Varieties of Experiences

2 December 2008. Tundla, Uttar Pradesh, India.

So I arrived at the train station many hours early, and feeling a bit of the normal travel stomach discomfort, and I discover one of the great pleasures of Indian train travel: retiring rooms. These simple, two-bed, two-chair, locking rooms, with bathrooms, come for $2.00 per 24 hours, but they are not always dependable or clean. Mine is far from clean – the bedsheets do not look like they have been changed recently – and the mosquitos are active. But a bit of sportsman cream with deet, and I have some rare moments away from the constant noise that is India. Traffic sort of “flows,” but horns are used to say “I am coming, and I am not stopping,” and they are used often by everyone. Add the noise of 2 cycle gasoline engines (running the auto rickshaws), loud music from shops, cell phones, and some temples, cawing of crows, and train horns in the distance, and you have a very busy aural experience. What is amazing is how calm and quiet things are just a few blocks from the main streets, especially in a park or monument site.

There is no better known site in india than the Taj Mahal, in nearby Agra. Built in 22 years during the 17th century by the Muslim emperor in memory of his second wife, the Taj Mahal has been described as a “teardrop on the face of eternity” (Indian poet Tagore) and “the embodiment of all things pure” (Rudyard Kipling). It is a massive white marble building with detailed and extensive stone inlays and carved screens. Its size is difficult to describe, as is the impact one has standing in its shadow. The site also includes several gardens and gates, a mosque, and numerous smaller buildings. Unfortunately, this part of India is suffering from major air pollution, which clouds each day and night during the winter with an eerie smog. I went during the early morning, when the day is supposed to be at its best. You see the result.

Yesterday, after leaving Jaipur, I visited Fatepur Sikki, a small town on the way to Agra. Fatepur Sikki was for a short time the capital of the Mughal Empire, after emperor Akbar visited the town to consult with a Sufi (Muslim) saint named Sheikh Salim Chisti. The palace and fort remains, as does a very large mosque, Dargah Masjid. I was impressed with the size of the open space, where people would gather to pray and talk. Architecturally, the mosque is a gem, containing designs that incorporate both Indian and Persian styles.

In a few hours, I board the overnight sleeper train to Varanasi. I am in class 2AC (2nd class, air conditioned) in a space with 4 beds (2 upper and 2 lower). There are at least six classes of tickets, but this is the way many working Indians travel, as well as tourists. (There is also a 3-tier, non-airconditioned option, which I’m happy to pass to another.) For shorter distances, most Indians travel in 3rd class cars, with wood slat seats and bars across open windows. The seats, however, only seat about half the passengers, with the rest standing.

Some other interesting aspects of daily life here:

· Within cities and towns, the primary means of transportation are motorcycles, bicycles, buses, and taxis. Taxis usually mean varieties of rickshaws, human powered or motor powered. There are also trucks – plain big, work trucks with space in their cargo areas and a desire to make a few rupees. In the trucks, and on them, people sometimes crowd and hang on for highway ventures.

· People live in everything from make-shift tents to shanties to old business sheds to rock walled homes to concrete buildings to straw-walled and thatch-roofed structures. Farm houses tend to look like what we’ve been taught about biblical days homes – upstairs or one wing for the family, the other for cattle and other animals. I’ve not yet been in the more modernized parts of India, where I expect to see more high rise apartments.

· The average pay for a teacher for a year is about $3500 a year. Many people make much less. Some make nothing. I talked with a textile producer who proudly spoke of recruiting unemployed poor people from Calcutta, bringing them to Jaipur and providing them with housing, food, and insurance, as well as the “opportunity to learn the trade of embroidery.”

· India produces numerous products. Today I saw numerous small potato farms, then fields of brickmakers, then massive yards of huge stone for carvings. The markets are filled with large quantities of root crops, vegetables, and fruits. I am sure other states will prove more varieties of goods. Products are delivered to market or business by way of trucks and trailers, the latter often powered by donkeys, horses, oxen, and camels.

· There are over 1600 languages and dialects in India, but only 18 are recognized by the government. Hindi is spoken mostly in the North, and a host of regional languages dominate in the South. English is spoken by many, especially the professionals, and I’ve had very little trouble getting by.

· The weather is what I would call “late Spring,” with warm days and cool nights. So far, I’ve seen no rain or wind.

· I have never seen so many animals. I see monkeys in the towns and in the country bush. Yesterday I saw numerous goat herds. Elephants appear on the roads from time to time, but my sense is most of them are used for tourist purposes. Camels serve both tourist and practical needs. Pigs and/or boars roam around scavenging the trash heaps. Cows wander, though some are kept in yards and farms. Pigeons are fed by palace gardens.

· The dominant religions are Hinduism, Buddhism, Sikhism, Islam, and Jainism, but Christianity is substantial, especially in the South. Yesterday I saw a small Baptist building, with the sign “established 1845,” and today near the train station, a Christ Church building from 1860. I hope to learn more about Christian presence when I get to Chennai next week.

· Temples dot the landscape like country churches in West Texas. Temples are especially prominent on the tops of hills and mountains, much like fancy houses often are built in America on high overlooks.

· People seem to work hard, especially the women. I’ve noticed at construction sites that the women – dressed in traditional long dresses with scarves – are shoveling sand and mixing the mud and/or concrete. They (and the men) carry big bowls of dirt, mud, etc., on their heads.

· In the north and in this north central part of India, there are oleandars bushes with yellow and red flowers, occasional palm trees, and numerous thorny bushes that resemble our mesquite trees.

· Oh, add rats to the list of animals seen and experienced. I’ve just now discovered one of the surprises of train station retiring rooms. The noise I kept hearing while writing this post turns out to be a rather fat rat that has found my banana peel. Some discoveries I’d rather not have.

By the time this is posted, I will be in Varanasi, one of the holiest cities in all of India. This country is overwhelming in so many ways, and I continue to see here the full breadth of life. Today I saw a young man, maybe 15, hauling two large containers of water on his bike, and then a lady of about 40 dutifully shoveling concrete pieces and carrying the loads to another spot. I see families caring for children, while waiting for trains. In every vacant lot, there are boys playing cricket. On the streets, men sit and play cards or drink tea, squatting rather than sitting. Others visit a barber, right there on the street, with razors and tools laid out carefully on a towel. And I see people taking their puja, their prayers, at shrines large and small all along the way.

It is a feast for the eyes and mind, indeed.
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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…..
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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.

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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.
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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.

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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.

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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