Passage to More Than India!

12/12/09 at Siem Reap, Cambodia POST for 12/4/09 at Delhi: Passage to More Than India!

We spent our last full day in India back at the Yatri Guesthouse. The owner, Sanjay Puri, clearly “made” our India trip. We had only planned 3 of the 14 days when we arrived in India (the tough days at Varanasi), and he listened to our wish list and got us a driver and car that took us safely to places worth seeing. In particular, the driver, Sunderpal Yaddo, is a wonderful person. A devout Hindu, he would visibly, but silently, pray as we passed any Hindu temple. He has the firm demeanor of his past military service in Kashmir with the Indian Army. He seemed to understand our discomfort with the public health danger represented by conditions in India. I assume that this was why, in part, he took us to the beautiful temple in Jaipur and sat with us—so we could see that Hinduism was something positive in his experience. Our experience with other drivers had been far less positive. Friday night we took his picture, failed in an attempt to have someone take all 4 of us with him and paid him. In addition to payment and tips—we added to his because he never made a pitch for a tip-- I gave him a Michigan quarter as a souvenir. I think I hope (probably foolishly) that he’ll see a big globe some day and recognize from the outline on the quarter, at the northern edge of “U.S.A.,” the precious Great Lakes that are my home on Earth and my calling to protect.

The last sentence sounds grandiose beyond belief! But, in fact, travel has tended to make me think to myself about who I am and what is most important to me. This is because I’m seeing people who have wildly differing ideas of what and who they are as human beings. It’s natural to respond to those different ideas with self-analysis and questioning.

Good travel requires boldness that borders on grandiosity. The traveler is nothing to the visited except possibly tourist money. Yet the traveler explores and questions and dares to make sense of what she sees in the best way she can, risking big mistakes and the scorn of observers. One of my favorite poets is the 19th century American Walt Whitman. He was full of big ideas expressed with great intensity. Back in September, on my way to look up something in Whitman’s “Song of Myself,” I found his “Passage to India.” This is not to be confused with the great 20th century novel of the same name. The poem was written to commemorate and celebrate two “world-shrinking” events in 1869: the completion of the Suez Canal, giving a much shorter route to India (and Indochina) from western Europe, and the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad uniting the Atlantic coast and the Pacific coast of the U.S. I copied the concluding parts of the poem because I knew we were heading for India:

Passage to more than India!...
Passage, immediate passage! The blood burns in my veins! Away O soul! Hoist instantly the anchor!...
Have we not stood here like trees in the ground long enough?...
Sail forth—steer for the deep waters only,
Reckless O soul, exploring, I with thee and thou with me,
For we are bound where mariner has not yet dared to go,
And we will risk the ship, ourselves and all.
O my brave soul! O farther farther sail! O daring joy, but safe!
Are they not all the seas of God? O farther, farther, farther sail!


We decided to treat ourselves to a good meal at the Bukhara restaurant, on the Yatri owner’s recommendation. (He also assured us that Bill Clinton had visited it and liked it.) Driving there, we passed again a sculpture we had seen on previous drives through Delhi. It was perched on a traffic island, and it celebrates Gandhi’s Salt March. (People may remember the superb dramatization of this anti-British political protest by Ben Kingsley in the movie, “Gandhi,” 15 or 20 years ago.) I decided to try to get a picture from the car, and succeeded in getting it all but Gandhi. A motorcyclist’s helmet blocked him.

The restaurant is in a 5 star hotel, the “Maurya Sheraton,” named in honor of the early Mauryan Empire. Hardcore readers of this blog will remember that the Mauryan Empire was ruled by Emperor Asoka, who visited Sarnath near Varanasi and built a stupa and the capital topped by the four lions that are the national symbol of India. The lobby of the hotel contains a striking sculpture of Asoka. I snapped a picture. Additionally, the ceiling of the lobby contained beautiful murals of Indian history, arranged in levels around a dome. They were frustratingly unattributed. I did not take pictures because it would have called attention to me. I have learned how nervous the Indians are about photography near anything except traditional tourist places. The terrorist attacks on Mumbai were focused on 5-star tourist hotels on “26/11.” So there was a mirror slid under our taxi as we drove up, and we had to walk through a metal detector to enter the hotel. Asoka was enough for me. I realize now that I had reasoned as the Sheraton owners must have: to better avoid being caught in the crossfire between Muslim and Hindu, best to go with Buddha!

Paul

Agra

12/12/09 at Siem Reap, Cambodia

POST for 12/1 through 12/3, Agra

The visit to the Taj Mahal (and nearby Agra Fort) pictures are posted here. Things started badly (Tuesday night the first) when we were shown rooms too musty/moldy smelling to sleep in. (This was a “3-star” hotel!) They found us better rooms, but as in other places in India, the electricity service was spotty. Denise was particularly affected by the air pollution. She has a tendency to have asthma flare-ups when breathing much pollution, and she started a cough she hasn’t completely shaken yet. Agra brags about being a “green” city where industry has been moved away to protect the marble of the Taj Mahal. However, the haze you see in the picture of us two “lovebirds” posed in front of the Taj is NOT just humidity! Agra has to be downwind of something. The guide denied any pollution damage to the Taj, asserting that the Indian marble used in its construction is the hardest in the world. That’s probably true, especially compared to Michelangelo’s marble in Italy, but my memory has it that acid rain trumps all marble.

All grouching aside, the Taj Mahal is a stunning work of art. It really does have to be seen to be believed. I jokingly labeled a previous post about Indian monuments “He Who Leaves the Coolest Monument Wins.” It’s fair to argue that Emperor Jahan really did win. This has to be one of a handful of contenders for the best art and architecture created by our species. Even the people thronging around it could not break the spell cast by its beauty.

After we saw the Taj, we went to a workshop where the artisans continue to inlay valuable jewels in marble from the same area as the Taj marble originated. Note the flowered inlays created by cutting the marble and inserting precious stones of different colors. This is called “pietra dura” and is believed to have been done first in Florence. Another inlay picture is of black marble inlaid to “write” verses of the Koran.

Emperor Jahan ended a victim of the cutthroat politics of empire. His son Aurangzeb deposed him and locked him in the Agra Fort, across the river from the Taj Mahal. We were shown a room said to be Jahan’s, where it is claimed he installed mirrors to reflect the Taj because his failing eyesight did not allow him to see it looking over the river. The haze I’ve complained about prevented my getting a picture from that room, though I could see an outline of the dome. (At some point, inspired by this or a similar incident, I had a hilarious time trying to explain to our driver the different shades of meaning in the English words “haze” “smoke” “fog” “pollution.” I with no Hindi and he with very basic English made real the concept of Babel!)

Paul

THE CASE OF THE YAWNING TIGER and THE FIGHTING ANTELOPES

12/12/09 POST for 11/29 through 12/1/09 Written at Siem Reap, Cambodia

Upon returning to Delhi by air from Varanasi (via the excellent regional airline “Kingfisher”—we would commit serious offenses to have an airline even ¾ that good serving U.S.!) we were met by the driver hired for us by our Delhi guesthouse. He guided us around thugs at the airport who tried to “help” with our luggage, and drove us through the long, horrible traffic to Jaipur. I’ve done a couple posts on Jaipur, so that gets us to Sunday morning, 11/29.

We spent much of the 29th driving south to Ranthambhore National Park, to stay two nights at a government guest house. The pics for this post are mostly self explanatory, being sights on the road, in the Park, on the road to the Keoladeo National Park, and birdwatching in that Park. Keoladeo is only an hour or so outside of Agra, scene of the Taj Mahal. These 3 days were a respite from the constant crush of people and hawkers.

The guidebooks insinuate that corruption has tainted the management of the National Parks, but we saw no direct evidence of that. The animals were certainly used to humans driving by (in Ranthambhore) in open buses called canters, holding about 20 people. No one tempted fate by wandering from the canters to see what the animals would do.

Case in point: We took two, 3 hour canter rides in Ranthambhore, on different routes, in hopes of seeing a tiger. This is one of two national parks where one has a chance to view the world’s dwindling population of tigers. Shortly after 5 p.m., on the second ride, with the Park closing at 5:30 (dark), the canter stopped because a tiger had been spotted in the bush. Everyone rushed to the side indicated by the guide. After several obstructed glimpses, I saw the tiger walking rapidly toward us through the bush. About 30 yards away, it paused, yawned in the same unconcerned way that our Maine Coon cats do, and turned to walk parallel to our track. Childhood stories of how tigers turn into melted butter came to mind as the tiger seemed to flow through the dusk; a magnificent force of nature! In the excitement, I failed to switch my ISO from 80 to something of shorter length, so I got a blurred photo. I’m posting it anyway.

Additional photo mea culpas: Many of the bird photos—both in Keoladeo and later at Tonle Sap in Cambodia—are grainy because of the extreme magnification used to be able to get a picture at all. The “white” ibis from Keoladeo is a example. (The Cambodians, more reasonably, call this bird the “black-headed” ibis. We saw several at Tonle Sap, though I couldn’t get pictures.) And the best sight, in my opinion, at Keoladeo was through binoculars, of the sarus cranes. According to our Birds of India book, these native-to-India birds mate for life and are not hunted due to their status as role models for fidelity. They are human-size (150cm) and awesome!
Also at Keoladeo, we saw two antelopes fighting, and I did my best to capture it.

Paul

Post for Varanasi, 11/25

Post for Varanasi, 11/25

First picture is straight out of the movies—sunrise over the Ganges! Cue music—say sitar and tabla—and you’re on your way to an epic film. It IS beautiful, and none of our difficulties can change that.
One set of difficulties involved the way-too-many guides who hung out at the guest-house each of whom thought he should take us the two boat rides (morning and evening) that many tourists take to see the ghats. Ghats are sections of river frontage associated with a specific temple or structure. There are over 90 of them strung along 4 miles of the left bank of the Ganges, and picture #2 is one of them, taken from our morning rowboat ride. That’s Dave’s head in the bottom right of the picture.
Two of the ghats are for cremation of human bodies, and we found it disturbing to sit a few yards offshore, stationed by our guide for the best view, and watch the performance of the rites and then the ignition of the body. (The ceremonies are costly, and the family of the deceased pays extra for sandalwood as fuel.) Even though no one enforced the widely quoted rule against photography there, we didn’t take any pictures. We finally got the guide to move on.
Picture #3 is of a Nepali Temple above the ghats, featuring wood carvings of great beauty. This temple was shown us by our guide on a walk through the narrow alleys behind the ghats. There are many shops in these alleys selling everything. Our guide, as do most, gets a commission for bringing tourists to the shop. Reade had made the mistake of mentioning earlier that she’d like to buy some tea, though she had opted out of this particular walk with the guide. One minute we were tromping along doing our best to avoid dung heaps and items for sale; the next minute we were asked to step through a door, turn right and duck into another small room. There was a happy tea seller (picture #4). We sat and chatted and had some of his tea, and then Denise bought some, and was a happy tea buyer (picture #5). Note: this was all legal Darjeeling tea, for sipping!
As we walked along, I noticed a cow tied to an alley wall. I had understood that cows were free to roam under the tenets of Hinduism, so I took a picture. Reade and I quizzed several guides over the two weeks we were in India as to the treatment and management of cattle and other animals. We never did get a clear answer from any of them. When I took picture #6 I hadn’t noticed the ads on the walls of the alley. They sum up my experience of India exactly, which is why I call this picture “Internet Cow.”
Picture #7 is from our second boatride, to see the nightly ceremonies.

Paul

Post for Varanasi, 11/23/09 to 11/24/09

Post for Varanasi, 11/23/09 to 11/24/09

Denise has already written how difficult this part of India was for us. The first picture is another “red rubber ball” sunset, taken from the rooftop restaurant at our guesthouse, the Rashmi. The restaurant is called the “Dolphin”—named for a freshwater, blind dolphin species that supposedly inhabits the Ganges. We’d go to the roof to relax on each of the four days we were there. I quite lost my appetite for adventure and for seeing new things because I was simply meat on the street whenever I stepped to the lobby of the guesthouse. I suppose I should say that I was “rupees on the street,” since Hindus are supposed to be vegetarian. Anyone who saw me would ask if I would like to buy what they were selling, following for as long as I made eye contact, urging the fine quality of what they were selling and repeatedly naming lower prices as they followed.
On Tuesday the 24th we hired a driver to take us to Sarnath, about 10 kilometers north of Varanasi. This is one of almost a dozen sites in northeastern India known as the “Buddha Trail” because they are associated with the Buddha’s life and death. Sarnath is where Buddhist tradition says that Buddha first met with his disciples, and at a different site a few hundred yards away, first preached to them. There are Buddhist monuments, called “stupas” to mark each of the events.
Picture 2: Stupa marking the meeting place of Buddha and his disciples after his enlightenment. It is topped by an addition marking the visit of the Mughal Emperor Humayon to the site in the 1500s.
Asoka, the Mauryan Emperor who converted to Buddhism after an especially bloody victory in 260 B.C. also visited Sarnath, and built a stupa to preserve Buddha’s relics. He raised a huge pillar to commemorate the event, topped with a “capital” of 4 lions facing the four points of the compass. It was made of polished sandstone and was excavated in good condition by archeologists about a century ago. We saw the “capital” in the fine, quiet archeological museum in Sarnath. Photography is forbidden in the museum, so one has to see the capital on India’s currency—it’s India’s national emblem.
Picture 3 shows that quiet dignity can’t prevail everywhere, even on the “Buddha Trail!”
Picture 4 is the stupa at the place Buddha began teaching his disciples.
Picture 5, next door to the stupa in picture 4, shows a Jain Temple. Jains are a religion founded 2500 years ago a about the same time as Buddhism. Jains are pacifists and vegetarians, and even try to avoid killing small “bugs.”
Picture 6 is a piece of the drive back to Varanasi. The intense, lawless traffic meant the !0 kilometer ride took about 45 minutes each way. We did not feel safe with this man, and whenever we protested, he would point at the medallion hanging from the rear view mirror in the picture, say “Oh my God!” and start laughing. (The medallion represented his God—I’ve forgotten which one of the Hindu pantheon it was.) As we got closer to Varanasi, his wild accelerations around other traffic became less availing, and we were caught in several gridlocks lasting for 5 or 10 minutes. We had hired him for a half day, and as 1 p.m. approached (doubtless the start of another commitment), he began—as early as 4 km from the center of Varanasi—to tell us that traffic was really too thick and that we should get out and walk the rest of the way, as it wasn’t too far. Each time we resisted, even when he cell-phoned a buddy to appear at the car window to tell us that the road ahead was closed! We forged ahead, and while the road was in the process of closing at one place for some kind of market, the policeman thankfully on hand (they’re extremely rare in India!) was willing to let us through.
Picture 7 is back on the rooftop after our adventure. I remember Denise as relieved, Reade irritated, and David resting—having just been diagnosed with the hernia that he is to have treated in Ho Chi Minh City!

Paul

Visit to Gandhi’s House

Another Post for Delhi, 11/22: Visit to Gandhi’s House

We visited the house where Gandhi spent the last 5 months of his life, August 1947 to January 1948. It contains much memorabilia, and preserves the place of his assassination in the garden. The path back from the garden consists of a covered walkway lined with large posters narrating India’s struggle for independence. I wish we’d had more time to read, but it was dusk and the mosquitoes were out in force. What I read was disappointing, because the posters gave little attention to Gandhi’s pacifist principles except as a strategy that happened to have worked. Every effort was made to credit everyone who resisted the British, including those who used armed struggle.

1. Sculpture of Gandhi with children

2. Footsteps to the assassination site

3. Site of the murder

4. Eulogy for Gandhi by Rabindranath Tagore

Paul

He Who Leaves the Coolest Monument Wins

Post for 11/22/09—Delhi: He Who Leaves the Coolest Monument Wins

1. Islamic invasions of northern India resulted in the establishment of a series of dynasties whose rulers took the title of Sultan and who fortified six different sites in the greater Delhi area as their capitals. (The Red Fort established by the Mughals is the 7th, while the British establishment of governmental buildings in New Delhi could be considered the 8th.) The first sultanate was established by Qutbuddin Aibak, who erected this tower in 1193, called the Qutb Minar. It contains much Hindu artwork, but also the “new” Islamic domes and arches. Over the next century later sultans added to the complex, with buildings such as tombs, mosques and schools. (Note that meanwhile, in Paris, the Notre Dame Cathedral was under construction—since 1160 or 1163, depending on which sign you read.)

2. In the middle of the Qutb Minar grounds is this iron pole from the 4th Century bearing Hindi inscriptions honoring Vishnu. One of our guidebooks calls the pole a “tribute to ancient metallurgy,” which I take to mean that the Muslims couldn’t destroy this pole!

Muslims and Hindus have been destroying each other’s worship sites in India for centuries. While we were in India, a government factfinding commission released a report on the destruction of a mosque near Varanasi by a mob of Hindu militants in 1992. The site is one holy to Hindus, and the Mughals had demolished a Hindu temple there centuries ago. The site is empty, but Hindu militants demand that a new temple be built. The report ignited a round of fingerpointing and political maneuvering, although most people paid lip service to the idea that communal violence should be prevented. As our traveling companion Reade pointed out, conversations (heard by us, anyway) about religion in India sound like conversations about race in America. One guide told us India is only 30% Muslim. I tried to fact check this on a government website and was told that I would have to become a subscriber to the website to get that kind of information. Our guides were Hindu, and assured us that both religions get along fine. They undercut the credibility of that assertion by repeating generalizations and myths about Muslims—for example, that Muslims in a row of sewing sweatshops in Jaipur were very well off, with homes in addition to the sickening storefronts we could see as we drove by. The guides also reported genuine fear over terrorism by Islamic militants, fueled, they believe, by the Pakistani government. The first anniversary of the Mumbai hotel terrorist attacks (India calls it “26/11” to tie it in with our “9/11”) occurred on 11/26 while we were in Varanasi. Hindu temples were under Army guard. Muslim leaders were quoted as being very conciliatory. They struck me as a minority keeping their heads low, and bracing for trouble.

3. Here is a tomb of another Delhi Sultan or someone close to him. I think it’s in the Qutb Minar complex, but I’ll have to check the other pictures I took to be sure. My point in choosing this picture is to note the idea that powerful men could be buried in the ground with a large slab of marble or other desirable stone (called a cenotaph) above them, all enclosed by beautiful architecture. This one is not as well preserved as later ones, but it’s quite good for 7 or 8 centuries.

4. And 5. Elaborate decorations on memorial buildings. You will see me frequently snapping photos of the “window” designs. These are called “jali” and are carved from one piece of stone—often marble. The workmanship is unbelievable. They create a quiet, shady space inside when the outside of the building is sitting in blistering heat.

6, 7. 8.Humayon was the second Mughal emperor. His tomb, a plaque explaining it, and a picture of his cenotaph close this post. In case you don’t like to read historical markers, I’ll give you a hint: the Mughals in 1570 were developing the skills that built the Taj Mahal in the 1630s.

Paul