peace,

A Pink American

12.3.2006...And Away We Go...Again!

2006-12-03T13:51:00.000+05:30

To Recap First:

1) The night after the Garba we attended the connected wedding reception. It was a fairly modest event in that only several hundred people were there. Although the governor of the State of Gujarat also showed up. This was not to be our only close encounter with him this week.

2) A day of shopping in Ahmedabad. Well it was a focused trip to a store called Reve that sells AHIMSA silk products. This is an exciting alternative to traditional silk products in that the silk worms are allowed to hatch from their cocoons and then the silk threads are collected.

On the way home I spotted signs for the circus in town:

(it's the small sign with the tiger...but the tents were big and lovely)

And our car was side-rear ended...at like 1mph. It was hardly anything, but it happened in front of a traffic cop in the middle of the intersection. The cop tried to brush it off and told us to go, but mummy wanted to get the driver's info, just in case.

We soon realized why the cop had tried to brush us off...the governor's motorcade was coming through the area. This also explained the inordinate number of traffic police smoothly directing traffic that day.

For lunch we went to a restaurant called "The New Yorker". It was very well designed in the interior. And the scale-wall model of New York was accurate to present day settings.

Furthermore, it is the only place I've been able to get decent spaghetti in Ahmedabad. Now I don't begrudge Ahmedabad for not providing better spaghetti, but for the number of places that have it on their menus, it tastes nothing like actual Italian spaghetti.

Here's an odd bit of me-trivia...this is the fourth city that I have seen a fairly decent Statue of Liberty. Of course I saw the original in New York. I also saw it's mini-version in Paris. One in is in Las Vegas (New York New York) and now here in Ahmedabad India. Perhaps I've seen more, I can't rightly recall, but I think it's fabulous that these four cities can claim a such an obscure common thread such as this.

3) Another wedding! Last night we went to an appropriately large wedding. You may ask: "Large? You said the one the other night only had several hundred guests...what is LARGE?"

Well large is at a party plot that can hold over 1,000 guests...these views are a 1-2-3 pan of the plot. It's all outdoors too.

At these weddings I feel like I'm in a garden party. A Lewis Carroll garden party, where lovely and bright flowers (albeit inverted) float and flutter across the green grass. But that's just if you look at the ground the whole time.

The one thing about these weddings I don't like is the pushy-ness of the guests. There is shameless line cutting and many can be extremely rude to the servers. It's not like the entitlement-arrogance I have seen in some Americans (when Americans just think they are the best...period), but this comes out of the legacy of the caste system. Although it is officially deinstitutionalized it exists in the words and actions of every person I have encountered (with a few exceptions). Honestly it is more ingrained even then the legacy of slavery is in the US. Of course that isn't so strange since slavery was younger than the caste system, but who goes around asking people: were your family slave owners or slaves. This is a much bigger topic of conversation than can be addressed here and now, but I hope the picture is there.

I tried to pose properly after the wedding but had some timing issues:

Caught woefully rolling my eyes and head in impatient waiting for the snap...shoot.

Okay this is better....although a bit cheesy

AND FINALLY...

We are off to the North:

We leave in a few hours, by train, for Delhi. The train departs about 5:30pm and is an overnighter that gets in near 9am. I'm pretty excited about all of this. I'm thankful that Surnish's parents are indulging me, but they generally travel this way to Delhi anyway.

Surnish will be leaving around the same time on Sunday in the States. We will finally meet up with him Tuesday night at 7:30-ish in Delhi...yay!

I bid you all a found farewell until I post again....which will be while I'm on the road.

Peace,

A Pink American

11.29.2006....Block Prints and Garba

2006-11-29T23:09:00.000+05:30

Not the most inspiring title, but accurate.

Block Printing in Old Ahmedabad

Today we made our way into old city Ahmedabad (ooooOOOoooh). Well I shouldn't mock it as it was the seen of some of the worst violence during the 2002 riots. However, it is relatively peaceful nowadays because there seems to be highly dependent chains of labor, particularly for textiles.

One piece of this chain is block printing.

Through a contact of mummy's (by the name of Kokali) we were introduced to a master block printer. He was a very polite man who had inherited his shop from his father before him. He also had stacks and stacks and stacks of very old wood print blocks.

We stayed and watched for over an hour as the printer of the shop laid out a print for a customer:

First select the print block...

Lay the print block....

And set the print...

Then repeat numerous times.

Watching this extremely labor and time consuming process gave me a sense of awe with how much is put in to making one simple cushion cover or sari. Remember this is only one step...you have the cloth weaver, dyers and tailors too.

We picked up a few items from the store and after a nearly 3 hour visit, and made our way home.

Going to the Garba

A friend of the folks had a son get married and they arranged a garba the night before the reception.

I had heard much about these events and was really looking forward to it. I got all spiffed up to dance too.

Unfortunately this was not the blow-out even that I had expected.

Mummy said proper garba's have hundreds if not thousands of attendees who are dancing everywhere. There just weren't enough people.

Of those who did dance it was pleasant to watch. I never felt the mood strike me to dance despite many, many please from others. I suppose I won no graces this night.

The most interesting part of the event was watching house maid and house mistress alike dance side by side throughout the evening. It gave a sense of a great equalizing effect.

Watching the garba action...

Taking a break...

Only a few more days now until we leave for Delhi and Surnish will be joining us on Tuesday.

Peace,

A Pink American

11.27.2006...Mocha

2006-11-27T23:49:00.000+05:30

This evening I went with the folks and some other family to Mocha...a great place for coffee, desert, hookah (we did not partake) and chit chat.

I ordered nutella crepes and encouraged the ordering of creme brulee and apple cinnamon crepes. All of these items were o-kay, but I wouldn't put them in any contest with their European predecessors.

Additionally, I ordered a New Orleans Blue Blend coffee (au-lait). I thought it would be perfect for the french-inspired deserts.

When I got the coffee cup I was like: "Oh my god, this is the biggest coffee cup I've ever seen!"

Seriously, I've never taken coffee from a cup this big. I think that I'll take photos back to Starbucks and demand an explanation for such wimpy coffee cups in the US. After all if the US can't claim the biggest coffee cups in the world, then...well, I don't want to think of the shame.

Because drinking from a giant coffee cup is akin to walking around in clown shoes (unnecessarily of course) I had to have photos take for their pure comic value. By the way, the woman in the background is chachji (father's-younger sister) to Surnish.

While neither drunk nor sleepy, I still managed to pose as if I were...I think that this look originated from the delay in having the snap taken because mummy was laughing so much and the fact that my lips were melting on the scalding coffee.

Ah this is better...Blue Eyes and a Bindi...

Over half way there finished....

Getting the last drop...

In the end the excessive amount of sugar and coffee wore me out. I plan on sleeping very soundly tonight.

Peace,

A Pink American

11.26.2006...NY News

2006-11-26T14:41:00.000+05:30

This is not India related and normally I don't like to just regurgitate news, but this one was exceptionally irritating to read.

NY Police Kill Man on Wedding Day

What is so compelling about this piece is that it is reported that the police were trying to stop something they 'thought' was about to happen.

For the number of bullets shot and the fact that these men turned out to be unarmed was particularly disturbing.

Likely, as with case of many police abuse injustices of this extreme nature in recent years, their behavior will be acquitted.

Seriously, how can people anywhere in the US (as there have been incidents in recent years in Georgia, Oakland, LA, and Florida to name a couple off the top of my head), trust these enforcers of the law?

They are touted as protectors of the peace, but seriously that isn't their job as much as it is to enforce the law and HUGE part of that in America entails the focusing on punitive actions rather than remedial or rehabilitative. I'm just be honest here.

I am not against cops as people. They are just regular folks trying to do their job under the guidelines given then. I just take issue with any group to appears to routinely and actively condone, covers-up or deny incidents of power abuse and lethal miscalculations. The typical rationale is that it is a hard job (which it can be) and they need some leeway to execute their duties. When this leeway turns into killing people in the anticipation they were about to be part of a crime....well it seems that Federal level attitudes are trickling down to the local levels.

Peace (and I wish there really was more of it),

A Pink American

11.24.2006...Ooooh Black Friday and More Tales

2006-11-24T13:13:00.000+05:30

This is one day when I really feel as if I'm missing being in America. Few things throw the modern American into sheer survival mode better than the pushing, squeezing, heckling and down right animalistic frenzy than shopping the day after Thanksgiving...aka Black Friday.

I've braved the wilds of the malls and free-standing stores a couple of times. An actionable plan for shopping strategies must be laid out and rehearsed in the days leading up to this day, lest you fail in your mission of holiday savings (hmmm, maybe we could save by not spending/buying so much??). Few days see such activity in the US between the hours of 4am and 12noon as this day.
I've tried to calculate the cost-savings ratio for the lost sleep, gas used, and intense stress felt on this day of shopping and have concluded that there are no real savings to speak of.

The great thing about Americans, and an increasing number of their worldy cohabitants, is that this practical knowledge will no way disuade them from one of their favorite consumer rituals.

Let's pause for a quick moment. I don't want anyone to get the impression that I'm a pure cycnic. Yes I can be cycnical about some things, but most things I find too humorous to care about chastizing, so when I make these observations they aren't in any way judgemental. I'm just sharing the humor and irony of what I see.

And in resuming...

I must provide a followup to yesterday's Thanksgiving tale.

However, it will be in straight 1st person delivery.

I had planned on fibbing a bit to the instructor so as to cowardly bow out of not meeting with her anymore nor giving her the press she wanted. Boy, I was feeling low.

This morning I awoke refreshed and realized that I couldn't let her dishonesty beget dishonesty in me. But, I also didn't want to get hostile over the money because that really wasn't the point.

After the lesson, we told her that I would not return tonight as we do have dinner guests (which is true) and that I would not come next Friday as I had only felt shakey confidence at performing for the press with the knowledge of 11 lessons ahead of me, but felt even less confidence in doing so with only 7 lessons done (this was true too, although not entirely the reason for intially wanting to back out).

She really seemed sincerely sorry to hear that. She tried to explain that she believed I wanted 2 lessons a week for 3 weeks (or six lessons) only. This may have been true, but we kept repeating clearly that we were expecting 3 weeks of lessons. Maybe she didn't pay attention, I don't know.

She offered to give us back some of the money and we declined saying it was a fair amount, but she should have been clear with as about what she was planning on giving when we had been clear about what we expected.

We reaffirmed that she is a very good instructor. With the exception of this matter, I would recommend her. Just be CLEAR on the arrangements.

In the end, honesty was the best policy. Okay, blarf, that I said that, but it was true. Plus I feel better and don't have to second guess my appreciation for having learned what I did.

It's funny how when you are willing to let go the hurt of being wronged that you can either find the humor in the situation or you can find the peace of mind to address it head on, thus realizing it won't kill you to confront troubling matters. In fact I ALWAYS feel better for having done so.

Another quick tale...

Lest I leave a taste in my audience mind that ALL Indian busines folk are shady or corrupt, I did want to share another quick story.

When we visited Mt. Abu, we shopped at the Rajasthan Emporium. Among other things, we picked up several leather bound journals.

When we returned home I realized that either we were one short or we had been charged too much. Again, we felt bad. We prepared ourselves for a more typical response of "we don't know what you're talking about" followed by a swift click.

However, when we called, they quickly remembered us and told us that had set the journal aside after we left. They sent it by courier that day and it arrived at our house the very next morning.

So you see, all isn't bad in India. In fact ALL isn't bad anywhere, but as humans it seems we tend to gravitate our minds to focus on such misfortunes and miseries rather than addressing them as what they are: small and temporary in our lives.

There definitely is a basis for saying 'if it bleeds it leads"...not only in newspapers but in many of our minds about the way we view life. No, we don't need a world of Pollyanna's, BUT we could try a bit more to let the sunnier side of life shine in from time to time. It feels pretty good.

Peace

A Pink American

11.23.2006...A Thanksgiving Tale

2006-11-23T17:03:00.000+05:30

Well if you are in America, you are no doubt getting ready to slip on the stretchy track pants or sweats and let slide an enormous variety (and quantity) of food down into your belly. The annual gorge-fest, more popularly known as Thanksgiving, has arrived. Let us rejoice.

But here, on the other side of the planet, well let's say I get to see first hand why our American mothers always told us"you better eat that because there are starving children in________!" Fill in you favorite guilt provoking country.

It's not that I am trying to provoke guilt, just making observations as I see them

So for the promised Thanskgiving tale...

I will title it in the traditional elementary school manner of "Why I Give Thanks." But I will also give it working subtitle of "The Nature of Business in India."

Let us begin...

Once upon a time there was a fair Westerner--pink you could say--who decided to travel far, far away to the land of spices and call centers. She was hopeful of acquiring exposure and experiences in this oh-so foreign land.

Filled with this hope, she traveled throughout the land of India tasting its tastes, seeing its sights, delighting in its delights. She saw beauty and misery in step with one another everywhere she looked. Her heart filled with wonderment and pained from sorrow.

Well into this journey she was offered the chance to learn a traditional performance art form from a master artist and instructor. She had been connected with a guru. She reeled with enthusiasm at the possibility of training for three weeks with this guru. Dates were agree upon. Fees were agreed upon. Press coverage was agreed upon. And so the lessons began.

Our fair Westerner learned and practiced with sincere dedication, as the guru noted. Upon the closure of each lesson they discussed the plans for the next lessons and days to come. The girl was nervous at the prospect of just three weeks training before performing, but felt confident with the guidance of such a capable guru.

On the sixth lesson, which was near the end of the second week the girl asked:

"When will be the last day that you will teach me something new? How much time will I have to practice?"

"Friday will be the last day."

"You'll teach me something new the day I'll perform?"

"Yes, you will come two times tomorrow. Once for lesson. Once for the press."

This gave the girl pause for thought: tomorrow? That was only the end of the second week, only the seventh lesson.

"If you want to wait until next Friday and take more lessons, then you can."

What was this? The girl felt ill at the thought that she was being fleeced. The number of lessons, the dates, all of these things had been confirmed in the beginning and again just two days before. It wasn't meerely the money, although it had been a fair amount. It was that a guru of dance, of a creative art, was trying to swindle her.

Some fast talking ensued between the girl's host and her guru. The guru would grant two additional lessons.

Two additional lessons? the girl thought. It was more like two lessons less.

After leaving that day, the girl resolved to only take her seventh lesson on the last day of her second week, and not return. She realized her mistake and was sick from disillusionment.

In her time in India prior to meeting the guru, she had seen many slick business dealings where a sales or service person told her hosts one thing, then denied it the next day. Would promise to come and then not call for four days. Would quote them a rate and then see the girl and ask for double. It was clear and present fleecing all around, and not always because of her presence.

Her mistake had been to assume that someone of the arts wouldn't pull such a slick move. Someone whom she had been personally recommended to. Someone who wanted her to perform for the press and say good things.

She was simply wrong.

In the end the fair Westerner was only sad that such an excellent teacher could be such a treachorous business person. After all, in her short time she did learn more than many do in a year's training, for that she was happy.

And being that she was in India, she firmly believed that karma would likely counteract such an underhanded deed.

So she went on with her exposure and experiences with this foreign land and only took with her her dance steps and the lesson of never blindly trusting anyone in India with a business arrangement, unless, of course, it is writing AND signed by two witnesses.

The End

So really, I am thankful that I was able to take these Kathak lessons from such a good instructor, but I'm not kidding at how sick I felt with disappointment when I realized we were being fleeced.

I'm not going to punish myself though...how could I have known? I'll finish my lesson tomorrow and then be done with it. I can't even pretend that what she did was okay and therefore cannot, in good faith, allow her the press coverage of my training.

What to do, what to do.

I am giving thanks today, that I am in this wonderful land filled with beauty, depth, misery and deception. I have definitely been getting what I hoped to get out of this experience.

I will say that there are many unpleasantries (some simple and subtle, some downright shameful) that I have been privvy to since I've been here, but I've refrained from discussing them as they are generally passing and a lesser part of this experience. But I couldn't keep quiet on this one because it was quite a shameless act of greed that was even stunning to me, an American.

With that, I bid farewell. I hope that I will bring more pleasant tidings with my next post.

Peace,

A Pink American

11.19.2006...Six Weeks Left and Thinking

2006-11-19T21:28:00.000+05:30

This evening, as I sat playing cards with the folks, I wondered to myself why I don't post everyday?

Then I realize it is for the same reason why movies and books cover far more time than their span would seemingly allow.

I've realized this before, but I still struggle with it when it comes to narrating ones adventures. Sure you, the audience, don't need to know every detail of every minute of the day. Yet, in some ways, doesn't that make what I'm experiencing seem a little less tangible, less probable for every one else? My stories seem to hover my persona just above that of 'average person', but I don't in anyway feel like this.

Don't get me wrong, I know that what I'm doing here and now, and with much of my regular life, is beyond that of most people's comfort or ability or even desire to attain. So why then has it been in my reach?

I'm often told that I'm remarkable in many ways, but what can one really do with that information if one doesn't see oneself in this same way?
I am who I am. I do what I can with what I have been granted. I try to follow through on the things I say I will and set out to do.
In this sense, really, how am I any different than the average person? And if I am different, then who is better/worse off?

I've also been told things like I'm a snob or stuck up or more unpleasantries, but they don't really sting.
I can understand why people can see me this way, but it's just wrong for them to assume this about me. Nine times out of ten people actually 'tell' me they initially thought this way of me, but at some point my 'humanity' shone through and they realized they were wrong. Honestly, do you think I really need to hear that you thought I was a jerk at some point when you didn't even know me? Too much info.

One thing that I've definitely honed in on while being here is shedding the need to please people. In recent months and years I've realized that people don't like to actually feel pleased nearly as much as they like people trying to please them. This in some way excuses them from actually having to pay attention to their own needs as someone else is doing it for them. Then they can blame anyone but themselves when they are unhappy.

This is a two-way street though. Those who are addicted to doing the pleasing, often do so at the same price. They don't pay attention to their own needs and when they see that their efforts have been frustrated (again and again) and they get sad at the thought of not 'MAKING' someone happy, they get to blame the other person for being ungrateful or selfish.

This is a shared miserable experience that actually feels quite lonely when one is stuck in it.

In the end I realize (again) the truth in only having control over my own actions and happiness and letting the rest to their own devices. If what I do makes them happy, great. But if not, then what can I do?

These thoughts have been paramount in preparing me for this next third of my life. I hear tell that being a parent can really test a person, so I'm glad that I've gotten these old challenges out of the way.

As things come up over the next two weeks, I'll post, but otherwise know that I'm happily dancing, writing, reading and painting the days away.

Peace,

A Pink American

11.15.2006...Marking a Month and More

2006-11-15T19:30:00.000+05:30

Yes, it has already been more than a month since my arrival in India. Once you are in a place for this long you stop feeling like you are on holiday and start feeling like you are at home.

Adventures

This at-home feeling depresses one's creative spark for regularly informing on one's day to day activities.

Adventures have been limited since returning to Gandhinagar.

One lazy Sunday we ventured out to retrieve mummy from the rail station (she had gone to Delhi for two days). We found the roads packed with cars, bikes and people heading to the Air Show. On the return leg of our trip we were chatting amongst ourselves amidst a traffic jam when: THUD POP! went the car roof

"What was that?"
"I think this tree drop a branch on us."
"Oh, okay."

A moment later: THUD POP! went the roof again.

"Someone must be throwing bricks!"

The driver got out to inspect the matter. His face showed no concern when looking at the roof of the car. He asked a nearby car if they saw what had happen. Indeed they did: monkeys.

Both mummy and papa said they had never had that happen to them. And here it happened with me in the car, nonetheless.

When we returned home the only evidence of the events were barely-there dusty foot prints from the little beasts. Only in Indian traffic jam! (well I'm sure that isn't entirely true)

Creativity Flows

While adventures may be ebbing for the meanwhile, my creativity flows.

I've been engrossed in painting, writing, reading, listening to music and to world news (I finally realized the benefit of NPR and BBC streaming radio).

Given the dryness of the region, the painting medium of choice has been watercolor because it can be easily refreshed when it dries out. I've managed four small pieces and am currently working on a larger scale replacement for the piece that some of you may recall seeing in our living room at our old apartment in Mountain View.

I'm just crazy about representing the natural elements. It's immensely soothing to say the least.

With regard to writing, I'm in the process of producing a novel. Yes, a novel. I have a trilogy outlined actually. The first installment is already 30+ pages complete and under routine review by my writing group and my husband.
I know it seems like a risk in mentioning all this here, but I figure that it is time to state my intentions publicly so that I ensure myself that I will follow through.

As for reading, I've completed Malgudi Days, The God of Small Things, The Bhagavad Gita, and Pilgrimage: One Woman's Return to a Changing India (which is a not-so current event book). I'm working on the Ramayana and a new Garcia Marquez book (that's just brain candy for me).
I'm trying to get a flavor for the breadth of quality in classic and contemporary Indian literature. I finding it very interesting and thought provoking.

Also, I'm exploring more contemporary Indian music. I picked up an excellent cd called Sona (which is self titled). Highly recommend it.

AND FINALLY...

I've begun a month long intensive training of classic Indian dance called Kathak.

I can't speak much of the experience so far other than sore legs. I've had one instruction period. I'll train four days a week through the rest of this month.

Upon my first lesson I was welcomed as the guru's (master teacher) student. She anointed my head with vermilion and rice. I touched her feet. I then anointed a statue of Saraswati with vermilion and rice as well.

To honor Mother Earth (the stage for my dance) I sat on the floor to tie on my ankle bells. One hundred for each ankle.

I then performed the Namaste that begins each dance and began my lesson.

This time I was only learning the basic footwork, but more will soon come.

I was told that my guru will call the local newspaper to do a write-up on Western interest in learning classical Indian dance. I will also likely perform for others. I hope I can do it justice.

In the meanwhile, I am about to join a 'pool party' (it is sans the pool and much like a potluck but with more direction).

Wishing you all well...

Peace,

A Pink American

11.09.06...Of Men and Monkeys

2006-11-09T10:42:00.000+05:30

Happy Post election, U.S.A. It seems as if Americans are starting to come out of a fog, even if they aren't quite coming to their senses. If 100 monkeys on 100 typewriters can 'accidentally' write Shakespeare, can 100 monkeys in 100 suits 'accidentally' run the government as well as 'man'? This is the question that some of us face--deep down--on election day.

Of course I couldn't deny myself the spectacle which has become the American political process, even with my being on the other side of the planet.

I did have the luxury of not having to be submitted to the onslaught of political campaigning. I'll say that just reading the news about issues and candidates offers a much more pragmatic source of knowledge to inform my opinions than listening to news and media soundbites.

Just to be clear, I am neither Democrat, nor Republican, nor anything else. I'm a registered Independent voter and actually vote on issues and candidates based on researching them rather than blindly down party lines. The latter is not democracy it is stupidity and many people are guilty of it.

In saying this, I would vote for a Republican at the local level if I agreed with her/his stance on more things than other viable candidates, but I have yet to encounter one whose platform wasn't as steeped in social conservatism as it is in fiscal or bureaucratic conservatism. How can they speak of personal choice with one's own money, but then be hardline on issues with personal choice about one's own body? Personal choice is just that: personal.

BTW: I am pro-choice, but I am also pro-life...it is for no one person to judge another's actions. There is no clear line which can be drawn on this most personal and sensitive of issues. Both pro- and anti-abortion groups should stop trying to find that clear line and just focus on educating their communities on the variety of consequences (good, bad or otherwise) from making such choices and then let the individual choose.

Alrighty then, with that little stumping out of the way let me get to the real meat.

I thought about putting a picture of a Donkey kicking an Elephant on the top of the page:

or this one

However I realized that while some people may feel this way, it doesn't capture what the spirit of this election was about.

The real effect was put into force by a) the American voter (as is usual) and b) the 'others'.

These pesky 'others'.

In 2000 the 'others' were the Green Party that spoiled Gore's chances. It's bitterly ironic considering what Gore is doing with his time now. Perhaps it was for the best...if he had any lasting resentments against the Greens, maybe he embraced them to try to understand them better and low and behold saw the light. Now he is a major player in environmental activism. Very interesting, indeed.

This election the 'others' were the Libertarians. If you haven't heard of them maybe you should do a little research because enough Americans have heard of them to make a difference in this election. Their platform would definitely appeal to the fiscally conservative of the Republican supporters as well as those that 'believed' the Republicans when they said they wanted a smaller government. Those who are disillusioned with the Republicans, but still couldn't stomach the 'big government' Democrats, made the difference in 3 Senate races (Missouri, Montana and Virginia...well Virginia was another 'other'.) and 2 congressional races (Indiana 9th and Florida 16th).**

**(Note: This is all based off of official results that were presented at CNN. com and NOT on any of CNN's calls. The news is much more wary of doing this now.)

Otherwise Democrats won on such slim margins in many of the other races (the smallest I saw was 170 in Connecticut's 2nd) that it may have been more of a sign of loss in faith for Republicans than overwhelming support of Democrats. This seems to be the case when people are booted out of office.

I will say that this Republican run government has completely destroyed any lingering optimism that it is trying to do what's right for the American people and that seems fairly evident by these results.

Interestingly, when I was reading comments by people about their voting choices I was struck by two types of comments offered by Republicans:

For those who voted against their party: Generally they felt betrayed and even lied to. That the Republicans make a lot of fancy promises but haven't acted on them, EVEN with a completely Republican dominated government. Can we saying politicking?

For those who still voted Republican: Almost word-for-word uniformly that the Democrats had no game plan for anything and they didn't take the war on terror seriously (cut and run, to be specific). It was eerie to read such uniform thoughts. Can we say Stepford?

While I know they exist, it is hard for me to fathom that anyone who claimed to be a remotely informed or intelligent or even thoughtful American would still so blindly believe what they are fed through one or two news outlets (argh Fox news). I don't think the Democrats are anything special, but for godsakes, the Republicans don't poop diamonds.

This inability to produce the miracles through the mere shovelling of caca toward the American people is not limited to the Republicans, and we should all be vigilant about keeping the new powers accountable for their promises and the consequences of there actions.

The biggest surprise of all from this whole carnival was the sudden (albeit likely preplanned in-the-event-of) resignation of Rumsfeld. Oh, poor, poor Rummy. Allowed to do his best at doing his worst, the least that Bush could have done was let him go with some dignity. This didn't seem like the case at all. I won't be surprised if he (Rumsfeld) is called up for war crimes. Although I won't be surprised if he isn't either as U.S. politicians tend to be spineless about these matters when it comes to their own criminals. Yes, yes clap and cheer for the not-so-distant death of Saddam, but keep in mind their are a good many others just as deserving as he that DIDN'T sit as co-defendants. I wonder how they toasted themselves for being so clever while sitting comfortably in the States, and around the world.

But these are conversations for another day.

In the meanwhile, for those of you in the States reading this (citizens or not), you all should still be active in your daily lives to stay informed and vigilant of your politicians. It isn't right to 'wake up' once in 2 or even 4 years and say 'yeah that's right, down with the administration!' It's a slow and steady road to change or progress or consensus in anything. And what the majority of us won't do, trust me a few will always find the time to do for us and almost always in a way that we disagree with most the rest of us.

If you don't exercise your right to act, then you don't earn the privilege to complain.

Hopefully these two can get on the same page over the next few years.

Peace,

A Pink American

11.04.06...A Week in Waiting...A Week in Kolkata

2006-11-04T22:28:00.000+05:30

**THIS ONE IS LONG, SO SETTLE IN AND TAKE SOME TIME TO ENJOY… I ENCOURAGE DIALOGUE IF IT SO HAPPENS TO STRIKE YOU**

FINAL HOURS IN CHENNAI

Although my final post from Chennai excluded photos (honestly I was exhausted), I decided to do a quick recap.

Taking the prize for most worth mentioning was the rain-produced lake. While one doesn’t think to snap ‘before’ photos of someone’s driveway and surrounding property, if I had you’d see that these two areas were nearly bone dry when we arrived. But after several days of severe rains…that had Venice style property.

We spent much of our last day at home packing and chatting. In the evening we (the ladies) headed out for a little shopping. I was able to secure the much sought after south Indian coffee beans I was searching for (coffee drinkers delight!). On the way home we stopped at a small chaat place called gangotree for, what else, chaat (mostly spicy snack mini-meals):

I braved a long-standing taste bud foe of mine: pani puri.

I realized I have been a fool. It was delicious. However, I still wouldn’t buy it from the street vendors.

Just outside of the shop was an SUV with a massive garland on it:

This seriously puts to shame the wimpy Christmas wreaths that so often adorn America’s massive SUVs.

Note to Americans: must have wreaths sized large enough to obscure the size of your vehicle.

The next morning, one final homage to Ganesh was spotted plastered on the back of an auto-rickshaw as we made our way to the airport.

I think these would sell well in Dead Head loving areas of the States…watch out you silly little dancing bears, there’s a new rainbow power player in town.

By my misfortune of the day I read the tickets wrong (about 100 times) and we arrived for our 5:25pm flight thinking it was leaving at 3:25pm. Que sera…what to do? We chatted, read and sipped coffees and tea to pass the time.

Once situated on the plane (and I know this sounds dull but hear me out), the seats were the cramped-est I’ve every seen...

This picture is not an exaggeration. They’re only one step away from standing slots with little ledges to rest your bum on.

And from there we were finally off to Kolkata.

MONDAY

KOLKATA HAS BEEN WAITING FOR ME TOO

(*took this snap as we left, but thought it looked nice here.)

The trouble with always wishing to go somewhere is that when you arrive, invariably your first thoughts are: how unremarkable.

That’s how I reacted to Kolkata. Don’t get me wrong, Kolkata is a fine city and one most worthy of visiting, just don’t expect to be blown away right off the bat. I’ll be honest, that was exactly how I felt about New York when I first arrived. Of all things, I couldn’t believe how small the Statue of Liberty seemed to me. It was disappointing in a way that her torch didn’t reach up to scrap the underbelly of the plane.

As it was night when we arrived, there were fewer things to see than I was sure the light of day would reveal to me. However, my keen eyes were still able to notice a few little things such as there being navy blue auto-rickshaws with white tops (as compared to green and yellow or yellow and black). Also, there are foot-powered rickshaws, which have actually been banned in other parts of the country. Another interesting quirk was the fancy painted chapels (leather slippers) on the back some of the municipal buses next to the words ‘danger’ and ‘ok’ to indicate preferred passing sides.

A yellow taxi raced beside ours with tinseled kerchiefs trailing in the wind from the antenna and door handle. It reminded me of those old cars from the forties with the fox or raccoon tails in the same places.

While pausing at a congested intersection I watched a fully veiled woman cross through the traffic. Her right arm was raised to hold the face piece up over her mouth and nose. The drape of her robe revealed an arm loaded with glittering bangles. When she hopped up on the curb I saw the hem of her trouser peek out. It was turquoise and heavily decorated with sequins. Just below this were some very stylish sandals with 2-inch heels that clicked loudly as she came down on the sidewalk. It seems odd this duality of the veil and high fashion, but I’ve been reading for some time now that some of the best dressed women in the world are hidden beneath the flowing blackness.

Other sights caught and released my attention until we arrived at our destination. While papa was settling the bill I watched the ebbing glowing of Ganesh’s tummy from the dashboard. It was most unsettling in its eerie cuteness.

A night of much needed sleep awaited me as I dozed to the lull of the whirling fan and the faint odor of musty plaster walls.

TUESDAY

VISITING MOTHER TERESA…REALIZING MY WHOLE LIFE IN A MOMENT

**Well I won’t lie and say that I didn’t already commit much of this experience to my own personal notes, so what I’m presenting here is an abridged version. It’s always tough to gauge how much of one’s personal experience one is ready to share with others AND others are ready to hear. Let’s hope a balance is struck in this instance.**

The day began with yoga asanas (postures) and meditation, the same as each day I have passed in India. I was calming myself in preparation for this visit. It struck me that I might get emotional, but I thought of the many times I had landed somewhere sacred and revered and watched with blank emotions as others prostrated themselves in reverence. I just couldn’t see myself getting that worked up, but nonetheless I actively envisioned a peaceful experience.

After a short 20 minute drive in incredibly clogged traffic, we stepped out of the taxi under the sign “Missionaries of Charity.” The doorways we passed along the alley were mainly unoccupied with the exception of two resident spectators.

The door from the city into the mission house was plain and wooden. The sign next to it read: Mother Teresa, M.C. ‘in’. This must have meant forever.

The first courtyard was simple with a couple of statues and a small potted garden. It was here that we slipped off our shoes and stepped through another doorway to the inner courtyard. It had a few modest pieces displayed:

To the left upstairs was the room the Mother had lived and passed away in:

To the right was the room where her tomb was situated. Large, plain white marble with a simple plaque card to remember her by.

And on the top these words spelled out in handfuls of marigold petals:

I knelt down beside her tomb and rested my hands and head on it as I began to give thanks to the Divine spirit for allowing me to realize this opportunity.

And then I wept.

The tears came with such force that I could hardly catch my breath. And all the things that I had done in my life or had been to me, both good and bad, flashed before me in sequence and I felt for each of them equally. If even one of these things--any one of the abuses, any one of the joys—any one at all had been forsaken or regretted then I would never have been rewarded with this day. This simple, yet awesome day.

What were my chances? What were they really? How could some young girl from a working, middle-class Anglo-American family be instilled first with such a passion and inspiration for this little woman from Kolkata, and then realize in an instance that her whole life to that very second had been paving a path to meeting this Mother of Kolkata. My whole life until now…my whole life.

I continued to weep freely and so I moved away from the tomb to find calm. When I thought I had returned to my senses, I allowed myself to return to the tomb where my senses were once again lost. I felt this time a small voice from inside tell me to have courage and assured me that I had made the right choices in life. Peace began to instill itself.

I moved away from the tomb to speak with one of the sisters. She asked my name. I told her ‘Jarucia’ as I choked back fresh tears. She shared kind words with me and I shared my story as best as I could. Thoughts of my grandmother flooded my mind along with all the thoughts of my life’s work and journey. How could I tell this story and it make any sense to any one but me? How could it have the same meaning? She smiled when I told her that I had been baptized with the name Teresa of my own choice and had tried to live up to my namesake in that way. She said she had known Mother and loved her very much and if I should choose that name then she would call me ‘Teresa’. And she did. She told me to take peace from this journey. She offered to pray with me at the tomb. I willingly accepted.

I again reflected on all of the things that had happened, that needed to happen to make this moment happen. Was it me? Was it the Divine spirit? Was it sheer luck? It was more than I could comprehend, and yet I felt I accepted a truth in my heart about life and the truest meaning of love as I have come to know it. I am grateful for this and am at peace with my life and all the pieces of it. I for once felt released from the guilt of not practicing an organized religion because I knew that my Divine spirit was pleased with me and it meant nothing to assign a name or worship in a group or any of the man-made business that goes along with ‘God’. It was about the love of life I have and my willingness to follow my calling, my vocation, to share this love through acts whether they be social service, raising a family, or simply allowing my heart to feel love without conditions or pain.

And if you should wonder: What does one do when one has become aware of all of this in realizing their life’s goal?

Well I will go on in much the same way as I did before, but I will take with me a new peace and a little more light and a lot more love in my heart.

Thank you to all those I have loved and who have loved me, whether for a moment or for my lifetime.

KOLKATA AND LIFE AFTER THE MEETING

As I said, life continues on for me in much the same way. Although I must say that uncontrollable crying generally leaves me with a headache for sometime after, but I actually didn’t mind. How could I when this pain came from such a joyous experience? I suppose in this way they cancelled each other out.

I thought about going back to Mission House before I left, but decided against it. I have much in my mind and heart. Enough to keep me pondering, and feeling like a child learning, in some ways, for quite some time to come.

I don’t doubt that I will go back again someday, but for now let me not be greedy.

THE REST OF THAT TUESDAY

We caught a cab and asked, blindly, for him to take us somewhere that we might find a good restaurant for lunch. Why I say blindly is that for 5 out of the 7 taxis we have taken thus far (and this by Thursday afternoon), the driver clearly meandered about in a way so as to increase the fare. How did we know? I picked up a road map and tour guide to give us direction for the few days we were here.

Honestly, the difference of Rs 1 or 2 is hardly a big deal for us, but it is always discouraging when you know you’re being taken for a ‘ride’. I guess cabbies everywhere work under the same general code… ‘take a little extra when you can, what harm does it do if they don’t know?’

After lunch we visited the Victoria Memorial .

This is a ridiculously large building (and surrounding grounds) which was built to more or less flaunt the wealth and pomp of the British Colonizers. The historical display that is now housed inside was an illuminating piece of history at how one greedy group of men (the British East India Company) encouraged another group of greedy men (the various regional rulers of India) to first give them access to India’s wealth of natural resources and ‘disposable’ labor pool and then eventually just steal control of everything outright. In the end I was struck by the notion that it seems very little has changed for most of India’s population for the past several hundred years with one exception: who the master of the time is. It’s discouraging in this way, especially when one thinks of the Independence movement and what has come since then.

One current example of the forward-backward thinking is to change the name of many of India’s cities. Bombay to Mumbai, Madras to Chennai, Pondicherry to Puducherry, Bangalore to Bengaluru and so on. While the sentiment is nice (a return to roots), why not have done this when the country first gained independence? Instead, all these years later they are going to have to waste a small fortune across the country to pay for the name changes everywhere the old name is printed, not to mention the cost to the private sector. In the meanwhile, there many abjectly poor people of this country are hungry for real change and this is all they are tossed. It’s politicking at its very worst. And before any Americans jump to conclusions I have two words for you: Freedom Fries.

I’m not quite of my stump yet…while these ‘back to our roots’ changes are happening images like these are still popping up everywhere:

I can’t help but see some serious hypocrisy or at least discontinuity between the messages being sent by those in control of this country—which isn’t limited in meaning to politicians.

A rose by any other name…can still sell its spirit for the same price. I really do hope, though, that India manages to retain its richness in heritage and culture, on its own terms, while they are acclimating to the global community and progressing socially. Otherwise it would be a sincerely great and powerful loss not just for Her own self, but all of humanity. At least that is my humble opinion.

ENOUGH OF POLITICS, WHAT ABOUT THE CITY?

Well after some time here, I think that Kolkata is fabulous, and I’m not just saying that. It is an extremely vibrant city and many aspects of it remind me of New York. I’ve heard it referred to as ‘the Paris of India’ because of the art and culture that is present everywhere. I plan on taking as much of it in as I can.

There are so many interesting sights that I needed to go ahead and create an ALBUM , so you may get a better idea of my time thus far. It isn’t so much that I’m ‘doing’ things, I’ve just been enjoying the city. Although I could do with a little less of the pollution which comes in two main forms: noise and exhaust. Until you’ve spent all day in a Kolkata cab, you can’t truly know what is like to be sitting in a cab with a bus to your left and have it rev up at the change of a light. The thick black exhaust cloud blows straight into your face when the window is broken and can’t be rolled up. But I’ve just been chaulking these experiences up to the charm of the city.

AND YOU HEAR ABOUT THE POOREST OF THE POOR

The city isn’t all charm though. There are more people openly living and sleeping on the streets than anywhere else I’ve been in India (but not quite as many as I remember in Mumbai). I pretty much refrained from photographing these people as I felt that it would be a disservice to their dignity. After all, would you walk right into a stranger’s living room and take a snap? Just because their situation forces them to live in public doesn’t mean that all aspects of their lives should be met with judging public scrutiny. What are their options? It made me wonder how much say some of these people have had over the years when photos of them were taken to be used in some charity ad or textbook.

It is a miserable situation for many of the people here and all around India and one can only cling to hope that the current ‘masters’ of this country will truly work with the welfare of the poorest of the poor in mind, too.

And what about my accountability as a visitor here? Well I could give a litany of rationale, but let me try to keep this on the simple side as it is a matter for which I have great compassion.

Having given money directly to the poor and having given time to organizations that help the poor out of their misery or at least suffer it less, I am certain that I am better serving those I encounter by giving my resources to an organization to help more people than just a one or two at a time.

No, it doesn’t feel right to smile and show empty hands as I pass their pleading eyes, nor does it feel right to toss them some pocket change. I feel helpless either way. But it really isn’t about what makes me feel good it is about trying to do right by all peoples of the earth: present and future. I am certain that in stopping for each and every person who asked for help and trying to dole out all of my resources this way I would endlessly fail in having any lasting affect on the institutional and societal wrongs that help form and shape these desperate situations. How can my arbitrary, guilt-ridden hand outs ever do justice to the needs of so many? However, if I act in concert with a larger group of people or organizations whose purposes are to provide the fundamental rights needed by every human being every day (shelter, food, clothing, education, a ‘clean’ environment, protection under law and so on), then I don’t need to worry as much if my work alone will determine even one other’s situation because those people will hopefully be able to determine their lives for themselves, rather than continue suffering under the oppression of a system they likely feel they exact little control over.

In the meanwhile you may question:

“How can you suffer their desperation while all of these good works are in the slow process of improving the situation?”

I can’t, so I at least openly acknowledge it by acknowledging them. I don’t pretend they don’t exist by looking away or clucking my tongue at their sight. I choose not to assuage my guilt this way that so many others do. In acknowledging their suffering I share the discomfort of their suffering even if it is for a moment. And this reminds me always of the service I must do. So I continue to do this work. In the end all of these people and myself will have passed away and many of the injustices that exist in society, which cause their suffering, will likely still be around, but hopefully as many will be gone, leaving a lasting legacy and inspiration for improvement for each generation to come.

Whether you believe in reincarnation or not, the apocalypse or not, God or not, as long as humans continue to be born on this planet it is our fundamental human and spiritual task to leave this world better off than we were given it. Not at least the same as we found it, but better.

For many that materially means a clean environment with sustainable economic habits.

But for me it means first and foremost a kinder spirit in the societies of the world. If even the most materially fortunate and socially dominant of us (and bless those among them, like Bill Gates and even Warren Buffet, for proving me wrong, to an extent, on their accounts) are willing to deny the FACT that their wealth and power comes from the massive outpouring of human productive activity--which has never been adequately compensated in monetary terms or plain social respect--then we all will continue to deny the full value of each human life.

As each human life is then subject to variable value in this world, so the individual and the rest of society can question the worthiness of adoration, ambivalence or abuse.

And as long as even one person on this planet can entertain the thought that their life is somehow more worthy of adoration, and therefore more valuable, there will always then be room for justifying the equitable abuse of one other.

It can never just end with ‘us’ or ‘them’, can it? We are ALL.

WEDNESDAY

ACROSS THE RIVER TO THE BANYAN TREE

The excursion for the day was across Hugli river and Vidyasagar Bridge to west Kolkata and the Botanical garden. The star resident of this garden is the Great Banyan tree.

As a focal point it is nearly a 1km walk (if not more) to reach it along a foot path that has shown to be only minimally maintained. Fair enough if the money needs to spent on more urgent matters.

Along the way we passed a monument to what or whom I cannot say, as well as a pond of wonderfully large lily pads. They were just like the ones we saw in Hawaii.

We then came upon the Banyan:

All of that dark green you see in the center of the frame is the Banyan. ALL OF IT! This massive tree is the largest in India and perhaps all of Asia (or the world). When I walked into the shadow of its canopy I walked into a jungle. The Banyan makes a wonderful metaphor for the world and all of the inhabitants of the earth:

While all appear to stand alone and act as if they do—

Striving for food, fighting for light, pushing for space—

They are all still ONE.

And we are all ONE in the way of this Banyan tree. What makes it even more interesting to think about is the fact the main trunk—the central core of its origination—was removed due to disease nearly 100 years ago. Yet despite this, the tree lives on supporting itself, supporting each part.

It made me ponder the lost human heritage that may or may not have been know at one point, but should be much clearer today than ever before considering the rapid and ceaseless sharing of information. Is it really so strange that all could share a common cause? We all want to live (for the most part). We all want to thrive. We all want to be left to determine our own lives. But just as we cannot achieve this in isolation of one another, we can neither achieve it through force or invasion.

As with the banyan, as one part grows stronger, so another might grow weak. If this one part draws strength still until the rest of the tree is reduced to dust, then it might suddenly find itself lacking some element necessary to its existence, but to what resolve because it became the creator of its own doom.

I know this sounds all philosophical and such, but seriously, people need to get in touch with this bigger picture and get to talking with others about it and get to acting on these thoughts. Don’t let others direct your discourse…dictate it yourself.

A VISIT WITH FRIENDS AND A QUESTION OF GOD

Into the evening we went to visit a friend of Papa’s…a batch-mate from police training days. He was an interesting chap. He couldn’t quite figure out how to address my response of being a non-practitioner of organized religion.

First he said: “Oh so that means that you don’t believe in God.”

“No, not that at all,” I said, “I just don’t believe that any person in the past or present can tell me how to believe in the Divine spirit or how I should relate to it or even act on those feelings.”

Later he said: “Since our friend here doesn’t believe in organized religion…”

“Oh, no, it isn’t that I don’t believe in organized religion. How could I not? I surrounds me and fills the world. I just don’t choose to practice it.”

It is interesting that people feel the need to categorize or compartmentalize others, and often times themselves. It’s remarkable how secure it makes people feel to be able to relate to others in this way. As if putting a label to somebody can even begin to help you understand that person as the individual spirit that they are. Poppycock!

Yet, we are all guilty of it because it just makes life easier in some strange way.

I say it makes life boring because people go about thinking they know a great more about the world and its inhabitants with out actually doing the work they need to do to figure ‘it all’ (i.e. LIFE) out. This is the kind of attitude that leads nations to wars over otherwise benevolent aims. They just don’t take the time to ‘get’ the other side.

A TURN FOR THE WORSE

This very same evening I fell ill from the scourge of all travelers…food related stomach issues to put it kindly. I think I ate something that touched something uncooked. And the irony of it all was it was one of the cleanest places we’d eaten since we’ve been on the road. Go figure.

Thank goodness for the emergency antibiotic Rx I brought with me. Now, I will say generally I hate taking these things (helps to evolve bacteria into super-bacteria…seriously). However, having recalled this feeling from when I was last in Mumbai two years ago and knowing how long it would last for (better part of 5 days), I broke down and took them. And boy did they do wonders by the next evening but in the meantime I was not well for the wear.

THURSDAY

THE MUSEUM AND TEA

I woke up Thursday morning and felt like I had the worst hangover ever, without actually having been drunk the night before, which makes the feeling seem a lot worse.

I thought I’d brave the day.

We made it to the Indian Museum where they had an odd collection of natural science specimens in the fields of zoology, archeology, fossils and geology in addition to some art. I walked through some of these naturalist sections before making a beeline to the painting gallery. I realized that India—nor any other nation really—has some corner hold on knowledge of natural history. What I’ve seen in the U.S. I saw here, and in Europe too. The major difference was the displaying of these items. I couldn’t make much sense of what the displays here were trying to get at. They were somewhat crude, although interesting in that it felt like I was walking through an old antiquities hall that had only seen minimal care over the years. Try to imaging the kind where you aren’t in fear of things toppling over, but where you might see a bench on top of a table with years worth of dust and cobwebs attached, while passing from one gallery to the next. In fact I saw this very thing…and it wasn’t a display of any sort, mind you.

I found it odd to find items such as asbestos on display:

It reminded me of how some things, in small quantities, can be useful. However, with the way many things are over used in the U.S., such as asbestos, they can be deadly.

On the upstairs level I marveled at the grand appearance of the museum and its courtyard set against a semi-clear sky.

While strolling along the upper walkway papa pointed out a FEMALE version of ganesh called ganeshi (that added ‘i’ symbolizes feminine in Hindi). He said that he had never seen one before. Of course neither had I. There was little explanation for her significance other than her name .

The remainder of the visit was split between looking at paintings by Indian artists and sitting on a bench.

While slowly making my way through the painting gallery I was moved by the simple method by which these various artists captured everyday activities in a snap-shot way. There was little posing of their subjects, just people going about their daily business and looking so enrapt by their work or activity. Additionally, there were more contemporary styles of art which were playful with form and color, but still fairly standard in there depictions of Indian life. The preferred medium was watercolor for many of these artists, which I suspect is a reflection of what is available and cost efficient. It is refreshing to see a variety of scenes depicted in the light and airy way which only watercolor can convey as compared to the use of heavy oil. Furthermore, many of these pieces were not done on canvas of cotton or linen, but rather paper or silk.

After satisfying myself with this exhibition I rested on a nearby bench while waiting for the folks to finish their viewing. For those 10 odd minutes I felt like another piece of the art on display. It is amazing how often and unabashedly people stare at me. For the most part their looks are blank but intense and do not break even if I respond with a nod or a quick smile. I know I’m not the only Westerner in India, but when we’ve traveled about I find that I’m often the only Westerner at a lot of the smaller sights and locals we go to. I wonder if they are wondering what I’m doing there. Do they think of me as being intrusive, inquisitive or just insane?

Just as I was nearing my breaking point of spectator tolerance, we pushed off for Lalbazaar to pick up some Darjeeling tea.

Lalbazaar is a maddening place. It is squeezed between the Kolkata police headquarters and long row of mostly tea and musical instrument shops. The taxis wailed their horns, the buses honked wildly, the air was hot and pushing all the dust and smells and fumes down on us. I honestly felt like I was going to pass out.

After selecting the tea shop to buy from (all their teas were in steel cans as opposed to sun exposed plastics), we collapsed into a cab and headed back to our guest house on Hazara road.

The rest of the day was a wash as I slept and took only a little soup. The air was stagnant and oppressive and it felt like there was no escape from it when we were on the roads. It seemed barely better back in our rooms. Maybe I’m exaggerating, but that is the memory pasted to my mind for the rest of that day.

FRIDAY

A STRONG FINISH…HOORAH!

The extra rest did me good. I was feeling much more refreshed in the morning and felt ready to get the most out of this last full day in Kolkata.

We had avoided going to shops up to this point as I really wanted to see the sights. It sounds like fun to shop one’s way through a country, but after awhile it really wears thin and leaves you feeling as if you had really seen and done nothing.

But today the period of abstinence was over.

After much referencing with the tourist guide and map, and checking out local news articles we settled on two places to visit.

The first was Manjusha, the West Bengal arts and crafts emporium on Camac St. While the building that housed the two part shop was quite large, the establishments were quite modest themselves. The main decorative art/craft they displayed were these fascinating copper and paint (?) reliefs of gods, goddesses, animals and people. I selected a simple one of a sitting woman as I figured the one of Kali—the patron goddess of Kolkata along with Durga would be a little too wild for our home.

The second shop we visited was Earthy Myth on Loudon St. This is Indian couture at its finest, I’d like to think. The fabrics used are all dyed using natural plant dyes and each piece is an original hand sewn item. They offered a variety of Western influenced styles and many Indian traditional with contemporary twists such as a layered kameez with an empire waist or tufted netting on a sari or chuni. I tried a number of things on with a thrill in mind that I might find something that was ‘just right’, but in the end I realized I’m not cut out for couture. Maybe I’m getting a little too old to be swayed by the thought alone of owning an original piece of anything…or perhaps I’m just comfortable with window shopping and offering praise to the designer, which I did.

We returned to our guest house for an afternoon rest as we had fine plans of going out for the evening.

KOLKATA—THE CITY OF CULTURE AND THE ARTS

When five o’clock came along I promptly greeted the folks with a ‘let’s go!’ We had been waiting all week to visit the Fine Arts Academy, which had several exhibitions running.

The cab ride to the Academy was totally unremarkable, which makes me actually have to say something about it. Each and every taxi ride has been like being on a chariot pulled by the horses of hell. I believe mummy put it best when she said, “They make you believe in God!”

Or an even more apt counter comparison would be to say “Life was a cake walk, but now it is a Kolkata taxi ride.”

This ride was so modest, slow and non-threatening I actually felt like I was having a pleasant experience while in the cab.

We landed up at the Academy a short while later and made our way into the north gallery just in time to witness a pooja commencing for a brand new exhibition.

This particular exhibition was entitled “Creative Wave” and featured the talent of some very fine artists. As is custom with me, I enjoy taking notes about the artwork I like. I jot down mentions of media used, techniques I see, the juxtaposition of images and so on. If I had the benefit of foresight (or even hindsight at this point in my travels) I may not have done so at this particular event.

As I made my way around the room, I realized that I was attracting attention to myself. Firstly, I was again the only non-Indian in the room. Secondly, I didn’t look like a broke backpacker. Thirdly, I was intensely scribbling notes and standing staring at many of the pieces for quite some time. I started notice the click of cameras near me and from the way my shadow was cast upon the walls with each flash I could tell that I was being a regular subject of the snaps going on. Maybe I’ll be in the papers tomorrow. All for being white. That’s plain crazy.

About half way through the exhibit someone put the guide book directly in front of my face. I turned to see it was a photographer. I thanked him and he smiled. As I stood admiring a large monochromatic (orange) piece, the same photographer tapped me on the shoulder and indicated toward a young man on my left. I was starting to think that the photographer was mute as he didn’t make so much as a grunt at any time when he approached me.

The young man to the left was the artist of the piece I was admiring. All I could do was tell him what I thought about it: “It’s lovely, really lovely.”

As I neared the end of the exhibit another man approached and asked if I wanted a price list. I realized that I might be the realization of their pooja prayer right then and there if I actually bought something. I must admit the prices were very reasonable, but I couldn’t imagine transporting any of those large items back to the states. They tried to sell me on a small bronze statue. I had to be resolute in my mission to only look at the art.

“I’m much more of an admirer of art than a collector.”

That was met with an ‘oh, uh-huh’ but not in a snobbish way as one might expect. Perhaps they thought I was a reporter of some sort. I don’t know. But I did feel glamorous in my flip-flops and flowing floral top for the few minutes they thought something more of me than what met their eye.

On the way back to our guest house we stopped at a book store to pick up some reading material for the trip home the next day and made our way to coffee shop (Café Coffee Day) for cappuccino and sandwiches.

Mummy said it best, “This is how you should end your day after enjoying a fine art exhibition.”

Yes, indeed. Coffee, conversation and the faint waft of hookah smoke with each push and pull of the door.

The last evening in Kolkata was precisely as it ought to be.

SATURDAY

FINAL HOURS

We had read in the newspaper about a very hip ‘natural food’ restaurant called Bhoomi at the Vedic Village Resort, just outside of Kolkata. We thought we might check it out for lunch as a final bid for some Indian fare that only Kolkata could offer

After much detouring and stopping for directions we made it after a brief hour and half drive (forget what they say about 45 minutes from Central Kolkata).

The layout was amazing. Nothing like what one ought to expect to find in India, I suppose, but the kind of place that is needed to grab the attention of high price tourists. Very clean and pleasing to look at in that way.

The food was excellent and the clean air of the surrounding left our lungs feeling refreshed.

When we would touch down in Ahmedabad a few hours later, and as I relished the ‘freshness’ and dryness of the air after two weeks of monsoons and pollution, I realized how even something as foul as pollution really is only relative. Would I have considered Ahmedabad air to be sweet to my senses two weeks ago? No. But now it almost feels like driving through an oxygen bar.

And as this blog progresses out of this first month and into the next two, there will be bit more travel-logging, but likely a lot more thought. With that being the case I really to invite people to engage in dialogue over the topics I may discuss.

With this I bid you adieu until I blog again.

Peace,

A Pink American

P.S. if you would like to email my directly with any comments of feedback please do so at jaruciaj@yahoo.com .

P.P.S. I didn’t make it into the paper.

P.P.P.S. The Kolkata Album link again

10.30.2006...Away to Kolkata

2006-10-30T09:19:00.000+05:30

Well this is it...the big event.

We leave in a few hours for Kolkata. I've been thinking long about whether to make great efforts to find internet connections to keep the updates going while I'm there.

I've come to the following conclusion: I'm going to wait.

This part of the trip has such intense personal meaning for me I want to be sure that I take the time to fully absorb it rather than be too concerned about immediately redistributing the experience.

This blog is a joy for me, and I will be sure to share, but I would like to take some time to really reflect on what all of this really means to me.

Please check back next weekend. I'll have my observations, comments, and photos posted by the end of the 5th.

In the meanwhile...I finished the Bhagavad Gita and while there were many passages that spoke to me there are these two which I particularly would like to share:

Free from selfish attachment, they do not get compulsively entangled even in home and family. They are even-minded through good fortune and bad. Their devotion to me is undivided. Enjoying solitude and not following the crowd, they seek only me. This is true knowledge, to seek the Self as the true end of wisdom always. To seek anything else is ignorance. (13:9-11)

and

They live in freedom who have gone beyond the dualities of life. Competing with no one, they are alike in success and failure and content with whatever comes to them. They are free, without selfish attachments; their minds are fixed in knowledge. They perform all work in the spirit of service, and their karma is dissovled. (4:22-23)

Until we meet again...

Peace,

A Pink American

10.28.2006…Auroville At Last

2006-10-28T21:38:00.000+05:30

In a way I had been preparing myself to be disappointed as the rains and some scheduling issues denied me the chance to take part in a 3-day tour. But the more I read, and once I was there, I realized 1 or 5 days hardly made a difference. One would need to visit for a month!

Auroville is based on the concept of a community which is universal; belonging to no one and everyone. People who choose to (and are accepted) live here are committed to work and service for the divine spirit and must be wanting and willing to relinquish all egoistic ties to the world. To say the least it isn’t for many of today’s earthly inhabitants, which is unfortunate to say the least.

This is a visual concept from the reception center.

Auroville generates revenue through economic activities such as textile design, papermaking and pottery.

They then sell these items at shops located in their township as well as other places in India.

A side note here: I was first told about Auroville by Surnish’s cousin Benita who is a co-founder of Mercado Global. This is a very progressive organization, which is trying to pair small worker cooperatives of handicrafts and textiles, with international retailers.

After enjoying the presentations at the visitors center and picking up some paper items, we opted to call it a day. Much of the grounds were muddy puddles and ponds with rain showers intermittently breaking the constant downpour.

Despite this short visit, I felt much more inclined to come back and stay for an extended period of time to really get a feel for the atmosphere of the people and work of Auroville.

Heading Back to Chennai

As the weather would have it, we weren’t destined for 3-days, so we settled for 1 whole and 2 halves. Driving out from Auroville I watched images of village life pass by that were the same and different from what I’d seen in northern India.

The vividness of the landscape inspired the following:

Driving out of Auroville…

The rains are resting for the moment as I watched the passing scene.
With window rolled down I am able to clearly see the one hundred thousand shades of green glowing under heavy drops of water.
The wind gently pushes leaves on leaves on branches on twigs. The water rains from one surface to the next.
A thousand different kinds of leaves in millions of shapes and form. The brightest still not as bright as the blades I’ve seen in the rice fields; but they try.
Tall and thin and short and squat are the cacti I don’t expect to see.
Dense are the mangrove and their limbs, which bow down to the commune with the earth on which they rely.
The road is lined by red clay waiting for hands to form it and fences so alive with creeper growth one cannot be sure that each vertical piece isn’t rooted to the ground. My eyes strain to see the connection, but the truth cannot be revealed.
The road begins to smoothen as more and more earth alone is seen. Small tidy piles of garbage breech the scene.
With a final turn and length, the road empties out past buildings of red brick and merges with the expressway.
The ocean is just then there across the way. Blue, green and gray in its calmness today, for now. It colors the sky it meets with in the horizon. And for a moment the white sand of beach appears before it all disappears behind the buildings and huts and landscape.
Again we’ve met the rain.
We drove right into it.

And as we continued on we drove passed many acres of salt flats where workers collected and moved this vital element.

I wondered if there was greater satisfaction or sense of dignity in working with this material as it was the very one that is eternally tied with the final throws of struggle for India’s freedom? More likely this is simply the fanciful thinking of a Westerner…a simple Pink American.

Peace,

A Pink American

10.28.2006…Puducherry

2006-10-28T20:45:00.000+05:30

Before heading to Puducherry and Auroville (a separate post), I was warned there wasn’t much to do or see. I often hear this warn when I’m going to some ho-hum place, but it doesn’t really act as a deterrent. I believe there is always something to see. Each village, town or city has its on spirit and to have seen one isn’t to have seen them all.

On heading out I snapped this persistent cricket. It lasted as long as the petrol pump where we sent it packing. It’s really quick a show watching the tiny legs bend and flex to maintain a grip on an otherwise smooth surface while resisting wind speeds of 60km/ph.

Aren't crickets supposed to by lucky??

Of other note, our driver appeared to be Christian. Not that this mattered one way or the other, but it is interesting that one can find so many signs of Jesus down here. Apparently Syrian traders brought Christianity with them to the region some time ago and it is has a fairly sizable foot-hold here. The fact that Christians (of many sects) use items and idols for worship, reflection and luck fits right in with the traditional cultural use of such items among Hindus. In fact, it wasn’t too uncommon to see items from both religious beliefs paired together. Our driver had a rosary, Jesus (lights up at night) and Ganesh all positioned to bring luck for the drive ahead.

After 3 hours of driving we neared Puducherry close to lunch time. The rain was light as we rolled up to town.

I was told that I would see a lot of influence of the French here as this had once been a colony of theirs. However, one really had to ‘pick-out’ architecture elements in order to see the influence. Some of the older buildings were more obvious, but much of the city had been reclaimed by south Indian styles.

An exception is signage on the streets. They are all the familiar blue and white one would see in France with street names in both Tamil and French.

Scenes of Puducherry…

The Bhagavad Gita

Our first night in Puducherry I began reading the Bhagavad Gita. It is on par with the Bible and the Koran . For those seeking further spiritual guidance, I highly recommend the Penguin Classic version. The translator, Eknath Easwaran, is excellent and he provides a fairly unbiased guide to understanding the context of the text.

The main appeal of this text for me is the call for selfless service while remaining engaged in worldly matters, such as having a family, working, etc. I feel as if I’m reading the guiding tenet of my personal life as I’ve been living it for many years now. Am I completely selfless? Of course not. I try, but I’m still driven by the want to see the success of my efforts in making others happy, empowered or otherwise. I am quite crushed when I see that my work has ‘done nothing’.

This is making me reflect quite a bit on the nature of the volunteer work I do now and how I see my service efforts evolving in the future.

I won’t get into the specifics here, but I will say that while I have much room for growth I actually feel quite confident and at ease with the progress I’ve been making in this lifetime. Is that a selfish thought?

Day Two: What’s to See in Puducherry?

It rained all night…strike that…it monsooned all night. We were having serious reservations about whether we would make it through the three days planned. With the rain we opted for an indoor activity of visiting the city’s museum.

Did you know that there used to be an ancient port here called Poduke? Most of you will say of course not. From 200 B.C. it flourished in trade with Greece and Roman. It received a great deal of olive oil and wine from its trading partners.

This was all surprising to me because when I took world history in high school there is no mention of India when talking about Greece and Rome. In fact outside of hearing about such things as the Upanishads, I can’t rightly recall having much exposure at all about India’s history. Shameful, really.

We also visited the Sri Aurobindo Ashram. It is a simple place but profound is the sight of so many people meditating around, kneeling at and lovingly tending to the final resting place of ‘The Mother’. Perhaps you will recall the French woman mentioned in an earlier post.

She also happened to be the founding force behind Auroville.

We took lunch at historic Hotel de l’Orient. This is where I saw the most ‘frenchness’ yet. Sitting inside the courtyard was near exact to some experiences Surnish and I had when we visited Paris. However, Paris was sans the palm trees.

After visiting a number of handicraft shops (the items that are produced from Auroville are beyond description, one must see and feel for oneself), we had dinner at Salt and Pepper restaurant. This isn’t really worth mentioning except that there as very funny typo on the menu: American Chopsy.

Day Three: Final Moments Before Auroville

I must admit that this was the day I’d been looking forward to only second to visiting Kolkata. Before leaving to Auroville there were a couple of things still worthy of attention.

The most significant was this Gandhi Statue on the beach. The weather was lovely (by comparison) and in the morning hours the area wasn’t too crowded so I was able to enjoy viewing the statue without too much distraction.

On our way to breakfast these two pieces caught my attention.

This collection of items is meant to represent both life and luck. Life in that working from the bottom up each piece represents a stage in life ending with the crystal at the top which represents death and return to the earth.

The second sight was a Jesus shrine. Set up nearly the same as any of the small shrines I’ve seen for Hindu and other deities, again I thought how much Jesus may really have become part of the Hindu pantheon of worship rather than remained as a stand out alone.

As I said good-bye to Jesus our car headed toward Auroville.

Peace,

A Pink American

10.26.06…What More of Chennai?

2006-10-26T10:00:00.000+05:30

Interestingly, after the last post, I was privy to a conversation between Nitu-didi and Mummy regarding the sameness of all the big Indian cities. This was in particular reference to the variety of import items one can buy.

“Oh, no,” I said, “they’re quite different.”

I went on to list some of the differences that I noted in my last posting. They were thoughtful about the fact that these little things could really change the whole fabric feel of each city. They also admitted that most Indians wouldn’t pay attention to these differences as points that significantly differentiate the cities.

TUESDAY

On Tuesday we ventured to Mahabilpuram, the temple by the sea.

Along the way my attention was drawn to the many extremely colorful dev (god) representations on the numerous temples. This one in particular fascinated me. So bright and lively.

As we moved on, areas heavily impacted by the 2004 tsunami were pointed out to me. This beach front area was completed covered up to and over the road we were driving on. Much of the vegetation is returning, but a good many fast growing ‘fuel’ trees were being planted as well.

Just past this beach front area was a tsunami settlement. There were several of these with large road sides indicating tsunami relief areas. However, many of theses places and signs were in poor repair and left me questioning how helpful, ultimately, the aid here was.

The answer our hosts gave me was: Not very much.

There was a fair bit of scamming that took place to get aid after the tsunami as little government oversight was provided in the relief effort. Before you jump to conclusions about India I have two words for you: Hurricane Katrina. I guess the U.S. and India have yet another thing in common.

After another 20 minutes on the road we pulled left down a narrow road that passed clay statues of dancing and musical women; most of which were missing various body parts. The road was in extremely poor repair so the drive was slow. This was good because it allowed me to really see those walking by.

Many of the south Indian women had yellow complexions on, as if they had rub haldi (turmeric) on their faces.

“Yes they do that so that their skin looks fairer”

Fairer, perhaps, but yellow? The desire to meet so worldwide beauty standard was reached a ridiculous new level here. I don’t entirely believe they want to be fairer as a result of Western exposure though. I’m fairly certain that much of the social pressure that these women internalize comes from seeing their Indian neighbors to the north. Such a shame really. The south Indian woman is just as striking in her beauty as any woman I’ve seen in this country. In a way, the darkness of her complexion makes her more compelling to admire because of the way it accentuates the features of her face.

A much more common feature than yellow tinged skin is the fragrant jasmine garlands that are hung from their hair. These tiny flowers are hand-strung together in a way as to not leave any gaps in the garland. The finished product is as pretty to look at as it is to smell. Imagine wet earth and sugar syrup mixed together.

At Mahabilpuran, we hiked our salwars up a bit as we navigated large and somewhat deep puddles on our way to the front gate. The smoothly paved path was seemingly insync with what lay at the end.

This temple wasn’t very large at all. It was well worn by the wind and salt air of the Indian Ocean which crashed nearby. Families sat on the wet lawns surrounding it to picnic and children climbed on the backs of the weathered and often headless lions lining its perimeter.

The overcast sky was such that an ethereal glow could be caught when looking up along the sides.

I ran my hand across some of the outer surfaces and thought how amazing it will always seem to me that something invisible to my eye (the wind and the sea air) would return this building to sand one day, while my nail couldn’t even chip the tiniest fragment.

After taking leave of the temple we had a late lunch at a nearby resort. Here you see a Nitu-didi along with Jo-jo-vrji, her husband.

The drive home left me feeling very tired from the heaviness of the weather, but I managed to find a second wind to go out to some handicraft stores and boutiques. I didn’t buy anything, but I sure do love to see the fineries on display.

WEDNESDAY

There was one main program for the day: visit Dakshin Chitra.

For those of you who have been the world village at Balboa park in San Diego or (very loosely) Epcot Center, it is something along those lines.

It is a full scale physical representation of homes, craft productions and exhibitions of south India.

Below is the intricately carved entryway to a merchant’s house from Tamil-Nadu.

There were number of wares on display inside as well.

One series of room featured artwork from various times, culminating in an modern art exhibition. It was very interesting multi-media work that seemed to me to represent to patching together of traditional and modern in India.

At a Ayyanar Shrine display, large terracotta figures stood waiting to provide transport for Ayyanar (a popular village guardian deity) at night.

At the Hindu House of the Calicut district of Kerala, there was this brightly designed wall painting near the entrance of the central room/courtyard.

Finally, a little fashion show from Karnataka. The south does not corner the market on color, but they do include a lot of sea-going elements (such as shells) which represent there region.

AND WHAT ABOUT THE WEATHER?

I know you were all wondering. This morning we were greeted by sunshine and clear-ish skies. This later turned into oppressive humid heat that threatened to suck the will to live out of us.

The sky over the ocean was menacingly gray as we made our way back home from Dakshin Chitra.

In the late afternoon we headed out for tea with some friends of the folks. The rain was coming down then, but I wasn’t too impressed by it.

After a few hours of socializing we began the drive home.

Now I understand what ‘monsoon’ is.

The torrential downpour was so thick it was like drive through a suspend sheet of water. This apparently had been going on for sometime as the small standing puddles and pools that we passed on the way in had become ponds and lakes. Literally.

The car, along with two-wheelers, autorickshaws, and pedestrians, struggled through the grueling traffic and bodies of water the were knee deep in many places (the walkers verified that).
Whenever we passed through the really deep ponds I put my foot by the door-jam to see if any water would leak in.

As we crawled to a stop just short of an intersection, the ‘smell’ started by-passing the air-conditioning system: the waters had mixed with sewage. An autorickshaw pulled up along side of us with five very wet people crammed inside. The young woman nearest me was covering her nose. I could only imagine how much worse it must be for her.

The sky was lit every few minutes by spectacular burst of white-gray-blue with only dull thunder. These burst of light illuminated the entire sky each time.

When we finally reached home the rain had subsided to a comfortable downpour. Toads croaked in chorus on the drive leading up to Nitu-didi’s house. There were even a handful making appearances at the base of the drive. The earth worms of south India…perhaps.

Even as I was writing this in the late evening I sat listen to the incessant downpour (which has turned torrential again), drown out the mighty sounds of the air conditioner.

Papa was right…the red sky meant heavy rains.

AS FOR THE NEXT MOVE…

Today we will hopefully make our road trip to Puducherry and Auroville. The plan has been slightly abridged due to scheduling mishaps and the monsoons.

We will be there for two full days and plan on returning either late the 28th or early the 29th.

In the meanwhile, be good to you neighbors and try to smile a little more each day.

Peace,

A Pink American

10.24.2006...And Chennai to the South

2006-10-24T10:45:00.000+05:30

Yesterday morning we awoke early to catch a 7:20am flight to Chennai via Mumbai. On approach to Mumbai I wanted to capture as best I could the extent of the slum dwellings so many call home. The last few minutes of the approach are characterized as follows...

Just take a moment to think about how many families and extended families are sharing each one of the spaces under the many squares and rectangles. Now think about the average size of an American family (of 2.6) and the space they on average share.

Ah-ha.

After a brief layover at Mumbai, we were off again. In leaving the area I saw the part of Mumbai which at night is called the Queen's pearl necklace, due to its shape and lights. It was the day, however, so you can really only appreciate the shape. A bit hazey though.

Along the way mummy tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Look we're flying over India." We shared a laugh, andI took a snap as it was a lovely sight.

On approach to Chennai I saw several of these massive water-filled pits carved out of small hills. I can only guess they were once quarries.

And here is Chennai...

Our plane touched down in Chennai (also known as Madras), a little after 11am. We were greeted by Surnish's masi (mother's sister) Nitu. She and mummy tearfully embraced as they had not seen each other for quite a few years.
It was touching to see the way they held hands and smiled as they sat chatting on the car ride home. Family means so much to so many here. No matter the distance and time.

The most noticeable difference about Chennai was the rain. While the north has just acme through their rainy season, the south is in the middle of theirs.
Lovely, life giving rain.

Of course there are other noticeable differences. Much larger more modern billboards advertising much more expensive items than in Ahmedabad. Many more sleek looking buildings. And there are many more very dark complexioned people. Most north Indians descended from Persian and Aryan peoples, so their complexions are quite a bit fairer. Many of the southern Indians are descended from Dravidians. They also speak Tamil down here.

After an afternoon of catching up and napping at Nitu-didi's, I met with some friends of Surnish and mine from the states who had moved back here last year.

Say hello to Anu, Vinod and their daughter Kavya. Thanks for obliging me with the snap!

The three adults went to dinner at Southern Spice restaurant at the Taj hotel in Chennai. The food was delicious and was paired with great conversation.
We did struggle a bit over the melodious noise of the live performers, whom I was told were playing traditional south Indian music, which is typified, apparently, by the use of a flute in addition to the strings and drums that are so common in Indian sounds.

After dinner, Anu treated me to a fortune reading by a parrot and its handler.
The card the bird picked for me produced a decal of Ganesh and I was subsequently told that I was a very lucky person, in addition to being compassionate, kind and good hearted. I was duly impressed with the bird's selection skills and felt this to be a particularly auspicious reading as the bird had pooped while selecting my card. The tally is now stands at 2 times that I've been presented with bird poop since I've been in India. I'm glad it wasn't on my head this time!

Peace,
A Pink American

10.22.2006...A Quick Evening Visit to Akshardham

2006-10-22T22:00:00.000+05:30

As you recall no cameras are allowed at Akshardham so let me try my best to explain the sight I saw.

To begin, we read in the paper this morning that Akshardham had been decorated with 15,000 oil lamps. The picture was black and white and a decent size so one could make out the shine of the lamps.

Papa asked me if I would like to go this evening and I eagerly agreed.

We set out just after 6pm when dusk is just starting to settle in and is then quickly followed by the dark blue of early night. This near darkness lingers for about and hour. This was the backdrop for the light show.

We walked in from the side of the temple grounds and were greeted by the most magnificent view. This awesome architectural structure was surround on all sides by trees of oil filled colored glass lamps lining the upper walkways and stairs leading up to the temple.

Blue, green, red and orange shown down from the oil wicks resting on top of each of these glass holders. It was more beautiful than any holiday/festival decoration I've ever seen.

The guide told us it only take 15 minutes to light all of these lamps as devotees assist in the lighting.

For someone who is so prone to individual acts of spiritual devotion, as I am, to know that dozens or hundreds of people work in unison for this one simple and faithful act is astounding.

I can somewhat liken it to hearing a whole Church say the Lord's pray, but only as a song, not as the droll drum that sometimes occurs.

As I said, no cameras allowed, so I found these snap online and they fairly depict what I saw, even if in miniature.

Peace,

A Pink American

10.22.2006...Photo Links in Earlier Posts

2006-10-22T21:40:00.000+05:30

Just in case you've been unable to view the photos from Oahu, Karwa Chauth, Singapore or first days in Ahmedabad, I've corrected the links.

Yahoo! Photos did a recent revamp and it changed the link location.

Thanks!

A Pink American

10.22.2006...Diwali: The Day After

2006-10-22T15:51:00.000+05:30

Ahh the joys of Diwali...the sweets, the lights, the gifts and the crackers.

Diwali Eve (is that official?)

We took one more trek into Ahmedabad. I still wanted to satiate my desire to see the surging sights of the festival preparations.

The main aim of this particular trip was to walk the stretch of Law Garden, which can be a great shopping experience if one wishes it.

Many of the stalls in Law Garden are filled mirrored skirts, wall hangings (ma-dum?) and bed covers. They also have plenty of other salwar suits, kurti tops, purses and more. This particular evening we were to shop to no avail as the prices had been inflated so much for the holiday, they wouldn't even bargain with mummy.

From inside the safety of the car I enjoyed many of the other festive sights, such as this sweet stall which had been set up...

Why should I say safety you may ask? Well, the crackers were being let off in full force. A number of times I would notice a small fire by the roadside (not an unusual sight) which would then suddenly explode...BOOM! Scared me every time.

Not to alarm any one, but there was an enormous police presence on the main roads entering the city. When I asked Surnish's father about it, he said some of it was for traffic control, but it was more to keep "trouble" from happening.
By "trouble" he meant acts of terrorism. There is a lingering concern that at some point revenge acts of terror will happen in Gujarat as a result of the riots in 2002. Papa said that it was well known that those in charge politically did little to nothing to stop the indiscriminate killing of Muslims. Hindus were also killed in retaliatory violence at the time. To learn more please read the link above.

For the rest of the ride home I watched the bright flickering dots characteristic of the small clay diyas. They adorned every gate, fence, balcony and drive. As we made it to the stretches of tree lined roads near Gandhinagar, where I often notice small shanties or tents set up by the very poor, I could spot single diyas, sometimes in pairs, brightening the woeful abodes.
Even those with the least reason to hope still believe that they would bring bad fortune on themselves by NOT burning the diya.
Ah, the power of religious faith.

Diwali

The day began like every other one. I lay in bed contemplating how late I could sleep without making myself feel guilty. After I agreed with myself that 7:30am was about right, I got up and joined the folks for morning tea.

After collecting my new Diwali outfit (hey, that's part of the tradition and who am I to argue?), I prepared to create my first rangoli.

While terribly time consuming (being the perfectionist I am), it really is only several simple steps.

Rangoli Step 1: Smear Mud--The moisture from the mud will be absorbed by the mica in the colored sand and subsequently help the two to bond so the rangoli has lasting power.

Rangoli Step 2: Cheat and use an outline--Now I don't know that this is really cheating, but sure does help with making the design...by the way, like my new PINK suit?

Rangoli Step 3: Fill in with color--This is the fun part, BUT extremely time consuming. I was out her for several hours. It was a nice experience though. I liked the concentration factor.

Rangoli Step 4: Enjoy--this was the final product of my efforts. Not too shabby for my first Rangoli ever.

After the Rangoli session I ate lunch and napped soundly for a couple of hours. These afternoon naps are another reason I should feel bad about sleeping in so much in the morning...but I don't. Just about everyone naps in the afternoon warmth. Inside houses, under carts, in the shade of roadside trees, everyone seems to rest for some time.

In the early evening I went with papa to the cracker stalls to pick up a few tame items.
My selection was mostly comprised of sparklers, some spinning swastiks and flaming pencils.

But before the fire action we had some more formal ceremonial matters to take care of. First came the pooja. We lit all the diyas and prepared a display of silver items and flowers to please Ganesh-ji and Lakshmi-ji. Then we said a little prayer for prosperity in the new year.

Next comes the placing of the diyas. The best ones were situated around my rangoli. This was sure to get the attention of Lakshmi!

And finally came the crackers.

Mummy and papa seemed to be enjoying themselves...

I tried some of the fiery pencils; you can image the laughter that surrounded me as I squealed about that little sparks coming too close. Apparently I'm quite the wimp...note to self no more than one at the time.

Ahhh, this was more like it. Simple pleasures bring simple joys. The very best kind.

The folks' dog, Jimmy, who is a real character, went insane with the crackers and had to be let inside to hide under the cabinets.

By days' end we were hot, sweaty, well-polluted and happy. Diwali, you gotta love it.

And Neeexxxttt.....We're Off!

Tomorrow morning (the 23rd) we leave for nearly two weeks of travel. First stop will be to Chennai and Pondicherry (now Puducherry). We will hopefully be able to join a three-day tour/seminar at Auroville as well.
Then on the 30th we fly to Kolkata for five days.

Not sure what my access to internet will be...may be non-picture postings for a while. No worries though, I'll have snaps ready when I get back.

Happy Diwali and much prosperity!

Peace,
A Pink American

10.20.2006...Diwali Season

2006-10-20T13:21:00.000+05:30

Clay Diyas...the most common image of Diwali

Tomorrow (October 21) is the Hindu festival of Diwali or दीवाली. If you didn't catch the news, the NASDAQ has decorated the outside of its building in NY to recognize the festival. That's pretty big news, actually.

I wonder where Diwali will fit in with the other assimilated US holidays. Will it be like St. Patrick's day or Cinco de Mayo? Will it be commercialized the heck out of like Christmas or will the burgeoning Indian population in the US keep it on their own terms? I suppose time will tell.

Don't get me wrong, it is a big commercial event here, but I get the sense that it still has a far more substantially religious meaning for those who celebrate it than Christmas does for Americans. And when I say religious, that doesn't necessarily mean spiritual.

In the meanwhile, festival preparations are under way.

Ahmedabad buildings decorated with lights...

Colored sand to make Rangoli art pieces...

Phool wali...flower vendors with marigolds to decorate doorways, necks and temples.

Children with "crackers"...fireworks are a big part of Diwali and some can be down right scary. These children were using stones to pound snapping crackers...the explosions were surprisingly loud. They seemed quite satisfied with the knowledge that they were scandalizing nearby adults.

Another hallmark of Diwali is the gifting of sweets, dried fruits and nuts. The sweets are generally an assortment of barfi sweets. I personally had an avoidance to barfi after an incident with overexposure to it the evening before our wedding, but have come to enjoy it sense. Maybe too much.

My in-laws were so pleased to see me wide-eyed as I opened and sampled the gifts they'd received, that mummy wanted to take some snaps.

I must warn you...if you had any notion I was a lady or even attractive these pictures may dispel such beliefs...

Although this one captured the sentiment, I didn't think it was that great so I tried again...

This one I think I was trying too hard to make Surnish's folks laugh...needless to say it did the trick....

Buying a New Car...In India

Did you ever wonder why a new car in America may act up shortly after receiving it?

It's because you didn't bless it properly and welcome it into your family.

Upon delivery of mummy and papa's new car it was gifted a flower necklace and anointed with vermilion symbols of luck including the ever present Swastik ( I put that on).

Then I (a person they consider to be very auspicious) was the first to drive it for added luck.

What do you know about that!?!

And Finally...Meetu

He has been in the family almost as long as Surnish and is quite a character. Here he is just after a bath...I love his punk look and couldn't resist take a snap.

Thanks for checking in!

Peace,

A Pink American

10.18.2006...Thoughts that Go Deeper

2006-10-18T08:25:00.000+05:30

In these last several days, since having returned from Mt. Abu, I've had a good deal of time to think about 'things'.

I want to preface these thoughts by saying that all the individuals I have met have been genuinely kind to me and this is in no way meant to characterize anyone other than that.

I am pink and I am in India. While on one hand this seems like a plus because I'm somewhat of an exotic oddity, I mostly feel very out of place.

This isn't to say that I feel uncomfortable, oh no, just misplaced. There are a couple of factors that lead to this feeling.

HISTORY (or lack thereof)

In the US few seem to think anything about not being able to trace ones family line back only one or two generations. Rarely does ones lineage (other than the omnipresence of ones general ethnic background) come up as a topic of conversation.
Here it matters. People say they are this or that, even if they themselves have never been to the place of their origins. It would be like a 3rd generation Italian-American saying I'm Italian before I'm American and also introduce themselves as such. That's not to say that some don't but in general people in the States don't go about in that manner.

I have little history. I know I'm some Irish, some English and even some Czech and/or German. Our line may go back to one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, but when I read the genealogy put together by one of my great-Aunts, there was something amiss that made me believe that we didn't have that lineage.

It doesn't matter. I guess being free of historical claim means I am free to create my own history and adopt the customs I believe in or enjoy the most.

RELIGION and SPIRITUALITY

As some of you know I choose not to practice organized religion. I have practiced it in the past, but I prefer to develop a personal relationship with the creative powers that be rather than let some one else dictate this for me.

This is a struggle.

I feel as though coming to India is part of a spiritual quest. One that I've been set on for almost my entire life. But being that I'm pink, American, having little history and no religion would make it seem that I'm handicapped.

I don't feel this way about myself, but I get the distinct sense that others feel this way about me.

One guest who came to visit the other day was telling a story about the building of the Ashram in Puducherry (Pondicherry).

She said that because of the dream of a French woman, who then came to India, that the Ashram was built.

"If a French person can do this, then why not us Indians?"

This wasn't meant to be a derogatory comment, but at the same time how could it not be?

Why should it be any more surprising that a French person or Indian person or any person be granted a vision or achieve a spiritual awakening?

Are some peoples holier? Are some places holier? Only to those that assign the value tag.

Some would say women aren't worthy, others would say "no" to dark skinned folk, and others would say the poor cannot achieve such things.

Are we not all equal in the scheme of creation? We could all just as equally shun the material world and pursue our faiths. Alternatively, we could all just as easily turn our backs on our Gods and pursue the material route.

In the end it is the choice and will belonging to each human spirit that determines the path they pursue. And these choices can change at any time.

With that, I return to my path...because I am a woman because I am pink because I am American because I am without religion (but not without faith) all of these things mean nothing. The pursuit of spiritual awareness is no more inherently challenging for me than others simply because of the factors I have been born in to. I choose not to let them challenge me. Others may think, say or indicate any one or all of these factors as drawbacks, but I don't have to justify my existence to anyone on the day I pass from this world except myself and the higher powers that be.

And so I confidently move forward, having offered this testimony to my faith that I can achieve transcedence above the everyday. I can strike a balance between the secular world and the spiritual one. I can rise above judging myself in the eyes and words of others.

To be sure this is not an easy task and sometimes I am overwhelmed and even a bit frightened.

But I find no satisfaction in shrinking back into a worldly existence which simply offers little more than a sense of egoistic accomplishment with no real foundation in sincere service or faith, as I know it to be.

Peace,

A Pink American

10.15.2006...To Abu and Back Again

2006-10-15T11:45:00.000+05:30

Namaste!

We returned late last evening from a 36-hour road trip to Mt. Abu in Rajasthan.

The most remarkable thing about this trip were the stunning visual effects. I found myself quietly watching the roadside over the hours we passed. And of course I took a lot of snaps.

The journey is broken out into five easy installments...

~~Part I: We're On Our Way~~

Our first destination was to be Rani Ki Vav. A very old stepwell located at Patan in Gujarat. As we drove I thought it best to try to capture the experience visually rather than try simply narrate it through words. Although in this ALBUM I did add a fair number of thoughts and explanations for what I saw.

I love the Indian countryside and roadways. The people are so colorful and active. I find that I often have to remind myself of the terrible quality-of-life situations many of these people are facing. During one stop for chai we discussed what a person in India could do with a monthly income of Rs. 500 or even Rs. 1000 (About $10-$20). Not much. The only things that seem cheap and affordable to everyone are poor quality food and movies. Just enough to keep the masses quelled I suppose. And if they don't have enough to eat or entertain themselves with then they are quiet from their hunger.

Now I haven't seen too much of that abject poverty in the more rural settings as most people there appear to be somewhat self-sustained. Poverty is much more stark in places like Ahmedabad because of the contrasting wealth and commerce AND the inability to be self-sustaining in an urban setting.

~~Part II: Rani Ki Vav~~

Rani ki vav has a most amazing story. In the mid-1970's a farmer ploughing his field came across some metal sticking up from the ground. He contacted the local officials. An excavation was begun and Rani ki vav was unearthed. This stepwell is 7 stories down and full of wonderful stone carvings depicting scenes from nature and of the Gods.
The guide told us that the stepwell had been partially covered by mud from the nearby Banasa river during a flood and then deliberately covered entirely to protect it from invading Mughals.

Mughals were Muslim and as is in the tradition of Islamic artwork there was a lack of human depiction due to the fact that early Islam forbade the painting of human images as it might tempt followers into practicing idolatry. As a result when the Mughals came, they often defaced or destroyed any artform that depicted a human-like figure.

The carvings on the first level of the vav were a bit worn, but the ones below which were preserved were magnificent.

Two carvings in particular that I snapped photos of were the goddess Durga and Vamana , and incarnation of Krishna.

Here's the ALBUM for you to enjoy.

~~Part III: Into Rajasthan and Up to Abu~~

After Rani Ki Vav we made our way into Rajasthan and up to Mt. Abu. Again the roadside scenery (ALBUM) continued to cause me to reflect on the human condition. I sometimes struggle with the notion that all peoples in this world should be trying to get to the same place on this material plane. If all of the Earth's inhabitants lived like Americans did (which is touted as the main drive for US foreign policy, but I think that's a blatant misnomer), then Earth would be in a poor state of affairs in no time.

Why do 'we' have to demean the idea of being a laborer? Laboring for oneself seems like a fine idea. It just so happens that when that labor is sold to someone else, that being a laborer becomes inferior. No one inherently is born into servitude (although many would argue otherwise), but if it is a chosen path to serve others, then why is it cheapened? Those who benefit from the cheap labor and abusive labor practices that exist in this global marketplace (especially Americans) are sooo easily convinced of the superiority of their lives in comparison to those that work to make those lives possible. Preserving the status quo isn't limited to a few in power and with wealth...keep that in mind.

However, in acknowledging this I'd like to say that there are MANY fine people and organizations everywhere trying to bring awareness to these matters and dignity to those who are otherwise robbed of it.

~~Part IV: First Night in Abu~~

Mt. Abu is a very lovely hill area, there is now doubt. However, one cannot escape the reality of all of India. There is still plenty of rubbish around, but you get a sense that the quality of life overall is better.

In the center of this area is lovely Nakki lake. At either side of the township are sheer cliffs from which you can see the valleys below.

Let me have the pictures do the talking here. ALBUM.

In the evening we passed the time playing cards and talking. It was an incredibly enjoyable experience that reminded me of many evenings and afternoons I had passed with my grandmothers when I was a child.

~~Part V: Second Day, Jain Temples and the Ride Home~~

The next morning I awoke to the quieting crickets and the crowing rooster. The city started coming alive slowly. I laid in bed for awhile just enjoying the sensual experience of the sounds, the smell of small cooking fires, and watched the sunlight creep across the paint-blistered wall.

On the balcony I did breathing exercises called pranayam and watched as small wisps of vapor escaped my lips. I never thought I'd see that in India. I was so moved I penned 12 pages in my journal about that first morning hour.

Our sightseeing for the day consisted of the Dilwara Jain temples. One cannot take photos inside, but I was able to catch a couple from beyond the walls.

Inside were the most magnificent carvings in marble. Huge ceiling panels with layers of marble shapes, flowers, god figures and so on. The details were fine down to the fingernails on the tips of the goddesses fingers.
Many of the figures had been defaced (noses cut off) by Muslim invaders. The Jains try to make their temples quite plain from the outside so as not to attract attention to the wealth of art on the interior.

After the temples we ate lunch and started back home. ALBUM .

~~~
To say the least this was another awe-inspiring experience.
~~~

Peace,

A Pink American

10.12.2006...Out and About

2006-10-12T23:24:00.000+05:30

Today was fairly mellow in that time was passed playing cards and practicing Hindi.

This evening we took a trip to a regional crafts exhibition where there were lovely items from all over Gujarat (the state I'm in).

While I apologize for no pics for this post, let me entertain you with some lines I penned while we supped:

8:35pm and change. Dining tonight at he Bay Leaf restaurant which is located in the Ahmedabad Gymkhana.
I placed a simple order for tomato soup (creamed) and butter toast. I also had a taste for paneer tikka. Otherwise it seems shameful not take at least some small Indian dish at each meal.
While waiting for my food, I thought back to when we first entered the restaurant. The level of self consciousness was unreal. Must look your best! Always the only "white" person around these days. A week has past and I think that I caught a glance of a blonde haired man on the back of a motorbike, but I can't be certain.

"Gujaratis are so loud. They just want to hear themselves talk." I am told. That's funny; maybe I was Gujarati in my past life.

The table across from me has two Persian looking business men. They speak mostly to themselves, it seems, even though they are with an Indian host. Their table is littered with empty and half full bottles of Coke, Sprite and soda water for making fresh lime soda. They're deliciously refreshing drinks and I myself was working on my second one.

Next to me I catch sight of cabbage strands dangling and wiggling from the corners of the mouth belonging to an older woman. This movement is starkly contrasted in comparison to her stiff cotton sari, which refused to relax at her neck and shoulders.

And that, my friends, is that.

Tomorrow morning we leave early for a hill station at Mt. Abu. I'm sure to have some nice pics and postings when we return Saturday evening.

Until then....

Peace,

A Pink American

10.12.2006...Akshardham

2006-10-12T07:29:00.000+05:30

The place (dham) where the Gods live (akshar).

Last evening we visited this magnificent temple.

Akshardham is made of pink sand stone and has many marvelous stone carvings decorating the interior and exterior of the temple.

Let me clarify when I say stone carving. I don't mean simple geometric shapes or small lawn ornaments. I mean seriously glorious carvings that are so intricate you can't believe that they are each carved from a single piece of stone.

In fact this temple has no metal of any form as part of its structure. It is purely stone, as is the traditional method for building temples in India.

I've seen many cathedrals around the world, and I am more amazed by the architecture and artwork found here.

As I see it building a place of worship is a communal commitment to there being a greater power than the sum of all the efforts of the community. However, humans still attempt to mimic the greatness of this power through such efforts and the results are these stunning monolith testaments to the earthly limits of human faith.

Personally, I believe the individual communion of one person with the greater power is a far truer testament to our humanity than any of these structures.

In the end I was only able to capture this modest photo from my actual visit.

In 2002 there was a terrorist attack here that made security very tight. No cameras.

I won't get into it to much here, but terrorism needs to go. Perhaps one day we will wake up to find that this has happened: people no longer feel oppressed, those guilty of oppressing have miraculously stopped, and there is a balance of resource in the world so all people can feel that they will be heard.

Why is it in human nature to be so greedy that some would deny others basic human rights whether through covert means of denial of food and medicine or through overt means of blowing people up? Both end in premature death and are equally egregious forms of terror.

With that thought I bid you adieu. Look for another posting later today.

Peace,

A Pink American

10.11.2006...Karwa Chauth

2006-10-11T10:41:00.000+05:30

By the time we left for the Karwa Chauth pooja, I was nearly delirious from the heat and the hunger.

The thing about fasting is that once you are over the initial hours of it you feel very surreal. You aren't hungry, exactly, anymore. Rather you feel light and mindful. I also happen to get very quiet, and for anyone who knows me this can be a disconcerting symptom.

I however felt very at peace for the most part, throughout the day.

Once we arrived at the pooja location we joined a large circle of ladies who were each beautifully dressed, with some more so than the others. This is an opportunity for ladies to pull out there bridal clothes as they often have no other chance to wear them after marriage. Perhaps I will remember to do so for a future Karwa Chauth.

One young woman was clearly there for the first time as she was be-decked in the most amazing lenga and was beautifully made up.

The heat however appeared to weigh heavily on her in a manner equal to her dressings. She, like all of us, had a vacant expression in her eyes that comes from a day of fasting.

The Brahmin woman arrived shortly after we had settled, bringing with her bags of incense and figures of gods whose blessings are requested on this day. She lead us in the singing of a traditional hymn and told the story of Karwa Chauth during each break in the passing of the thalis (plates).

All of the ladies seemed to be sharing such a personal, yet communal moment of honoring their marriage vows and praying for the long life and success of their husbands.
It was quite intimate watching the way some of the ladies touched their thalis to their cups of water then to their heads and sometimes to their lips. Can a prayer be stronger by a more intense devotion on the part of the applicant?

At the end of the fourth passing of the thalis (plates) a small thud-crack sound rang out. A piece of clay pottery had fallen from one of the upper balconies surrounding the driveway we sat on.

Not a moment passed before a large (baseball sized) piece came hurtling over the edge of the same balcony. Thank god no one was hurt, but the sound it made as it crashed into the ground confirmed that if it had hit anyone medical attention would have likely been necessary.

After the final thali passing we said our goodbyes and made our way home.

The landscape on the way back seemed so much more green than the last I remembered it being. Granted the rains were just a short while back so that explains much of it. However, it was most lovely in the brightness of the early part of the setting sun.

We waited until 8:45 that night for the moonrise. This was the time to break our fast. By this time I was far more tired than hungry, so took a simple meal and slept.

Some may say this a is a silly traditional observance because "why should the wife suffer so?"

But you must ask yourself: when thinking of your spouse or partner, what wouldn't you do to ensure a long and healthy life? Does one really need to wait until extreme moments of choice to show their devotion through sacrifice? It seems much more sensible in this way to choose to demonstrate this devotion through a routine and ritual sacrifice that is regular in its occurrence rather than an idiosyncratic one.

Besides, it is far more for the ladies' benefit to spend the day relaxing while thinking about her husband than some of the usual alternatives...(Smile and wink).

Karwa Chauth highlights .

Peace,
A Pink American

10.10.2006...Home at last, in Gandhinagar

2006-10-10T11:21:00.000+05:30

Yesterday late afternoon we finally returned to Gandhinagar and Surnish's parent's house.

It definitely felt like coming home.

Over the last couple of days wave been relaxing and making our way about Ahmedabad for dining, shopping, and the movies.

That's right I sat through an entire Hindi film sans the subtitles. It was a very enjoyable experience as it was a comedy and much of it was readily discernable despite the language barrier.

Yesterday morning prior to leaving Ahmedabad, mummy and I went curtain shopping.

One thing you must know about many Indian shops is that there is an overabundance of sales assistance. It is so foreign being waited upone and attended to hand and foot when shopping for something as simple as curtains or a yoga mat, which was the case a couple of evening before.

In fact that amount of service here could easily make the average Westerner feel like a dignitary.

Today, we (and by this I mean Mummy and I) are observing Karwa Chauth.

In addition to the fast I'm keeping, I will get Henna on my hands, dress in a sari, and go to a pooja (ceremony) where thalis (ceremonial plate) are passed amongst the women as the story of Karwa Chauth is told.

In the meanwhile, please enjoy this selection of photos from the trip so far. It's a little tricky trying to squeeze them all in the blog so I thought that I'd let you see them in album format.

These are from Taipei and Singapore.

These are from the first days here in India .

Hope you're enjoying the show!

Peace,

A Pink American

10.07.06...I Can Now Say Days

2006-10-07T20:46:00.000+05:30

This is day number two and I'm trucking along.

First let me give a happy birthday wish to my brother Michael and a belated wish to my sister Lena.

This morning I again enjoyed walking the grounds of the police mess and stood for some time contemplating the movements of the Sabarmati river.

Have you ever seen a river move and appear motionless at the same time. It's like watching the wind dance across the surface of a lake and ripple the top along the way. Was it wind? was it current? I couldn't say.

At the same time one of the early morning trains crossed the bridge and a for a moment I thought the silvery reflection of the windows were fish below.

I can tell that I'm very near the edge of some kind of prophetic breakthrough.

I will say though I feel that I have a tall order to fill to one up my entries from the last time I was here.

Looking forward to writing again soon,

A Pink American

10.06.06...Ahmedabad at Last!

2006-10-06T12:36:00.000+05:30

So, after over 4ohrs of travel I made it here. The plane touched down just before 11pm last night.

I was promptly greeted by Surnish's parents once the transfer bus rolled up to the terminal.

I felt somewhat like a movie star with all of the fuss and men in uniforms there to guide me through.

More amazingly, my luggage was there to greet me moments after arriving.

We are staying at the Police Mess for a few days and visiting in Ahmedabad before returning to there main house in Gandhinagar.

This morning I woke to a lovely overcast sky and the sound of the commuter trains rolling across the bridge over the Sabarmati river. This river, by the way, is the same one that the Gandhi Ashram is set by. So as I stood performing my morning yoga routine along the same banks as Gandhi-ji had in days gone by, I was humbled.

This was only a brief stop to the cyber cafe and I apologize for no snaps at this time.

Wishing you all well!

A Pink American

10.05.06...Sionara Singapore, it was a fun blur

2006-10-05T16:11:00.000+05:30

I'm am getting ready to board my plane after this lovely 8 hour blur which was Singapore.

I was able to shower and get a delightful foot massage before checking out the shops and riding the bus around town.

Two comments about the airport:

1) Very, VERY commercial.
2) A world unto itself.

Neither is meant to be mean, they just happen to describe my perceptions precisely.

The blur of this comes from having about 7 hours of sleep out of the last 44 hours (I did the math starting at 6am Tuesday morning). I'm super tired but I'm trooping along.

While on the city tour I saw some very interesting sights. Let's review:

We first came upon Chinatown, as I recall. I opted for the "cultural tour" rather than the colonial, so I got to see the "ethnic" side of Singapore rather than the British hangover.

This gated entrance area was especially decorated for some local festivals for this time of year.

This next snap is a of a random side street. it helps you feel the grit of the city. Can I really call it that?

After Chinatown we moved across this river/bridge. Not sure what its name is, but the "village" as the guide referred to it as, reminded me of Denmark's brightly colored houses.

We moved along next to Little India. I thought that was cute. They were all decked out for Divali.

There were a number of mosques and a number of Hindu temples...I thought this one was of particular note.

I just wanted provide this quick pictorial update of the jaunt so far.

I'm about to pack up to go through the gate security and board the plane.

"See" you in Ahmedabad!

A Pink American

10.05.06...The Singapore Sling

2006-10-05T09:22:00.000+05:30

Well I have made it this far! Singapore for about 8 hours then the last 5 1/2hr leg of my journey by air (only minimal time spent on the road once in Ahmedabad).

I watched 4 movies so far...I have to say Singapore Airlines is the BEST!

One of those was a Hindi film called Malamaal Weekly...very funny stuff.

Just a quick plug for the film India is entering for an Oscar run...Rang de Basanti. As most of you have not seen it I highly recommend checking it out. English subtitles will do you right and the movie is REALLY good by any standards...just a little long.

I am off to explore Singapore for a few precious hours and will post back later...hopefully with snaps too!

Peace

A Pink American

10.03.06...And So The Journey Begins

2006-10-04T04:47:00.000+05:30

Here I sit shifting my gaze from the computer screen and the nose of the plane for the first leg of my flights.

Just to let you all know that I'll be in transit for roughly 40 hours. That beats the last trip to India by 4 hours.

Forty hours of time to think about what this all means. I'm fairly certain that I won't have any real epiphanies during this stage as I'll try to sleep my way through a good bit of it.

However, it must be said that I have had some very interesting conversations with family and friends over the last few days. It is tough to stay enthusiastic in the face of so much concern over my well being. The fear kind of creeps in, but I'm confident that it will not take hold.

As you all may recall I am not a religious person, but I am "god fearing". In other words, the greatest injustice I could do with my life is not living it because I was afraid of a mosquito or a sweaty guy with a LARGE RED button on his vest.

It is admittedly morbid to have to assuage the fears of others by assuring them that IF anything were to happen, at least they would know that I passed out of this life happily living it to the fullest.

Notwithstanding this, I am still very much looking forward to this trip. I expect to realize some long -term goals and then return with fresh challenges for my life's contributions to this world...first of which will likely to become a mother.

Anyone who knows me fairly well will note that the challenge of being mother has been one that has long daunted me, but I'm darn near ready to embrace it.

It will most interesting to enter parenthood having literally accomplished every goal I hoped to before becoming a parent. From what I gather that is a great luxury among those who are parents.

But at this time that is neither here nor there.

And so from this time until my wonderful husband joins my December, this is my time to realize those aspirations I've held dear to heart.

Look for the next update in three days or so once I arrive in Ahmedabad (maybe I'll be able to sneak in something from Singapore though.)

Until then...never lose sight of dreams.

Ciao

A Pink American

9.08.06 - A Little Background Story...

2006-09-08T20:59:00.000+05:30

I understand that the following may not be clear to some:

I hope to realize that the distant dreams of a 3 year old girl from America don't need to be acquiesced with the onset of adulthood.

Perhaps a little background information is in order...

THE STORY

Two plus decades ago, when I was a very little girl (just a little older than in this picture with my grandmother), I went on a walk one afternoon with my grandmother...

...but this first...

It must be said that my grandmother was a devoted Catholic practitioner. This led to her suffering the scandal of my not having been baptized by the age of three (3).

My parents, you should know, were of the genus free-loving hippie-us. They, at that time, rejected conformity, particularly that of the organized religous nature.

My grandmother, however, would not be out done be this radical approach to life. After all the spiritual well-being of her first grand-daughter was at stake...

...This led up to the aforementioned walk.

As we walkd that fine summer afternoon grandma spoke to me about my baptism. Apparantly I was quite a cognitively aware child (or so I've been told) so it wasn't surprising that she asked my opinion about what I'd like my baptismal name to be.

On one of the days preceding this walk (or maybe that morning), we had watched a documentary program on TV about Mother Teresa of Calcutta (now Kolkata). There had been something inherently impressive about the woman presented in that program. At three, though, I don't suppose I would have been able to verbalize that, but I was able to express it...

"What would you like your baptismal name to be?" Grandma asked.
"Teresa, just like Mother Teresa." I answered.

Grandma smiled and looked extremely pleased that I should choose that name.

And so I was baptized that August in 1979 as Jarucia Marie "Teresa".

THE FOLLOWUP

Since that time, I've grown up feeling an unusually personal bond with Mother Tereasa: a woman I would never meet from a place I was unlikely to ever visit.

While I haven't necessarily seen eye-to-eye with her on some issue, she overwhelmingly lead an admirable life that even at my saintliest I would be unlikely to replicate.

However, I have long desired to visit the center from which she started her humble work serving those that others would leave as foresaken.

I now finally have the opportunity to go to this place I've longed to see since I was...3.

When visiting her Ashram in Kolkata I will likely recall that day with my grandmother and share that moment with her in spirit.

With deepest dedication to the human spirit,

A Pink American

9.06.06 - Just Under a Month

2006-09-07T04:16:00.000+05:30

Well it hardly seems like anytime now. Surnish and I returned from Oahu yesterday feeling vacationed out.

Hawaii just before India? That's pure indulgence you say. Well, maybe yes, maybe no. We simply had the opportunity to go on a non-family oriented trip for the first time in 1+ year so we took it.

Besides with family planning of our own in the near future, this was our last hurrah before retirment.

Well maybe that's exaggerating, but it may not be.

With little less than a month until I leave I am feeling a sense of calm set in. That one that comes with the moments before undertaking something big.

I hope not to disappoint with my entries as I travel.

Perhaps I'm simply feeling a little stage-fright.

In the meanwhile feel free to check out our Hawaiian trip highlights.

Peace,

A Pink American

8.10.06 - Two Months (Minus Some) and Counting

2006-08-11T05:34:00.000+05:30

The excitement is palpable!

I must admit that the nearer the date draws the more anxious I feel too.

For instance, the world keeps throwing surprises out there that make me ponder the wisdom of travelling abroad for cultural education. There is so much madness outside of the safe borders of the U.S..

Do you see the humor of that notion?

Today flights around the U.S. and Europe were thrown for a whirl with the threat of liquid explosives. Is evil truly trying to make its way to the U.S. again? Well it's likely already here, but honestly what can be done?

Isn't there some saying like 'evil begets evil' or something like that. If 'we' continue to isolate ourselves from interactions and knowledge of the world as a whole and all of its lovely sub-cultures and sub-sub-cultures then 'we' cannot change our evil ways of begetting evil.

And yes it truly is all a matter of perspective. I'll challenge anyone to out talk me on that point.

Interestingly there are roughly an equal number of people in my life who think my three month jaunt is fantastic-good and fantastic-crazy.

Isn't this exposure going to change me? For the better? Let's hope.

I cannot abide by those who would live their life in fear when so much joy is granted from living life in love.

I'll just have to trust in the notion that even the crazies of the world generally don't want to die even if the devotees are willing to do so. And since it seems that the crazies are running things and not the devotees the world should still be safe enough to endure my temporary exodus from the U.S..

A Pink American

5.10.06 - Introducing A Pink American: In India

2006-05-10T22:24:00.000+05:30

Well I am pink, but I'm not quite to India yet.
Just a quick background to the titular selection.

Let's set the scene...
One fine autumn evening several years ago in New York, I was riding on the subway to catch a showing of Nueve Reinas (The Nine Queens ...for those not in the know an excellent Argentinian output). On this ride I was asked a very interesting question.
My boyfriend (now husband) was curious if I ever felt out of place when we hung out with his group of friends. He and they being Indian and I being 'not'.
I told him that I didn't because as far as I could tell I wasn't any different from those I hung out with. Since I don't walk around with a full sized mirror I don't notice that I'm not Indian. And while I was sure other people noticed it, no one bothered to point out the obvious to me. Therefore I didn't feel out of place.

Fast forward fifteen minutes.

We were then standing in line at the theater (7 or 8 of us as I recall). We purchased tickets in pairs with my boyfriend having bought ours first. As we waited for the others--and as we were speaking with one of our group--the cashier said the most remarkable thing.

"Does anyone else need a ticket?" (no that wasn't it).
"How about the pink lady?" (Bingo)

Well honestly it is true, I am quite pink, as I said above. The irony though was just a few minutes before I had assured my boyfreind that I never felt like I didn't belong. But there it was, laid out before me, I was a 'pink lady' among Indians.

It's unfortunate that this is probably the only time I'll ever be able to recall to any of my friends having felt like a minority in the US. And when I say 'feel like a minority' I mean in the loosest sense of the word. My skin color was literally, and for one time only, mindlessly used to address me. I won't pretend it gives me any real insight other than I thought "what if this happened ever day, hundreds of times...I'd stop feeling like an individual human and start feeling like particular hue."

So, there you have it...the unwitting muse for this title was a box office cashier.

And so now begins a long awaited chapter in the epic which is my life.

The tickets are purchased and the date set: October 3.

This blog will see inputs from the days preceeding, during and proceeding my three month voyage to and around India.

'Dear God...if I believed in you in the Christian sense I'd ask you to please bless me with the ability to write with wit, clarity and emotion. Since I border on being an agnostic (mainly with regard to organized religion), it will have to suffice that I send out my humble request and hope that my living an honest and decent life is good enough to see a response of sorts.'

Sincerely,

A Pink American

PS
I have been to India once before for 3 weeks, but there is still so much left to explore....