Rivers...Holier Than Holy

Hello all. It's been a while since I've written anything, mainly because I returned from India four weeks ago. I'm not quite sure how long I will continue to write in this blog. Will I start a new one, or let them go altogether? Who knows. And most likely, most people who were reading this are no longer doing so. Still, let's just pretend I have at least one reader...

Hindus in India have a belief and subsequent ritual that confused me for a long time. As I'm sure you know, the Ganga/Ganges is considered the holiest river in India. Of course, don't forget about the Indus, the Krishna, the Yamuna, the Saraswati (which doesn't really exist anymore), the Godavari, the Brahmaputra, the Cauvery (or Kavery), etc., not to mention the three most important rivers in Gujarat: the Sabarmati, the Narmada, and the Tapti. All of these rivers, along with the hundreds more, are holy. So holy, in fact, that prayer is essential at each one. Mandapams, temples, and shrines line the shores of each one. Often, as people drive cars or ride trains over rivers, they touch their hands to their hearts in a sign of reverence. Many bless a paise or so before throwing it out the window into the water below. Signs of respect. So, the question is: Why?

I raised this question with a few folks, and the response was always religious: Because she is one of our goddesses...um...okay. Rivers are shes, that's normal. And sure they are goddesses. But is that why they are holy? Or have the rivers been manifested as goddesses because they are holy? The religious explanation explains the result, not the cause, of the holiness. Plus, why should anyone believe it? I may believe in the goddess Narmada Devi, but why should I believe in a Brahmaputra Devi, since I've never even seen the river?

Then, I heard the perfect explanation, one that wholly changed my view of rivers forever. Rivers are, in one word, life. As a student of anthropology and archaeology, I should have thought of this. Essentially, every civilization in the world came about due to a river. Rivers are the source of flowing, fresh water for trade, irrigation, waste disposal, drinking and cleaning, and bathing. Lakes are too stagnant to sustain any growing civilization. Seas and oceans are too salty. So, rivers it is. Without rivers, where would we be? Well, I certainly wouldn't be here, writing a blog that probably no one will read. No, there wouldn't be any civilization. There wouldn't have been tribes, which led to chieftains, which led to states. None of that would exist. Sure, perhaps we would have made it work. But not to the point of getting where we are today.

Rivers are holy because without them, we wouldn't exist. It's as simple as that. So, the next time you pass by a river, show it some reverence. Touch your right hand to your heart, even for a moment. (I wouldn't recommend throwing money out of a moving car...you'll probably hit someone or some vehicle with it.) Show respect. Be reverent. And thank every river you see for giving you everything you have.

Love Him or Hate, You Can't Not Talk About Him

He is currently the most important person in Gujarat. And he's also one of the most controversial is Indian history. He has been blamed for one of the worst disasters in Gujarati history. He is praised for solely improving Gujarat as a whole. Most Gujaratis love him. Most non-Gujaratis would rather he was gone. So, who is he?

Chief Minister Narendra Modi.

Okay, let's start with the bad. If you don't like what I have to say, comment. But don't yell. I've already gotten enough of that...from relatives! Alright, Godhra. 2002. A fire aboard the Sabarmati Express, killing Hindus returning from the controversial site of Ayodhya 10 years after the violence there. Muslims were blamed for firebombing the train. Riots started throughout Gujarat, resulting in thousands dead, mostly Muslim. Hindus claim that they were reacting. But no one knows who actually started the fire, and all objective investigations have shown the fire to be of natural causes. Still, the reaction was fairly natural, though the real questions are why the violence went on for so long, and why the police actually joined the Hindus in killing Muslims. Narendra Modi has been blamed for all this. Most Guju Hindus will claim that he is falsely accused, and that the police were doing what was necessary to maintain the peace. Never mind that per Modi's personal command, the vast majority (I don't remember the actual number, but I knew it at one point) of Muslim policemen were placed into desk positions where they couldn't do anything. Nevermind that the state government had actually compiled lists of Muslim and Hindu businesses, which were then handed out to Hindu leaders. Muslim shops and homes were destroyed, while Hindu ones remained fairly intact. Narendra Modi, of the BJP Party, is claimed to have masterminded the whole thing as a sort of nationalist experiment. I don't know if I believe it. Still, there's a lot of evidence against him.

And yet, at an election that occurred after all the implications and violence, he won by a landslide and landmark 80 percent. Of course, I doubt that many Muslims voted for him. Now, four years after the violence, the state has never been more peaceful, and things are really on the up and up. Infrastructure here rocks. Even state highways and village roads are pretty good. He has required that all autorikshas in Ahmedabad, Surat, and Rajkot be converted to CNG (see previous post). All state buses also must switch over to CNG. He has improved schools, supported the local economy, and worked to preserve historical landmarks. He has shown that he cares for all religious groups, not just Hindus. And he has worked to bring IT to Gandhinagar, the capital. All in all, he has done amazing work in Gujarat, and most Gujus here love him.

Good or bad. We don't know. He made some mistakes, perhaps with the intention to cause Hindus to gain power. But now, no complaints. He is the ideal CM.

More Things India Has Done Right

Here we go:

1. Chappal Toe Loops. Indians must constantly remove their shoes. Entering a temple or a house are good reasons. And on a good day, you're removing, putting on, removing, putting on, etc. So, if you have chappals (sandals, also called champals), it's important that you don't have a back to them, simply for ease. However, then this can cause problems with keeping the chappals on your feet. So, Indians were smart, and created a separation between the big toe and the rest. This either occurs through a separate look, or through a peg that sticks up. This separation helps the chappal stay on the foot.

2. Cloth Bags. Shopping bags in India tend to be cloth, and each household has a couple. This helps with the plastic consumption here. Of course, different fruits and veggies are wrapped in separate plastic bags. Still, the cloth bags are much appreciated.

3. CNG. Compressed Natural Gas is now becoming more common in autorikshas, and even in some buses. This has helped to lower air pollution in many larger cities, like Mumbai, Bangalore, Ahmedabad, and Surat. And these new systems aren't even a choice. They are required by corporation (city) or state laws. And of course many petroleum companies have jumped in to take advantage of this by starting CNG stations. Still, clean air is a plus. And I have already started to see a difference.

Is This the Same Religion?

Okay, time for differences between the regions, dealing with Hinduism.

1. Havelis. Okay, generally speaking, a haveli is a type of house found in Gujarat and Rajasthan. However, here, havelis typically refer to a house of religion. BUT it's not a temple. Havelis do not have the typical shape and feel of a temple, and often times you don't even know that it is a temple unless someone takes you. Sometimes, only the next difference is the only sign of it's religiosity.

2. Flags. This is specific to Saurashtra, meaning that it isn't even found in Eastern Gujarat (Kuchch I don't know). All the houses of worship, at least the Hindu ones, have flags over them. So, mandirs (Hindu temples), derasars (Jain temples), akshardams (Swaminarayana temples), and havelis all have flags proudly flying overhead. I am so appreciative of this, because I often times would not be able to find a haveli without the flags.

3. Turtles. One of the very first things I did when I arrived to Gujarat was to go to a Shiva haveli for Shivratri. And the first thing I noticed as I approached the murti (statue) for darshan (viewing) was that, at the front feet of Nandi (the bull) was a flat-ish statue of a turtle, of course with a svastika (the original one, not the Nazi one) on it. People would touch it right after Nandi, thus showing it some reverance. Now, I know enough about Shiva to know that he is not associated with a turtle. So, what was up with this? My theory is that it has to do with the second avatar (incarnation) of lord Vishnu. He was a turtle, used as the base for a pole turned by gods and demons to churn up amrit (divine nectar) from the bottom of an ocean. I think this is the only turtle really mentioned in Hindu mythology. The funny thing is, I don't think most Gujarati Hindus know why the turtle is even there. So, if any of you readers know, please let me know.

4. Jalarama Bapa. Also found only in Saurashtra, not even in most of Kuchch (this I know). Jalarama Bapa is very much like a Guju and Saurashtran Jesus. He preached religion with a social purpose, performed miracles, and now has lots of people worshipping him. I don't think either historical figures ever wanted people to treat them as gods, and yet that's what has happened. Jalarama Bapa is EVERYWHERE in Saurashtra.

5. Krishna. No, Krishna is everywhere in India. But there is something here that I don't think any other religion has ever done. It's so weird to me, I just can't seem to understand it. Krishna is important...there's no doubt about that. His entire life (yes, even as a god, he had a lifespan) has been carefully documented, and at different points in his life, he did different things. Therefore, people don't simply worship Krishna here in Gujarat, but they worship a part of his life. Balakrishna (baby Krishna) is really popular, in which worshippers treat him like any baby, actually spending an entire day doing nothing but taking care of his murti. There are rituals for waking him up, giving him breakfast, putting him down for a nap, etc. I have never seen anything like it. Another very popular one is Srinathji, who is Krishna as a child. Worship of Srinathji is very popular in Southern Rajasthan and in Saurashtra, and has curiously skipped over Kuchch. There's even a worship for an adolescent Krishna, though I don't remember what he's called at this stage. Amazing. I really have never seen anything like this.

The Differences Never End!

Time for more differences between Gujarat and the South...the Secular Edition.

1. Rice. Yes, one of the many foods I'm sick of by now. The reason? South Indians eat rice as a main part of their meal. It's the most important part of the thali or meal. Gujus are a bit different. We prefer to have only a little rice at the end of the meal, to help finish the remaining food. If I would have started in Gujarat, I would not have been so sick of rice...or I would have been sick of rice, and then have starved in the South. Who knows?

2. Tempos. Eh? A big ol' autoriksha that can fit a minimum of 6 people, though I've seen many many more piled in. Supposedly these exist in the South, but I never saw a single one in three months. The moment I arrived in Gujarat, I saw them everywhere, particularly in Surat and in Saurashtra. Tempos are bigger and much much noisier than the plain autos. Still, they can be useful with larger groups.

3. Jai. Who needs "Hello" and "Goodbye" when you have the word "Jai?" No, Gujus don't just use this word, but they always stick something on the end of it, adapting it to whomever the recipient of the greeting is. Once it's said, the recipient must then repeat it. For example, with Jains, you say "Jai Janendra." With anyone on my Mom's side of the family, we say "Jai Sheeyarama." With most other people, it's "Jai Sheekrishna." For Prayag Bhai, it's "Jai Gurudev." For Shanti Prasadji, it's "Jai Swaminarayana." You get the idea. We say this when we meet and when we part ways. And whoever starts first...that's the one used. For example, when Shanti Prasadji dropped me home from Latidhad, Dadaji was the first to speak. So, we all said "Jai Swaminarayana." If Shanti Prasadji had spoken first, then it would have been "Jai Janendra," simply because the recipient was Jain. This form of greeting does not exist in the South at all. I wonder if it exists anywhere else.

Whoops 2: Proofreading...Who Needs It?

English is an important language in India...no doubt about that. One would imagine, then, that people in top positions in national and international companies would know enough written English to make sure even the smallest things like labels and signs have correctly written English. I have a simple example...the toilet in the upstairs room at my Grandfather's house. There are two labels on the top toilet seat indicating the manufacturer of the seat: Citizen. However, one of the labels says "Citizan." If this were the only label, I might think that this was the actual name, but of course, it's not. Below the correctly-written name is a warning label. The first word should be "Maintenance," but it's misspelled. "Maintenace." Was it really that difficult to check the spelling? Hell, the company even mispelled its own name! And this is just one of many examples.

Whoops 1: But Your Advertisement Said...

In America, there are laws against false advertising. Not so in India. You can lie as much as you want, and very little can be done against you. Let me give you two examples.

The first is a two-wheeler made by Bajaj, a very large company in India. The advertisement is great. A cool man is standing there near his motorcycle, holding onto some sunglasses. A group of motorcyclists shoot by, and one man grabs the sunglasses out from our hero's hand. So, he gets on his Bajaj to chase them, but of course he takes a shortcut. He's shooting through the forest...no issues so far. Suddenly, you see him at a dam, going so fast that he's defying gravity. He's actually sideways, like if you move a cup of water so quickly that the centrifugal (or is that centripetal?) force is so great the the water doesn't fall out when the cup goes sideways. Bajaj's two-wheeler is so fast, it can become like a Graviton ride at a carnival. Of course, our fast hero beats the gang and coolly rescues his sunglasses, winning the attention of a female. Moral of the story: this motorcycle will help me win chicks (or birds, as they call them in India), an idea common in America, and it can defy gravity. Okay, I'm pretty sure that if I tried what he did in the advert, I would be in a cemetary by now. At least in American ads, they tell you that this is a professional driver on a specific course. Not here.

The second is in print media. Haresh Fua pointed it out for me. An advert for Fairness Cream that claimed that, in only four weeks (char atwaadiya), my skin will go from a darker color to a lighter one, as is indicated by a picture. Half the shown face is dark, the other half light. First of all, four weeks for such a change is most likely impossible and unsafe. Second, the picture itself is the greatest falsehood. If one looked at it for most the five seconds, it becomes obvious that the picture was changed in the computer, most likely to a random lighter shade. How can we tell? Whoever did the computer work neglected something obvious. The eye color. Unless the model was putting the cream on his eyes as well as on his skin, there's no way this is the same person. The hair didn't really change much, but the eyes...the difference is striking. Obvious lie!

These could never happen in the US nowadays. If adverts make great claims, they must indicate that this is a dramatization or that these results are not normal. Here in India...let's lie!

Feeling Hot? We've Got Clothes for That!

Okay, I admit it...the heat is now definitely getting to me. The "Hot Season" started less than a week ago, and the temperature has been shooting up higher and higher each day. Before, I could handle it. Now, I just want the sun to disappear. Perhaps it's because I can see the end of my trip quickly approaching, and thus I can "feel" cooler weather and rain coming soon. Or maybe it's simply hot. In Bhavnagar, during the midday, it's around 38 degrees Celsius...or 100.4 degrees F. Yeah, and it's getting hotter. I'm so glad I'm leaving when I am.

What's fascinating to me is how the clothing, as it does everywhere, has adapted to deal with the heat. Let's start with the women. Saris, panjabis (salwaars), channiyachoris (langas)...remarkably breatheable, or so I hear. Also, with saris, women keep their bellies uncovered, thus letting in the air. And the blouses and tops for these are all with short sleeves. And what about the chunnis and paloos? They serve some great purposes in the heat. Okay, well, they suck when you wear them around your neck like a scarf, because they prevent your skin from breathing. However, draped over the head, they can keep off the sun. Wrapped around the face, they keep out the dust and dirt, made more prevalent by the heat. And wrapped around the body, they can keep away the mozzies (mosquitoes) that come out at night. In all, women's clothing is very good in the heat.

And for men? Of course, the traditional lungis and dhotis allow lots of air to get to the legs. Shorts are really uncommon here, but that doesn't seem to bother many men, because shirts have been adapted for cooling purposes. Shirts are made with very thin, and often sheer, materials. I have even seen many young men wearing mesh, with nothing underneath. Basically, skin is highly visible. Even one man had slashes going along his entire shirt, like it had been put through a paper shredder. As he rode by on his two-wheeler, it was obvious that air was blowing up against his skin. Finally, if you don't have a holey or a shredded shirt, you can always keep your shirt (which is different from a t-shirt, which doesn't have buttons) mostly open, so that only the bottom few buttons are being used, and so air really can get in. Oh, and very rarely do men go around shirtless...they have to be doing construction or something, and then it's still rare.

Of course, there are still some people I don't understand. Many men still wear full-sleeved and even sweater-like shirts. And some women bundle up quite a bit. But, for the most part, Indians are prepared to handle the heat, unlike me...

Observations 2: Introductions

Indians, or maybe just Gujus, don't tend to say your name when introducing you to other people. I'm always Savaikaka's dikara's dikara, or Buluben's dikara, or something like that. The person nods knowingly, shakes my hand, and then later looks at me with some confusion. "What's your name?" "Sapan. And yours?" Yes, the introducer typically fails to mention that key thing. The only important information is how I am related or how I matter. Why are names so unimportant or forgettable during introductions?

Observation 1: Guju Toilets

Newer toilets in Gujarat are different from those elsewhere I've visited. There are three unique features that help them stand out as truly special:

1. Wings. These "flaps" come off the side of the toilet seat. They have ridges, and remind me of the places to put your feet when using a squat toilet. Does anyone know why Western toilets might have these? Are we planning to stand on the toilet itself?

2. Flush. In the US, the flush handle is on the toilet itself. Many places in India have this as well. Not so in Gujarat. There is a knob or handle attached to the wall, and only connected to the toilet via some pipe system. You turn the knob to release water into the bowl. Unlike other toilets, this system doesn't automatically shut off, so you would need to close the knob.

3. Bidet. Guju toilets have a bidet set-up. Other places use a tap and a small bucket, or a spray gun, for cleaning oneself. Guju toilets tend to have a high-pressure water shooter built into the top of the toilet bowl that shoots straight across your bum. It's a little surprising the first few times of use, but it works well.

Philosophical Question 4: Educated Ignorance

Ignorance is everywhere, particularly when it comes to hatred. I've found that Indians, even incredibly educated and loving ones, can feel immense negative feelings for specific groups (ie Muslims). I know that many Americans also don't like Muslims. Idahoans don't like Montanans. Seattlites don't like Tacomans. But none of this compares to the pure hatred in India. History classes and textbooks blame one group or another for certain actions like Ayodhya in 1992 and Godhra in 2001. People feel they know everything, the whole truth, because they are educated and open minded. And yet some people I respect have gone off on the Muslims. I'm not saying that they're opinions and their anger aren't valid. But when I try to present a new perspective, I'm accused of bringing in lies and of not knowing anything. When one of my Indian friends said flat out that he hates Muslims, I asked him why. He mentioned Kashmir and Ayodhya and terrorist acts...things that he hasn't seen or experienced. He's only heard things second or third-hand. I'm not saying that he shouldn't feel the way he does. But, he doesn't know any Muslims. He can't put a face to the religion. He only knows about what the media tells him. This is just like the view of Black people in the US. So many Indians have asked me about the "Negro Problem" in the US. They are always surprised to hear that the "Problem" is a result of history...a history promoted by white people (ie slavery). Black people are the way they are not because they are innately violent or murderous. Really??? But, that's not the case with Muslims. Right??

Basic Newtonian Law: Every action has a reaction. And vice versa. To understand the reaction, you must understand the action as well.

Education does not remove ignorance when the education itself is ignorant.

Philosophical Question 3: Elderly Dignity

I have been around many elderly people since I've come to India, and mainly Gujarat. Many elderly people need help and assistance. For example, on the day I traveled to Bhavnagar from Ahmedabad with my grandparents and my Fai/Fua, we stopped for a rest along the way. I was told to help out my grandparents as they were getting out of the car. I went to do this, but they seemed to do fine. And at that point, I started wondering about the dignity of my grandparents. I know that they need assistance, but doesn't waiting on them hand and foot remove some of their pride? Doesn't this really make them feel old? Or should we not worry about this? I am of the opinion that we should stand there with them, but not do anything unless they ask or look like they need it. Let them climb their own stairs, eat their own food, and live their life until they really really can't. Don't jump in too soon, or dignity may be lost.

Philosophical Question 2: Weight

When a person travels, he is likely to lose some weight. So, when I arrived in Bhavnagar, my family seemed shocked by the weight I had lost since I last saw them in Chennai. And this seemed like a bad thing. They immediately asked if I felt "weak." They thought that I must have fallen very sick during my trip. Let's put it this way, Indians associate fat with "sturdy," "healthy," and "hefty," while if you lose weight, you are "weak," "frail," and "sickly."

Why is this? Most people in this country are skinny. So, maybe there is a premium on having some extra cushioning?

Philosophical Question 1: Good Deeds

I am all for doing good things and for helping people. I love the feeling I get whenever I volunteer. No doubt, helping the less fortunate is an amazing experience. But at what point do such actions stop being about doing good and start being about stroking the ego or easing a guilty conscience?

I know some people who weekly help people in need. I think their work is amazing. And yet they feel the need to tell EVERYONE about the organizations and the work they do. Sure, it's fine to sell the organization. But there's a point where it becomes like advertising the self. Overtalking about it...it's so great, the work is so amazing, oh yeah, and I work there so much, so perhaps I'm so great and amazing. Maybe I'm overthinking this, but I really feel like they are looking for a pat on the back and for some praise. Stroking the ego.

Do good. Don't exploit it.

Dishoom

A really easy question: What is up with the word "dishoom?" Indians use this word to signify the sound of something hitting another thing. I've heard the sound of hitting...it doesn't sound like "dishoom." Plus, this word is ridiculous anyway. Indians need a new word, and fast.

Surat: Doing Nothing But Salad

Pardon the double use of pointless English sayings, but Surat was a "breath of fresh air" after the "whirlwind" of Ahmedabad. The only people for me to see there were Jyoti Masi and Girdhar Masa. Of course I stayed with them in their new apartment, which is really nice. The best part was the view. Overlooking a playground, I could watch people all day and evening. I saw some nice dramas unfold, all dealing with the sense of belonging. Since I love observing people, this setting was perfect.

Other than this, I didn't really do much. Browse the internet. Watch TV. Finish a newspaper crossword puzzle completely for the first time in my life (it took all day, and I was obsessed...though I still don't think that TEERESS is a real word...). Go for drives and walks through the city with Masi and Masa. And make salad, twice. The first time was a spinach salad, and I made the dressing (I took painstaking effort). The second day had a cabbage base. Other than this, nothing.

The weather was perfect. Cold and clouds and rain throughout all of Gujarat. It felt amazing. I loved it.

With no other direct family in Surat, my life was easy. I could have visited the families of two bhabhis, but why? I was enjoying my non-social life too much.

I had lots of fun and some great conversations with Masi and Masa, who, together, go by the name "Jyotirdhar." We enjoyed eating Mohanthar, which we renamed Girdhar-thar. And I came to realize that Jyoti Masi is a perfect synthesis and blend of mom and Didi Masi. She has mom's attitude and beliefs, and Masi's mannerisms and actions. I had lots of fun while doing nothing.

Bas.

More thoughts...continuing where I left off

Okay, much to my annoyance, my first time at this went up in smoke when my IE crashed. Here we go again.

Differences between the South and Gujarat:
1. Lungis. This skirt-like sarong-like piece of cloth, constantly adjusted and played with and shortened and readjusted, worn by men in the South is virtually non-existent here. While I have yet to visit any villages, and while I haven't yet traveled to Saurastra and Kuchchh (which both tend to be more traditional), the pictures I have seen seem to indicate that lungis aren't in the wardrobe. Thankfully.

2. Affectionate Men. In the South, you see affection coming out the wazoo between men. Here, I've barely seen it. It just really isn't so common. Sure, some men drape their arms over their friends' shoulders, and very very occasionally you'll see some hand-holding. But it's really not as common and pervasive as it is in the South. Not that this is good or bad. But the difference is really noticeable for those people already not used to seeing open affection between men.

3. Kanku. In the South, and particularly in Tamil Nadu, nothing says "belongingness" more than wearing a loud and massive and sometimes disorderly kum kum smeared across your forehead all day. You can pick from red powder, yellow powder or paste, orange powder, or the ever classic ash. And in any one temple, you have so many locations where the kum kum can be found: Before entering the inner sanctum, after darshan, in cups around the inner temple, or even smeared on gods. Pushing and shoving and forcing general chaos seem imperative to get your daily dose of kum kum. Hell, you can even steal it from the gods, as many people do, by scraping old powder off the statues. Then, it's a badge of honor worn all day. Not so here. I only occasionally see kanku powder on someone's forehead. When I do, it's usually applied in a very small amount. Many temples don't even really offer kanku powder. People don't wear it as a badge of honor (except for women who place red powder in their hair part); perhaps spirituality is more important.

4. Rikshawala Shirts. In the South, riksha drivers are required to wear a uniform consisting of an ugly khaki tan shirt or t-shirt. Most drivers wear the shirt over something else, and actually remove it while on break. Here, I haven't seen these shirts. Rikshawalas can wear whatever they want. However, I haven't really looked hard at this issue while in Ahmedabad, so we'll have to see if this holds up.

5. Smoking. I've been in Gujarat for almost two weeks now, and I've seen maybe five people smoking. That's it. In the South, almost every man smokes a cigarette or a bidi. It's been suggested to me that Gujarati's most be more intellegent and educated. I doubt it. Malayalis (people from Kerala) are well educated, and they light up like no one else. So, what is it that's promoted this change? I think there's something in the Gujarati culture and norms that makes it more flexible to change, while different norms cement the South Indians in their traditional ways. But, of course, this is just a guess. Still, it's nice not to see and breath in the smoke...we get enough from the rikshas already.


Things Indians Did Right:
1. Water Pouches. These little pouches hold cold, filtered water. You can get about 300 ml of water, just enough to slake your thirst, with minimum effort and waste. Just bit off one corner of the pouch and pour into your mouth.

2. Distance Drinking. Indians rarely put their lips to a glass or bottle. They've learned to drink water from a distance, by actually pouring it into their mouths. They can drink while they pour (a skill that I have not yet mastered). Luckily, burping is culturally accepted, because this act caused the drinker to swallow lots of air. Still, by not putting lips on the containers, sharing is much more possible. In addition, once I finish my water, I can put my glass back without washing it. Less water and effort wasted.

3. Mobile Covers. India is dusty. Really really dusty. And mobile phones can get seriously messed up and damaged if the dust gets into them. So, most phones come with rubber covers that fit perfectly. And most people gladly use them. They may not look great, but they save your phone.

Ahmedabad: Observations and Revelations

Finally arriving in Gujarat after so many years, I had the great opportunity to question the beliefs I had long held about where I come from. Of course, all these thoughs relate to Ahmedabad, the largest and most progressive of all the Gujarati cities. I have no idea what Surat and Bhavnagar, along with any other places I may chose to visit, will have in store, and how they will differ. Still...Here are some thoughts:

1. Dude, this place is amazing. Well, at least the "progress" is, if you call "progress" the massive spread of shopping complexes, fancy and hip restaurants, malls, clubs, etc. Of course, you still can't get alcohol here, but I don't think that his hindered the growth. Also, I'm impressed by how many women wear jeans instead of traditional clothes. Furthermore, I was happily surprised to see so many young men and women stick together in groups of close-knit friends. So many women drive two-wheelers, sometimes having men sit behind them. I still envisioned a super-traditional society...not so. And technology has pervaded everything...nothing is safe from this sort of progress. Internet cafes are everywhere, as are televisions, mobile phones, and computers that rival what you can find in America. Really, I'm impressed.

2. This place is cleaner. Less air pollution, though it's still fairly bad. Mysore is still the worst I've seen. Ahmedabad is really improving, partly because of the forced conversion of autorikshas to CNG systems, which are more environmental than normal petrol. Mumbai has also implemented this. Seeing new green and yellow rikshas brings a smile to my face. This of course leads to my conclusion, which I previously knew, that if you fix the rikshas, you'll abate the pollution.

3. I can eat spicier foods than anyone in my family thus far. It's simply the strangest thing. I always thought that I couldn't eat such food compared to Gujus, but not so. Most people give me their food because it's too tikka for them.

4. It's nice to be in a place where I can read a lot of the words. Not only is there the occasional Hindi, but I can read about 2/3 of Gujarati words now...that's really helpful.

5. Alright, I'm sure I have more to say, but I'm really tired of blogging. So, that's it. Tomorrow, I leave for Surat.

Bas.

Ahmedabad: Motiba, We Miss You

The one person who obviously wasn't with us was my Motiba...my grandmother. The modest shrine to her is the center of most everything. But, it's still not her. Bhai, Masi, Masa, Aalap, and I went to Chandod, near the Sangam of the holy Narmada River, to immerse her aasti, or remains, into eternal peace. The occasion was solemn, and I had the great honor of being the one to remove the aasti from its burial place outside the house and then carry it to the car. I am very thankful for that opportunity. It may have simply been a mundane and perfunctory task, but it meant so much to me.

While I didn't understand the ceremony which occurred before the immersion, I still felt the emotional weight of it, as did we all. The immersion, though quick, seemed like the final punch of goodbye, calling up many emotions to the surface. And all I could think of was my mom. I missed her so much. So much.

This was the reason I came to Ahmedabad when I did. And I'm so glad I did.

Goodbye Motiba. We love you. We miss you. You'll always be with us.

Ahmedabad: It's All Relative 2 -- The Adults

Unfortunately, I didn't have as much time with the adults as with the others, as can be seen from the poor pictures below, many taken from videos or cropped from other photos. Still, they are my relatives, somehow or another, and therefore deserve a mention.


Of course, the most important are Didi Masi and Kamlesh Masa, the parents of Hardik and Prayag Bhai. Didi Masi and Kamlesh Masa have been nothing but welcoming to me. I appreciate the fact that Didi Masi drinks more water than anyone I know, even my mom. Also, that Kamlesh Masa thanks the sun every morning through prayer. The food has been delicious, though I apologize to Kamlesh Masa for my tastes, which have prompted Didi Masi to make food too spicy for his stomach. Still, I see a lot of my mom in Didi Masi, and Kamlesh Masa is the perfect match.


Dhiren Bhai is technically my mom's cousin's son. I've known him and his wonderful wife, Kirti Bhabhi, for many years now. I remember poorly learning how to ride a two-wheeler from him, and competing with eating spicy tomato soup with him. And of course, I remember a baby Aalap and the time in Ramkrupa, with Sejal's three kids, fataafat, lagbag, and thhraas. I hope I'll get to see these two folks before I must leave.


Meena Ben, who is the sister to Chetan Bhai in Bangalore, lives in Jamnagar and was unhappy that my mom left her off the "list" of people for me to know. She is Maitri's mom. I really didn't have much chance to know her. All I know is that she is a teacher, like Meera Ben, whose husband is Bakul Bhai. Meera Ben teaches Montessori style in an amazing school known as Shreyas. I didn't get to know any of them well, but at least I now know that they're family.

Ah, Manju Masi. I saw her in Bangalore at Raju Bhai's place, but I never had a chance to chat with her. She's a super-cool lady. We have an inside joke about gaining weight due to food, and I scared her by eating a very hot pepper. Bhabhiba and Motamama, Dhiren Bhai and Meera Bhen's parents, thus the grandparents of Aalap, Vatsal, and Suhani (and her brother Sapan, yes Sapan), have been known to me for as long as I can remember. I love them immensely. Both are incredibly caring, and Bhabhiba is my Mom's second mother. Bhabhiba doesn't seem to age, but Motamama's condition worries me.


Uma Masi and Gyansham Masa, shown with Didi Masi and Kamlesh Masa, are also quite nice. Uma Masi is Ashok Mama's sister. They live across the street from Didi Masi. I really didn't get to know them so well, but it was nice to meet them.

Of course, with all these relatives, there are those who aren't really related, but who are still a part of the family. Kishore "Mama" is the brother of Natu Mama's best friend, Batuk "Mama." Kishore Mama's wife, Manda "Mami" is a great cook. His brother, Bahu "Mama" knows a lot, like an encyclopedia. His sister, Baby "Masi" is also very nice. In addition, I met Ami's family and had an amazing lunch with them. Usha Auntie and Narendra (?) Uncle are very nice. Reepal, Ami's sister, works in a bank and reminds me a little of her sister. Shial (?), their brother, is a cool kid who also has some of the rubber wristbands that are so popular.

So, these are the adults. Lots of them, all enriching my time in Ahmedabad. Thanks to them all, and particularly to Didi Masi and Kamlesh Masa.

Of course, one was missing...

Ahmedabad: It's All Relative 1--The Young'uns

Something I've come to realize is that there were two reasons to be visit Ahmedabad. First, and most importantly, was to help give Motiba's remains (aasti) to the holy Narmada River. Second was to meet people. Some I met for the first time after seven years. Others I met for the first time period. Sadly to say, I didn't even know that lots of these people even existed. Not that it would have mattered, simply because the kids would have been too young seven years ago anyway. It's funny how when you're younger, age differences seem so large, but when you get older, the same difference means nothing.

I wanted to include all my relatives in this post, but Blogger wouldn't allow me to upload so many pictures. So, this particular post is focusing solely on the people I wouldn't consider "the adults." These people provided much needed excursions and showed me a good time in Ahmedabad. I could "let my hair down" with them, and I would definitely consider them all my friends. So, here they are...

Prayag Bhai...my actual first cousin. His mom, Kalindi Masi (better known as Didi Masi) is my mom's older sister. Kamlesh Masa is his dad. His brother, Hardik, lives in Bangalore with his wife, Ami. For the past seven or eight years, Prayag Bhai has worked with the Art of Living. He is quite spiritual, but with an extremely goofy side as well. Sometimes you never know which side will come out, though both are always welcome. Like everyone in my family, he is very loving but also very teasing with his parents. My kind of guy. He is also my only cousin with a moustache...that's gotta go!

Aalap and Vatsal are technically my...well...I don't really know. Dhiren Bhai, their father, is the son of my mom's cousin, Motamama. So, I suppose I'm their Uncle in some fashion. But they better not start calling me Sapan Kaka! The last time I saw Aalap, he was 11, which now makes him 18. Vatsal, now 12, never knew me. Of course, neither did Aalap really, though I remember him from when he was a baby. Both are very cool, and due to the trip to Chandod, I got to know Aalap better than mostly anyone. I still need to hear him play the violin. Also, Aalap is very good, natural even, at explaining physics concepts. Oh, and Vatsal looks very smart, perhaps even dapper, in his school uniform.

Ah, the women, neither of whom I knew existed before this trip. I unfortunately didn't get to know either so well on this trip. They all attend the same school, though they go to different campuses. Maitri, who is holding that pillow like she needs it to survive, is doing Commerce. She is exceptionally mature for her age, and has a softspoken coolness about her. Suhani, who looks a bit like an old-time movie actress while preparing to get on her two-wheeler, is focusing on biology-maths-chemistry, and is in her final year of university. She has a lively spunk that goes against the stereotypical image of the traditional woman. And while I am also their uncle, they better not dare to call me Sapan Mama!

These five really made my trip to Ahmedabad. The other places I will be visiting, Surat and Bhavnagar, will probably be fun, but not in the same way, for they do not have any youngsters for me to connect with. So, I thank Prayag Bhai (who really isn't a youngster), Aalap, Vatsal, Maitri, and Suhani for putting up with me and my annoying American habits and pronunciation, and I wish them the best in everything they do.

The Same Country?

Even before I got off the train, I started noticing differences between South Indians (SIs) and Gujaratis. I'm sure the list will grow as I spend more time here, but here's a preliminary list:

1. Skin color. SIs are known for their darker skin for a reason. Because it is in fact darker!

2. Facial features. SIs have much harsher features, with thinner faces and highly pronounced cheekbones. Men also tend to wear the same, bushy moustache. Gujaratis have more rounded faces, and it isn't necessary to have the moustache (thankfully!).

3. Vada. Yes, vada, or vadai. In the South, they are big and look like donuts. In Hyderabad, people tried to sell these on the train. Once we entered Gujarat, the vada became small and round, like donut holes.

4. Language. Gujus don't really speak all that much English, and it's barely written anywhere. However, on the plus side, I can read about half of all Gujarati, and I can understand some.

5. Temple Priorities. I just happened to arrive into Gujarat on Shivratri, one of the holiest days for Shaivites. I noticed one key difference in priorities in both my temple experiences. In the South, it's ALL about getting a kum kum (or tikka), you know, the mark on your forehead. People rush all around for a chance at the red, yellow, or ash that soon marks their forehead, neck, and hair part. Here, it's all about the prasad, the food blessed by the god. In the South, you'd typically have to pay for the prasad; here, it's free. Neither of the temples I've visited have even had kanku or kum kum available. Amazing.

That's It...

The moment I left Secunderabad for Ahmedabad, I said farewell to the South and thus to the traveling portion of this trip. This last leg is strictly for family and volunteering. When I return home (scheduled for the middle of April, for Beezer and P-Dawg's wedding), I'll put together a quick and easy photo tour of the South. For now, you'll just have to settle for a recap of my journey (which won't include Mumbai or Ahmedabad, since they aren't technically in the South):

Bijapur, Karnataka: Gol Gumbaz, Adil Shahi Sultanate
Badami, Karnataka: Forts and Cave Temples, Chalukya Empire
Pattada Kalla, Karnataka: Early experimentation in South Indian temple architecture, Chalukya
Hampi, Karnataka: Ruined capital and tourist hangout, Vijayanagar Empire
Bangalore, Karnataka: Family and a bit of IT
Mysore, Karnataka: Palace and market, Wadiyar (or Wodeyar) Kingdom
Somnathpur, Karnataka: Keshava Temple, Hoysala Empire
Chennai, Tamil Nadu: Vishal and Nisha's Wedding
Pondicherry, Tamil Nadu: Sri Aurobindo Ashram and Auroville
Mamallapuram, Tamil Nadu: Pallava Temples, Dance Festival, and New Year
Thiruvannamalai, Tamil Nadu: Arunachaleswara Temple, Sri Ramakrishna Maharishi Ashram
Thiruchchirappalli (Trichy), Tamil Nadu: Sri Ramanathaswamy Temple
Thanjavur, Tamil Nadu: Sri Brihadiswara Temple and Nayak Palace
Madurai, Tamil Nadu: Sri Meenakshi Temple
Kodaikanal, Tamil Nadu: Hill Station and Pongal Celebrations
Kanniyakumari, Tamil Nadu: Land's End and Swami Vivekananda Mandapam
Trivandrum, Kerala: Ummm...Strikes, Pointless Sights, and Parvathy...the Manipulator
Varkala, Kerala: Beach, tourist hangout, and Kathakali
The Backwaters (Alleppey), Kerala: Canoeing and Houseboating
Kochi (Fort Cochin), Kerala: Jew Town and Chinese Fishing Nets
Munnar, Kerala: Tea Plantation, Leonardo Dicaprio's Movie Set, and Eravikulam NP
The Wayanad (Kalpetta), Kerala: Pookote Lake and Edakkal Caves
Mysore, Karnataka: Chamundi Hill and St. Philomena's Cathedral
Brindavan, Karnataka: Krishnaraja Sagar and the Gardens
Shravanabelagola, Karnataka: Bahubali and Mahamastakabhisheka
Melkote, Karnataka: Hoysala Chaluvanarayana Temple and Yoganarasimha Temple
Srirangapatna, Karnataka: Dariya Daulat Bagh and Gumbaz, Tipu Sultan's Mysore Empire
Halebeedu, Karnataka: Hoysaleswara Temple, Hoysala Empire
Belur, Karnataka: Channakeshava Temple, Hoysala Empire
Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh: Charminar and Golkonda Fort, Qutb Shahi Sultanate

There you have it. I saw lots. And now it's time for a break...

Ifran: All Hormones, All The Time

There are three Indian youths thus far I will always remember: 1) Karan, from Hampi, who saw through my I'm-Indian-but-I-don't-speak-Hindi ruse and tried to convince me to go with him to the movies; 2) Parvathy, from Trivandrum, who whined and pouted to manipulate me to do things and buy stuff for her; and 3) Ifran, from Hyderabad, for, well, being a kid only interested in sex.

I first met him at a magazine stand with my friend Frank. I didn't think much of him then, but when I passed by the stand the next day, I found out more than I wanted to know. He wanted to know where my friend was...Frank had left for Secunderabad and wasn't coming back. Okay, well, "then do you want a dirty magazine?" Of course, he wanted to sell me porn, which to him was similar to a Maxim or a Cosmo. When he realized that I was American, all on his mind was the women and the openness of sex. He was convinced that Americans were doing it anywhere, everywhere, and at any moment. He asked many truly invasive questions, and seemed fascinated (perhaps a little too fascinated...) at my answers. He even found the fact that men and women sleep in the same bed without being married to be something amazing. But, of course, that wasn't even the start of what he wanted to know. He asked about every dirty thing possible. Hell, if I could blush, I would have. Oh, and Ifran was a 17 year old Muslim boy. And sex was the only thing on his mind.

The next day, I ran into him again, and this time, he had a different goal. He didn't want to sell me porn. No, he actually wanted to experience it. He told me to wait for ten minutes, then we'd go trolling for a woman. This kid had so much confidence that we'd find a luscious woman to, get this, both "have." The kid went from porn-seller to pimp. I, of course, passed on his odd offer. And I still couldn't believe he was 17...and apparently a fairly devout Muslim (though not enough to dress like one...hence the picture above). Still, knowing him gave me a good deal of amusement.

Karan...leech. Parvathy...manipulator. Ifran...hormonal.

Hyderabad: Islam Islam Everywhere, Even In My...

Hyderabad was a short (meaning long) train ride away from Bangalore, which was a short (meaning not too bad) ride from Hassan. As I was heading to Hyderabad the Sunday after the big (meaning 2.5 million attendees) Art of Living Celebration in Bangalore, those people stuck in my berth either attended the festival or wanted to know more about it. The conversation never changed...my music was the only escape from an Art of Living praise-a-thon that lasted about 20 hours. Sheesh. Still, as we approached Hyderabad and its sister-city, Secunderabad, something amazing caught my eyes that told me we weren't in the deep south anymore. All the railway station signs weren't only written in Telagu and English. They also had Hindi and...gasp...Urdu as well. Heading further north (ie the Hindi) and into Muslim territory (ie the Urdu). This brought a great smile to my face.

I liked my hotel. In the Abids area, and thus between the Charminar and the Birla Mandir, as well as near a mall, the hotel gave me a double room with a TV, Western toilet, and hot shower. And I didn't have to pay over my budget! It was really nice. As soon as I settled in, I was out the door and on my way to the Charminar, the key site in Hyderabad. As I was walking the 2 kilometers to get there in the blazing (meaning heatstroke-inducing) sun, a sudden realization came to me. Charminar...char minar...four towers...really? As I crossed the Musi river, which was more like a sludgy trickle than a river, I pondered my realization. There, on the bridge, I saw two of the most amazing buildings ever: the High Court and the Osmania General Hospital, both build in the Indo-Saracenic style also used for the Gaddige tombs in Madikeri. I was awestruck, not only by the architecture, but by the fact that I had literally walked into a Muslim-heavy area. Men were dressed in white kurtas with scullcaps, and women were wearing black burqahs (hijabs) that only revealed their eyes. I wondered how the women didn't die from getting so hot in that sun with the black all over them. This scene was in vast contrast to the Abids area, in which women tended to walk around in jeans and t-shirts. And men, no matter where they were, could easily wear brightly colored shirts. In fact, nothing was weirder than seeing a woman in full burqah walking next to a guy in a bright, sleaveless shirt with shorts. Such gender differences.

Anyway, the Charminar. Actually, first, I went to the Mecca Masjid, a huge mosque that could fit over 10,000 people. The style was quite nice, though a little boy, Salman, leeched onto me during my time there. After the Masjid, I lost Salman by going up the Charminar (which in fact does have four towers) and not paying for his entry. He almost gave me away about being a foreigner, but luckily I understood enough Hindi to get by. After taking in the fairly unimpressive Charminar, I ate a bit of biryani, which Hyderabad is famous for, and then walked to the Salar Jung Museum. The Museum had some interesting pieces, but after walking for so long and the getting little sleep the previous night, I was in no mood for museums. So, I half-assed it. I saw the exhibits without reading anything and without really looking too hard. After, I walked to the High Court and to the Osmania General Hospital (above) before walking back to the Abids area. I used the internet at Reliance WebWorld (in which Vikas was very helpful), grabbed an iced mocha at the attached Java Green, and then went back to my room for the night. I watched TV and ate leftover biryani. A nice end to a nice day.

The next day, I took it slowly. I really had no interest in seeing too much, particularly since I gained an extra day by deciding not to take a daytrip to Nagarjunakonda...a trip that would have required six hours of traveling in one day alone. So, by the middle part of the day, after having a spot of lunch, I headed out in the other direction. While the day before I walked south with the distant Charminar guiding me, this day I ambled north with the Birla Mandir as my landmark of note. Along the way, I passed by two other amazing Indo-Saracenic buildings, the AP (Andhra Pradesh, for you uninformed) State Museum and the Legislative Complex (which also had the biggest Gandhiji statue I've seen thus far). I saw the Birla Planetarium atop a nearby hill, but couldn't figure out how to get there. And I refused to use my Lonely Planet, simply because it is more fun to try and get it on my own. So, I walked a long way around, walked up a random street, and amazingly ended up at the Birla Mandir, which is on another hill. I deposited my camera beneath someone named Frank. Once I entered the Mandir, which is pan-Hindu though dedicated to Sri Venkateswara, I went straight to the altar dedicated to Sidhi Sai Baba (the original Sai Baba), and made a comment to a guy about it being a very hot day..."right Frank?" So, this threw him for a loop, and after I explained how I knew his name, we became fast friends...well, kinda. A Canadian from Gwelf (outside Toronto), he had been traveling for a while, and was a staunch vegetarian. Just as normal, he asked plenty of questions about the Hindu things we saw at that amazing temple. The Mandir had beautifully simple yet complex marble carvings of scenes from the Mahabharata, Ramayana, and Puranas, as well as tributes to all the major gods, Hindu saints, and even the Buddha, Sri Mahavira, and Guru Nanak. We spent lots of time at the relatively small temple. After leaving to try and find the quirky (supposedly) Health Museum, Frank made me try fresh sugar cane juice. While pure liquid glucose may sound good to some, it made my stomach a little uneasy. We then found our way to a now closed museum, and stayed in the nearby park for a couple of hours. I watched some Muslim men and boys play catch with a ball, a game that lasted for at least 1.5 hours. Frank then brought out his hackie sacks and started juggling (above) and doing a little hackie. As the sun started going down, he then turned to stretching and yoga, which garnered some attention. After the sun was gone, we walked back to the Abids and to my hotel, which he was amazingly staying at as well. We then did dinner and then wandered the Abids for a while. We stopped back to Java Green (he hadn't slept much the night before, as he was taking a night train from Hampi), where I once again met Vikas. He told me to come back the next day to burn a CD. After this, we explored the nooks and crannies of Abid Circle, and met a boy named Ifran, who I'll talk about in the next post. Let's just say that he'll be forever memorable. And that was it.

The next day I burned two CDs, a process that took way too long. Vikas did his best, but the power kept going out. I felt bad for Vikas, but he was very patient. By the time we finished, it was too late to do much of anything, so I just went back to my hotel, chatted with some guests for a while, and really did nothing for the rest of the day. Oh, of course, though, I chatted with my friend Ifran. On my last full day in Hyderabad, I went to the famous Golkonda Fort (above). In order to really understand everything, I hired a guide, who showed me a couple of cool things, like the spot where the 360 queens whipped servants who prayed in the queens' particular masjid, or the high court with acoustics so good that even the slightest sound echoed. I came across a group of guys...I saw them everywhere. Where I was, so were they. I took their picture a couple of times, too. Then, after leaving the Fort, I ate lunch at a small restaurant. While there, they showed up...much to all our amusement. I then walked the 1.5 kilometer stretch to the tombs of the Qutb Shahi sultans. The tombs were cool at first, but then got a bit monotonous after a while. I returned back to Abids, met Ifran, had dinner, and then called it a night. The next day, I checked out early, said farewell to Ifran, went to Secunderabad, and caught my long (meaning way too long) train to Ahmedabad.

More observations about India

Here are some more thoughts I have about things I've seen:

1. India did another thing right. While typically you don't really need hot water in most of India, sometimes it just feels nice to have a hot shower. In America, we have water heaters, that keep water consistently hot and therefore waste losts of energy. In India, places with hot water showers use geysers (pronounced geezers), which you switch on when you want hot water. Once you wait for the water to heat up, then you use the water, you switch off the geyser. This saves lots of energy.

2. What the hell is up with the Sauna Belts? Every late-night or mid-day paid-advertising program is selling some type of Sauna Belt, which just melts away the fat by concentrating heat on your trouble areas. Are people really that lazy in India? And why, why, why the Sauna Belt? I've counted about six different varieties being sold. Luckily, there's also the "Ab King Pro," which requires a little exercise. But the Sauna Belt is really the king.

3. What's up with bookshops here? Typically, they mainly sell diaries and stationary. Sometimes, when they have English books, they are only about computers or engineering. Sheesh!

4. We have a day of celebration for MLK. Most cities have MLK streets. And yet nothing comes close to the power of Mahatma Gandhi here. While in America, most MLK streets are rundown and house the poorer populations, in India, MG Roads tend to be posher. Also, almost every city no matter how large, has a statue and a square or circle devoted to Gandhi. Nehru doesn't even come close. No one is as beloved anywhere as Gandhiji.

5. Something random...seeing two people do sign language is one of the most beautiful sights in the world. I saw two friends signing to each other yesterday in a Hyderabadi park; one was definitely deaf, the other wasn't...and it was beautiful.

Yet another picture site!

So, the second Yahoo Groups site is full. To see pics of the amazing temples at Belur and Halebeedu, including all those after, please join the third site at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/sapans_india_trip_3/. Thanks.

Halebeedu and Belur: The Allure of the Hoysalas

After Madikeri, I based myself in Hassan in order to visit the towns of Halebeedu and Belur, which both have magnificent Hoysala Temples. These, coupled with the Keshava Temple in Somnathpur, define super-uber-anal-artistry in the South. Sure, other people went for big. These folks went for intricacy. I spent the morning in Halebeedu, and the afternoon in Belur. Halebeedu has the Hoysaleswara Temple, which is large, with two chambers dedicated to Shiva, and with two smaller mandapams each with a large Nandi. The sheer magnitude of the carvings on the outside astound, but you are quick to notice that the temple was never finished. Plans were made, but never carried through. I also visited two other compounds in Halebeedu: the Kedareswara Temple, smaller and with no one there but a sleeping dog; the Jain basadis, three separate temples dedicated to Parswanath, Adinath, and Shantinath. Belur was quite close, only a half-hour mini-bus ride away. The Channakeshava Temple seems typical, with a large gopuram greeting you, and with many smaller temples scattered here and there in the temple grounds. The main temple is the only of the three main Hoysala sites actually in use, but it's still not quite finished. While unimpressive nearer to its base, larger and more beautiful sculptures and lintels line the upper sections. It's also quite magnificent. There, I also met a British woman from Nottingham (of Robin Hood fame) who had been getting lots of attention, especially from nosy and inappropriate Indian men. I was near here when I stepped onto the burning hot black marble and yelped out. She recognized my lack of accent, and we hit it off. She had lots of questions about Jainism, and so I misled her the best I could. We had dinner together back in Hassan, and we went our separate ways the next day.

Belur...Halebeedu...Somnathpur. Site for the Channakeshava...Hoysaleswara...Keshava Temples. Together, they make up THE finest temple work I've seen in South India, and I've seen lots of temples. So, the million dollar, or das lakh, question is...which temple is superior? The first has size on its side, and the upper work stands out as far superior. The second one has just an amazing amount of work, and the setting is really quite nice. The third is the smallest and most difficult (ie. pain-in-the-ass-est) to get to, and it's the only one that charges money for entry...and it's the winner. The Keshava Temple in Somnathpur is one-of-a-kind for a few reasons. First, it's the only finished temple. Second, it doesn't have the bother of actually being a functioning temple. Third, the fact that you have to pay to enter means that it's impeccably maintained. Fourth, the carvings on it rival both the other two sites. Fifth, the lack of people means that the site is actually peaceful. Sure, the fact that it was the first site I visited means that it was a novelty with which I compared the other two...but despite the expense and difficulty of getting there, there's no denying Somnathpur's superiority.

Next: Hyderabad...technology meets burqahs meets Indo-Saracenic architecture meets a Buddha statue.

Madikeri: Visiting the Coorg Without Seeing It

My time in Madikeri, a 3.5 hour ride from Mysore, was mostly a waste. I went a day late, mostly because I was sick and also wanted to hang with my friends in Mysore. Well, this helped to defeat me. A person goes to Madikeri to trek in the Coorg (or Kodagu) region of Karnataka. I wasn't there long enough to do that. I arrived in the evening and found a cheap hotel. The next day, I went wandering throughout the city like I normally do. I ended up at the Sri Omkareswara Temple, which amazingly blended Islamic and Hindu themes and architecture together. Something I loved was that Mosques and Temples were EVERYWHERE, though the population was predominantly Muslim. Then, after looking here and there, I once again wound up somewhere unexpected, the Madikeri (or Mercara) Fort. The ramparts had nice views of the city and the surrounds. In the distance, I spotted Gaddige, the Raja's Tombs, and started on a trek to find them. I ended up at a travel agency chatting with a local named Vinod for a couple of hours. Actually, he did all the talking. He expressed interest in starting an NGO dealing with HIV/AIDS, and whenever I tried to tell him that I knew someone I could connect him to, he never let me even start. Sheesh. Still, he was a very nice guy, kept calling me his new American friend, and bought me chai. Eventually, it was getting so late, I had to get going. I finally made it to Gaddige, and had a good time watching local boys hang out and play soccer. By this point, it was getting too late in the day to head over Raja's Seat, which was supposed to have amazing views of the Coorg valleys. Oh well. And the next day, I had to leave for Hassan, on a bus that supposedly left every half an hour and arrived after only three hours. I got to the bus stand by 1:30...no bus came until 5pm, and the trip took four hours. Damn...

So, most people go to Madikeri to visit places like Raja's Seat, trek over to Abbi Falls, and climb up Pushpagiri. Not me...

Mysore Revisited: More to See and Do

You may remember that I was previously in Mysore, between my trips to Bangalore and Chennai. Last time, I spent three days here, and really didn't do much of anything. I saw the Mysore Palace, the Devaraja Market, and took an expensive daytrip to Somnathpur. I met my friends Ella, Nell, Sam, and Ayesha here as well. Mysore really is an amazing city, with stunning architecture everywhere you look, small alleyways dedicated to wheat or steel or sugarcane, the paradox of a modern world mixed with old ways, and the perfect location in Southern Karnataka. The only drawback is that the air quality is SO poor here, that even walking, I sometimes need to cover my nose and mouth with a handkerchief.

Since I had to pass through here from the Wayanad to Madikeri, I decided to make the most of it. Staying at the popular Parklane Restaurant (yes, in the restaurant) gave me the perfect location between both bus stands. I've been able to explore and really get a sense of Mysore. I could give you directions from anywhere to anywhere in the city.

What I'm going to do is quickly recap what I've done each day I've been here, since each day has brought on a wholly new experience.

Day One. Mysore Darshan. I really didn't see much the last time I was here, so I decided to take in a few of those places I should have visited: Jagan Mohan Palace, Chamundi Hill, and St. Philomena Cathedral (shown above). The Palace has an art gallery with a funky mix of random memorabilia from the Wadiyar empire (which ended in the mid-20th Century) and paintings from all sorts of Indian artists. I easily spent two hours perusing all the different pieces. Then I tromped over to the nearby City Bus Stand and caught the number 201 bus to Chamundi Hill. I arrived there right as the Chamundaswara Temple was just opening for the evening. The darshan line was quite long, so I paid a little something to get through it more quickly. After seeing the temple, my forehead was marked with the beginning of the rainbow, red on the bottom, orange in the middle, and yellow on the top. I descended the 1000-some steps and jumped on a riksha to go straight to the St. Philomena Cathedral in north Mysore (Chamundi Hill was about 2 kilometers south of the city). Of course, I felt very odd about going into such an amazing place with the Hindu markings on my forehead, so I found a place to wash it off. The Cathedral was truly beautiful. After, I walked back to my hotel, grabbed a quick dinner, and then walked here and there, seeing even more of the city's great architecture during the nighttime. The day was relaxing but still quite full.

Day Two. Brindavan Gardens. All my relatives said that I had to go here, so I decided to take their advice. Located on the edge of Krishnaraja Sagar, a dramatic lake formed by a dam, these gardens are the ultimate in floral and fountain landscaping. The flowers and bushes are nice, to be sure, but the fountains steal the show. Before I left on the 303 bus from the City Bus Stand, for which I had to wait more than an hour, I stocked up on picnic-type items. I wanted to enjoy a nice, quiet day at the Gardens. And this involved avoiding a restaurant for dinner. So, I arrived at the Gardens in the late afternoon, took in the scenery, then plopped down for my dinner. Most striking about the day was the sunset over K.R. Sagar. The day ended with the famous lighted fountain show, for which hundreds of Indians flocked to the Gardens. The show was cool at first, with lit fountains (shown above) in great patterns to Bollywood and Bhangra hits. After a while, once I had finished marveling at the sophistication of the fountain system, I got bored quickly. Thankfully, the show only lasted for about fifteen minutes. Then, I boarded one of the many buses back to Mysore. And that was it for that day.

Day Three. Mahamastakabhisheka at Sravanabelagola (try saying that three times fast!). With the town of Sravanabelagola only 2.5 hours away, and with the biggest festival in all of Jainism occurring there, I couldn't not go. So, I left in the late morning on a bus not to the town, but to a neighboring one, from which I caught one of many buses to Sravanabelagola. I was immediately struck by how many people were there, and not just Jains. Thousands of people were there, waiting for an opportunity to climb up Vindhyagiri Hill to see the 17.5 meter tall Sri Gomateswara (Bahubali) being annointed by ghee, milk, honey, and colored powder. I waited and waited under the absolutely brutal sun for the opportunity to walk up the hill at a painfully slow rate (due to all the people). Once I got to the top, after having pushed and shoved my way closer and closer to Bahubali, I barely got a glimpse before being swept away. No time for praying. In order to keep the crowd moving, I had maybe one minute to see Bahubali, in his red and yellow stained glory. Then, we all were shown the way off the side. Many pilgrims, including myself, went to the designated water fountains to wash off the yellow and red powder and dyes covering our faces (see the kids above). This particular path off the hill took us about a kilometer away from our shoes, so I had to walk on the hot cement until I could retrieve my chappals. By this point, the crowd and the sun had taken their toll on me. I jumped on a Mysore-bound bus and called it a day.

Day Four. Melkote. Smitten by the artistry of the Hoysala period that I saw during my trip to Somnathpur, I decided to head to the small village of Melkote. I worried that this place would be just as difficult, and therefore expensive, to get to as Somnathpur, but I didn't care. So, I jumped on a bus that was heading in the right direction, but let me off a little early. Luckily, I caught another bus that took me the rest of the way. Located in a valley in the middle of a desert plateau, Melkote is undoubtedly dramatic. Overlooking the village, which seemed to me to be a smaller version of Badami, was the mesa-top Yoganarasimha Temple. In the middle of the village was a gigantic tank surrounded by ruins of past excellence. Then, on the far end of the village is the Hoysala-built, but really not all the interesting, Chaluvanarayana Temple (it was nothing like the Keshava Temple in Somnathpur). Neither of the temples were all the fascinating, but the views from Yoganarasimha were stunning. The pic above shows Melkote from Vishnu's feet within Yoganarasimha. And I found a great rocky outcrop to sit and chill on for a good hour or so. I found a level of peace I hadn't had for quite some time, and that made the whole trip worth it. I really enjoyed hanging out at the Tank and seeing the families have fun there during their Sunday holiday. In the evening, I caught a bus back the same way, through the other same village. The buses were so crowded, I had to squeeze my way on and off each one. Situations like this reminded me how many people live in India. You'd never feel so claustrophobic in America. Still, the day was wonderful. I went to a place with absolutely no foreign visitors (I'm sure the villagers wouldn't even know how to really react), and found some needed peace. Oh, and saw some temples too.

Day Five. Mysore Darshan, Take Two. I needed to buy my train tickets from Bangalore to Hyderabad, and then from Hyderabad to Ahmedabad. So, I waited at the ticket reservation hour, in the exceptionally slow line, for over two hours. After I left, it was too late to head out to Srirangapatna, like I had planned. So, I decided to do that tomorrow. I decided to walk and take pictures of random buildings in Mysore. The above picture is of Mysore Palace from through its East Gate. Then, I remembered a set of ruined temples close to Chamundi Hill, so I tried to find my way there, but I never quite made it. By this point, the sun was burning and my breakfast of porridge was long gone. So, I decided to call it a day. Not much of a darshan, but still not so bad. Bought tickets. Got some good walking in. And finally a day of no traveling!

Day Six. Mysore Darshan, Take Three. I woke up today with a bit of a stomachache, sadly only one week after dealing with this in the Wayanad. So, I had to scrap my plans to see Srirangapatna today. Luckily, I didn't have to go far to get plain bread and lemon soda (the food of sick people everywhere!). I stepped out of my room and sat down at a table. Soon, to one side, sat Richard, a Welch nurse's assistant who specializes in Psychiatric problems. On the other side, two Britishers, Sophie, who deals with assessment for environmental consulting, and Jane, who recently got a Master's degree in a topic between Sociology and Geography. Joining them was Ben, a Canadian from Banff (who ended our friendship the moment I said that I preferred Jasper) who works as a bartender, a snowboard shop employee, and a realtor, and who's been traveling for 3.5 of the last 5 years, who bought a house worth half a million Canadian dollars, and who is the same age as I am. The five of us had a great time chatting it up. The latter three were also staying at the Parklane. Sophie and Jane had just arrived and wanted to see things. Ben was more inclined to take it easy. And Richard had been doing Yoga nonstop for the past week. He had to skip out on our daily activities, but I decided to tag along with the other three when they went off to the Palace. I acted as their guide (a bad one, of course), since I had been there before. I had a great time with them as we visited the Palace and forced Jane to ride a camel (which we all claimed looked a little like her), since she hadn't done this before. After, we went to the Devaraja Market, where we saw lots of tika powder (shown above), bought some flowers, tried a new vegetable, and lost Ben (who ended up learning how to sell flowers from the vendors) along the way. We then met Ben and Richard for dinner at the Parklane. I ate food and drank alcohol, though I really shouldn't have. Because it was Valentine's Day, I asked one of my waiter friends to secretly get me two roses, which I then presented to Jane and Sophie. We then had fun trying to find odd places to put the roses on our heads. Finally, all tuckered out, I turned in, sad that I didn't go to Srirangapatna, but excited to have met these great people.

Day Seven. Srirangapatna. Finally. I got up and still had issues. Nevertheless, I was determined to make it to the very last stop in Mysore. Jane and Sophie joined me for lunch, and decided to go to Chamundi Hill and the Zoo today (I passed by the zoo, but decided not to go in, because my experience in Indian zoos always leaves me feeling sorry for the animals). Jane and I both ordered corn flakes, which weren't corn flakes at all. I don't know what they were, but they were so hard I could feel my teeth chipping. I of course didn't finish this. After a final trip to the bathroom, I packed up and left for Srirangapatna, better known as S.R. Patna (or Patna, for short). I hopped off the bus at the first stop, which led me to the rarely used Mysore Gate. I marveled at the remnants of the fort, and how they have been incorporated into the current city. Just so you know, SR Patna was the capital of Tippu Sultan's empire, which controlled all of Mysore until the British defeated him in the Fourth Mysore War of 1799. Doing so gave the British the ability to finally expand into the South. Also, SR Patna is located on a large island in the middle of the Cauvery River. Anyway, I tromped along the streets, not really knowing where I was going, until I saw a flag post that offered a good view of the city. From there, I saw what I thought was the Gumbaz, the burial site for Tippu Sultan and his famous father, Hyder Ali. I also saw the Sri Ramanathaswami Temple, and really thought, 'Wow, everything is so close together!' The Gumbaz was actually the Jamia Masjid, which I went into and wondered at the intricacy. Also, the Masjid's outer wall belonged to a Hindu temple, the inner building was Muslim, and the building's base was blessed by Jains. A synthesis of three religions, such was the openness of Tippu Sultan, a Muslim. I then started to walk to the temple, but found out it was closed, and that the Dariya Daulat Bagh, Tippu's summer palace, would close soon and I would miss it. So, I hopped on a riksha which took me to the Bagh, which now houses a museum within the fantasticly ornately colored palace. After, the driver took me to the real Gumbaz, which had a cool onion-shaped top. Then to the Sangam, where the Cauvery meets two other waterways at the edge of the SR Patna island. Finally, I saw the ruins of Tippu's Lal Bagh, his daily palace; the place where the British found his body; the site in the fort's walls that the British entered through to defeat Tippu; the dungeon where Tippu kept all his prisoners (shown above); and the Sri Ramanathaswamy (Vishnu in a reclining or sleeping mode) Temple. It was a nice trip, though expensive due to the riksha ride. But I know I wouldn't have seen everything without it. Now I'm back in Mysore, and will have dinner with everyone soon. Most likely I'll leave tomorrow for Madikeri, where I'll spend only one day.

Mysore was amazing. I haven't stayed this long anywhere since Hampi, and I had new experiences every day. I appreciate my time here, and revel in the fact that I've done more here than pretty much anyone else would ever do.

Scared Puppies

Yesterday isn't the first time I came across a dog that seemed terrified of humans. Many, and by this I mean about half, seem to have a mortal fear of humans. Yesterday, while in Melkote, I tried to befriend a puppy that was scrounging around for food. All the while, a little girl seemed intent on terrorizing this poor creature. She stomped near it, yelled, and really treated it like crap. So, when I tried to call it over or approach it, it stayed away warily. It didn't want anything to do with me.

Sometimes I can befriend a dog here or there. Usually, they only experience fear around other humans and I. For a society known for its kindness to animals, India hasn't shown it.

Please Comment!

It takes little time, and I really want to know that someone is reading my blog. I know there's a lot to read, but still...I would really appreciate it if you commented every now and then. Thanks.

Learn Indian-English

As I've been traveling, I've been writing down words and phrases that I can use later on in my novel, as well as for future reference, like a dictionary. Here's a snippet. After this, you'll be able to speak like an Indian...that is, if you can do a good accent:

Cum - Oh, gross...that's not what it means here! You see cum written everywhere, most often as exhibition-cum-sale. The word simply indicates a combination. It's an exhibition and a sale, not one or the other.

Finger Chips - You'll see this in every restaurant serving Continental (Western) food. These are french fries (or Freedom Fries, if you're George W. Bush).

Tension - This word is exceptionally popular, and it simply means stress.

P.J. - You're a great Mumbai-ite if you know this. It's not pajamas. Nope, it's a Poor Joke, as in one that's so stupid you moan after it ends (if you have an engineer in your family, you know exactly what I'm talking about).

Bisquits - In America, these tend to be like flaky bread rolls. In India, they have a dual meaning. They are snack items, and can be sweet or salty: Cookies and crackers are both called bisquits.

Bunk school - This simply means to skip school. So, then do students here have Senior Bunk Day?

Of course, there are many more words, but these are some of the most interesting. Now you can speak just like an Indian!

Pick Your Own Identity

Before I open my mouth to any Indian stranger here, my mind becomes like a Choose Your Own Adventure book. I got to decide who I am before I say anything. Here are the decisions:

1. Am I Indian or American? If I'm Indian, I'm definitely Gujarati. If I choose this path, I must use an accent at all times.
2. If I'm Gujarati, what reason do I have for not being able to speak Hindi? This issue most likely will come up. Kids in particular can be very perceptive about this.
3. What's my job? Usually, I'm an English teacher. Hey, I was at one point in time! If I'm American, this isn't an issue. If I'm Indian, am I teacher in America or Gujarat?
4. Am I married? This one is easy. Hell no! Why not? Just because...
5. Usually by this point, the conversation fizzles. Hopefully I'm home free.

I typically choose the Indian path if I'm with kids or in a situation where I know that saying I'm American will draw far too much attention. Still, I hate this game...

If I Were An Average Indian...

...And I were moving to America, I'd have some issues. I would spit randomly and frequently onto the street, and I would burp loudly after every meal. I would grab the hands of my male friends while walking, and really sit close to them at rest (yeah, watch out fellow 3-301ians!) I would run to jump on my bus while it was still moving (which I love doing, by the way, but I'm always afraid I'll lose a sandal in the process), only to smash into the closed door. I would then attempt to pay my fare based on distance traveled. I would be frustrated and irritated by the immensely idiotic English measurement system, wondering why the orderly and sensical metric and Celsius systems had no place in America. I would feel confounded by the necessity to use toilet paper, and I would have a hard time feeling clean after using the bathroom. And I would have problems using both hands to eat meals.

Sure, I'm generalizing and caricaturing Indians, grouping lots of practices into one person. Perhaps most Indians who move to America wouldn't have these issues. And yet, anyone who made the cultural transition with minimal problems...I salute you!

Some Things India Did Right

I know that I normally rip on India, making it sound a bit odd or maybe somewhat depressing. But, here are some things that the country got really right:

1. Pay-to-use toilets. Sounds fancy. These public facilities are everywhere, sometimes even minutes from each other (like Starbucks). And they may be lacking in the cleanliness department, but asking each person to only pony up one or two rupees to use the bathroom is great. This means that the government can put more toilets around, because taxpayers aren't paying for them. And everyone needs to use the bathroom, so these puppies pay for themselves. Of course, this doesn't stop men from going Number 1 even just outside.

2. Protected monuments. India's got a very long and complex history, which left behind ruins and religious buildings galore. So, the government got wise and protected them. Plastics are not allowed in many places (though sometimes you see them here and there). Guards watch everyone like hawks. And fees keep visitors at bay. And the best part is that EVERYTHING seems to be protected. You can't go into a city without seeing at least one building with a sign outside saying that it's protected by the government. Of course, some of these buildings become homes for the homeless, but for the most part, they are left only for the cautious tourists.

3. The bus system. Okay, everyone raves about the train system. Sure, it goes to lots of places, but personally, I don't really like it. I've only ridden a train three times since arriving here. They are highly inconvenient. Usually you need to book days in advance, and then travel kilometers out of town just to get to the station. The bus system really is the unsung hero of the Indian transportation system. Each state owns and manages its buses through a corporation (eg. Kerala State Road Transportation Corporation, or KSRTC for short). Private buses are also allowed in the mix. These buses leave constantly. I rarely have to wait long to catch a bus to the location of my choice. They go to small villages, just in case I need to visit somewhere remote. And while they may be rusting tin buckets with drivers who have death wishes, you still get to your location at a timely fashion, and after paying much less than you would for a train.

Things I Don't Get

Okay, there are many things about India that confuse me. I've already indicated a bunch over the past two months. Here are a few more:

1. In South India, when Hindu kids are blessed, they don't just get a kanku (or tika in Hindi, kum kum in the South) placed on their forehead. Nope, they get something special. A little black dot placed between the brows, and another one on their left cheek. I don't understand this, and the few people I've asked really didn't either. It's just something people do.

2. Pepsi in India (and maybe in the US too???) has now released a new flavor: Cafe Chino. Coffee-flavored cola. I tried it today. Ummm...recall this one quickly! Like you did with Crystal Pepsi!!!

3. In Tamil Nadu, there are scarecrow-type dummies everywhere rural. But these are a little frightening, and they aren't just in fields to scare away birds. These dummies are typically hanging with a noose tight around their necks. Sometimes, even blood is shown. I even saw one impaled, with a sharp stake going through it. And these can be found near houses, temples, or in fields. It's really quite disturbing.

Hotels and Hotels: The funny places I've stayed

Munnar: My hotel was amazing, but my room didn't have an attached bathroom. My room opened up into the family's kitchen and dining area. This meant that I had to walk amongst the family owners in my PJs just to use the bathroom. Still, the hotel was up the Church hill quite a ways, and thus was really quiet and had some nice views of the city. Also, the garden was great, allowing for some nice relaxation. Most everyone else was paying at least 800 Rs to stay there. I paid almost a fourth of the price. And, I felt a little too close to the family that owned the place.

Ernakulam: Between Munnar and Kalpetta, I spent one night in Ernakulam (Cochin). I had high hopes for the place, thinking to get a place with a TV and ordering in pizza. No such luck. The supposed Domino's Pizza was in fact the now defunct Dominoz Pizza Corner. And my hotel? I went to about ten different places, and each was completely full. I didn't realize that there was a huge IT Conference going on there at the time. So, I went with the first place I found, which cost me a whopping 450 Rs for one night. Still, it had a TV. I bought some food and ate in my room. That night, things went a little crazy. I had gone out to buy some water, and when I returned, about 20 centimeter-long, green or black, flying bugs were flying around my room. Strangely enough, their wings would break off, and the critters would land anywhere and everywhere and just start walking. Wings littered everything. The bugs weren't particularly dangerous. Just annoying. So, I scooped them up and tossed them out. About an hour later, seemingly out of nowhere, about 40 of them appeared. They seemed to multiply randomly and there were more and more of them. But, I got rid of them. Then, at about 12:30am, I turned off my light and TV. I got into bed, and suddenly heard sounds of flying. I sat up, and something hit my face. Again and again. I switched on the light, and there were about 200 of these suckers. 200 and counting. Everywhere. Falling onto everything, including me. I fled my room, ran down to the reception area, woke up the guy, and demanded a room change. I quickly threw all my stuff into the next room, and slept the night with great worry. But, thankfully, these bugs never came into my new room. No, instead, I had a swarm of mosquitoes. It was at that point that I decided that I HAD to leave Ernakulam for good.

Kalpetta: Being sick isn't fun. Especially stomach sick. Having communal squat toilets all the way on the other side of the building doesn't make it easier. Neither does the immense noise from the nation highway right outside. Still, the 60 Rs. a night pricetag makes it much easier. I could stay there are recuperate wtihout paying too much. And the people were nice, though one of the owners was a bit nosy. He actually followed me into my room and started going through my stuff until I stopped him. Still, not a bad place to be.

Mysore: I just got here, but I already know that my hotel room, for 125 Rs. a night, is also interesting. It's located in a very popular restaurant. And when I say in, I mean in. The door into my room is actually next to a couple of the tables. Luckily, I can listen to live classical music play right outside my door. We'll see how this works out. The room is nice. The setting is odd... Okay, I like it. Sure, it's a little weird to walk into my room with all eyes wondering where I'm going. Still, now that I know the whole waitstaff, who is there from open to close, I'm having a great time. I can step outside of my room to have a beer and to write. Of course, I spend money at the restaurant (this is why the hotel can charge so little for the rooms). The only drawback is that the noise continues until about 1am, thus making it hard to fall asleep before this. This issue, coupled with the super comfy bed, makes it tough to wake up at a decent time. Still, I do really like this place.