Did I make anyone cry today?

Read on to the end to see.

January 16, 2010

The Day the Lights Went Out in Delhi

With a wakeup call at 6 AM and Bay up at 5 AM (she couldn’t sleep, thinking about alll the sights of yesterday, from the caged chickens for sale along the street, to the very young girl made to dance by her mother to get money in the heavy traffic), I got up to pack so that my bag would be ready for pickup at 6. In the middle of that project, Bay came out and plugged in her curling iron. Oops. Wrong move. The whole room went black. We opened the door to the corridor - thankfully she hadn’t shut down the whole hotel. She called the front desk and shortly a man arrived to fix it. He did, and as we were thanking him and saying goodbye, Bay told him, pointing at me, “It’s all his fault, you know.” OM......OM....

The Wise Prime Minister

Once upon a time, there lived in India a kind King named Akbar who had a very wise PM named Birbal who often taught the King the ways of the world in a clever way. For example, a poor man from the priest caste came to the King seeking 1000 gold pieces in order to marry the love of his life. The King told him that if he could stay in the very cold river up to his neck overnight, thereby proving his love, the King would give him the 1000 gold coins. The man entered the water up to his neck and, through the power of meditation, was able to survive the night. He want back to the King and was asked how he had been able to withstand the exteme cold. The man explained that he had meditated and had concentrated on the candle in the bedroom of the King a mile from the river. The King told him that was cheating as he must had gotten heat from the candle and sent him away. As he left crying, he met the PM who asked him what happened, and after hearing the story he told the man to go home, he woiuld have his gold coins in 3 days. The PM went home and tied a pot of rice and water 30 feet up in a tree, and the next morning he lit a fire on the ground beneath the pot. When he did not show up for work, the King sent two guards to find him. They arrived and the PM told them he could not come to work until his food was cooked. The guards returned and told that to the King. The next day, the same thing happened. He didn’t show up for work and the guards were sent and returned with the same reply. The third day, Birbal again did not show up for work so Akbar decided he would go see for himself. When he arrived, he asked Birbal what he was doing. “Cooking my meal.” “That is impossible the pot so high in the tree and the fire down here on the ground.” “Not at all,” said Birbal, “for if a man can heat himself by the flame of a candle a mile away, then surely I can cook my meal from thirty feet away.” Akbar smiled, “You are right. i was wrong. I will give the man his 1000 gold coins.” And so he did.

Shero

Shankar loved his uncle like a brother, and his uncle loved him. Once when his uncle was going to go away, S wanted to run behind his rickshaw to the train station, but because of homework commitments, his father forbade it. His uncle was very sad as well, and when he left he told Shankar, “Wherever I go, I will always be with you.” His uncle left and shortly after committed suicide. The Hindus believe that when you die, your soul will come back in another form, perhaps in a higher caste if you have good karma, or as an animal or snake if you have more bad karma than good. A while later, S’s father bought a dog from Kashmir, and the dog came to love Shankar, and Shankar loved the dog, named “Shero” or “Tiger.” Shero knew when Shankar needed consoling as he would come sit beside him on the floor, and when Shankar was very happy, Shero would come and jump up on his lap, and kiss Shankar. For 11 1/2 years, this relationship grew and to Shankar, the eyes of Shero said that he had something to tell him. And Shankar believed that what Shero had to tell him was that, as his uncle had told him, wherever he was, he would be with Shankar. And this dog was his uncle reincarnated. Near the end of Shero’s life, Shankar came home for two days, and Shero was very sick. Shankar gave Shero a lot of love for the two days and within 1 1/2 hours of his departure, his mother called him to tell him Shero was no more. Shero had held on to say goodbye once again to his beloved Shankar.

Partition, Nehru and Shankar

Shankar’s family was a landlord family in East Bengal during the Partition of the country in 1947, a very rich family. The Bengalis and the Sikhs will always hate Nehru for the way he and Jinnah and Mountbatten pushed through the Partition in one day. What should have happened, Indians believe, is that it should have been done systematically with the displaced persons being compensated for the value of their properties left behind, and the relocation being made in an organized manner. But it was not to be and chaos ensued with up to a million killed in Hindu-Moslem fighting. Most of Shankar’s family was killed by the Muslims, leaving only his grandmother, and her two young sons. They escaped to Calcutta, penniless. With hard work, she educated her children, and Shankar’s father became a career Army officer, in the elite paratrooper commando unit. He fought in 3 wars, in 1962 against China, in 1969 and 1971 against Pakistan. Shankar himself tried to follow in his father’s footsteps, but after passing all the exams, it came down to one place in the service and two candidates, Shankar and the son of a Major-General. So Shankar became a tourist guide. And still is fearful of his father.

Journey to Jaipur

Departing at 7:30 in the thick fog, the bus made its way out of Delhi, how I don’t know. While in Delhi, we came upon a group of soldiers, with fanciful headgear, marching down the street and blocking what little traffic there was at the time. They were practicing for Republic Day to be held on January 26, the day we fly back from Kathmandu. Once out of the city, we progressed along an eight-lane highway, then a divided four-lane highway. The land is flat and open, with fields of mustard in yellow bloom, with single trees here and there. Mainly, it is farmland. The day got progressively brighter as the fog slowly burned off. There were more trucks than cars on the highway, and more motorcycles (which is being kind as most of them are glorified mopeds and holding up traffic) than cars as well. We entered towns and villages along the way and traffic would slow to a crawl, if not to a complete stop. Often, we would get in a situation that looked impossible to escape. And the towns - I see 10 foot high concrete buildings, maybe 50 feet wide with 6 or so shops, all side by side for hundreds of yards; outdoor stalls and carts with fruits and vegetables all colorfully arranged; small restaurants, and just stores selling everything; and dust and dirt and garbage along the side of the road in the towns; men and women and children all warmly dressed against the early morning chill. The buildings are dirty from the dust kicked up as people turn off the road to park on the dirt. It is Saturday so everyone is out and it is very busy. The smell of burning plant stalks fills the air. Your throat gets sore each day with the smoke, dust and pollution. And we continue on, past cows tied to stakes in the villages, past sheep herds on the road, past dromedaries going our way along the side of the road with heavy burdens, and even past a large pig that ventured into the road. After two pit stops (one at a McDonalds that doesn’t serve beef or pork and the other at a restaurant/shop with a nicely manicured lawn and bushes) and passing into the Aravali Mountains, but staying at the same elevation, and 7 hours of driving, we arrived in Jaipur, a city of 3 1/2 million people. Described in one word, chaos. Just complete unadulterated chaos on the streets. But no accidents that we saw.
After a very quick buffet lunch in the Jaipur Ramada, we embarked once again for the Bapu (“Father” and another name for Gandhi) Bazaar, and the Sanjay Bazaar. After ascending two flights of stairs above a traffic rotary for a view of the city and the surrounding Aravali Mountains, we went for a rickshaw drive. Of course, Bay and I got the oldest rickshaw driver, and he was blind in the right eye which is fine if all we had to do is turn to the left. But of course, we drive on the left and when we enter the rotary, we are turning to the right. So by the time we got through the rotary with about 5 lanes of traffic, all crisscrossing each other, with trucks, cars, motorcycles and rickshaws, the rest of our crew had left us in the dust and we wouldn’t see any of them again until the end of the ride. People really stared at Bay, with her golden tresses (all of the females here have dark hair), perhaps in bewilderment as to what she was doing with an old man in the rickshaw being pedalled by another old man who was blind in one eye. Quite a scene we made. And we kept getting clipped by cars, horse-drawn carts, trucks and other rickshaws approaching us on our right side. We made it safe and sound, despite being bumped several times by other vehicles in the chaos as we rolled down several streets.
Then we were given one hour of “free time” to look around. Mainly it was spent getting away from mothers with babies (Shankar told us that women borrow babies to take out to beg with), and assorted other “hawkers and vendors” as well as the shopkeepers along the street. Most of the shops sold articles of clothing: one would sell shoes; another sarees; another belts; then the next table clothes; the next suits, etc. We made it to the end of the street, to the marigold merchants, and walked slowly back, stopping for a half an hour or so when we weren’t hassled, to meet the others for the bus.

I’m traveling with a movie star

Now the others in our group think Bay’s eyes look like the eyes of a very famous movie star, when she was MUCH younger. Who is this movie star? Hint: her initials are the last two letters in PMS.

Full tour of Jaipur tomorrow. Until then, love, Nat, Dad, Matt, etc.

PS Bay says I must have missed the dead animals that were skinned lying along the roadsides for the dogs to eat. Well, yes, apparently I did. Good night and sweet dreams.

PPS And Bay wants to know if I made anyone cry today. Not that I know of.

PPPS The doorman here has the longest beard in the world - 11 feet long which he curls up on his face with bobbypins when he’s working. It takes 2 hours per day to wash it.