Namaste India

Like Hawaii's aloha, namaste is both greeting and farewell. As the first of my flights for Dar Es Salaam is scheduled to depart in five hours, the time has come to bid India farewell. Before I go, some final experiences and thoughts:

Part 1: Grand Adventures

There are a few things one simply cannot miss here. I hope the next few pictures serve as an adequate way to share them with you.

Section 1.a: Agra

Namesake for Disney's Agrabah, Agra is most famous for the Taj Mahal. Some brief facts (so you won’t get scammed by a guide as I may or may not have):

The Taj Mahal was built by Mughal (not British) emperor Shah Janah in the mid-17^th (not 13^th) century as a memorial for Mumtaz, his favorite of four (not three) wives, who died after (not before) giving birth to the couple’s 14^th (not 20^th) child in 1631 (not 1542 – note that this alleged date of death is nearly three centuries after the monument’s supposed construction). It took over 20,000 (not 1 million) workers just over 20 (not 7) years to complete the structure.

I caught on pretty quickly to the guide’s misinformation but found it quite entertaining so kept listening anyway; I did not, however, give much of a tip.

Though I had doubts before arriving, the Taj Mahal really is as breathtaking as one of the world’s seven wonders should be – even upon this first glimpse.

It was hard to take my eyes off of the tomb long enough to have my own picture taken.

The beauty of sunset on its complex was almost as amazing as the Taj Mahal itself.

Section 1.b: Jaipur
Known as the Pink City and the Paris of India, Jaipur is actually India's newest, planned-out city. Location of three major forts, two palaces, and one color of paint (pink), it made for a memorable day.

The mesmerizing music of this snake charmer’s pipe, outside of Amber Fort, had captured my attention before I even saw the dancing cobra.

Though bright colors flood all of India’s states, Rajasthan displays more than the others. Known for its textiles, handcrafts, and maharaja palace, Jaipur embodies the colorful Rajasthani spirit. This is simply one of several doorway decorations in Jaipur’s City Palace.

Yes, that is an elephant. And yes, that is me, along with my travel partner, riding on the elephant, being serenaded by a traditional Indian stringed instrument. The elephant ride was awesome, though a bit slower and smoother than I’d expected.

Section 1.c: Pushkar

Pushkar is a small desert town, famous for two things: its sacred lake, surrounded by nearly 500 temples, and its annual, week-long camel fair. Between the ritualistic, religious setting and the colorful chaos of the camel fair, my day in Pushkar was my favorite day in India.

Pushkar’s lake, though small and mostly dried up, is considered as sacred as the Ganges. Many have had their ashes sprinkled over the lake, including Gandhi and Nehru (India’s first prime minister), whose remains were distributed into the middle of the three bathing ghats pictured above.
I mentioned Rajasthan’s colors above; this picture further demonstrates the wide array of colors.

Pushkar’s camel fair takes place one week each year, turning the small pilgrimage town into a circus-y, camel-filled arena. Over 200,000 herders descend upon the town, making it the world’s largest livestock market. Roaming snake charmers, rows of colorful stalls selling handcrafts and sweets, plenty of pickpockets, and a few ferris wheels also add to the atmosphere.

Not far beyond the boundaries of the fair is the desert – easily reachable by camel. Hot, dusty, and beautiful, it was an amazing sight.

Me and Murti, my new best friend.

Part 2: Some Overdue Honesty

Recently, I’ve received some criticism for not sharing more personal perspective. I’ve found that it’s easier to celebrate highlights than it is to share experiences connected to negativity, depression, or anger – especially those I haven’t yet had the time or distance to process fully myself. However, some more open reflection might not be misplaced.

Beyond the reality of poverty on a large-scale level, its connected hopelessness has been the most challenging phenomenon I’ve observed. For those who live in the slums, there is little hope of upward social mobility – at least in this lifetime. Many live in hope that they will be reborn into both a higher caste and class – the two are separate categories – next time. With this hopelessness comes a sort of stagnancy, seen everywhere along the streets and in people’s eyes.

This isn’t to say that India’s not an enjoyable place to live. For those with means, all the comforts of a western lifestyle are available – including the fences and glass car windows needed to escape the pervading despair of the streets.

For everyone sandwiched between the streets and the privileged, plenty of jobs are becoming available as more and more companies send business here. With an excess of workers and a cheap cost of living, combined with very little government restriction on foreign companies, India’s economy will only continue to increase. I hope, in the long run, this has greater applied impact here than simply increasing the availability of advanced technology for the wealthy.

In the meantime, though, there are still countless children sleeping on dirt piles or alongside the highway, forced to knock on car windows and pull on shirtsleeves for survival. What’s even more upsetting than this, though, is that, when presented with food instead of rupees, nearly half of the children turn it away – while their stomachs need food, their bodies need to avoid the resulting beating (for not collecting any cash) more.

In light of these reflections, it seems almost petty to then mention the number of stray dogs, cats, and other animals running around. Yet, at the same time, I feel almost as much pain when a dog, with all ribs showing and usually covered in fleas or tar, shies away from my shadow – clearly frightened of any human contact – as I do when a child turns down a granola bar. Initially, I’d vowed not to pet them. My resolve shattered my second night in Rishikesh when a 3-legged dog curled up next to me for warmth.

What has been most difficult personally, though, has been maintaining some sense of perspective: it’s hard to keep from insulating myself from such sights, yet in allowing myself to witness them, it’s hard to be so limited in ability to respond. I can only give granola bars to so many children, and I can teach the alphabet to even fewer. At the same time, these small actions are what I’ve had to focus on. When I drive by a child being beaten on the street, I force myself to remember the face of the last one I hugged.

My other main challenge has been in dealing with the physical aspects of being in India. Even with a male companion, I haven’t been able to go out for more than a few hours without being physically molested. I’ve gotten used to slapping some men’s hands away and shrugging others’ off. I’ve been blessed that I’ve only once been in any great fear for my physical safety and that there was an angel – in the form of a temple guard – who came to my rescue.

Other physical concerns seem trivial in comparison, yet they have been persistent companions of my trip. Hot showers are a treasured commodity, especially those taken with showerheads (instead of buckets). I’ve learned to carry toilet paper with me wherever I go, and, every time I blow my nose, the Kleenex turns black because of the pollution. Somewhere along the line, I’ve developed a persistent cough, and apparently I’ve picked up a pretty unfriendly infection or parasite. I hope the former leaves with a change of atmosphere and the latter doesn’t continue to worsen until I return home in December.

All in all, I’ve been surviving: I’ve gained strength from the brief minutes of familiar voices I’ve had the chance to call, and I’ve pulled myself together every night through a variety of songs on my iPod. I’m becoming both more flexible and adaptable, and I’m learning to find joy in life’s smaller things. As I said to a friend recently, I feel as though India’s giving me both a thicker skin and a softer heart. I haven’t yet figured out how it’s possible to develop both at the same time, but apparently they’re coming hand in hand.

I’m thankful for the time that I’ve spent here: I’ve found a new food group to accompany hamburgers, Mexican food, and ice cream on my list of favorites. I’ve also met some awesome kids, taken some great pictures, and gotten some reading done. As I said in my last entry, while I wouldn’t necessarily return to India tomorrow, I’m not ready to write the possibility out of my life’s story just yet. I don’t know what the future holds, except that I plan to board a plane to Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania this evening and am eager to see how the next 7 weeks turn out.

My current plan is to meet up with friend Rebecca Corey, currently spending this year in Dar Es Salaam as a Rotary Scholar and Kiva Fellow (check out her blog at http://rebeccacorey.wordpress.com), before spending the next 6 weeks at Olof Palme Orphans Education Center (http://www.oloforphans.org), located approximately 10 miles outside of Dar Es Salaam. From there, I’ll head up to Kilimanjaro and out on safari for a few days before returning home December 18.

Before I go, however, I can’t resist including a few last pictures from my time in India:

Part 3: Closing Memoories

Up ’til now, I’ve refrained from posting any pictures of the adorable (or not-so-adorable) cows I’ve met this fall. However, it’s just not right to spend 6 weeks in India without recownting some of my moost memoorable encownters:

#10. Aww…

Mother and baby cow working together to raid someone’s dinner site in Rishikesh.

#9. Not Camels

Don’t let its name fool you – Pushkar’s camel fair is about more than just camels. As the world’s largest livestock market, it has sections for horses and cattle alongside the camels.

#8. Na Na Na Na Moo Moo

I don’t know why this cow kept sticking out her tongue; I swear I’d showered recently.

#7. Black Beauties

So those black beasts grazing on the pavilion aren’t really cows – they’re water buffaloes! Silly Songs with Larry was stuck in my head for the rest of the afternoon.

#6. Wait a second…

…those aren’t cows? Nope. They’re actually Tibetan Buddhist monks I ran into at the National Museum in Delhi. They were really cool, though, and definitely make my list of memorable, new friends.

#5½. AK-47

Ok, so this run-in outside of Delhi’s Red Fort didn’t include a cow either, but it was pretty memorable and had to make it up here sometime:

Security Guard (SG): Hello ma’am.
Me: Hi.
SG: Do you know what this is?
Me: …a machine gun?
SG: It’s an AK-47.
Me: Oh.
SG (smiling): Would you like to touch it?
Me (pausing): Um… no thanks.
SG: Picture?
Me: I’m sorry, no thank you… but thanks? Have a good afternoon.
SG: Bye ma’am.

#5. There’s No Place Like Home

While there are many cows here, this one, enjoying sunset along the Ganges in Rishikesh, was the first I saw with the familiar black and white splotches of my childhood storybooks. Though not quite as good as the few Friends reruns I found on TV, it served as an adequate homesickness remedy.

#4. Holy Cows

The colorful patch adorning the foreheads of both this cow and statue of the Hindu god Shiva’s mount Nandi is a mark given any time one prays or makes offering at a Hindu temple. The spot is said to represent clear vision or one’s third eye.

#3. I Spy Some Things that Moo…

There are 10 cows in this picture, taken just after sunrise along the Ganges in Varanasi.
Can you find them all?

#2. Miss Cowngeniality

This was the friendliest and most forward cow I met by far. Within 30 seconds of our introduction, she’d already begun licking my palm. When I removed my hand, she rubbed her head against my leg to get more attention and trailed behind me once I walked away.

#1. Mythbusters

For some reason, I’d thought that cows couldn’t walk down stairs. As a result, I was dumbfounded and took a picture of this miraculous occurrence.

#0. Dostana –“Friendship” (By the way, it’s appropriate to end this countdown with 0, because nursery children count from 0 up, and the first floor of every building is floor 0, not 1.)

It’s a cow. And a monkey. In the same picture!!!
What a way to end a blog post.