Update from Udaipur...
I'm writing from Udaipur in Western Rajasthan, a land of desert, camels, palaces, warrior kingdoms, and colorful desert tribal people. As I sit here and write to you there is an elephant going by the window. Last night we went to a great dance performance of different local dances, capped off by an older woman dancing with 10 pots balanced one on the other on her head, the pots taller than her, remembering women going to the wells to get water. When I wrote last we had just left Bodhgaya where the Buddha became enlightened and I spoke about out experiences at the train station.
Mughal Surai and the Bodhi Tree
Yesterday I sat on the train platform at Mughal Surai
Fruit rotting, flies swarming,
People living under cardboard and plastic
Young men standing three feet away staring unblinkingly
Straight at me,
Crippled old people,
Beggar children touching my arms and kissing my feet
A woman with pus streaming from one eye points to her eye
And grabs me
An erratic behaving, unpredictable, cut-covered young man sits
down and grabs my shoe
An emaciated old man, wild-eyed, wide open-eyed,
Lies on the platform
Shaking, dying
A river of people flows around him unresponding
Today I sat under the Bodhi Tree
Pilgrims chanting, birds singing
Monks and nuns prostrating, praying
Incense and bells
Purple and white orchids everywhere
Just brought by hand from Thailand
Where, I wonder, would the Buddha suggest I sit
to become enlightened ?
The next day, after Bodh Gaya, we returned again to Varanasi. The Ganges has receded again, several more feet and now I can walk along almost all the ghats. There are men catching small 6 inch fish, a dead cow floating down the river Once more I went to one of the burning ghats. A priest there took me through the ghat explaining how they worked. There were several cremations going on. He explained his family takes care of that ghat and has for hundreds of years. The sacred fire has a lineage of 4500 years, the fire from which the cremation pyres are lit.
He said that the wealthy people are cremated with sandalwood. It will burn when wet, and there is no scent of burning bodies with this wood. It takes 360 kgs of sandalwood for a cremation, at 3000 rupees a kg, about 25000US$. The wealthy are buried with gold jewelry on. The ashes are later gone through and the melted jewelry taken to buy other types of wood for the poor to be cremated with. The government has built a crematorium for the poor but he explained that no one will use it and so it sits, a great monument to bureaucratic folly.
I walked farther down the ghats and a man grabbed my hand and started to massage it, saying "head, neck and shoulders, only 20 rupees". Why not, I thought. Twenty minutes later, face down on a mat on a platform on the ghat in the midst of hundreds of people, me moaning in appreciation he said " full body massage OK, you decide how much". Another 40 minutes later, fully massaged, pounded, and in need of a little reorientation as to place and time, I wandered, wondered on.
I watched 4 women and 2 men washing clothes in the river, joking and laughing. I wondered about their lives and sat enjoying watching them enjoying.
The next day we drove south and west to Khajuraho. We were told the drive would be about 6 or 7 hours. 11 hours later with almost no stops we arrived. Along the way the country changed greatly, looking dryer, a few more hills, looking at times like I imagined Africa might look. By the time we reached Khajuraho we were in jungle country. Jungle but not thick jungle.
The Chandal Kings had built Khajuraho over a few centuries. There were 85 temples, 22 of which are surviving. The temples are covered with statues, 2 or 3 feet high, 3 tiers of statues around each of the temples. The temples are famous for the statues, statues of Gods and Goddesses, statues of men and women, erotic sculptures, hunting scenes, women dancing, writing on slates, looking in the mirror. The statues are beautiful, sensuous, scenes celebrating life and all the things that life is made up of. The temples were lost in the jungle for hundreds of years and then found by a British officer in 1834.
The next day Terence, Carol and I went into the old village nearby. People who live here are amongst the poorest castes. They were preparing for the festival of Diwali, celebrating the return of Ram and Sita after 14 years in the forest. To prepare for the celebration they were cleaning their homes, applying a new coat of cowshit to walls and floors. This makes the floor clean and hard and also acts as a mosquito deterrent. The homes were clean, thick adobe walls that would be needed in the 125 F summer. We were taken to the local school, 150 kids, 2 shifts of 75 each so everyone can fit in the 4 small classrooms. The kids were thrilled to count for us and recite the alphabet.
After 3 nights in Khajuraho we drove to Agra. Again we were told the drive was about 6 or 7 hours and again it took about 11 hours. The next morning early we got up and went to the Taj Mahal. Because of environmental damage to the marble, cars are not allowed near the Taj Mahal. So we were able to approach by walking towards it in the early morning light. I sat for a few hours just looking at it and the beauty of it seemed to expand while I watched.
That night we took a taxi to a restaurant that advertised great views of the Taj Mahal. The guidebook described the food as uninspiring but we thought it would be worth it for the view. We took the car as far as we could and then walked through the foggy, dark narrow streets until we found the restaurant. The Taj Mahal was right in front of us. Only trouble was, it is never lit by artificial light and so at night you can't see it. We had a great laugh as we sat for our romantic dinner, by night with the Taj Mahal. Oh yes, the food, uninspiring is a gross overstatement. We couldn't eat it, left and went to Pizza Hut.
We were due to head next back to Delhi to pick up some things we left there plus visit an old friend. The night before there had been 3 major terrorist explosions in Delhi and so we headed instead for Jaipur, our first stop in Rajasthan. On the way our driver made an error entering a one-way the wrong way. He ended up in an altercation with a man dressed in ordinary clothes who was a policeman. He was belligerent beyond belief, assaulted our driver by hitting him on the side of the head and in the ribs. The driver paid a fine and we were all greatly relieved to get out of there and be on our way again. We arrived in Jaipur after dark and went to our hotel, the Blue Bird. A disco blaring above us, a seedy bar below us, we left and headed out into the dark. We found a small hotel, a haveli, the owners drove out to meet us and bring us back. It was great because this was the middle of Diwali, many people, fireworks, lights everywhere, like Christmas eve.
Well, having lost this whole email 2 hours ago ( a lesson in creating a word copy) and having re-written it, I am now smugly off to have a cold coke and watch the sunset over the lake.
Love Jim
Mughal Surai and the Bodhi Tree
Yesterday I sat on the train platform at Mughal Surai
Fruit rotting, flies swarming,
People living under cardboard and plastic
Young men standing three feet away staring unblinkingly
Straight at me,
Crippled old people,
Beggar children touching my arms and kissing my feet
A woman with pus streaming from one eye points to her eye
And grabs me
An erratic behaving, unpredictable, cut-covered young man sits
down and grabs my shoe
An emaciated old man, wild-eyed, wide open-eyed,
Lies on the platform
Shaking, dying
A river of people flows around him unresponding
Today I sat under the Bodhi Tree
Pilgrims chanting, birds singing
Monks and nuns prostrating, praying
Incense and bells
Purple and white orchids everywhere
Just brought by hand from Thailand
Where, I wonder, would the Buddha suggest I sit
to become enlightened ?
The next day, after Bodh Gaya, we returned again to Varanasi. The Ganges has receded again, several more feet and now I can walk along almost all the ghats. There are men catching small 6 inch fish, a dead cow floating down the river Once more I went to one of the burning ghats. A priest there took me through the ghat explaining how they worked. There were several cremations going on. He explained his family takes care of that ghat and has for hundreds of years. The sacred fire has a lineage of 4500 years, the fire from which the cremation pyres are lit.
He said that the wealthy people are cremated with sandalwood. It will burn when wet, and there is no scent of burning bodies with this wood. It takes 360 kgs of sandalwood for a cremation, at 3000 rupees a kg, about 25000US$. The wealthy are buried with gold jewelry on. The ashes are later gone through and the melted jewelry taken to buy other types of wood for the poor to be cremated with. The government has built a crematorium for the poor but he explained that no one will use it and so it sits, a great monument to bureaucratic folly.
I walked farther down the ghats and a man grabbed my hand and started to massage it, saying "head, neck and shoulders, only 20 rupees". Why not, I thought. Twenty minutes later, face down on a mat on a platform on the ghat in the midst of hundreds of people, me moaning in appreciation he said " full body massage OK, you decide how much". Another 40 minutes later, fully massaged, pounded, and in need of a little reorientation as to place and time, I wandered, wondered on.
I watched 4 women and 2 men washing clothes in the river, joking and laughing. I wondered about their lives and sat enjoying watching them enjoying.
The next day we drove south and west to Khajuraho. We were told the drive would be about 6 or 7 hours. 11 hours later with almost no stops we arrived. Along the way the country changed greatly, looking dryer, a few more hills, looking at times like I imagined Africa might look. By the time we reached Khajuraho we were in jungle country. Jungle but not thick jungle.
The Chandal Kings had built Khajuraho over a few centuries. There were 85 temples, 22 of which are surviving. The temples are covered with statues, 2 or 3 feet high, 3 tiers of statues around each of the temples. The temples are famous for the statues, statues of Gods and Goddesses, statues of men and women, erotic sculptures, hunting scenes, women dancing, writing on slates, looking in the mirror. The statues are beautiful, sensuous, scenes celebrating life and all the things that life is made up of. The temples were lost in the jungle for hundreds of years and then found by a British officer in 1834.
The next day Terence, Carol and I went into the old village nearby. People who live here are amongst the poorest castes. They were preparing for the festival of Diwali, celebrating the return of Ram and Sita after 14 years in the forest. To prepare for the celebration they were cleaning their homes, applying a new coat of cowshit to walls and floors. This makes the floor clean and hard and also acts as a mosquito deterrent. The homes were clean, thick adobe walls that would be needed in the 125 F summer. We were taken to the local school, 150 kids, 2 shifts of 75 each so everyone can fit in the 4 small classrooms. The kids were thrilled to count for us and recite the alphabet.
After 3 nights in Khajuraho we drove to Agra. Again we were told the drive was about 6 or 7 hours and again it took about 11 hours. The next morning early we got up and went to the Taj Mahal. Because of environmental damage to the marble, cars are not allowed near the Taj Mahal. So we were able to approach by walking towards it in the early morning light. I sat for a few hours just looking at it and the beauty of it seemed to expand while I watched.
That night we took a taxi to a restaurant that advertised great views of the Taj Mahal. The guidebook described the food as uninspiring but we thought it would be worth it for the view. We took the car as far as we could and then walked through the foggy, dark narrow streets until we found the restaurant. The Taj Mahal was right in front of us. Only trouble was, it is never lit by artificial light and so at night you can't see it. We had a great laugh as we sat for our romantic dinner, by night with the Taj Mahal. Oh yes, the food, uninspiring is a gross overstatement. We couldn't eat it, left and went to Pizza Hut.
We were due to head next back to Delhi to pick up some things we left there plus visit an old friend. The night before there had been 3 major terrorist explosions in Delhi and so we headed instead for Jaipur, our first stop in Rajasthan. On the way our driver made an error entering a one-way the wrong way. He ended up in an altercation with a man dressed in ordinary clothes who was a policeman. He was belligerent beyond belief, assaulted our driver by hitting him on the side of the head and in the ribs. The driver paid a fine and we were all greatly relieved to get out of there and be on our way again. We arrived in Jaipur after dark and went to our hotel, the Blue Bird. A disco blaring above us, a seedy bar below us, we left and headed out into the dark. We found a small hotel, a haveli, the owners drove out to meet us and bring us back. It was great because this was the middle of Diwali, many people, fireworks, lights everywhere, like Christmas eve.
Well, having lost this whole email 2 hours ago ( a lesson in creating a word copy) and having re-written it, I am now smugly off to have a cold coke and watch the sunset over the lake.
Love Jim
posted by HeartoftheWorld | 12:01 AM
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