Home Stretch

This was to be short and sweet. And were it not for the auto trip from Jaipur to Agra, which begs comment, it might have been.

Mehar, the driver who I first met in Delhi several weeks ago, picked me up at the Jaipur hotel in a small four door auto to drive me from Jaipur to Agra, a distance of about 200 Km or 120 miles. We left the hotel at 9 a.m.
Everybody told me the trip would be harrowing. Everybody was right.

The national highway connecting the two cities is a two lane mostly paved affair with unpaved shoulders. There are no driving rules to be observed; simply do what makes sense. I'm in the back seat. There are no safety straps in the back seat. Mehar is buckled up. He invites me to join him in the front in order to use the safety strap. I mull it over for a moment then opt to remain in back.

The road is clogged with camel-drawn vehicles and motor driven trucks. Many camels, many tractors and many trucks. The roadside which now flies past my rear window is home to a large fraction of of Northern India's cattle population ; not just cows, their long-horned mates too. Passing slower vehicles is a given and without regard to oncoming traffic who, apparently, abide by the same rules. During the first two hours, Mehar performed many death defying maneuvers without a hitch. He has been driving this road for 16 years and has never had an accident. After two hours I believe him. On numerous occasions when we pass on the right(remember they drive on the left here) or when being approached by a oncoming car passing on his right, our car misses the other by inches; and I mean often. I have never witnessed such driving skill and continue to marvel at the capability, patience, courage and courtesy of Indian drivers in general and Mehar, in particular.

Having calmed down enough after two hours, I open a book and begin to read. Within ten minutes Mehar pulls off of the road onto the right shoulder. When I raise my eyes, I see an auto in the left hand lane completely smashed from front bumper to the windshield. I also see a group of ten people who appear to be arguing when Mehar jumps out of the auto and joins the fracass. Fists are flying, people are shouting and suddenly, a man in a tractor who seems to be the butt of the argument, dumps his load of dirt , guns his engine and drives off down the highway knocking over one of the men. It takes a little while to understand what had happened but I soon learn that the escapee, without signaling, had turned into the right lane of traffic into an oncoming car (whose front was now missing). Fortunately, the injuries to the occupants , a Portuguese tourist couple and their driver, were limited to cuts. The driver, who had taken several punches from the tractor driver, now had a post impact broken nose. The tractor driver appears now as a cloud of dust in a dry flat distant field. And, it turns out, that the driver is one of Mehar's close friends.

Many cell phone calls and 30 minutes later a police officer appeared on the scene. Confusion reigned. It seems that the police officer was from the local district and Mehar was unwilling to leave the scene because, as he put it, if we leave my friend will be left alone with a police officer who could be in cahoots with the escapee. An hour later a replacement vehicle showed up, a truck was flagged down to tow the damaged car, the police officer had already left, an we continued on our way. I asked Mehar to tell me how much longer to Agra and he replied about four more hours. What????? Yes, he said, the road gets worse. And it did.

Although the two lanes of highway remained, the left lane suddenly lost it's pavement and the right lane became pock marked and bumpy. Those familiar with Ashland Avenue between Chicago Avenue and Armitage will get the picture. En route we picked up our next guide, T.N., who drove with us to Agra. It took every bit of four hours before arriving at the Sheraton in Agra.

Agra, a city of 1.3 million, a small city by Indian standards, is about 80 miles Southwest of Delhi. Agra was once the capital of the Mughal (my apologies for past mis-spellings)empire but abandoned as such because of water problems. It's most famous (only) asset is the Taj Mahal, built over a period of 23 (I've also heard 17)years by Shah Janan, the third Moghal king, to house the body of his deceased third wife, known as the Mumtaz. The Mumtaz who was on her deathbed having unsuccessfully attempted to deliver their 14th child, asked Shah Janan to build a monument to their love. He promised and he also delivered. An interesting post note is that after completing the Taj, he started to build a companion mausoleum for himself. His son, the heir to the thrown, said enough is enough, imprisoned his father and killed two of his brothers. When dad died several years later, He was entombed next to the Mumtaz. Because she was in the center of the room, he was laid to rest next to her destroying the perfect symmetry of the structure, just to save a few bucks.

Everything I have described regarding the Taj, I learned from N.T. who adores the structure, must have a doctorate in Tajmacology and who insisted, despite my protestations, that he take me through the place. It was evident that he is a self appointed proctor who is quick to dress down any person on the premises who breaches well published rules against video cameras, photos or failing to remove shoes.

I must be the only tourist that has ever visited Agra who had no interest in seeing the Taj. Silently and secretly kicking and screaming, I nevertheless spent an hour there listened attentively to his lectures, and then convinced him to take me for a ride on his motorcycle through the city. Now that was exciting and fun, including the flat tire we got in some back ally, quickly fixed by a ten year old for 40 rupees (less than a dollar) and the transvestite parade (of at least five hundred of what he calls eunuchs on their way to prayer) we became mired in for 40 minutes. Riding on the back of a motor scooter at 25-30 mph along with hundreds of other vehicles competing for space has elements of excitement.

Well, I guess that's it. Tomorrow we drive to Delhi where I will board an American Airline flight for Chicago. To those who have read this blog, I express my hope that I have imparted to you a view and sense of this wonderful and unique country, the world's biggest democracy and greatest remaining feudal society. To those of you who offered comments, I thank you for the good humor and connection you afforded me to home. To all of the kind, sensitive wonderful Indians I have met along the way, I will cherish the sweet memories you provide me.

India has for thousands of years been invaded countless times by armies, traders and tourists, without disappointment. If you are at all considering coming to experience this place, three words---just do it!!!


Goodby and Good Luck.

Stood up by an Elephant

First the good news. I can justly claim the tennis championship of Rajasthan, having beat the tennis pro at the Rambagh Palace (where I am staying) with a borrowed tennis racquet. For all of you who know I can't beat a tennis pro, I'll admit that he wasn't of the caliber that we'd normally think of as a pro, but a win's a win.

Yes, it's true--this morning I was scheduled to take an elephant ride up to the fort in Amber, a village about 10 Km from Jaipur. When we arrive, all of the elephants were on the road from Amber to Jaipur to participate in a festival scheduled for this afternoon. Prince Charles and Camille are in town; perhaps he has more clout.

Braj Raj Singh Siras was my guide for the morning. I again went through my song and dance regarding my disinterest in buildings and monuments. I think he took me seriously. When we arrived in Amber (nothing to do with the color of the city)I was treated to a one hour dissertation by Braj covering the entire history of India from Pre-mogul time to the present, while standing on a street corner shooing flies away. It was very illuminating and I learned a great deal, but I did wish, from time to time, that I had a tail.

Raj and I walked around the city for a while. He knew a lot of people and we stopped often to talk with them. An astrologer friend of his looked at my palm, asked for the date of my birth and didn't say much thereafter. Hmmm. Raj related to me that he was of a noble family and was a Chatteria (sp?), the warrior class. His family still has several homes and farms. He lives with his grandparents, parents and children totaling 22 with a servant staff of 6. He is a guide.

We stopped at a temple being dedicated to the Goddess Kali and met the man who had recently built the temple. His daughter was killed many years ago when the roof of a school house she in collapsed. Her spirit has returned every so often by occupying friend or relatives and the man needs to complete the temple so that she can achieve Moksha. After nine days of consecration, a statue of Kali will be placed in the temple and it will become an open place of worship.

For those of you who were wondering about the Pushkar camel festival this year, and you know who you are, it will start on October 28 and end on November 5, 2006. The high point will be around November 1. Pushkar is a 2-3 hour drive from Jaipur and you can either stay in a tent (a well appointed tent) at the fair ground or, the best hotel within reach is in Ajmer, 4 Km away, called Mansingh Palace, a three star hotel.Dharmendra Sing Shekhawat (0091-9829052814) of Rajasthan Tours Pvt Ltd (rajtours@sancharnet.in) can set up everything. Braj Raj, my guide (brajrajguide@hotmail.com) will also be available for you.

I have noticed that the rear of most trucks contain a sign that says: "blow horn". No wonder. Braj Raj commented that to drive in India you need three things: a good horn, good brakes and good luck. We'll test mine tomorrow when we drive to Agra.

Thinking more and more about home and a steak.


P.S. When we parted, Braj Raj invited me to a "state birthday party". I didn't know what he meant but I wasn't about to refuse. He picked me up @ 4 p.m. and we drove to a large reviewing stand not far from the hotel.. He explained that this was Rajasthan's Foundation Day, the anniversary of the founding of the State of Rajasthan in 1949, two years after the partition. Before 1949, the territory now forming the Sate of Rajsthan was called Rajputana and consisted of six princely states, each ruled by a Maharaja. Although the state was formed in 1949, it was not until1952 that the six rulers ceded their authority to the Indian covenant and the State became an integral part of India. Interesting we sat next to Prince Charles and Camilla---well.....not really "Next to", but not more than 50 people away. Huge parade with elephants, camels, horses, dancing girls etc. Well worth seeing. Thanks, Braj!

Udaipur to Jaipur

As it turned out, my empty day in Udaipur turned out O.K. Hired a rickshaw (they call them "tok toks" in Udaipur)to take me into town. Hakeem, the driver, suggested that he show me the "real India" which, of course, I was all for. Hakeem was a graduate economist who now drives a tok-tok. I told him that I knew several graduate rickshaw drivers who are now economists.

Hakeem took me through the guts of the city, principally through vast open air markets offering every conceivable fresh fruit, vegetable and anything else one might need. The market seems to draw a lot of cows and dogs. There is not a cat to be seen in India. To Hindus, the cat is a symbol of evil.

At Hakeems suggestion, had dinner at Ambray, an out door restaurant on the lake opposite the hotel. The weather, view and my appetite produced a sensational, semi-lonely eating experience. The bill, with tip, came to $8.00.

Early morning Jet Airways 1 hour flight to Jaipur get me to the Taj Rambaugh Palace at 9 a.m. The pilot took three minutes to apologize to the passengers for leaving five minutes late. The Rambaugh Palace was built by the Maharaja of Jaipur 250 years ago as a hunting lodge. I t has several hundred rooms situated on several hundred acres of land and could easily accommodate the Maharaja, his hunting companions and the hunted. Last, but not least, it has a tennis court and a tennis pro who, I'm told, has an extra tennis racquet.

Tomorrow morning I'm scheduled to take an elephant ride, my consent given only after being assured of the identity of the rider and the ridee

Udaipur

Arrived Udaipur early yesterday following a 2 hour flight out of Mumbai, again on Jet Airways and again on time, without hitch. Just read an article in Times of India--Jet Airways and Sahara Air are merging and Sahara has an alliance with American Airlines. Could be seeing Jet in the U.S. in the future.
On Ronnie's advice, cancelled reservation at Lake Palace and staying at the Oberoi in Udaipur. Good advise--Oberoi is magnificent spread out structure. Both amazing and a maze. Cant find my room, can't find the restaurant and worried that I won't find my way out of this computer room.

Udaipur is my first itinerary mistake. Nice place but I wouldn't want to visit. Called the city of lakes and it does have three man made lakes and some pretty scenery; Aspen is better. Principal claim to fame is that it was the princely seat of the Maharana of Mewar, the only region throughout the Mugal empire that, although battle scared, remained fiercely independent. The Maharana still lives here but has ceded control to the Indian government. Nice place for a honeymoon, but not without a bride. With no tennis courts and broken racquet, guess I'll go out and buy some more rings.

OCCASIONAL THOUGHTS--1. Indian men don't really shake your hand; they extend theirs and permit you to grasp their fingers, offeriring no pressure or other response in return. Like kissing but not being kissed back. Perhaps it's intended to be a sing of ono aggression. Feels squishy to me.
2. As a group, I find Indians to be the nicest, kindest and most polite race of people I've ever met. How do I reconcile that with the incredible violence that daily menaces this society?
3. This is an armed camp. Most of the soldiers and police carry guns...big ones, and they are everywhere, at the entrances to hotels, all throughout out the airports, train stations, monuments a and shopping malls. I guess there is a lot you can do when you have 1.4 billion people most of whom are unemployed.

4. Indian English is only around 50-60% understandable to me, but .......adding up the populations of the Northern hemisphere, England and Australia comes to maybe 500,000,000. The Indian population, even if only 2/3 speak English, comes to 800,000,000 plus. Maybe it's now their language and we should learn to speak it their way. ("Why hello Max--Thees ees the dawcta")

5. Before leaving for India, I prudently prepared for the disease, dirt, chaos, crime and potential for violence which I had both read and been warned about. I have found absolutely none. Yes, I recognize that I am traveling the tourist route and staying in the very best hotels but I have done my best to cut loose from that dimension and have nevertheless never felt the least bit of danger or uneasiness, with two exceptions. I was hit with on the shoulder with an overhead bird dropping in Mumbai which triggered thoughts of bird flu (recently found around Mumbai)causing a power walk back to my hotel to eliminate the offensive substance. Second, I truly cringe at the thought of crossing a two way street clogged with passing vehicles unless, like a pilot fish clings to a whale, I find a native to shadow.

Mumbai Still, Ramesh Forever

Ramesh is the head pro at the Maharashtra Lawn Tennis Club, a private club within walking distance of the Taj Mahal Hotel. The concierge had arranged for my entry to the Club where I was met by Ramesh. Since I arrived early, I watched a doubles games being run by Ramsey between four wheelchaired players. Same rules except two bounces are allowed.

Ramesh, a 45 years old authoritarian tennis coach appears to run the exclusive club. I was given little latitude in determining the format of our game-he called all of the shots. Naturally we were attended by a ball boy. After a suitable period of warming up, we started a set. Without question, Ramesh was a very experienced player, but after winning the first two games, my confidence strengthened. Ramsey won the next six games to win the set. Resting in the shade, I learned that he used to play on the pro tour. He now coaches the India Davis Cup team with his friend V.J. Armitrage, a world ranked player 20-25 years ago. The next set --6-0. I suspect that he tried to play just hard enough to beat me, but I wouldn't let him get away with that. I was invited to stay and watch the Davis Cup practice but I had a date with Mike's brother who runs the Mumbai branch of their Jewelry company. We planned to meet again today.

Jai, Mikes brother, picked me up around 3 p.m. and drove me to his shop, 10 minutes away. Saw a considerable stock of beautiful jewelry; bought some. Like his brother, Jai cuts the legs from under you when you try to bargain, convincing you that the price he is asking is rock bottom. Jai drove me back to the hotel and recommended some good restaurants in the area. On his advise, had dinner at Trishna, a seafood restaurant. It was every bit as good as Jai advised and at a price which was less than half of what the same meal would cost at the Taj.

Having received directions from the concierge, and it still being light out, I decided to walk to Trishna, having been told it was a 10-15 minute walk and provided a map. Walk I did, passing various lankmarks shown on the map but the map was not drawn to scale. It quickly grew dark and the streets, in seeming cooperation, grew narrow. As I pressed on, now and then asking passerbys for directions, I felt like I was walking into the black hole of Mumbai until I realized that there was not such thing as the black hole of Mumbai. I arrived safely At Trishna after a 20 minute hunt and the meal was worth the trip. Took a cab back.

This morning, I met Ramesh at the entry to the MLTC which was closed on Sunday. We cabbed it to the Churchgate athletic facility, a public facility not unlike Grant Park. There must have been 15 cricket games going on at the same time in the extensive open field. Ramsey had reserved a tennis court and we started in again with, of course, the ubiquitous ball boy. I noticed a kind of Ying-Yang, in that I could not stop myself, out of habit, from retrieving, a sometimes throwing the balls to the ball boy, which seemed to amuse Ramesh and to displease the ball boy. Should get used to it by the time I start playing at Birchwood. This time-6-3, 6-4. A hard forehand from Ramesh broke my stings; finished with his spare racquet.

Back to religion. The soul's immortality and rebirth through many different forms of transient being and the interaction of a whole pantheon of gods with humans are central to Hinduism. Hindus use the term "Dharma"to describe the essence of Hinduism. Dharma is religion, law, duty, faith and other virtues all rolled up into one.It presupposes a universal hierarchical model of life, animated by a religious spirit reflected by undying countless souls, each of which inhabits some body for a brief interlude which we call a lifetime. That soul then moves on to another body host, higher or lower along a continuum stretching from insect to divinity. Souls do not move along based on the "luck of the draw"; the next phase is dependent on the balance in it's Karma account in it's last body whose deeds may merit spiritual advancement or retreat. That is why Indians feel no pity for the beggar or untouchable and, presumably no envy of the King or successful businessman, whose fate has been earned. It never hurts, of course, to appeal to one or more of the gods, for aid, comfort or compassion or to give to the poor. The Karma account never sleeps. The ultimate however, is to do one's duty without complain or impatience, as best one can, to optimize thea successful rebirth or even better, to achieve Moksa. We might look at this as a release but Indians prefer to think of it as the liberation of the soul and not simply a poor tired body's extrication of the otherwise painful imperative of rebirth.

Coming around the turn. Early flight tomorrow morning to the city of Udaipur in the State of Rajahstan. Will miss the Taj Mahal Hotel where, like in Cheers, everybody knows your name.

Mumbai; religion and spirituality

Mike, the jeweler's full name is Makesh Sahijwani and his company is called Ashoka Jewellers. An incipient friendship developed. The morning of my last day in Goa, I met Mike is his shop around 10:30 a.m. to pick up the two rings I had purchased and which were produced during the night. I was very pleased with with the result. When I get an independent opinion of price vs value, I hope to remain as pleased. He opened and we walked into his shop together. As soon as he unlocked the door and we entered he lit an incense stick and proceeded for the next 2-3 minutes to wave the smoldering stick throughout the shop, in the corners, under the counters and even outside of the display window. He then removed his shoes, placed his hands in a prayer position and bowed silently before two idols on a shelf. I was to learn that one was of Sai Baba, an Hindu saint, and the other of Ganesh,the elephant god who is the son of Shiva and Pavrati. My look of wonderment led to a half hour discussion concerning the Hindu religion with Mike. Mike is admittedly very religious. He opens each day in his shop by cleansing the air of bad spirits ( he used the words "evil eye") and offering his prayers to his personal saint and to Ganesh, the god of good business. When I told him that I thought that Lakshmi was the goddess of good fortune and business, he corrected me-Lakshmi is the goddess of wealth but first you must have good business. He told me of several events during his life where the gods have given him signs and showed me a Hinduized horoscope recently presented to him by his good friend, the astrologer who officed in the space next door.According to the horoscope, Mike was strongly advised to respect and treat well his daughter-in-law as she is a goddess.
Mike , who revealed that this astrologer is well known throughout India, then called out and introduced me to the astrologer, who, I must say, appeared to be a dignified, rational and educated man. We talked briefly. When I told him I was on my way to the Taj Mahal Hotel in Mumbai, he smiled and said that the owner of the Taj hotel chain (similar in stature to the Four Seasons or Ritz)was a client and close friend and offered to contact him on my behalf. I thanked him but said it was unnecessary. Not only was I given an unusually splendid room at the Taj, but in it when I arrived was a huge basket of fruit, a bottle of wine and and invitation to a free dinner, complements of my astrologer.

Took an hour to reach the airport from Ft Aguado Hotel, during which my driver riddled me with questions concerning the U.S., employment opportunities and difficulties of gaining entry. He earns , as a driver, 3000 rupees a month ($75), in season, an additional 3000 rupees a month in tips, puts away in savings 1000 rupees per month, all while supporting his two daughters and his wife. Interesting comment--of all tourists, he like Americans the best. The worst are Russians and Israelis, particularly Israelis, who do drugs, bigtime, and often land up in prison.

Flight to Mumbai was uneventful, although I continue to be impressed by Jet Airlines, a recently created domestic carrier. Should that company open in Chicago, United would be gone within weeks. The drive from the airport to the Taj Mahal Hotel, covered the entire city from north to south, a distance of 45 kilometers, all without a single expressway. The driver was an accomplished honker.

OBSERVATION 2 ON RELIGION--India's mysticism or spirituality is the magnet which has always drawn me to visit India. My visit not only compelled me to read up on the subject pre-trip, but has afforded me a wonderful opportunity to speak to many Indians about their beliefs and attitudes concerning their religion, philosophy or related cosmic concepts.

The people of India, except for the 500 or so years of Muslim rule when Muslim rulers tried to Islamize the subcontinent, have been free to believe as they chose and practice whatever supported those beliefs. Given that freedom coupled with the permissive and humanistic nature of primitive religious development on the subcontinent it is not surprising that Indians, more than any other people, have created a society built on religion, the complexity and elasticity of which confounds all but who have been raised in it's traditions. Mark Twain said, when it comes to religion, all countries are paupers but India is millionaire.

Pre-Aryan Indian history does not exist. Hinduis is drived from the four Vedas, unwritten sciptures ( I guess they can't be scriptures if they're unwritten)consisting not as history but of hymnals, orally passed down from generation to generations by the Brahmins and ultimately written in Sanskrit as the Book of Knowledge, and amplified by further by the Laws of Manu and written liturgy call the Upanishads covering human duties. Around 1000 B.C. as Aryan civilization spread further east to occupy the Gangetic plain (surrounding the Ganges) two epics, the Maharabata and the Ramayana were written much in the form of the Iliad and Odyssey but much greater in length containing aside from their inherherant poetic richness, further rules for "right living" The Mahabatata, a story about a monumental struggle for territorial power around the plains of Delhiamong rival Aryan cousins, contains a religiophilosophic dialogue Called Bhagavad Gita ("Song of the Blessed Lord") which has since become to Hindus as the Bible is to Jews and Christians. I often find a bible in the nite stand of the the rooms that I occupy; I always find a copy of the Bhagavad Gita. (I was just brought an unrequested pot of coffee by the Business Center staff who noticed that I been typing for more than a half hour and the waiter is standing behind me apparently waiting to refill the cup when necessary--what a joint!!!)

I'll have more to say on this fascinating and absorbing subject, but I've got a date at the Maharashtra Lawn Tennis Club. See you.

Vila's Revenge

With the recent spate of political warmth generated by the Bush visit and the resulting nuclear pact, I was concerned about the effect a second routing of an Indian tennis star would have. It was my intent, therefore, to lay back and just hit with Vilas. How was I to know that, unlike Chetel, Vilas does have a backhand. How was I to know that in the not too distant past Vilas has played with an up and coming Indian female tennis player who was in the Pacific Open and is (Sania, that is) now ranked 31. 6-0, 6-0, and it could have been worse. Rematch coming.

Spent last night on a floating casino playing blackjack and five card stud. Dinner, Arabian dancing girls (Scheherazade type) and actually won 2000 rupees; that's around $48. Sensing an inverse relationship between between my tennis and gambling success, I may turn it down a notch with Vilas.

Spent the morning with Mike (his Indian name is more difficult) a local jeweler with whom I have been negotiating. I feel like a babe in the woods and we are in his woods. The clincher was my jumping on the back of his motor scooter and going with him to a hovel in Panjim, the capital of Goa, where a Bengali family spends their entire day producing jewelry of his designs. I admired how cleverly he connected the price he is asking me to pay to their livelihood.

Rematch--Vilas made a strategic mistake. He had Samir serve as a ball boy which reduced the effect of the age spread considerably. Result: 6-3, 6-1.

Rematch at the casino-lost 4500 rupees--

Oh! What?? Vilas won. Got a good laugh out of Vilas and Samir when I observed the obvious unfairness of 330,000,000 gods and goddesses against one.

Flying to Mumbai today. Love

I Coma to Goa

Best described as Alcupulco without chips and salsa (and David the Gonef).

Goa, located on India's west coast, astride the Arabian Sea and 400 miles south of Mumbai, is India's smallest State, having 1.4 million people, 65% Hindu, 25% Christian, 5% Muslim and the rest, various. Goa was, from 1510 until 1960 (i.e. it did not become part of India at the 1947 partition) was a Portuguese colony. In 1960, as a result of pressure from the Indian government, it ceded the colony to India, to the joy of the Goans who were unhappy with Salazar's (he was then running Portugal)heavy hand. It was not until 1992, when Portugal returned to Goa 3,000,000 lbs of gold it had plundered from the Goans that relations were normalized and all Goans now have duel citizenship in both India and Portugal.
Vasco De Gama, the first European to set foot on Indian soil did so in 1498. Alffonso de Albequerque, a an imprisoned Portuguese criminal was released by the Portuguese king to invade and successfully wrested control of the area , as well as a separated area at what would become later become Bombay, from the Muslim rulers. That proved to be a gift to New Mexico who now had a explanation for choosing such a funny name for a city.

I am staying at the Fort Aguada Resort and Hotel a huge well preserved fort built by the Portuguese at the end of the 16th century. It's no Sonar Bangla but quite nice. I was told that Goa is hot and dry. Half right. Susan would have naturally curly hair if she were here.

Spent the morning with a guide, Francis Xavier Santa Maria Pedro Fernandez (I called him Frank). Before we left the hotel, I told him that I was abolutely uninterested in seeing churches, forts, monuments etc. I don't believe that we missed a single one.

I have now been in India for two weeks, and am, therefore , entitled to make and record some observations.

OBSERVATION 1-WOMEN-Woman are both revered and reviled in India. Traditionally, going back to the Vedas (of the same level of religious authority as the Testaments, Koran), woman are considered to be weak, not very smart, trouble making by nature and in general, well below men in status and requiring male control. Women, on the other hand, because of their ability to bear and nurture children are excused their deficiencies and, on that level, exalted. The sacred cow (of which there are more around than you would ever again want to see)is derived, in part, from the Indians attitude toward women.

Indian women, from an American standard of beauty of which I can claim to be a judge, are not particularly attractive up close. Their features are indelicate, they often have dark circles under their eyes, their skin is often blemished and , except for an occasionally appearing young lady in her late teens or early twenties, their figures tend to the corpulent. You will never find a Nicole Kidman, Angelina Jolie or Susan Newman of Indian decent. From a distance, however, when dressed in a colorful sari, even if they cut only a decent figure, they can appear alluring, particularly those who have mastered a walking style and tempo that leverages the structural characteristics of the gown. There is famous Indian movie starlet here at the hotel at which a movie is being filmed who had lunch at the table next to mine. I'll take Susan anytime.

The times, they are achanging. Woman are more and more going out into the work place. I noticed several girls (everybody wears a bathing suit here) with tattoos and waist revealing shirts and the newspapers are full of ads pushing cosmetics and weight reduction. They even serve Diet Pepsi. In sum, women rule the home roost, and walk behind their male mate, but not too far behind any more.

Have a tennis date with Vilas at 4 pm. I wonder if he has had word of the Chetel match.

Oh Calcutta

Sometimes things just seem to work out. I intended to explore the city today by myself. When I told my guide contact of my plans and asked him to cancel my guide for today, he urged me to use the guide who he said was the best and most experienced guide in Calcutta and not to be missed. I said OK but only on the condition that it was made clear to the guide that I was uninterested in monuments, government buildings, museums and other inanimate objects.

Santi is somewhere in his sixties, a native of Calcutta living in the same house that was built by his great great grandfather, a former member of the West Bengal legislature, a professor of history and a Brahmin (of India's highest priest caste). I learned more from about India from Santi during our four hours together than I learned since arriving in India. Here are some items of interest.

Hindus are not a militant people. That is amply evident by merely looking at their typical male, thin limbed and devoid of even a hint of muscle. Despite their huge numerical superiority to the Moguls, the Moguls dominated the land for five centuries. When the British, as part of the East India Trading Company, first started arriving at and developing the Calcutta area at the end of the 16th century and into the 17th, they were welcomed by the Hindus, being seen as the Hindu's salvation from Mogul rule. They were right. It took several decades but in the end, through military pressure and political maneuvering, the Muslims were out and the British were in. The British were smarter that the Moguls who pressured all of the Hindu infidels to convert to Islam. The British brought missionaries who preached the gospel, provided education and offered medical assistance but never forced conversion of the population. As a matter of fact the British crown specifically prohibited any religious pressure whatsoever on the population. But even the British made mistakes. Sometime around 1800 the British, who then ruled the waves and the world, redrew the map of India, eliminating Burma, Sri Lanka and (I think) Nepal from the land they called India. That made the Indians mad and planted the first seeds of nationalism. Those seeds grew into an active, native opposition over the next hundred years and resulted, in 1947, in independence and partition. (British mapmakers are more careful these days.)

The black hole of Calcutta, I always believed, was an area of Calcutta where languished the poorest, most wretched and forlorn examples of humanity. Not so.
The black hole of Calcutta refers to the 20 by 20 foot structure in Calcutta in which the Bengali maharaja, in 1756, imprisoned 146 British troops. Without ventilation or light, except for a small opening in one of the walls, 123 of the prisoners died within 48 hours; 23 survived. A monument stands not far from the placed where stood the structure.



India is composed of 26 states. Calcutta is the capital of the State of West Bengal. East Bengal is now part of Bangladesh. West Bengal is, and for the past 18 years has been, ruled by a Communist political party as is the State of Kerala. The communists have never The Communists have never polled more than 30% in an election but as West Bengal has 23 separate political parties who refuse to in any way bond, the Communists continue to govern. Santi is a fervrent anti communist who opposes the corruption that runs rampant throughout West Bengal (and India as a whole)and lays the blame squarely at the feet of the Communists who, parasitically live like kings. Mohatma candies son-in-law, presumably a Communist, is governor of West Bengal and lives in a 123 room home complete with a 9 hole golf course. His Grand-father was an ascetic.

I could have written another five pages on Santi teachings, but I had made plans to play tennis again with Chetel (it's not Chetek I was told). He must have been practicing because at the end of 5 games, he was ahead 3 to 2. He offered (I did not ask) to play two more games. That, coupled with a weak backhand, was a mistake. The U.S. retained the title, but just by a hair. I asked Chetel if he was married. No, he said, he's only 26 years old and will not marry till he is 28. Who will he marry I asked. He does not know as his parents have not yet picked out a wife for him, but will within the next year or so. He asked if I had plans to return to Calcutta. I told him I would return if I were invited to his wedding.


Tomorrow, going to go to Goa via the friendly skies.

Nite Train to Calcutta

Einstein was right. If you travel fast enough, time will slow down. The Amristar Howrah Mail Express left Varanasi @ 5.p.m on Friday. We traveled for, I'm sure, three days, but we arrived in Calcultta (now called Kolcata) at 8 A.M. Saturday, only 16 hours later. Calcutta, developed by the the East India Trading Company of Great Britain in the 1700s and used as a springboard for eventual domination when empire trumped, or perhaps supported, trading, has a population of 13,000,000 people (an additional 4,000,000 entering the city for daily work) and is, although disputed by Delhians, India's second largest city.
The ride was bedeviled by lows, sprinkled with a high or two. The lows: I ended up sharing the compartment with three other Indian men who spoke limited English and perhaps, since they didn't speak to each other, limited everything; at the second stop after leaving Varanasi, four male students entered, uninvited, our compartment and sat with us (I learned that students rode free); though assured there was, au contrare, there was no dining car, not even an opportunity to buy an on board snack; having departed from the Varanasi train station where, last week, a terrorist bomb killed 18 people, while on board, I learned that this same train, four days ago, was hijacked by Maoist separatists. The highs: the four students, thankfully, departed before I took a sleeping pill and had 6-7 hours of semi-interrupted sleep; none of the Indians snored and, as far as I can tell, neither did I.

Just gorgeous-that's an apt description of the Sonar Bangla Sheraton Hotel, Calcutta's newest, in which I am staying, with service supreme. Had my first Indian tennis match. The hotel pro is on vacation but Chetek, one of the spa-gym directors played with me, warning me (it was no exaggeration) that he was not an expert tennis player. I think that I grew his confidence (though shortlived) when I admitted to being 70 years old. As soon as we started to play, out came a ball boy who picked up balls while taking delight in the trouncing I gave Chetek. During a break, Chetek, the ball boy and I had a chance to talk politics, terrorism and the like. I learned much more about the Maoists, who are semi civilized separatists from the State of Bihar, as contrasted to every day terrorists who they believed to be , essentially, Muslims. Chetek offered to play with me again tomorrow for free if I would give him some pointers.

Upon leaving the business center where this is being typed, I passed what seemed to be a cocktail party. An Indian man said hello, asked me where I was from and seemed genuinely interested in pursuing the chance encounter. We sat in the lobby and he told me that he was with Seagrams Spirits and was attending a Seagrams dealers conference. I told him of my father's involvement with retail liquor during my childhood which seemed to interest him. He then smoothly moved to the next subject which was his sexual preference for males, particularly white males. I quickly straightened him out on my straightness which he took in stride. We talked about the acceptability of gays in the U.S. He told me that homosexuality in Calcutta (all of India I suspect) faces zero tolerance. I can only conclude that he felt safer pursuing obvious tourists rather than Indians who might be less understanding than I and publish a description of the event on a blog. And I thought it was a physical attraction.
I hired a hotel driver who drove me around the city. I stopped from time to time, at various active locations like Park Street, a cross between Oak Street and Michigan Avenue, stopping in several shops to look at prices. Observation-I did not enter a single shop that was not guarded by a uniformed guard who let you in and out. Even drug stores pretended to be Bulgari's. Another observation-The glass of scotch that the hotel will charge any where between $10 and $15, a restaurant will charge $1.50 to $2.00.

And speaking of prices, before leaving the States I followed what appeared to be sound advise and bought a mobile phone that would work in Turkey and India which cost me around $175 and around $6.00 per minute to Chicago. It did'nt work, one of my luckier disappointments. I bought another Nokia phone in Delhi for $75.00. Phone calls to Riverwoods cost around $0.08 per minute. I'd rather be lucky than .....you know.

Farewell Varanasi

I found him, the son-of-a-bitch that does all of the honking. He's my driver. Driving down to the ghats (steps above the Ganges River bank)at 5:30 a.m. this morning, this turkey is using his horn constantly, without any visable reason. Mulak explained that the city has no traffic lights ( well, it does haave two but they're broken) and the horn is a necessary evil to reduce the possiblility of accdidents. I still felt like giving him the finger although nobody elso seemed to mind.

We hired a rowboat avec rower and cruised the river at sunrise. There were lots of bodies to be seen; dead bodies, naked live bodies, washing bodies, swimming bodies. Mulak explained that the river is considered a Goddess and every good Hindu must visit the river following birth before marriage and at death. Being cremated at or being dumped in the Ganga, either increases your chances of going to or guaranties your admission to, I did'nt fully understand, heaven. Cremation is for all Hindus except Bramins, girls ten years or younger, pregnant women and several other types, all of whom must endure an unpowdered disposal. I left the river to walk around with the locals, smug in the belief that my body, in it's present state, would not compare unfavorably with the competition.

After inquiry, I learned that there is no direct flight from Varanasi to Calcutta, my next destination. Yes, I must take another train; this one for 15 hours. I can hardly wait, although I have been assurred that this train has a dining car. We'll see.

OK-Gretchen and company win the CTA tickets. No RTA tickets since I smell an internet connection. Right answer. That's where the word came from. The Thugees made the mistake, however, of sacrificing a British officer to Kali whereupon the British mounted a two year compaign and exterminated every member of the sect, man, woman and child. Two more CTA tickets to the first person who provides the correct moral to the story.

Question

Two free passes on the CTA Blue Line to the first person to correctly answer this question:
From where does the word "thug" come from?

Night Train to Veranasi

I thought it would be fun and a good way to meet Indians on a personal level. It was neither. My train, the Sheva Ganga Express, was to leave Delhi @ 6:30pm for a 14 hour trip to Veranasi.. My pre-assigned seat was in a compartment meant to sleep four. It consisted of two facing benches and two platforms over those benches that were to be used as four beds. Arriving first, I sat there alone wondering what I was to do if some females were to be my companions. Sure enough, a young Indian man and woman appeared shortly before takeoff, looked at me and apparently had the same question. They proceeded to make up a fifth bed across the aisle after which the man departed. The woman mounted the bed, pulled the curtain so that she was completely hidden from view and I never saw her again. I was alone. I did meet an English couple on the platform while waiting for the train and expected to see them in the dining car. There was no dining car. Fear engulfed me. Was there a bathroom?

I told a young man who asked, that I would like dinner. At 8:30 pm he brought a tray to me which consisted of 6 tinfoil covered containers the contents of which were unrecognizable. Inasmuch as they were warm, I said a prayer that they were recently hot and timidly ate several morsels and some roti. OK, at best. I refused all offers of water, tea and other liquids, preferring my bottle of water I had been advisec to bring. I chained my suitcase to the bench, closed my curtain, pushed a scraggy pillow up against the window, turned off the light and hoped for sleep. It came on and off. Often I was woken by the boot steps of several armed guards, with rifles and automatic weapons (India is an armed camp)but the night somehow passed.Although there was no bathroom as we know it, there were two enclosures between cars that contained a hole in the floor and a crude shower head meant to clean out the basin surrounding the hole, after its use. In early dawn, I awoke from a slumber and looked out right into the close up window-filling face of a camel. Since he was so close I was unable to tell whether he had one or two humps.

Vernasi, named after the Verna and Nasi rivers which flow through and not the Ganga for which it is famous, is the oldest continuously occupied city on earth. I existed long before Thebes or Babylon were built and today, has 1 million people in the city and 2 million in the surrounds. I am staying at the Clark House, one of
the best hotels in Veranasi, but several cuts below the other hotels in Delhi and Istanbul. Today was Buddha day for me. Spent several hours the afternoon with my guide, Mulak, in Saranak ten miles outside of Veranasi, the place were Buddha gave his first address following his attainment of the enlightment. Although Buddah was born in India and spent his life in and around Varanasi, Buddhism no longer is practised by any significant part of the Indian population, most Buddist now living in Japan, Tibet, China and Sri Lanka. Did you know that India is the only country in the world that has never invaded it's neigbor.??

Holi

Today, the 15th of March, is Holi, a nationally celebrated festival. As I walked into the computer room, the Indian attendant looked at me and asked where is my color. I smiled and asked for access to the computer. She also smiled, turned on the computer and several seconds later came back with yellow powder in her hand asking is she could apply some to my face. Of course she could.

Holi is a festive occasion that can best be described as a combination of Mardi Gras and a little bit of Chanukah. Called the festival of colors, it is a favorite of both children and fun-loving adults as they are permitted to throw hand-fulls of colored powder at anyone within reach and to hurl water bombs (balloons) at those who are already powdered, tending to permanentize the powder. I intend to buy an inexpensive, disposable shirt to wear today just in case.

As explained to me, King Hiranyakashipu, probably a contemporary of King David, demanded that people stop worshipping gods and start praying to him. His son Prahlad, however, was a devotee of Lord Vishnu. In spite of several threats from dad, Prahlad continued offering prayers to Lord Vishnu. Getting pissed at his son, Hiranyakashipu tried various ways of killing him, but failed. Ultimately he ordered young Prahlad to sit on a pyre on the lap of his sister Holika (who some say was a wicked lady), who could not die by fire by virtue of a magic shawl which if worn would not let the person wearing be affected by fire. Prahlad readily accepted the challenge, and prayed to Vishnu to keep him safe. When the fire started, everyone watched in amazement as the shawl flew from Holika, who, then was burnt to death, while Prahlad survived without a scar because the shawl moved on to cover him. The burning of Holika by lighting bon-fired the night before starts the festival which carries through the full day following. In addition to the clouds of colored powder that fill the air, nostrils and pores, a great deal of bhang (an illegal but easily obtained potion made of pulverized marijuana leaves) is consumed adding life to the many parties. Lord Krishna is believed to have popularized the festival by playing pranks on the locals. The festival also, Passover-like, heralds the approach of spring.

Most of the shops being closed for the holiday, I hired a driver to take to me to Laksmi's Temple. I was stunned to see the city, which is always choked with rivers of humanity, virtually deserted. Must be the holi-day (get it??).

Goddess Lakshmi is the consort or wife of Lord Vishnu and is the goddess of prosperity, purity, chastity and generosity. Her four hands represent four spiritual virtues. She sits on a fully blossomed lotus, a seat of divine truth. Her personal charm is considered par excellence. An aura of divine happiness, mental and spiritual satisfaction, and prosperity always exist around her. Her temple is a large red and white structure which contains not only statutes of Laksmi, but of seven or eight of the principal dieties or their incarnations. By the way, an incarnation is not the same as a rebirth. Only Gods can be incarnated to appear to mortals in human or animal form. Vishnu is going on his tenth which will be a rider on a white horse at the Hindu end of days. Humans undergo countless rebirths, but that's not good, since it means that they have not achieved Moksha....but that's another story to come. On to Varanasi.

Food Item

Had my first full Indian meal last nite. Lot's of experimenting, hot as hell. Had fill of lamb, fish. Leaving soon for the areas less Muslim populated and expecting to be deprived of God's creatures. Interesting note--Hindus may not eat meat, fish, fowl etc, with certain exceptions. Kshtriyas, the military caste, may eat an animal that they killed but only for sustenance; never for pleasure.

Passage to India

About five hours after flying out of Istanbul approaching New Delhi at 200 feet the cabin was suddenly immersed in humidity and an odor, not particularly unpleasant, but definitely an odor. I can only guess it to be humanity. It being 4:45 am, I expected the airport to be empty and was wrong. There were throngs (literally thousands) of people in the terminal building. Surprisingly, I got my luggage and went through passport control and customs quickly and without incident. Once into the public section, I immediately found Mehechand who was holding a Melvin Newman sign. Into his car we got and within a half hour I was registering at the Oberoi Hotel. It now being 5:30 am (1:30 am Istanbul time) I made a beeline to my room, quickly undressed and engaged the bed. And then I lay there listening to the traffic , mostly horns, for the next two hours. Resort to a sleeping pill proved effective, rewarding me with uninterrupted sleep until 2 P.M. Sunday morning.

The next early afternoon (it was still Sunday) I fearfully ventured into the hotel restaurant, knowing I was about to have my first meal in India. Ignoring a huge beautifully presented buffet and heeding the warnings about Delhi-belly, I at last settled on a pot of coffee and a toasted baguette with melted highly spiced cheese. Not particularly satisfying, but very safe.

Not three minutes after I left the hotel lobby for a short walk, I was accosted by Tito, a turbaned Sikh, who did his best to try to persuade me to take a ride with him to see the city. My overt resistance did nothing to repel him and, sure enough, after ten minutes of further selling, I agreed to go with him for an hour. Leading me to his vehicle, I was somewhat taken aback when he invited me into his rickshaw, not a Chinese human powered pullcart, but a three wheeled motorized open air vehicle powered, I was told, by liquid natural gas. I quickly overcame the culture shock when my attention was diverted to the fire extinguisher mounted on the dashboard.

Tito, a man with considerable charm, and I then tooled around the new city (as opposed to Old Delhi)and particularly the governmental section. The new city was built during the last 60 years adjacent to the old city which has been around, in one form or another, for over 1000 years. During our time together I learned much about the Sikh (a people , Tito assured me, of much superior level than that of the Hindus, from whom Sikhism grew, and certainly than that of the Muslims. I also learned of Indian driving habits (one must blow his horn incessantly, without reason and never when an accident is imminent), the incredible amount of traffic that can clog a single street and how difficult it is to find a sealed bottle of water for sale when you need it. Our tour, after about a hour, came to an abrupt end when Tito's rickshaw refused to move and we were forced to push it down the street for three blocks, targets of opportunity for all passing vehicles, to a safe parking place. From there we took another rickshaw back to my hotel.

Had a good night's sleep, had breakfast again limited to bread, cheese and coffee, and met my pre arranged guide, Nittin, at 10 am who came accompanied by a air conditioned car and driver. Nittin is 29 years old, married with a daughter and well educated. He is trained to be an attorney but has chosen to serve as a guide because he likes it. Nittin and I became friends fast, particularly when I told him I was not interested in seeing mosques, monuments and old forts, but prefer exposure to people, culture and history. During the next four hours, I learned more about India than two months of intense pre-trip reading had brought me. We spent the whole four hour day in the old city riding in a man-peddled bicycle vehicle behind which Nittin and I sat. We talked of Hinduism, the Mugal invasion and predominance, Kashmir, the political attiudes of Indians towards Pakistan and Bangladesh, Hindu marriages, the place of woman, the cost of housing, Rama, Krishna and Sheeva, three of the eight avatars of Lord Vishnu, the importance of education, special aspects of Hinduism, the significance of Holi (a nation wide festival to be celebrated on March 15) how to choose food, appropriate courtesies in everyday life and the difficulty for Hindus to obtain visas to visit the U.S. Did you know that you can always tell the difference between a Hindu section and Muslin section of the city? Birds fly over the Muslim section but not over the Hindu section as Muslims display meat and fowl in their stands where Hindus never do. We visited a wonderful Kashmiri carpet shop whose proprietor was visibly disappointed to learn that I had bought carpets in Istanbul before having a wonderful Indian lunch. It was a day well spent

On Traveling Alone

Looking for a good buy in carpets I gave an address given me by the Concierge to a taksi driver who, after 30 minutes of zig zag driving, dropped me off in front of the Blue Mosque, pointing toward the right of the building and indicating that the address I was seeking, was there. Off I went. Before traveling 50 yards, a young man (i later learned that his name was Selek Kargal) sidled up to me, said good morning and started chatting with me in broken but understandable English. On learning that I was an American in search of a carpet bargain on my way to a certain destination, he suggested that instead I go with him to his cousin's shop who, coincidently, sold carpets. Obligingly, I walked with him down a couple of streets, past many carpet shops, went up the stiarway to the second floor of what obviously was a carpet salon. There Selek introduced me to his cousin, Omer Faruk Kali, the proprieter, a 33 year old Kurd whose English was several degrees better than that of Selek. Omer and I quickly became friends as he told me of the Kurdish village of his birth where he obtains most of his carpets, explained to me the differences between various grades of carpets (knotted and more expensive) and kilims (unknotted and less expensive) that he sold and drank coffee and tea (me-coffee, he-tea). An hour and a half later, I had bought several carpets and descended the stairs.

Selek was at the door step and we continued to walk together as if the Omer interlude never occurred. Three hours of walking, talking and sipping tea at an outdoor cafe overlooking the sea gave us time to cover the Muslim's attitude towards destiny, the Turkish stock market, Mehemet's strategy in capturing Istanbul (then Constanstinople), Ataturk's adoption of the English alphabet which adaptation dropped the q,z andv and added six other letters, the Turkish-Israeli relationship, the genesis of Greek-Turkish enmity, terrorism his close relationship with Omer, his family history going back to his great-grandfather and his three brothers who came here from southern Russia and a lot else

Just because I was alone.

Istanbul

Istanbul has not changed. Well.....that's not literally true. It's changed a lot since Byzantine times and since it was conquered by the Muslems. I mean it has'nt changed since I was here four yers ago.

Unseasonably cold (high about 50 degrees), but how often do I get to have breakfast over looking the Bosphorus. On to Delhi tomorrow.

Here We go

First stop--O'Hare---next, Istanbul

Just My Luck

It could have been JFK or Ronald Reagen, but, no, it's Dubya who will be touring India just before I arrive.. Timing could'nt be worse but we'll just have to deal with it.
Getting more excited as I get more understanding of Indian (there really is no such thing as "Indian") history, politics, spirituality through a lot of reading. Must have read ten books by now and still going strong