Chennai Journal

Thoughts on India

2008-01-01T19:29:00.000-08:00

As 2008 begins and I've returned to the U.S., this will be the last post of Chennai Journal. I'm starting a new blog, called Transitions, where I'll record the adjustment back to the U.S., retirement or whatever this phase turns out to be, and other random thoughts including my experience of Vipassana.

So how to sum up three years in India? Someone wrote to me that I must have never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would end up there, and he was right. What an opportunity, a challenge, and an incredible experience. I do feel that I made the most of it--traveling all over the country and to other parts of Asia as well, and have no regrets on that score. My staff gave an overwhelming farewell to me, and I have lots of fond memories of my work experience and the people there--some of whom I know will remain in touch for life.

Someone once said of Japan that all countries are unique, Japan is just more unique than others. I think that can be said of India as well. It is a very intense place, and not one you can be indifferent about. There were things I grew weary of---a mundane one is the use of cilantro in almost every dish --and it will be a while before I venture into an Indian restaurant. I won't miss the commute to work--as fascinating as the varied tableau of cows, trucks, men peeing on the side of the road, and overstuffed buses and rickshaws often was, it was very tiring at the end of the day to know that I faced an hour and a half or more ride home--even though I wasn't driving. And I won't miss how difficult it was to get even simple things understood and done, or just the difficulty of getting around, and being dependent on a driver, or the stark poverty in places and begging. Or being separated from my family for a good part of the time I was there.

But India has left its mark on me. The culture and the spirituality fascinated me. I loved the temples, the sound of the daily rituals (sometimes I still hear the bells from next door in my sleep), the varied sights, sounds, and smells, the intense drive and eagerness of people--the sheer level of energy. These will stay with me for a long time to come. I'm very glad to be home---but I wouldn't have missed the experience for the world.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet...

2007-12-27T09:04:00.000-08:00

It's been about a week since I returned to the U.S. It's cold in Michigan---snow on the ground that has now melted with a rainfall a few days ago, but still very cold here especially compared to Chennai. The air shipment was delivered on Friday with everything intact. I've checked in with a number of friends, started getting the house in order in anticipation of the sea shipment in a month or so, and we are going on a circle tour of the eastern U.S.--will be in New Hampshire for New Year's, and then travel south to Orlando to go to Disney World and Universal Studios, maybe catching Graceland on the way back up north. I've already been signed up for a Torah reading with our shul when I get back, and then head out to Vipassana for 10 days at the Dhamma Torana.

At first, my dad, who has just turned 90, did not know me. Yesterday and today he did. Sometimes he reacts when I use a phrase from childhood ("I'll give you a potch in tuchis," or "take a lot, take two...." ) , and some days he even knows my name--but often there is a blank look in his eyes, nobody home. He doesn't walk now, and hasn't for a few months---my dad, who never took a car when he could walk or take his bicycle, and was a fixture around town, his tie flapping over one shoulder as he rode my old grade school bike--abandoned for a multi-speed model when I was in college--to the family store. I am glad I got him home from India when I did, since he would never have made it now. He is in a comfortable place in a small nursing home about 3 miles from our house. I visit nearly every day, but it depresses me to stay too long.

I've had a lot of thoughts about India, but mostly right now it feels very far away, and my attention is focused on family and settling back into the U.S. I rejoined the Ashtanga yoga class I'd enjoyed before I left--ironically, I did almost no yoga in India. In a few days, I'll jot down some thoughts--what I liked, what I didn't like, what I learned. And figure out what the next journal will be about.....

Last Day in Chennai

2007-12-18T05:03:00.000-08:00

Well, so much for the end of the monsoon....today was a blustery, rainy day with nearly constant downpours--it has never really stopped, just let up a few times---and impossible to do much of anything but pack. So I wasn't able to even take a "farewell swim" in the pool.

Now I'm in the final hours, and will have dinner with Jon and Lindy in a little while, then load up and head to the airport. I'll post when I arrive back in the good old US of A. From what I hear weather there is not much better--Marty and Sara will come to the airport with my winter coat, hat and boots. Bringing my multi-colored gloves from Darjeeling (that one's for you, Prince Roy--someday you will get there!) with me....

Last Days in Chennai

2007-12-13T09:13:00.000-08:00

The sea shipment has been loaded and locked, and sent to customs and then to the Port of Chennai. The ship was to have sailed yesterday for Columbo, where the container will be loaded on to a larger ocean vessel that sails around the Horn of Africa and straight to New York. There, it clears customs and is transferred to a truck to Detroit. Supposedly, all this takes a month--I'll believe that when I see it.

In the meantime, I decided against any more travel the last weekend I'm here. I'm happily settled at the residential quarters of the Madras Club, which are really quite lovely--my room overlooks the walking trail and the Adyar River. Just plan to have a quiet time and enjoy the atmosphere and the pool for the last few days. The monsoon, which never really came--we only had a few days of rain--has ended, and the December weather is great. All that will end when I reach Detroit, where it's freezing rain.

Attack of the Killer Salespeople

2007-12-08T06:12:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I wanted to buy Leela a watch, so went to the Citi Centre which is a new shopping center opened a couple of years ago. Headed to Landmark, the bookstore, where I had seen displays of watches before. What an experience--it felt like being at a night market where every vendor is hanging on you to get you to buy from their stall.

Landmark does not have an large selection of watches--three or four display carousels, one for each brand, which was fine with me because I tend to get overwhelmed when I have too many choices. A tall young man was first to ask me if I needed help, so I described what I was looking for and he started to open one of the carousels and show me watches. Within less than 30 seconds, a young woman was crowding in under his armpit to show me a watch from another carousel, interrupting both of us. They started having a conversation in Tamil and I could tell he was telling her to bugger off, but she persisted. Finally, I asked her to please step aside--that I didn't want to look at her watches. She did.

This was not the end. The young man showed me a couple of watches that looked like possibilities. But, to my left was a third carousel, and I wanted to see the watches in that one, too. Lurking in the background was another young man. As soon as I pointed to the carousel, he appeared at my left elbow, ready to pounce. The young woman was still standing by on the right, crowding next to the salesperson who was helping me. "Wait, wait, wait," I said, "I don't need three people to show me watches. Please, let this guy {gesturing to the tall young man} help me." The other guy, to my left, said, "No madam, each one is separate." Then I got it--in this less than 10 or 12 foot space with only three carousels of watches, there were at least three salespeople, one for each (I say at least because I think there may have been a fourth display, and that person must have been either absent that day or off having a tea break).

Tired from all the packing and feeling hemmed in all sides, I threw up my hands and said, "I give up---I'll go somewhere else." And leaving them open mouthed and dismayed, I walked out. I went nearby to Lifestyle. They had a similar set up with brand-dedicated displays, but it was a lot more civilized and the salespeople weren't cannabilizing each other. In about 10 minutes, I found and bought a watch.

In other news, Junior arrived safely in Detroit. Marty and Sara are as full of joy to see her as Leela has been sorrowful to say goodbye. I guess that is change and moving in a nutshell--both sad and happy all mixed up at the same time.

Packing Update

2007-12-06T20:43:00.000-08:00

The movers finished about 70% of the packing--seven or eight men arrived at 9:30 a.m. and some of them immediately started in with tape, corrugated cardboard, and boxes even before the orientation on what goes where. They had two tea breaks--courtesy of Leela--a short lunch, and by 6:00 p.m. the lion's share had been done. They will be back tomorrow. Had my last meal at the apartment and have moved over to the Madras Club, where I have an oldish but very comfortable and spacious room overlooking the running track and the Adyar River.

In the meantime, here is the progress on Miss Junior, who arrived in Frankfurt this morning and has a layover in the airport kennel until Friday a.m. Germany time:

Waiting for it all to happen

2007-12-04T19:06:00.000-08:00

I haven't been in this place for a while. The place I mean is moving and change. It was tough when Marty left and when Dad left earlier this year, but I guess I was last there in this order of magnitude three years ago when we came to India. The last two weeks before a big change are the toughest. Because lots of stuff is happening, but I haven't actually left yet. In many ways, I just want to have it over and done with. Junior seems ready too--last night I found her curled up in her container, which I put out for her to get used to--as if placidly waiting to board.

Today I came home and Leela made a normal dinner, but I realized that yesterday was really the last normal day since tomorrow night the movers will come and get Junior, and we start to pack on Thursday. So tonight is the last night we'll all be together, Leela, Junior and me. Junior stays a day in Frankfurt in the little "zoo" they have in the airport, and then on to Detroit--cold and snowy. But, it will be a relief to know that she has arrived home. I thought about taking her with me on the plane when I go, but given all the paperwork and protocol I'm glad I started earlier---and this way, she's in a larger container, and will have some time to stop and get food, water, and cleaned up, and not be underfoot and scared with the packers here. Sara is so excited about her arrival, and has been planning all of Junior's accessories ---litter box, water feeder, toys--for weeks now. Junior--the world traveler. From now she will likely live out a comparatively dull life! The good thing is that she learned to travel at an early age--she came here at 10 months old-- and rides compliantly and calmly in a car--which J.D. never did. Speaking of J.D., her remains lie beneath the balcony of this apartment---I just haven't brought myself to pay a last visit yet there before I leave.

I am ready to go home. But, of course I have mixed feelings. For one thing, Leela and Junior have bonded---she bounds up from the bed when Leela gets up at 5 a.m., and when Leela returns from her day off, Junior is at the door to welcome her. That will be the first degree of separation. Then, when I leave the house and say good bye myself, that will be the next degree, because Leela is like family (she has another job, beginning in January, nearby, and I will stay in touch with her new family, Facebook friends). And then to all of the staff at work, and friends, goodbye again. It's been a tough three years in many ways, but also very intense and rewarding.

In all of this, the secondary consideration for me has been leaving work. Officially I'm retiring, though in reality I'm taking a few months off, and then looking for something else to do. It doesn't feel as intense to me as leaving India. But maybe the human brain can only handle one big change at a time, so my mind is doing this thing sequentially....we'll see.

The End is Near

2007-12-02T10:00:00.000-08:00

It seems impossible to believe that the end of my three year stay in India is near.....I'll be leaving for good in just a little over two weeks. Junior, pictured pensively below, returns on Wednesday night, and yesterday I had to sign over a dozen documents connected with her shipment. The packers come on Thursday. Once I move to temporary accommodation at the Madras Club, posts may be spotty . I'm hoping to get in one journey out of Chennai before I depart, though, and also want to do a wrap up post on the India experience.....

I haven't decided what to do about Chennai Journal when I return. Probably I'll do a few posts about the "reentry process", just to give the complete expat experience--because truly, coming home can be as much of an adjustment as going out, based on what I found when I returned from Japan after more than four years there. I've really enjoyed blogging and it has been a great way to record my experience. Will give it some thought, but it may depend on whatever my new gig is after "retirement..." Plan to take a few months off, do the American touristy things like visit Disney World and Graceland, and also do the 10 day Vipassana meditation course in Ontario. The rest I'm playing by ear....

Reupholstery

2007-11-28T08:12:00.000-08:00

I don't know how much it costs to reupholster furniture in the U.S. these days, or how long it takes. I've heard that it's expensive and can take months. We had a couple of pieces of furniture that were very comfortable--Dad's favorite wingback chair, and a rocker we had in the bedroom--that were looking a bit tired but otherwise in good shape. So bought some fabric for about $10 a meter --$60 for the wingback chair and $20 for the rocker--and had a couple of guys who run a shop nearby come and re-do them. They came, sewing machine and all, and did both of the chairs plus some work on a couple of drapes that I want to be able to use at home that needed to be sewed together and have a space put in for a rod. They were here for two days and charged 3000 RS (about $75 US). Both pieces look better than new.

Bridge on the River Kwai

2007-11-25T07:46:00.000-08:00

I am dating myself, but the first movie I remember seeing was the 1950s re-release of Bambi. I was four years old and we almost had to leave midway through because my cousin Doug (then called Dougie) who was three, got scared by the forest fire and started crying. The second movie I remember, however--and it is an equally vivid memory-- was The Bridge On the River Kwai. I was about 6, and the movie had just been released in Detroit. My dad, who worked in the family dry goods' store, went to Detroit a few times a year for apparel shows, and he desperately wanted to see the movie. It's funny how our memories work---I remember clearly that my parents were worried that I'd be bored, so they got me a coloring book beforehand---and also that we got to the theatre 20 minutes before the end, so we saw the blowing up of the bridge, and then watched the movie from the beginning (they let you do that in those days).

Once I got older and put the movie in the context of World War II history, I always assumed that the bridge was in Burma--until I read The Lonely Planet guide to Thailand, I hadn't clued into the fact that it was so close to Bangkok. So, having all these vivid memories from childhood, I really wanted to visit the area. After leaving Laos, I returned to Bangkok and got a public bus to Kanchanaburi, about a 3 hour ride.

Kanchanaburi is a major tourist area in Thailand, and so there are lots of travel companies and guest houses to stay. I took a one day trip to Erawan National Park, which has a series of waterfalls, and the trip also included a stop at an elephant camp (you can see me on an elephant on Flickr, with Orit, a co-tourist from Israel) and travel on the Death Railway (this can definitely be missed, but seems to be a part of every tour). Perhaps most impressive was the Thailand/Burma Railway museum, which depicts the sad history of the building of the railway to connect the two countries.

The concept for the railway dated many years before its building. In addition to being a difficult task through harsh climatic conditions, for strategic reasons the British hesitated to connect the two countries for reasons of imperial control. Ensuring supply lines in SE Asia for the eventual conquest of India assumed critical importance to the Japanese, who brought tens of thousands of British, Australian and Dutch prisoners of war to the area after the fall of Singapore (some North Americans too, though the numbers were small in comparison). The POWs were were packed into railway cars--you can stand in one in the museum to get a feel of the conditions--not unlike the transport of Jews to the concentration camps---and transported nearly 2000 kilometers north. Of course, even more Southeast Asians--Thais, Malays, and others--were also conscripted, many through false pretenses, and forced to work on the railway as well. A total workforce of more than 250,000 men was used to build the over 400 kilometer railway in a record 16 months, and due to disease, and harsh conditions---very little food was provided to the men but they were forced to work sometimes 16-20 hours per day--- the death rates were staggering. Approximately one quarter of the western, and more than a third, of the Asian workforce, perished. The blowing up of the bridge, however, is entirely fictional, as is much else about the movie. In the documentary shown in the museum, a Japanese officer also scoffs at the depiction of British "expertise" needed to realize the engineering and technical aspects of the railway---this, he says, was entirely Japanese. Perhaps, in focusing on Japanese cruelty to the workforce, their engineering prowess was underestimated---that awareness surfaced only decades later.

While in Kanchanaburi, I also took a cooking class from Apple and Noi's guesthouse, which also has an excellent restaurant. We visited a local market and then went to an open air teaching kitchen on the river, where we made everyone's favorite Thai dish, Phad Thai, as well as Penang curry and a stir fry. Nice way to end the trip. Notice the yellow shirt on the market lady below---yellow is the color of the King of Thailand, who will be celebrating his 80th birthday soon, and it's considered patriotic to wear it.

More on Laos

2007-11-18T08:48:00.000-08:00

One of the important Buddhist customs is almsgiving. Every morning between 6 and 6:30, the monks in Luang Prabang from various monasteries parade through the street to the main wat, or temple, Wat Xieng Thong, which sits at the confluence of the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers.

Along the route, people offer rice, fruit, and other food to the monks. I suppose many do this as a daily ritual, along with the monks. It is customary for young men to serve their time in the monastery--and for some it's exactly that--as in off hours you can see them on the streets talking on cell phones, gathered around a computer terminal in an internet cafe, or laughing and joking among themselves. Below you can see one of the young monks deeply engrossed in a cell phone conversation, with his friend waiting patiently.

Of course, the intrusion of the modern world isn't limited to motorcycles, internet cafes, and cell phones. It's the tourists, too. It was not the high season yet, but still, at least 30 other tourists were out along the part of the route I was on --near my guest house, the Sayo--snapping away. A tourist brochure given to you at the airport has ten tips to help you honor the Lao culture, one of these being a plea not to use a flash and keep a respectful distance during the alms giving. I certainly tried to do this, and used my telephoto lens as well.

There are many wats or temples in Luang Prabang, and there is a peaceful sense being around them. I tried to upload a video, but it's 72 MB and that seems a bit more than Blogger can swallow. So here are a few more pictures (and there are more on Flickr):

Laos

2007-11-05T23:16:00.000-08:00

Laos was great. On Sunday I took a longboat ride on the Mekong River to a nearby cave with Buddhist statues. The cave was so-so- somewhat of a tourist trap with a sidetrip to a "whisky village" where Lao whisky is made--but it was fascinating watching life along the mighty Mekong. The river soil is very rich, and you see all kinds of vegetables being grown along the riverbank. I took a lot of pictures of the river people going about their daily business, fishermen going out for the day's catch, men, women and children tending vegetable gardens. The long boat itself is a variation on the rice barges you see in India, a place where people not only work but live (no life vests, though). You can see some of these photos on top, in Flickr.

My impressions, and the things I noticed, often seemed in contrast to India. Luang Prabang is a quiet city, not very crowded, and very clean. In fact, anywhere I went in Laos seemed clean, and it finally dawned on me: no garbage in the streets, no men urinating in public. Cows and goats were fat and sleek, and the dogs in the streets were well fed, many with collars. There are more tourists than natives in Luang Prabang--at times it seemed that every other person was sporting the Lonely Planet guide to Laos. The Lao Democratic Republic has figured out how to cash in on the tourist interest, by charging a hefty $30 visa fee on the way in and a $10 exit tax on the way out. But, considering that accommodations run under $30 a night and meals a few dollars a day, it's probably a fair bargain. There were many backpackers from Europe--especially France-- and Australia, and most in singles and couples. For the most part, Japanese and Korean tour groups have not yet discovered Laos--though there was a huge contingent from Elderhostel. Due to the French background, the baguettes were great.

On Monday I took a hill trek into some nearby villages, and then on to the Kuangsi Falls. We visited villages of two of the several hill tribes of Laos--the Khmu and the Hmong.. They live quite differently, but both are animist (not Buddhist) and so there were no temples or other obvious signs of worship in the villages. The Khmu are said to be related to the Khmer people of Cambodia, whereas the Hmong migrated from China several hundred years ago. There were several Khmu about the village when we visited, including a group of women who were preparing vegetables to sell to a nearby market, and many young children--several of whom looked to be of school age. In the Hmong village, on the other hand, there were only a few old people--two women and a man tending a baby--as the children were in school and the able-bodied adults were in the fields.

There were other interesting differences between the two villages, which undoubtedly stem from their differing origins--e.g. the Khmu build their homes on stilts, whereas the Hmong are flat to the ground. Both groups are also found in Northern Thailand.

After leaving the villages, we took a three hour hike that took us through some fields, a dense forest, and finally to the top of the spectacular Kuangsi Falls. It had rained a couple of days before and parts of the trail were very slippery and steep, but despite falling three or four times I only had a banged up wrist which healed in a day or so. Along the way we saw people working in the rice fields--some rice is grown dry here.

And this was the reward for the hike--this is a view of the falls from the front, after we had climbed down from the top.

In Luang Prabang itself I visited several of the temples ( the shot at the top of this post is taken from the one at the top of a hill in the center of town) and watched the morning alms giving to the monks. More on that in a separate post.

On the way to Laos

2007-11-02T07:25:00.000-07:00

Heading to Luang Prabang and parts east for a few days. Will post when I am back.

Tiruvanamallai

2007-10-28T07:45:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday I went to Tiruvanamallai, about 3 hours from Chennai. One of my employee's wife's family is from there, and the place is famous for the Arunachala temple, dedicated to Shiva. Many people make pilgrimages to this temple at the new moon and other festivals, especially Diwali, which originated here. One important ritual is to walk around the Arunachala mountain (shown above). A famous sage, Sri Ramana, made this place famous, and there is an ashram nearby devoted to his teachings--Somerset Maugham among others came here. Tiruvanamallai is one of the great holy places of India, and it is said that one needs only to think of Arunachala to attain spiritual liberation.

The family made special arrangements for me to be able to visit the inner sanctum of the temple with my employee and his father in law, which was really interesting (non-Hindus are not usually allowed in the inner areas of most temples, where the religious observances occur). We went past a long line of people waiting for the main deity, Shiva, and into a small enclosed area that was quite hot. The priest brought a round brass plate filled with flowers, incense, and other offerings, and each person wishing to offer prayers put his or her hands on the plate in turn. The priest asked the name of the individual and those he or she wished to have blessed, including their astrological sign, star sign, and other important details important in Hinduism. The priest then went to the inner sanctum where the god--in this case Shiva--was represented. He said some prayers in Sanskrit, and then came back out with the same plate, this time with a small fire on the plate. Then each person puts their hands on the flame, and may take a small part of the offering that has been blessed, called the prasad. A small bit of red sandalwood paste is also taken and placed on the center of the forehead, the so-called "third eye" --for devotees of Shiva, or Shaivites, the mark is placed horizontally.

There is more than one sanctum to which you can go, and we also went to the one for Shiva's wife Parvati, also called Uma. This place was less crowded than the main Shiva sanctum, but followed a similar process. Then, we went to the place which I also saw in the temple in Madurai, which is dedicated to the nine planets. The custom here is that you pay to light small oil lamps, and then walk around the display nine times. Then you pay respects to a representation of Chitragupta, who is the recordkeeper of human deeds, and who decides if someone goes to heaven or hell when he/she dies. But, as explained to me, it is considered bad luck to look directly at Chitragupta, so you look only from the side of the enclosure where he is represented. Finally, there is a ceremony where you sit down and receive the prasad, and then outside the sanctum, those partaking in the blessings prostrate themselves.

Arunchala is a lively place, and being the day after Ayudha Pooja, ceremonies were still going on as depicted below. .

Although the temple is an important place for prayer, equally significant are the daily rituals done at home. Hindu homes will usually have a small room for this purpose, called a pooja room. When I am home on weekends or leave later for work than usual, I feel as if I am participating vicariously in this ritual, as the people next door--wealthy brothers who built a large complex to house their two families--have a large statue of Ganapathy (Ganesh) in a courtyard on the side of the house. Regularly at 8 or so in the morning and 6 in the evening, I hear the bells rung for the ritual, and if the porch door is open, the faint smell of sandalwood and camphor drifts over as well.

Beggary

2007-10-21T09:07:00.000-07:00

While in Kolkata I had the idea to write a post about begging, since it is such a part of the landscape especially in large cities (though less in Chennai than elsewhere.). Begging is also big business. There was a story last year about the "richest beggar in Bombay" who owns a couple of flats and has healthy assets stashed away. One number floating around --who knows if it's true--is that beggars in Bombay alone earn about 180 crore (about $40 million) per year. One writer estimates that a beggar plying one particularly busy intersection in Bangalore takes in as much per month as a software engineer.

You see a guy like the one pictured above, huddled on the street in Darjeeling, all bundled up, or an old woman outside a fabric store frequented by wealthy Indians and foreigners, or a one-armed mother with a small baby follows you in the airport parking lot in Bombay or Delhi and taps on the taxi cab window. What do you do? Though we may feel ourselves special "targets", foreigners are obviously not the only ones solicited--beggars could never make a living from us since we're too few in number. The reaction is mixed. Some hand over a 2 or a 5 rupee piece, some ignore the beggars, and some brush them aside. People say to give a child a piece of fruit or candy, rather than money that will only be taken by the adult who sent him or her into the street to beg. Since coming to India, I have done all of these.

Beggars are seldom on their own, though they may appear so. The crippled man with a tin cup who waits for cars at a busy intersection, or the child who follows you out of Mother Teresa's house, is part of a community--on the front lines because their youth, age, or disability will attract sympathy. Some, born with defects or unable to work because of an accident or other misfortune, may have few other choices. But, as everywhere, begging is also a way of life, and a livelihood, co-existing with the small entrepreneur who sells seasonal fruit, or the streetside barber. It may be a family tradition, with the territory passed on--for beggars can be very territorial. There are stories that children and women in particular may be deliberately maimed to attract sympathy, and there was a scandal last year or so that some doctors have been involved in this, as part of a "beggar mafia."

There is an old man who stands outside a nearby grocery store that is frequented by foreigners (Amma Naana which means Grandma's). I call him Marty's beggar because Marty often slipped him a 5 rupee piece and I sometimes do as well. Of course, we are not the only ones, and I suspect this guy takes in a fair haul. But he also works. You often see him picking through garbage and pulling out bits of things that can be collected and sold.
I remember last year meeting a fellow traveler in Darjeeling, an Australian who comes to India fairly often. Years ago, he befriended a young girl who was begging outside a temple and wound up paying for her education at a convent school in Darjeeling. She is now a teacher herself, not wealthy, but happy because she has an apartment and a microwave oven.

You have to come to your own conclusions about how to handle beggars--and sometimes, as in the cases above, it's just situational. While in Kolkata, I found it difficult to walk a block without someone soliciting me. I didn't give to a single beggar while there. But I did make a resolution. Although begging may be a business, and some beggars (like the millioniare in Bombay) even dress for the part, there are still many, many destitute people here who do not have sufficient means to live without help. So for every beggar who approaches me now, I put aside a small sum, which I'll donate when I leave to a worthy organization that is helping people get a real livelihood.

Soup's On....

2007-10-14T06:21:00.000-07:00

Leela makes the best soups. All of them are vegetarian, since I don't eat meat here, and all of them are delicious. It seemed a shame not to capture and share her secrets, so I invited a couple of friends over to join the lessons--and help eat the proceeds....

Leela uses a pressure cooker for her soups, which I'm convinced contributes to the rich and intense flavors, despite the lack of meat. It took me a bit to get past my fear of these--I was raised in an era when pressure cookers were rather tricky and dangerous, and my mother used to make me leave the kitchen whenever she used hers.

During yesterday's lesson, Leela showed us how to make two soups, Vegetarian Vegetable and Dal (lentil) with rosemary.

Veggie Soup à la Leela

1 T olive oil
2 small onions – chopped
1 spring onion – chopped
2 carrots – chopped
1 handful green beans – chopped
1 potato – chopped
1 handful peas
1 stock celery – chopped small

Sauté onions in oil in pressure cooker until golden brown
Stir in the rest of the veggies
Add ½ litre water
Pressure cooker – bring to boil and 3 whistles
Open cooker and apply potato masher (see below!) for 1 minute
Set aside until ready to heat, may be reheated.

Note that there is no seasoning in this soup. You can add salt & pepper to taste.

Dal Soup

For this recipe, you need Mysore dal, shown below.

1 small tomato – skinned, chopped
½ C mysore dal (soaked 1 hour)
1/3 litre water
Put ingredients in pressure cooker, boil, 3 whistles

While the dal is cooking, saute a clove of garlic and half teaspoon of dried rosemary in olive oil. Stir into dal.

This soup is very simple, but delicious. Sauteeing the rosemary helps produce a very nice, aromatic quality in the soup.

Both soups give about 4 servings.

Kolkata Part II

2007-10-07T08:32:00.000-07:00

While in Kolkata I walked to the "Mother House" where Mother Teresa is buried. On the way there I got lost, which is not difficult in Kolkata because the streets often have different names from those shown on the map. While detouring, I found a park with this sign, which one probably wouldn't find in most parks in the world:

Not surprisingly, an enterprising fellow attached himself to me as a guide, offering to take me to the Mother's House if I would buy him some milk. We took an even longer detour to get to the shop where he traded, but in due course he deposited me at the entrance to the house, shown below.

You are not allowed to take pictures inside, except for her tomb, which I passed on. The tomb is decorated with flowers and sits in a small chapel, where services were being conducted. There are chairs around it and people just come in and sit, reflect and pray, and some genuflect before the tomb. There is also a small museum showing artifacts from her life--the chair she sat in, her dishes and utensils, her clothing, and pictures of her life in India. The house is still used by the sisters, and it is in respect to their privacy that photographs are prohibited.

You do feel a presence in this place. Despite the cacophony outside, it is very quiet in the house, except for the voice of the priest and the occasional murmurs by the small congregation--about 30 people were in the services when I was there. You wonder about the twists of fate and destiny that led this small Albanian woman to not only devote her life to the poor of another country--and eventually many countries-- but at the world acclaim that she attracted, which was largely due to a documentary created in the late 1960s. Her life and works are not without controversy, even in her own city. The poor of Calcutta are little different from the poor of Bombay or Delhi, and arguably in better circumstances than those of some of India's most destitute states such as Bihar--and Calcutta is actually a more liveable city, with fewer infrastructure problems, than Bombay. But ironically, in part due to the work of Mother Teresa, it is Calcutta which bears an image synonymous with teeming multitudes of the destitute.

When I left the house to walk back, I was accosted by beggars who clearly have staked out this spot as a "mother lode" (sorry for the bad pun). This situation, and a subsequent discussion with co-workers in Kolkata have led me to a new paradigm on street beggars, which I'll write about in another post.

October/November is the festive season in India, and in Kolkata the biggest celebration is for Durga Puja, culminating Navarati, or nine nights. Although Durga is a Hindu deity, the Durga Puja in Kolkata is more like a Mardi Gras--everyone celebrates, and the streets have a carnival atmosphere.

In preparation, thousands of Durga idols are produced, most of them on a single small street in Kolkata called Kumartuli, or Potter's Town. (The idols are not only for use in Kolkata, but for export as well to Bengalis celebrating the Durga puja in the Indian diaspora.) The cab driver who took me to the synagogue also took me here, where the day was just getting started.

The whole community ("Kumars") gets involved in making, painting, and transporting these idols, in work that has been going on for four centuries since the Durga pooja was first celebrated during the Mughal era. The idols are made of hay and clay (making them somewhat more environmentally friendly than the plaster of paris Ganesh idols that I showed last week), and the finishing touch--painting the goddess's eye--is reserved for the eldest of the community.

O Kolkata! Part I

2007-10-03T06:49:00.000-07:00

I am back from a few days in Kolkata (renamed from Calcutta). Although compact and you can mostly walk around to the main tourist sites, I can't say it's a relaxing city---at one point, after several hours battling crowds and beggars around the markets and area near my hotel, I just needed a break from it all and had to pop into the opulent Oberoi Grand for lunch and peace and quiet. This said, it's a fascinating place and I'll do a couple of posts with my impressions.

Kolkata was the great seat of the British raj. Here, fortunes were made and lives lost....the "Black Hole of Calcutta" was the 1756 incident (hotly disputed in terms of numbers/veracity) where over 100 British and Anglo Indian soldiers were said to have suffocated from being holed up in a dungeon after the capture of Fort William. Many more in the days of the Raj--probably most-- died of disease and many were young women and children. On the first morning I was there, I wandered down to the Park Street Cemetery, where there are hundreds of graves of British residents of Calcutta, dating from the mid-1700s when the cemetery was established. An association funded by descendants of the buried and others interested in British history maintains the cemetery, which has been ravaged by vandalism as well as the effects of time. Most of the tombs are in English only, but the one shown to the left, of a Christian philanthropist, carries inscriptions in Arabic and Hindi as well.

Kolkata once had a thriving Jewish population, more than 5000 souls. Most were from Baghdad or Syria, and were traders who found themselves at home and accepted in British India. On Monday I tried to find a synagogue that was marked on a local map. I walked all the way from my hotel up past the famous Writer's Building (so called because young men from England were sent as scribes to the East India Company) but was a bit too late in the morning---by 8:30 a.m., the sidewalks were already jammed with street vendors and traffic was horrendous. I could see a sign on a building that said "Synagogue Street", but no one could tell me where the synagogue was. I finally gave up and resolved to come back in a cab, and earlier in the morning. The next day, despite having a cabbie who spoke no English (and he didn't need to, because the only people who knew directions spoke Bengali....), I nearly had the same fate, and then, purely by accident, I spotted the word "synagogue" peaking through a mobile phone advertisement and a makeshift rain canopy over some street stalls:

My cab driver parked the car and accompanied me across the street, but this synagogue--Neveh Shalom--has been totally appropriated and is no longer a shul--to put it mildly. A street vendor pointed us down the street and around the corner, where, amidst blaring horns and a few bleating goats, we weaved our way through fruit stands, shoe shiners, morning tea drinkers, and assorted other entrepreneurs to find the magnificent Magen David Synagogue, once the largest and most splendid in Calcutta. The caretaker, an old Muslim, kindly let me in when I showed my necklace with a Star of David.

Magen David is not in regular operation---it still does have two Torah scrolls--but it is clearly cared for. In stark contrast to the cacaphony outside (which you can hear on the video below), the inside was full of peace and reverence. This week is the harvest festival of Sukkot, which follows on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, and members of the nearby Beth El Synagogue--the only functioning shul in Kolkata these days-- had built a sukkah outside which you can see at the end of the video. A lulav and etrog, were on a stand at the entrance to the sanctuary, along with a kippah (men's headcovering) which looked as if it, too, dated from the 1800s.

Bandh

2007-09-29T01:54:00.000-07:00

We had an unexpected long holiday this weekend. October 2 (Tuesday) is Gandhi's birthday, but now a Bandh (means "closed" in Hindi) has been called for October 1. Karunanidhi, the Chief Minister, has said that the strike is not called by the government, but "by the alliance parties to draw attention to the people's demand in a peaceful manner." The "people's demand" is for the realization of the Sethusamudram Shipping project, which would involve dredging a canal between Tamil Nadu and Sri Lanka. Since the waters between the two are quite shallow, large ocean going ships have to navigate around Sri Lanka to reach the eastern coast of India. The canal would allow a shipping lane through this strait between the two countries.

As an idea, the canal project has been around more than 150 years, but for various reasons has never materialized. It got more of a kick start a couple of years ago when it was backed by PM Manmohan Singh, but still faces controversy---according to some reports, it isn't economically viable, and the environmental impact on marine life--including the trade of small fishermen along the Coromandel coast--could be devastating. There are religious objections, too---a necklace of islands between the two countries is called Rama's Bridge (Hindu) or Adam's Bridge (Islamic) and is tied to mythology about Rama's pals building the bridge so he could reach Lanka to rescue his wife Sita. The Islamic version would have Adam crossing to stand on one foot on the highest peak in Ceylon (old for Sri Lanka) for a 1000 years to repent his sins. This same mountain is also sacred to the Buddhists. Anyway, interesting timing to choose a "bridge day" between a weekend and a major holiday to announce a bandh over such a project...

Although things are expected to be peaceful and the Madras High Court has charged the government to ensure that services are not disrupted and traffic runs normally, I decided to take the opportunity for a bit of travel. So I got on the web and quickly organized a short trip to Kolkata. Despite its association with poverty through the work of Mother Teresa, it's supposed to be a lovely old city with lots of places to see and old Raj charm. And Bengali food is among the best....more when I return....

Ganesh Chathurti

2007-09-23T04:22:00.000-07:00

(Video in 2 parts)

Since coming to India, I've seemed to miss the annual plaster- of- paris- to- the- sea festival that is otherwise known as Ganesh Chaturthi. But this year it fell on Sunday and I had Antony drive me down to the beach to see the festivities. On the way,we passed three wheelers, trucks, and bullock carts with statues of varying size accompanied by shouting and cheering devotees.

The festival is the culmination of a 10 day long celebration of the birthday of Lord Ganesh, one of the principal Hindu gods. Ganesh is the elephant god, a roly poly deity with the head of an elephant and human features such as arms, and he is worshipped as the bringer of prosperity and protector against obstacles. You can follow this link to read more about the story of Ganesh creation.

Ganesh Charturthi is celebrated in Bombay, Tamil Nadu and other states that have ready access to water. The ceremony is not that old -it was popularized by Lakmanya Tilak in the late 1800s whose motives were less religious than political, as he felt that religious celebrations would fuel nationalism and help thwart British rule. The Ganesh idols are decorated by the devotees with garlands and brought to a body of water where--depending on the size-- it is hoisted on a crane and lowered into the sea and then taken out in the water by several men. Although I went around 1 in the afternoon, probably a few hundred Ganeshes had already been submerged--and judging from the idol-laden lineup of trucks and carts on the road to the beach when we left, many more were to come.

In recent years, Ganesh Chaturthi has also attracted criticism for the environmental impact of throwing several thousand pounds of plaster of paris into the seas and rivers. In addition to the longer term impact, scores of dead fish are found in the waters around the festival sites in the days following the ceremony.

A Memorial

2007-09-11T16:14:00.000-07:00

I'm in the U.S. for a week or so for the High Holidays, and will return to Chennai next week. Weather in Michigan is pleasant---a bit cool today, with rain.

This post is dedicated to our friend Karen Mika, who died of breast cancer this past week. She battled bravely for 7 years, but lost her fight last Wednesday, and we attended her services yesterday. Whenever I wipe down a kitchen counter, I think of her--it was a legacy from both our mothers who were of a certain generation, and a private joke we shared. There are many other things to remember--she was a wonderful mother and friend to many--- but this is one that was a funny and unique bond. May her memory be a blessing.

Recruiting Again....

2007-09-02T02:15:00.000-07:00

One of my colleagues from another company passed this ad around at a recent conference. This ad speaks volumes about the challenges of managing people here and some of the remarks--like the one about excuses---may resonate across borders. (Note, you will have to click on the photo to enlarge and read it).

Dhobi Ghats

2007-08-29T18:31:00.000-07:00

The Dhobi Ghats are probably the world's largest open air laundry. From all over Bombay, laundry is brought here and washed, dryed, pressed and sorted. It is quite an operation to see. The dhobis (laundry men) wade knee deep in bleachy water and it is said that each has a unique mark so that none of the laundry ever gets misplaced.

On the road

2007-08-25T20:28:00.000-07:00

In Bombay at the moment and heading tonight to Thailand for business meetings, back later in the week. Took some good shots of the Dhobi Ghat (laundry city) of Bombay, where thousands of clothes are washed and hung out to dry every day.

Udaipur Part II

2007-08-22T09:07:00.000-07:00

As mentioned in the previous post, while in Udaipur we took a side trip to a famous Jain temple at Ranakpur. This was about a three hour journey on narrow, often narrow one lane roads, through small villages and cow paths, in a Tata Indigo that had its windshield taped to the body (see right). A bit of a harrowing trip, but well worth it when we arrived at Ranakpur.

Jainism is one of the world's oldest religions although today one of the smallest in terms of followers. It is not a sect of Hinduism; it predates Hinduism and in many ways is similar to Buddhism, with an emphasis on enlightenment, non-violence and self control. (Some scholars believe that Buddhist sprang from Jainism.) Jains are strict vegetarians- and the more extreme followers may wear a covering on their face to avoid ingesting, and thereby, killing, small insects. Similarly, potatoes, garlic and onions are also avoided. The holy symbol of the Jains is the swastika. Of course, the swastika--despite its horrific appropriation by the Nazis-- has an ancient and sacred heritage in India. It is seen commonly here---and connotes peace and well being. Typically, you will see it on buildings and in the form of rangoli lovingly made by women in front of their homes as part of the morning prayer ritual.

The temple at Ranakpur is a marvel of art and architecture. It has 1444 columns in all, and according to one source took 22,000 manyears to construct. Each column is meticulously carved and supposedly, every one is different. Below, you can see Marty in awe as he looks up at the dome.