Kolkata
Going through immigration, customs, money exchange and taxi reservation was surprisingly seamless coming into Kolkata from Bangkok at 1:30pm. Granted, we waited half an hour to get our last bag... It was around 2:30 when the security X-ray officer told me his story about the customs department holding-back the unloading of the third and last luggage container; that he had been working since 7:00 am; that he had only had 4 cups of tea as food all day and that the customs red tape was, as usual, making his life impossible… Welcome to India! Compared to the general lack of dialogue between Thai people and tourists, this was much more engaging!
We caught a prepaid taxi for one of the most memorable rides of our life. Call it “India road hazing”.
Manujdas, our taxi driver, is 50 and has been taxi driver in Kolkata for the past 30 years. He was excited at the idea of not working the next day because of Holi, a major Indian holiday, when people celebrate chasing the darkness and evil spirits away and welcome spring by throwing colored powders and water on each other. He stopped to chat with every taxi driver he encountered, joking and yelling “Holi Hai!” (Happy Holi).
The day before Holi, people build big bonfires at intersections with scrap pieces of wood and furniture, stringed cow dung patties, logs, and anything else that will burn (in the slums we saw bicycle tires, rags, cardboard,...) and light them to the sound of drum bands. Kids dance around, cars squeeze by the flames, and the neighborhood is illuminated and wound-up.
Back to our 45 mn driving crash-course in the megalopolis’ chaotic traffic (repetition), we discovered a few things about Indian road rules that I have since augmented with our now 2-week seasoned experience:
1) “Close” is closer than you could ever imagine. The physical boundary that separates a hit from a close-cut is about half a centimeter. We came that close several times, with buses, carts and rickshaws without touching. A few close calls let us quickly understand that this was a standard traffic norm, not an exception!
2) Honking the horn allows you to
a. signal that you are behind someone or something and want to get through,
b. announce that you are actually getting through, squeezing your way,
c. inform that any pedestrians in your path should know that you will not be stopping even should they be in the way,
d. herd the goats and ox to the side of the street.
e. tell anything smaller than you that they are to surrender the passage, whatever
f. let crossing traffic know that you are running through the red light,
g. let approaching traffic know that you are in the opposite lane, moving forward in their direction, especially if there is a concrete separation between the lanes,
h. let on-coming traffic know that you are cutting through the roundabout,
i. tell the driver in front that they need to move faster: at a traffic light, at a turn, as they are parking, as they come out of a parking space (did I just write parking space?), as they are passing someone, as they are squeezing to let you go through,…
j. let everyone know you are opening a new lane,
k. tell the group stopped in the middle of your lane to carry on their conversation elsewhere,
l. announce you are driving around a pothole, a sewer hole, roadwork,…
m. tell the driver in front that you are cutting their right turn off by passing them, and that they should wait to continue their own operation,
n. try to convince a sacred cow to move from the middle of the street,
3) Given that everyone honks their horn all the time, as a pedestrian, a cycle rickshaw or a bicyclist, you ignore as much honking as possible and if possible all honking.
4) Whoever has the biggest vehicle and loudest horn has the right of way –and takes it. Trick: have a BIG horn on a small, nimble vehicle.
5) Everyone shares the road: 50 year old buses and trucks, bicycles, pedestrians, carriers, man drawn rickshaws, bicycle rickshaws, tuk-tuks, cattle, dogs, carts, herds of goats, beggars, motorbikes, groups of kids, road workers, vendor stalls, delivery men… All of this generally, but not necessarily, going in the same direction in any given “lane”...
What a contrast from Thailand where only the street-side vendor stalls, beggars and a few vehicles coming in opposite direction would create chaos and diversion…
I was immediately struck by the richness of colors of the women’s saris, the variety of faces we came across and the extremes of this country, already visible within our first hour of landing.
As we headed through the narrow, busy streets of Chowringee neighborhood looking for some food, India was delivering its spirit to us, right there, all in our very first hours. The profound and soft look of Arjun, the Ashreen guesthouse manager, the literal “hole in a wall” shops, at waist level, 4 feet wide by 3 feet deep - just enough space for shop keepers to sit or crouch inside and sell their products from the shelves-, the street cookeries working their charcoal or petrol stoves preparing chapatti, chai, stir fries, sweets and yogurt lassis, and the incessant movement of people, animals and vehicles…
Everything seems to happen instantaneously, simultaneously, with bustle and commotion, and the traffic rules above apply to the narrowest elbow scraping alleys.
We walked the streets, learning to dodge on-coming vehicles (we had not yet integrated rule #3), ignore beggars and push off hustlers. We immersed ourselves immediately after dinner by going into the nearby New Market to visit the spice stalls. This led us to the fruit stalls; we then got lost in the fabric section where we ended up negotiating our first Punjabi outfits before getting totally disoriented in the maze of the bazaar’s narrow alleys and stalls and having to outpace a sticky “guide” we had asked 10 times to leave us alone.
When we heard the excitement of percussions at the closest intersection to our guest house, we found the neighborhood gathered around the bonfire to be, a half dozen young men banging rhythms away on drums and bells. Shortly after, the bonfire was lit and teenagers started dancing around the fire. The fire was huge, taking up almost all the small street crossing, but this did not dissuade cars from squeezing through the 5 feet passage between the fire and the buildings! This first experience, of ritual and musical India, of the pleasure and high energy these people have when celebrating, and the importance of the moment happening (ref. the comment above on immediacy), struck me in these first 8 hours of my arrival on the sub continent.
The next day we toured with our driver, Aladdin. We found a group of young men in the Gholi River, washing off the dark red Holi dye they had showered each other with. They were joyful and invited me to come bathe with them, but I just took some pictures after obtaining their enthusiastic approval. We also visited Belur Math, the Ramakrishna headquarters and temple grounds, set along the banks of the Gholi River across from Kolkata. Many Indians were visiting and soaking in the peacefulness of this holy place for the holiday. Sri Ramakrishna Paramahansa (1836-1886) and his main disciple, Swami Vivekananda (1863-1902) http://www.vivekananda.org/ lived here preaching the unity of all religions. They had a very strong influence on Hinduism in the 19th century and beyond, and created the first Vedanta Society in New York in 1894. We leisurely watched monks meditating, groups sitting on the lawn listening to scripture readings or singing “Kirtan” and clapping in their hands.
Bodhgaya
On the way to Bodhgaya, I am now in train 2183 going from Howrah to Gaya, 2nd class A/C, with two facing seats in the coach hall. We have a sleeper above that is holding most of our luggage; an Indian family of 6 is occupying the nearby 4 sleeper/seat compartment and I can not resist peeking every now and then to see what their train ride is like. They have been talking, playing games, reading newspapers and magazines –mainly in English-, snacking, talking on cell phones, sending text messages, drinking tea, eating a meal, and all of this practically simultaneously. It’s like a day’s life happening in a few hours of time and before we know it, they are getting off in a small village in the middle of nowhere…
A good two dozen vendors have passed through the coach since we left Howrah, offering coffee, chai, water or fruit juice, shoe shine, chips, cookies, newspapers and magazines, Indian chaat (snacks made of puffed rice, spices and some caramel looking liquid), more coffee, more chai, flashlights, lighters, toys and other trinkets, vegetable omelets, shoe repair, more coffee, veggie cutlets, more chai... We ordered a 32 rupee (80 cents) lunch platter around 9:30 from the train attendant. Three hours later a hot vegetarian thali was brought to us, just when I was wondering if we should go to the restaurant coach. A thali is a full-meal platter with several small dishes: dal (lentils), rice, vegetable curry, potato curry, chutney, chapatti (flat baked bread patties), and yogurt.
Bodhgaya http://www.bodhgayanews.net/ is where Prince Siddhartha Gautama found enlightment under the Bodhi tree and thus became Buddha. The Mahabodhi temple http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/1056 is a world heritage site. Created by Emperor Ashoka in the 6th century on the site of a temple erected 800 years earlier, it has been the world center of Buddhism pilgrimage ever since then. The Dalai Lama often spends January-February here every year. Hundreds of thousands of devotees come here every year http://www.buddhist-temples.com/bodhgaya.html. We saw pilgrims from Burma (Myanmar), Tibet, Sri Lanka, Thailand, China, Japan, Vietnam and many Western countries.
Located a mile out of town, at the Root Institute monastery, among the rice paddies and wheat fields, we benefited form the shady gardens and silent meditation halls. Root Institute (www.rootinstitute.com) was created in 1987 and has been in constant development under the direction of Kyabje Lama Zopa Rinpoche as part of the FPMT (Foundation for the Preservation of Mahayana Tradition) www.fpmt.org, a network of 200 meditation retreat and community service centers around the world. The Root Institute created a school and has developed numerous outreach health programs for the impoverished surrounding Bihar villages.
We had our first encounter with mosquitoes during the first night. How challenging is it, to have a mosquito invasion while being in a Buddhist monastery where you have pledged to abide by five rules: no killing (even insects), no lying, no stealing, no intoxicants (tobacco, alcohol etc..) and no sexual activity? We had a very steep learning curve on what a mosquito net can really do for you, at midnight, after trying to sleep since 9:00.
The next morning at 6:00 am we went to visit Mahabodhi temple, on the site of the Buddha’s enlightment while the temperature was cool and the temple almost empty. What a profound feeling to be meditating in the very same location as millions of other people have and to experience this sacred space directly. I felt prodigious benefits to sit and meditate, nourished by the aspirations and intent of all the others who had done the same, sort of riding the wave created by centuries of pilgrimage and devotion.
We ended up staying in Bodhgaya and at the Root Institute for 5 days. It was hot, dusty, and though it was the tail end of the tourist/pilgrim season, it was nevertheless a very transient place. The Institute ended its last Initiation to Buddhism program of the season the day after we arrived, so we decided Bodhgaya was not yet the place for us to settle and get involved in our longer term yoga study. We spent our time bathing in the meditative atmosphere at the Mahabodhi and other temples around town.
Varanasi
We left for Varanasi on the morning train, 3r/AC class this time. On boarding (2 minutes before departure), we found one of our sleepers available, the other one occupied. We stashed our luggage in an empty one down the hall and sat together sipping Chai and observing Indian train life for the 3 hours that separated us from Varanasi.
Varanasi, previously named Benares, http://www.varanasicity.com/ is the sacred town of India, where millions of people come to bathe in the sacred Ganges -to wash their Karma-, where many wish to come to die –and break the cycle of reincarnation-.
It is a colorful city, rituals and devotional parades happening every day, without announcement, exuding a spirit of sanctity and reverence for everything sacred.
We settled at Assi Ghat, towards the Southern part of the riverside. It has literally become our neighborhood in the past 10 days. Our life here has not been about trampling around and sight-seeing, more focused on experiencing life in India in the neighborhood and in a holy town. We went into the old city a few times, minuscule streets meandering among buildings dating of the Raj era, beautiful architecture of courtyards, terraces, sculpted door entrances, refined stone and brick work. We walked the Ghats that lead down to the river, each one having its own personality and activities: bathing and offering, boating, monkey herds, laundry, fishing, tourism, cricket playing, buffalo grazing or kite flying...
It has been eye opening for me to just sit and watch the fervor of devotees coming to wash in the Ganga river at 5:30 in the morning, bringing incense and flowers as offerings, taking sacred Ganga water in bottles and jerricans to continue rituals in their home land, or to see groups attending the evening Puja, fire ritual to honor the river god and Lord Shiva, who is the patron of Varanasi and one of the main Hindu deities representing destruction and rebirth.
I reflect on this, amazed at the energy faith can muster. Can we reintegrate faith and ritual into our lives, while at the same time acting in our competitive and thriving business worlds? Can this nourish a part of life; a sacredness we have perhaps forgotten even existed? What is the purpose of sacredness expressed daily? Does it help mankind not only find sanity and reinforce the values of the social and faith system, but would it also allow us to live a fuller, more meaningful life? What is the power of ritual in the lives we have today in our Western way of life. Would it have become the evening news or to attend highly emotionally charged sports games, modern age collective rituals, live or on television? I’m wondering what I will do to change this in my own life. It only takes a few seconds to create an intent for the day on waking in the morning, and but a few minutes to express gratefulness and thanks for the blessings we have, at the end of our day. I guess the best way for me to do it is just to start, and let it take whatever shape I wish as I practice…
We are heading off to Dharmsala hopefully to settle for a few months, join the Himalaya Iyengar-based yoga school http://www.hiyogacentre.com/frameset.htm and live closer to the Himalayas for the hot months to come, preceding the Monsoon season.
More from up North,…
Namaste,
