Religion, and Life

30 November, Jaipur.

Before leaving for India, several seasoned travelers in Asia gave me advice. Perhaps the strongest words addressed the need not to do too much. Today I took that advice and did very little. There was a morning visit to one of many forts/palaces in the area, this particular one the Amber Fort, which housed royalty back in the days when Mughals were gaining control over the Indian Rajputs. This fort was built in the late 1500s and early 1600s. Its major feature, to my interests, is a fascinating Kali temple, nestled neatly along the lower side of a second courtyard gateway. Kali is one of the forms of Durga, the mother and destroyer of evil. Kali is often pictured as bloodthirsty in an image where she holds a sword in one hand and a decapitated head in another, fighting evil as fiercely as imaginable. The temple is an open rectangle with tall white marble floor and walls, ornately carved with geometric design. Only three images of Kali are there, the main one at the front where the priest and devotees gather.

Lonely Planet says that a goat was sacrificed in the Kali temple daily, from the 16th century until 1980. I suppose that would have been interesting to watch, but I’m glad that I missed it. Instead, I saw more puja worship and priestly blessings. Everything was very similar to the earlier descriptions (see below), except for a couple of additions. First, serious Hindus purchase a small coconut, break it with a supplied strong tool, and bring it to the altar along with the other bits of sugar and flowers. The priest takes the juice, and keeps one half, giving the other back. Then, after prayers, priestly blessing and the marking on the forehead, and then, he pours a bit of the juice into the cupped hands of worshippers, who sip a bit of it. Kali, I am told, is associated with coconuts, which are a sign of blessing. The other “addition” was the spontaneous song, with a burning candle held high, which was apparently a hymn to Kali.

Later, I visited the royal cenotaphs for the palace, where monuments mark the ashes of Rajput leaders. High in the ceilings of the cupola-style “porches” were carved scenes from the Ramayana stories of Hinduism. Even in death, it seems, Hindus are remembered in light of their religious identities.

There is much about india that is difficult for Westerners. Paradoxes abound. Trash is everywhere, but it provides food for wandering cows, pigs, dogs, and other critters. God is whatever image or idea one can imagine, which even means god can be poverty. Homelessness is widespread. Temples and shrines are on every block, while public latrines are around the corners. Smells of incense mix with dust and soiled clothing. Prayers are offered, yet a kind of fateful acceptance of things persists. I wonder if basic philosophical underpinnings in Hindu thought – regarding caste and karma, rebirth and moksha (liberation) – work to placate aggressive attempts to improve society, alleviate poverty, stop evil. I wonder how much acceptance plays a role.

Diana Eck, Harvard specialist in North Indian Hinduism, talks in her book, Darsan, about this visual presence of the good and the bad, and I find her commentary helpful. “Much that is removed from public view in the modern West and taken into the privacy of rest homes, asylums, and institutions is open and visible in the life of an Indian city or village. The elderly, the affirm, the dead awaiting cremation – these sights, while they may have been expunged from the childhood palace of the Buddha, are not isolated from the public eye in India. Rather, they are present daily in the visible world in which Hindus, and those who visit India, move in the course of ordinary activities. In India, one sees everything. . . . Whatever Hindus affirm of the meaning of life, death, and suffering, they affirm with their eyes wide open” (11).
Perhaps we in the West hide, or deny, too much, neatly segmenting entire populations away from the proper public view. Perhaps Indians are too resigned to the roles of life, the karmic rule of life and death. Surely we all need to see God in all of life, not just Sundays or shrines.

1 December, Jaipur, 5:30 a.m. I awoke to sounds of the Muslim call to prayer, here in this town of Hindus and Muslims. I’ve been hearing more Hindu chants in the morning and evening, forming a cacophony of invocation across the faiths. The sounds of cathedral bells, marking the day by reminders of God, could be heard in the West in times past. I wonder…..
slp

Hindus and Muslims in Prayer

Sunday, 30 November. Jaipur

As the sun rises over a hill, I sit on a small rooftop hotel, after challenging the staff person about whether it was too cold. It seems that temperature is relative to culture; I feel a nice 65 degrees or so out here. By late afternoon, it will be near 90. Winter in India is not so bad.

Yesterday entailed travel from Pushkar to nearby Ajmer. Although very close towns, they are separated by a mini-mountain pass, as well as a religion. For the most part, Ajmer is Muslim, about 75% or so, whereas Pushkar is Hindu, with a smattering of Sikhs. The driver seemed less happy about coming here, and I wondered if it had anything to do with religious tensions. He said it was a town where I might get robbed. In the end, though, it was very pleasant, and full of new discoveries.

At the central mosque, down the end of a long bazaar street, and entered through a massive gate, there is a true “Islamic Center” where shops, hostels, and holy sites merge. The mosque is fairly nondescript, like most rather plain courtyards and inner porches for prayer. But the major reason people come here is to pay homage to a great medieval Muslim saint. This is one of the holiest Muslim sites in India. I was impressed with the way Indian/Hindu culture blends with Muslim worship here: Worshippers bring baskets of lotus flowers and sugar pieces to offer to the shrine, just as in Hindu worship. Also, it was interesting to see Sikhs and Muslims and Hindus all meeting here for prayers. No doubt most were Muslims, but the sentiment expressed is important.

The other major site here is a spectacular Jain temple. Jainism emerged about the same time as Buddhism, generally, with Mahavira as its founder. The Jains are known for their extreme nonviolence – some Jains will not eat any root foods as well as no animal products, for fear that organisms in the dirt will be killed. This temple, however, is more about their worldview, with a view of the universe with some 20+ planets. Here in the temple, a stunning gold model of this universe is placed. I need to investigate it further to be able to say much. It was certainly unique.

After our arrival in Jaipur, we visited the Temple of Sun and Moon, more commonly known as the “Monkey Temple.” In the summer, monkeys gather here at dusk in large numbers, but apparently they think it is winter too. Nonetheless, the temple itself is the central reason for coming here. There are numerous small shrines for prayer and worship, with different images of gods, and a major central prayer altar and shrine with the monkey-faced god Hanuman. Here I watched my driver go through his prayers. After purchasing a small amount of sugar crystals, he approached the “altar,” stood for the priest to bless him and accept his repentant attitude and gift, placed a mark on his forehead, gave him a bit of sugar which he ate, and then the driver prayed and walked away. Next, he rang a bell, said another prayer, and sat down, where he meditated a moment, prayed again, and bowed to the floor, just as Muslims do. The whole ceremony took less than 5 minutes, and as he tells me, basically he is showing the need for blessing, receiving blessing, and praying and offer praise to the god. Hindus do this, in some fashion, usually twice a day if possible. For each specific god, there are specific blessing emphases, and the mark placed on the forehead has a specific name appropriate to the blessing.

Watching the priest and crowds, for a moment I thought I saw a Roman Catholic service, where congregants were receiving the sacraments. When he bowed to pray, the driver reminded of a Muslim salat ritual. As people methodically moved through the actions, I sensed many a church service. The similarities abound.

As we left the temple grounds, I noticed what seemed to be a Muslim couple, she dressed in conservative face covering. I was right, for just beside the entrance to the temple was an entrance to an adjacent mosque. Here in this place too, there is room for both to pray. In the light of Mumbai and the commonly understood tensions between Hindus and Muslims, India and Pakistan, it is good to see that most people are more alike than different. The terrorism strikes, and the subsequent blame games and political maneuvering, make me angry. Likely what happened this past week here was intended to destabilize good movement toward better relations between Muslims and Hindus. Political and ideological radicals are the same everywhere – they want their way at all costs, and they fail to see that the world will never know peace without common human courtesy, what Jesus summed up in the “golden rule,” and what he and the prophets and wise people of every faith sum up in loving God and loving neighbor.

slp

Experiencing Hindu Friends

28 November 2008. Pushkar.

Considered the city of a thousand temples, Pushkar probably has more, if one considers all of the corner shrines and side guru halls. The entire town encircles a small lake, hidden from street vendors, as well as temples, but the 50+ ghats (landing steps) that lead pilgrims to the water. Behind the ghats, then, are concentric rings of streets and side streets, marked by small, almost hidden temples, shops, and many larger temples. There is a Sikh gurdwara (temple) here as well, but it is well place outside of the mass of sacred Hindu mandirs and the ghats. A nearby town, Ajmer, is predominantly Muslim, and I hope to speak to this later.

The main reason most people come here, besides the ghats and purification rituals, is to see what is the only Brahma temple in the world. Lonely Planet says there may be two, but this one is the main one, and maybe the only one. In the oldest Hindu texts, the Vedas, a Trimurti (trinity) of gods is mentioned – Brahma (creator), Vishnu (sustainer), and Shiva (destroyer, or re-creator). As Hinduism develops, Brahma is emphasized less and less, and thus the small number of temples. Tradition, or later texts, tell that Brahma wanted to perform a purification ritual at this lake, and when his wife Sarvriti did not attend, he became angry and married another. Sarvriti did not take this well, and she vowed that he would never be worshipped again.

She also apparently won over the lake, literally. Her temple stands proudly on a tall hill (in Texas we call it a mountain, but here they have the Himalayas to compare) overlooking the lake. The walk to her temple becomes a rather rugged climb; guidebooks say it takes an hour, but my body and my watch say it takes longer. I found the climb enjoyable for about half of the way, but the views become more and more grand, and pride demands we Texas men carry on. Near the top, I was taking 5 steps and resting, then 5 more. At the top, the temple is rather simple, but I was glad to have made the trek.

In addition to the religious significance and the view, the lemurs were enjoyable to watch. They run wild in Rajasthan, and I’ve seen a number of them. They also become quite bold. On my way down, a family approached, and the monkees ran up and snatched their worship offerings from their hands. I had forgotten to leave mine (you are required to purchase a packet on the way up), so I gave it to them; they smiled, and expressed the Namaste (“I see God in you”) greeting. A bit later, I met an elderly couple, already straining but determined to make the trek up. We smiled at each other, I reached out my hand to pull the woman up a few steps, and she turned, brought her hands up, and expressed Namaste to me. I will not forget her eyes; she seemed to make a genuine and deep contact with me. But I was not done; a little later yet, I met a family. One of the older sons began a conversation. Because so many conversations on the street quickly turn to requests for me to buy something, I was hesitant, but soon his entire family joined him, and we exchanged pleasant conversation. He (Ram) and his brothers and I shared picture-taking.

Earlier I found the Brahma temple and experienced a “lotus dropping.” One of the frustrations here is the way many people want to become your guide, “no money” required. One met me in the train station in Amritsar, one offered to carry my bag, and here at the Brahma temple, a “student” of the temple, he said, persisted in showing me around. I did learn a bit, so I cannot be too disturbed for the small cost of 50 rupees (about one dollar). So, he takes my shoes and guides me in (no pictures allowed). First, I take a bowlful of lotus flowers, and we walk toward the main shrine area, where the four-headed Brahma image sits. I offer the bowl to a priest/monk, who adds a bit of food – a hard rockish crackery looking substance. The guide explains that he has blessed my bad karma -- blessed, accepted, forgiven, I can’t remember the word. Then, after a brief tour of the monk’s quarters and the overall temple area, we are off to the nearby ghat, where I am led to a priest who sits with me near the water , tells me about the symbolisms, and proceeds to guide me through the ritual. Lost in trying to understand his voice, wondering occasionally if I was committing (unknowingly, I must add) some horrible sin, and trying to keep flies and wasps off of my face, I forget the details. But I recognized the spice dust – yellow and red, and the many of the words in the prayers, which essentially spoke of God blessing me and my family. Then, all of a sudden, he marks me with the dot on my forehead, ties a braided string on my wrist, and encourages me to offer my karma (lotus flowers, food, etc.) to the lake, to Push-kar, which means lotus-drop.

Now, to my family and employer: Have no fear, I have not converted to Hinduism. The experience was one of those unexpected serendipities of traveling in India, and I’ve learned yet again a great deal more about the Hinduism that I try to teach in a few weeks each year. There is interesting symbolism here in the whole event, and how it all connects to the mythologies of the gods. And most interesting to me is the way that Hindus show both the need for purification and the ways that the gods, and the priests make it possible. In terms of Christian theology, we would surely call all the stops to pray in front of shrines, and bell ringing at the temples, and offerings to the gods, and pushkar rituals, all of this we would label “works” and quickly note how grace is the free gift to peace. But we too have our rituals, and we too tend to turn what is culturally inevitable and richly experiential and rightly suited to our contexts into endless need to works. So – for me anyway – I’m being reminded that we as humans will always symbolize and ritualize and make visibly real what we feel and what we need, and this process is in itself good and normal.

Some processes, however, are dangerous. How Hindus can wash in water that is, well, very dirty, with streets crowded with cows, other animals, human and animal waste, food products, and flies – millions of flies – I don’t understand. (And I hesitate to mention it because I don’t want to characterize this situation as equating with the people or the religion). Perhaps part of the answer comes in the response I receive from hotel employees when I expressed concern about the Mumbai terrorism: “It is no matter; there is nothing to do; if it is your time, God will take you.” God is in control. Hmm.

Perhaps a final note about travel. Every scholar friend whom I asked told me to get a driver for parts of India. I understand why now; one simply cannot get around to all the places otherwise; taxis are not common in the rural areas, and trains only get you so far. So for these five days, I have a driver, which costs about $100 over what trains would cost. It’s a bargain, believe me.
slp

In the Middle of Nowhere, and Feeling Home

27 Nov. 9:30 p.m. Pushkar.

Pushkar. Think Katmandu and Rome without the mountains or crosses. On a late night stroll after settling in here, I felt this sense of being in the most spiritual, anti-establishment, musical, new-age, old-age, religious, pluralistic place in the world. More tomorrow, after a day in the sun here, visiting the town of temples.

As we drove in, the place felt like Malibu Canyon Road, or Sanderson, Texas, or a little bit of Yellowhouse Canyon, with a strange bit of "biblical" scenes -- families and cattle, sheep, camels, walking, working, carrying sticks; women in colorful dress, with headscarves. And tonight, the stars reminded me of home, growing up in Odessa, when those simpler times with cool night skies, and less city lights, made all seem calm.

I'm mindful of Mumbai, but also of the wonderful people I keep meeting here. I phoned a contact today, a friend of my colleague Andy Fort from TCU, who is hosting me in Calcutta. She was very kind and welcoming, and I look forward to being with her and her husband.

As internet access seems less consistent, I write when I can, and add photos as possible.

slp

School Buses and Pizza

26 November. 4:45 p.m., Amritsar Train Station

For the morning, I strolled around the Golden Temple again, and with much more attention to the people. In the daytime, devotees bath in the water, stay a long time on the grounds, listen to various music groups and/or sermons, and walk to every part of the complex, bowing before sacred relics and copies of scripture, kissing the ground, touching the doorways. It appears that many Sikhs come with families, helping elderly parents and relatives, teaching young children the holy ways. I talked with several people, asked if I could take some pictures of them, and found everyone to be very friendly and/or polite. My experiences so far in India have not shown a smiling people, whether Sikhs, Muslims, or Hindus, but once the conversation begins, they are kind, honest, and in no way condescending. If anything, I did find the Amritsar Sikhs more approachable. Some bow and gave the universal Indian sign – two hands meeting in a prayerful way – passing on the Namaste, which means “I see the God in you,” or more generally, “peace to you.” I found that whether met with a smile or a nod, when I expressed myself similarly, all went well.

The children tend to smile more. I liked seeing the school buses – essentially motorized rickshaws stuffed with children. They all wanted their picture taken, and a handshake if traffic allowed.

The traffic is horrendous. No lanes, but cars, rickshaws, horse-drawn trailers, walkers, motorcycles, bikers, buses, and trucks. The bicycle rickshaw drivers continue to impress, especially the old men who must be in their 60s or more. I did learn from a Sikh salesman that the pollution is not the only cause of the haze, which not only stings the eyes but also prohibits clear, bright photographs; the weather is also a cause, or rather the change in seasons. Though the summer is too hot to stand, for Westerners for sure, the incoming winter air pressure traps the pollution and creates the eerie haze.

I found many small mandirs (Hindu temples) and gurdwaras (Sikh temples) again today. They are sandwiched in crowded building spaces, all around the town, and they are met by a prayer with almost everyone who passes. One larger Hindu temple is almost totally hidden, but it reveals a stunning upstairs tapestry of color, including what appeared to be the Sikh gurus. It was very near the Golden Temple.

Tonight, it is back to Delhi. My planned excursion to Dharamsala, seat of Tibetan Buddhism, is just not possible. It is a 6 hour train/bus ride from Amritsar, and too much is already packed in. I regret this, but there is no way to capture all that is here, even in a hundred trips.

I splurged today for lunch: I had Domino’s pizza, or a version of it. The multitudes of street vendors, selling all kinds of wonderfully spelling foods, tempt, but I know how dangerous these are for our weak stomachs.
My train snack is here. Thus ends the journal.

slp

Midnight. In my hotel room in Delhi, and learned of the terrorist attacks in Mumbai. Now I find myself facing another situation that missionaries and other Westerners face when abroad: When to pack and leave, when to realize that dangers are everywhere, how to make wise choices. For now, I will watch the news, listen to U.S. embassy advice, etc. Likely this will be limited to Mumbai, which now, obviously, I will avoid.

Of Gods and Gold

26 November 2008. Amritsar

After a long day’s travel and some truly unforgettable scenes, sleep came early. Now at 4:00 a.m., I awoke to the pleasant kirtan (devotional singing) of Sikh leaders at the Golden Temple, about six blocks from my hotel. The temple complex opens at 4:00, but as best I can tell, the singing, and gentle drumming, continues round the clock. In many other gurdwaras (the name for Sikh places of worship) there is mostly chanting, or reading, the Adi Granth, the holy scriptures, constantly. My sense is that this singing involves a combination of text and devotional songs. It is pleasant, and consistent, and it reminds me of soft Native American chant, just a bit.

On 24 November, the highlight of the day in Delhi was a visit to the Gurdwara Bangla Sahib, a very large complex and temple built in the 1600s, where the eight Sikh guru stayed, healing the sick with the purifying waters of a source there. Now, a large water tank/pond is adjacent to the temple, where throngs of pilgrims and daily worshippers come. The Sikhs welcome all visitors, but everyone must remove shoes and socks, and must don a head covering. Sikhism began in the Punjab area, near Amritsar, in the 1400s, largely as a reaction to the Hindu caste system and to aspects of Hindu worship. A significant factor was the need to bring peace between warring Hindus and Muslims, and Sikhism proffers itself as a way for all humans to live in peace. Sikhs are known spiritual leaders, Khalsa, who never cut their hair nor shave. Thus, their large colorful turbans and full, long beards make them easily recognizable. Sikhs disavow idol worship, in contrast to their Hindu neighbors, but they carry the musical culture and dress that is very similar to Hinduism. They do revere their holy leaders, and the center of their worship is the Adi Granth. Other than at Amritsar, all the texts are copies, but wherever a gurdwara appears, there one finds the holy book at the center of the temple, being read, being worshipped. Again, like the Hindus, there is a practice of placing flowers, small change, special food, at the “foot” of the text. In a fascinating, post-worship experience, Sikhs file out of the gurdwara and are given, in their open palms, a lump of special food (a sort of bread dough, it appears), which they eat. “Holy Communion”?

A day later, yesterday when I arrived in Amritsar, I discovered how insignificant (by comparison) the Delhi gurdwara was. The Golden Temple is breathtaking. After the six hour train ride from Delhi, I had not planned to visit the temple until today. But an early evening walk near the hotel led me there, where from the outside one sees this massive, well-lit wall, which really is a square, though so large that one does not see the corners. Perhaps an analogue is a large fort. Inside the walls, one immediately sees the temple, which is the most dazzling golden image I have ever seen. Inside it, the priests chant and sing, surrounding the holy book. The temple sits in the center of a large water pool, where the followers dip hands and feet and ritually wash their faces, the washing very similar to Muslim preparation for prayer. The pool is surrounded by a large marble courtyard, where devotees pray, bow and kiss in adoration, and meditate. The space is immense, and I have no words for it.

As I experienced the moments, I walked toward the central causeway that leads to the temple, and soon I was walking the causeway, surrounded by crowding worshippers, chanting and joining in the kirtan singing, as we slowly shuffled toward the inside. At one point, I tried to turn back, thinking that this might take a long while. A gentleman touched my shoulder, and politely but insistently said simply, “Stay.” I did, and what occurred inside is difficult to describe. People crowded near the center, bowing and praying, some very emotional. Then they pushed away, forced themselves through the crowds, and went to the outside, where they dipped a hand into the water to drink (only after worship, the sign said), and then proceeded to a priest who gave them the bit of food. The crowds continue all day, every day, with praying, devoted followers coming just for these brief moments.

Earlier in the afternoon, I experienced one of the most frightening moments of my trip – a ride on a cycle rickshaw across town to my hotel, and then to another temple. These entrepreneurs on bicycles (three wheelers, really) with a bench seat are one of the main means of transportation in India. Indeed, they get you where you need to be, but only by being very aggressive on the road, marking space and cutting in among motorized rickshaws and taxis. A moment after I agreed to the $5 charge for the ride to my hotel, I realized that there was no seatbelt, no helmet, no doors, no facemask for the horrendous fumes and dust. When the “driver” hit about 30 mph going down an incline, matching bike to cars, I could only laugh.

But he waited for me at the hotel, and then took me another long distance to find the Sri Durgiana Temple, the other major religious site here. This Hindu temple of worship to Durga, goddess of protection and power, is also overwhelming. Seeing it before the Golden Temple, I could not imagine that the Sikhs would outdo this. Here in the heart of the old city, the Durgiana is also a golden temple, with stunning silver doors, and the temple is accessed by a causeway, with a courtyard and pool that surrounds the complex. Completed in the 1600s, it certainly mirrors or provides a model for the larger Sikh one (I am not sure which came first). The worship at the Durgiana was in no way less sincere. Here followers sat and reflected on the various images of Durga, especially the major ones on the front of the worship area. I was about to leave when a gentleman spoke, “Wait.” I did, and soon the temple priest opened three central doors to reveal more images. The followers huddled around the front of each door, and as soon as the doors opened, the visibly bowed, prayer, and stood for a moment before moving on. Little did I realize that this would be the first of two such moments in the day where a man would utter one word to me, welcome me into a special worship moment, and I would dutifully follow. The time at the Durga temple was moving to me, and I appreciated the kindness and friendliness of the people there. As I left, four young men asked me to take their picture, and then asked me to be in a picture with them.

Hinduism is impossible to describe in a short space, or to teach in a semester. As an old TCU friend once told me, there is no such thing as Hinduism, only Hinduisms. A few thoughts, however, may be helpful. Contrary to popular Christian understanding, Hindus are not worshippers of many gods, ultimately, for they see all of the Divine essentially as Brahman, and Brahman is one. But Brahman may be expressed, shown, worshipped, understood, followed, in any number of images, beings, gods, goddesses. Technically, this is called henotheism. The most commonly worshipped gods are forms of Shiva, Vishnu, and Devi. This last one, Devi, is the name for goddess, and Devi is often understood and worshipped in the forms of Durga or Kali. When worshippers pray or offer gifts to the statues of the gods and goddesses, they are not seeing them as “rock, stone, or wood idols” but rather as expressions of the real gods, and ultimately Brahman. There is not really an act, in worship, of seeing the god, but instead of being seen while seeing, a concept known as darsan. So the act is not merely intellectual, where one thinks about a god, but moreso it is experiential, including repentance and revelation. I sat on the train next to a Hindu man who works for the India customs department. I thought for a moment that he was Muslim, for he seemed to be reciting the Muslim prayers, complete with hand gestures and quiet vocalizing of the prayer. He explained that he had been praying to Durga, asking for power and guidance. He told of the Hindu understanding that humans take 72,000 breaths each day, and thus there should be 72,000 mentions of god during the day, so that god is on the heart and we begin to be empowered and share the divine. He, like many, have touched me with their sincerity and quiet devotion.

In less positive ways, the people are normal insecure folk like all of us. I the am really getting tired of the stares. Yesterday I found myself angry at two boys who were looking back at me and laughing. When one told the other and they both turned around to look at me, I raised my hands in a gesture that said something like “What am I supposed to do? Stop staring at me!” The one who told the other seemed a bit embarrassed; I felt ashamed to make such a deal of it. But I am amazed at how pervasive it is. Late yesteday I caught the eye of a woman whose gaze seemed to be saying “You look like a terrorist! What are you doing here?” Now, I’m not a world traveler, but I have seen a good many non-American countries and people, and this is the first time that I’ve felt so truly out of place. I am indeed the only fair-skinned, blue-eyed, white-haired man in all of India, I think. And increasingly I am surprised to learn that when asked what country I am from, and I say “United States, Texas,” they have no idea what Texas is. Texas to them is about like Punjab to me; we both may have heard of the other place, but we do not know they are states. I’m seeing more and more my own ethnocentrism and arrogance, and I’m beginning to understand prejudice.

And then there’s the air. As American scholars told me, the smell is unique and undeniable. It is indeed, a combination of pollution and various spices and incenses from market vendors. Minus the pollution and waft from open air public facilities, it is a not unpleasant smell, and occasionally the incense pervades and it is a quite interesting and nice odor. But the pollution leaves a haze over everything, and in these smaller cities, some of the main roadways are truly dangerous for health. (In Delhi, nice, larger parks dot the city, and the forestry makes a dramatic difference.) It is indeed sad to see this special place so overwhelmed itself, by its own overpopulation and insufficient infrastructure. I have heard Americans attribute the poverty and pollution to the religion, but I tend towards a view that the reasons are much more complex and include economic, political, and population factors.

It is 6:30 a.m., and the kirtan continues. Perhaps unfortunately, the sounds of car horns begins to compete.

slp

Delhi, Day 2

What was I thinking when I made that last subway ride back to Old Delhi late this afternoon? I got out of the metro and was lost in a sea of noise, color, and bodies like I'd never seen before. The region near the metro, bordering the Old Delhi Railway station, is something impossible to describe. None of the photos do it justice, but here's one.

The day began with a walk through the neighborhood around the hotel, where I found the Hanuman mandir (worship place). It is a startling example of the day to day life of people who walk through a neighborhood and stop to bow, offer a pray, fold their hands, lift them to the air, and go on. Often they ring the bells that surround the small worship spaces. One aspect that I cannot get used to, and ths coming from somone who tries to teach Hinduism, is the colors and images of the statues -- idols, yes. I've learned from Diana Eck that Hindus understand darsan, the notion that when one looks upon the gods, they look upon you. So seeing the images involves a union of sorts, if but for a moment.

Then it was off to Humayan's tomb, a massive model for the Taj Mahal. I was struck by how this tomb contrasted with Gandhi's.

After a visit to the Qutub Minar, a very old and tall minaret remaining from a mosque that replaced an earlier Hindu temple area, it was off to see the impressive Delhi Gate, honoring India's war dead.

I keep losing parts of this post. The better part of the day was around a large and important Sikh temple, which I will describe and post when I figure this all out.

23 November 2008.
So you have one fair skinned, white haired (where it’s not bald) man standing in a crowded subway car about 8:00 p.m. in Central Delhi, along with about 200 dark skinned, black haired men and women. I wonder if you’re noticed. Hmm. That about sums up the end of my first full day in Delhi. After 16 hours on the plane from Chicago, I met the driver and arrived at the hotel, at 11:45 on the 22d, to learn that my room had been double-booked, so down the alley (yes, alley) to the “nicer hotel” for the night. As things worked out, all is fine, as I had been advised to be flexible, and by 10:00 a.m. today, I was in a room at the first hotel, ready to venture out into the overwhelming world of Delhi.
Humility, or hubris perhaps, is the word for the day. I asked for a map to venture out on my own, only later to realize how absurd such a proposition is. Delhi is indeed trying to become New Delhi, but much of its metro is undeveloped, and its buses and smaller bus system, always overcrowded and slow, is very difficult to manage. So after some hotel help, I had a driver and a car for the day, all for under $20. In the end, I realize, this was a blessing.
Delhi is overwhelming. The smells stifle, the horns attack, the beggars cling, the crowds keep coming. And yet, it is endearing: the father playing a cell phone game with his daughter in the corner of the subway, the pilgrims crowding the newest temple, the police sharing a pleasant word of direction, the children playing pick-up games of Crickett (yes, Crickett) in vacant lots. I see why this land is attractive.
My day began with a drive to Old Delhi, the heart of the city, which begins with the famed gate (1). Then it was on to the Jama Masjid, (2) the largest mosque in India, built in the 1600s. Over 25,000 can pray in its courtyard, and it offers stunning views of the area. I was struck by the one man I found praying in the midst of the crowds. Around the mosque area in the heart of Old Delhi, the crowds were stifling. This was the loudest, busiest, and most crowded and disorganized bazaar I had ever seen. But the sense of energy and determination was encouraging; everyone trying to sell. I bought 2 bananas and 2 unpeeled oranges. A very good lunch.
Next was the famed Red Fort, a massive complex build in the 1600s. I am sorry to say that I was not touched here, although the history and sheer space is astounding.
Then to Raj Ghat, (4)the memorial and cremation site of Mahatma Gandhi. After the busy ness and noise and smells of Old Delhi, this peaceful park was wonderful. Gandhi is clearly revered here, and this site was a testimony to that.
Then, for the final offical tour, it was on to Akshardham Temple, (5) the largest Hindu complex in India. This site, where cameras are not allowed, is part religion, part massive enterprise, part kitsch, and it gives me the feeling that I’m in Oral Roberts (or something like that) Christian heaven – it’s got a kind of evangelical mega church marketing feel, with all the right temple images and donation stations, the gift shop, the education center, etc. It’s a massive continuing project that says “we love everyone, Hinduism, or something like Bahia, or whatever, is good; let’s all smile, isn’t this pretty, we are only trying to rebuild everything that ever was Hinduisms into one place for all to come to” kind of feel. My driver even said that its principle purpose was as a tourist attraction. The whole project clearly speaks to the power of Hindu devotional life, indeed, and yet it is not what really is bhakiti or puja.. It is impressive, as are the throngs who go there.
But I found the final two stops of the day more impressive, or puzzling. First, there was the Lakshmi Narayan Temple, (6) dedicated to the goddess of wealth, and to Narayan, her preserver. The temple was large, and I found the images impressive (no photos allowed), but what I’m touched by is the way people come, buy flowers, and offer them to the various images in the temples as they say a prayer.
Finally, there was the really unique Hanuman Temple, (7)the god who is pictured as part man and part monkey; he was a hero in the famous Ramayana tale. In this temple in central Delhi, he stands in front as a huge guard and host; I was reminded, you’ll forgive, of the old Texas State Fair cowboy statue, which frankly is a dwarf to this Hanuman.
After a late dinner and metro ride, I found one final temple, where a guru was chanting and yet allowed a photo.

One gets the sense, after so short a time, that there are all the trappings of culture here. People are overwhelmed, tired, and yet busy and alive, alive with family and jobs and conversation, and in many cases sheer survival. And yet, there are the prayer calls, the church bells, the university towers ringing, the daily shouts of religion and ritual, along with the ceaseless prayers – really, pray-ers—and chanters and scrIpture readers, all calling forth a kind of subtle, consistent song to God, however he/she is understood, or not. It is a dizzinging world indeed.
And this is only day one. Or is it two?

My Planned Schedule for India

I was told to plan for adjustments, so this is very rough. I also realize that a year in India would not be enough time to see the major sites, or to visit the important rural populations, so a month is hardly a fair overview. But this is what I have.
22 Nov. Sat. 9:45 p.m. arrive
22 Nov. Sat. to 26 Nov. Wed.: New Delhi; day train to Agra; day train to Jaipur
26 Nov. Wed.: Train to Amritsar; evening arrival
27 Nov. Thur.: Amritsar
28 Nov. Fri.: Bus/train to Dharamsala/McLeod
29 Nov. Sat.: Dharamsala area
30 Nov. Sun.: Train to Delhi.
1 Dec. Mon.: Delhi
2 Dec. Tues.: Train to Varanasi
3 Dec. Wed. to 5 Dec. Fri.: Varanasi area
6 Dec. Sat.: Train to Kolkata
7 Dec. Sun. to 8 Dec. Mon.: Kolkata area
9 Dec. Wed.: Flight to Chennai
9 Dec. Wed. to 14 Dec. Sun.: Chennai area
15 Dec. Mon.: Train to Hyderabad
16 Dec. Tues. Hyderabad
17 Dec. Wed. Train to Mumbai
18 Dec. Thur. to 19. Dec. Fri. Mumbai area
20 Dec. Sat. Flight to Delhi
20 Dec. Sat. to 21 Dec. Delhi

Welcome to my Wanderings & Wonderings

Initially this will be the place that I record observations and notes about my trip to India. I've been teaching World Religions now for almost 20 years, and I've wanted to visit this wonderfully rich and diverse country for most of those years. At age 51, with too much to do, too little money, and no specific research agenda, with a kitchen remodel job at crisis point at home, and with an end-of-semester crunch, I've decided to go to India. As I explain it, this is an (a) exploratory trip for possible future student trips from LCU; (b) a mini-sabbatical to think and reflect on all things academic; (c) a spiritual quest of sorts; and/or (d) a late mid-life crazy adventure. As I reflect here, you'll likely be able to choose what you deem appropriate. Thanks to my wife, Sharolyn, for supporting this venture, and to LCU and its provost for allowing it. Now, let the journey begin!