In Praise of India (Part 2)

(Continued)

India is a country you need to relax into, accepting the intensity of noise, pollution and piles of garbage and, at the same time, seeing into the soul of the people and appreciating the ancient structures, temples, customs and rituals. There is an eternal quality, especially in the smaller villages, where goats are herded, vegetable carts are hauled by people power, huts are simple wooden structures, dress is traditional and small open fires cook the food. All of that seems to never change. And, then there is the modern influence of motorcycles, cell phones, western clothes and advertising. It all combines, the old and the new, the ancient and the progressive, creating a blend that both creates, preserves and destroys, like the Hindu Gods that are worshipped by many and watch over it all.

One of my guru’s many teachings is to Pay Attention. Walking the streets of Udaipur, the call to attention is a multi-faceted affair. You must pay attention to the rickshaws, cars and motorcycles all vying for the same narrow road space, by hugging your body to the shore, so to speak. That is, stay close to the shop steps on either side without running into all the other people walking in both directions and doing the same. You must pay attention not to step in dog or cow feces, which is splattered exactly where you must walk. And, in the mornings, when the roadway is washed down with buckets of water to rinse away all those feces, you must pay attention that you don’t slip in the slick, wet water running down the steep inclines.

The full practice is Pay Attention and Remember. This implies to me that, at the same time phenomena is rising and falling away, you must pay attention to the present moment; the piles of shit and the rainbow appearing in the sky, all the while remembering God, however he or she is available to you. Remembering God in India is easy as he/she is everywhere; painted on store fronts, painted on the walls of buildings and trucks, present in forts, in palaces, in temples and mosques. Splitting your attention and staying present, not so easy.

Early mornings in India are divine. The sounds of cooing doves are layered with the distant chanting of the morning aarti echoing off the lake from the temples. Our next morning’s walk was full of discoveries and hidden roadside temples. We began the morning at the Jagdish Vishnu Temple. This is one of the main Hindu temples in Udaipur and has been in continuous worship since 1651. The elderly flower Ma’s sat at the base of the steps, their saris and headscarves matching the bright yellows, oranges and pinks of the flower blossoms and flower malas they were selling as prasad for the deity. As we walked up the steep steps, and removed our shoes, we entered the gates of the temple grounds. The smooth marble floor felt soft on my feet, worn down by the many devotees who have circumambulated this sacred site.

 The black marble deity inside the inner sanctum of the temple sat on a black throne with an intricately carved backing. Vishnu was dressed in a gold silk royal dress with gold and while pantaloons and a gold and red headpiece. His black eyes were lined with gold paint and his ears were looped through with large gold earrings. A pujari was tending him, dressed in a red silk lungi, a white cotton kirta top and a red silk scarf. The sanctum doors were made of heavy carved wood. Devotees walked by, stopping to gaze and pay homage to Vishnu, offering flowers, coconuts, sweets and money.

We exited the temple then continued to walk down the busy streets, stopping abruptly and bumping into each other as we caught the flash of something tucked between two shops. There was a short flight of stairs leading up to what appeared to be a tiny temple, so easy to miss if you are walking fast. This hidden gem was revealed after we discarded our shoes, walked up a few marble steps and saw the marble pillars at the top, covered in mosaics of cut and colored glass. We entered the shrine and the marble alcoves came into view, brightly tiled and housing the classic Jain Tirthankara in sitting meditation posture. There were three Jain nuns tending the temple in saris and face coverings. One was making offerings to the deity and the other two were performing a puja; one waving a tray of tiny brass ghee lamps while the other was waving a fan. It was such wonderful timing to have entered the temple just as the morning puja was beginning, and how sweet to see three women performing the rituals.

Unfortunately, the time had yet to re-arrange itself inside my body, as I woke up at 2am the next morning. I felt like I was in a dream-state. My mind had decided (without consulting me) that it was done with sleep for the night. Everything outside my room was quiet and dark. A man was sleeping on a thin blanket in front of the front reception desk, tossing and turning. He was obviously on call, should a guest need anything. I tiptoed past him and found an alcove to sit in and write, my small flashlight in hand, a warm shawl wrapped around my shoulders. Being on the water’s edge, I observed the bougainvillea flowers climbing the walls of the balcony, their bright pink shade contrasting with the checkered tiled floor, the whitewashed walls and the blue black of the water. I watched a spider gently climb its silky thread. Time slowed down. I sat and watched, being present and feeling one with these tiny miracles in front of me. Ever so slowly the purple dawn transformed into the pink and orange shades of daylight, the bells rang out and the chanting began. Observing life on and around this body of water was my morning meditation.

After breakfast we all squeezed into a rickshaw and headed to Gulab Bagh park and bird sanctuary in Udaipur. It was the perfect way to begin the day, walking in the shaded lanes, away from the hustle bustle of the streets. We heard a racket in the trees and, as we looked up, we saw the treetops were filled with clusters of bats, busily tucking in their wings, ready to sleep for the day. Colorful birds dotted the grounds, and men practiced their yoga asanas on the peeling green park benches. A young woman walked behind a water truck, carrying a hose that extended from the back of the truck. She dipped it into the large flowerpots that lined the road, watering as she walked.

After an enlivening and refreshing walk in the cool morning air, we continued to the spice and vegetable market, where the vendors were beginning to set up and be open for business. It was a sensual sight to behold with piles of cumin and turmeric and other spices on display, large bags of lentils and colorful pastas lined up and carts of fresh seasonal vegetables for sale. This is where the local people buy their food, and they were beginning to appear slowly to purchase ingredients for their upcoming meals. We caught them sipping their morning chai and honoring Ganesh at the simple roadside temples before the markets opened. 

Jodhpur

The next day we traveled to Jodhpur. I woke up early to pack my bags. The sky was dark, and the floor was glistening. My socks had soaked through just as I discovered that my room was flooded with a few inches of water. The hotel water tank had overflowed and—being on the ground floor— run under my door and into my room. As the hotel staff quickly began to mop and clean up, I decided to walk to the nearby water’s edge and greet the sunrise. I was surprised and delighted by the early morning sights and sounds. Just when you think you know a place, just when you feel you have seen all there is to see, an undiscovered hidden treasure appears. As I walked outside, a small temple across the lake was glowing gold in the dawn light. The flames from the ghee lamps and fire torches illuminated its interior. I heard drums and bells and chanting.

As I stepped under an old archway, I found several men bathing in the lake and a solitary woman washing clothes. An elderly man caught up with me and began speaking in broken English. I soon learned that he was a mural painter and had painted many of the murals gracing the cement walls by the water.  He guided me towards all the small hidden temples that stretched out along the water’s edge, dating back 450 years. I had been to this water’s edge a few times before, but the temples were a new discovery. Vishnu, Durga, Hanuman, Krishna and Ganesha were all represented in their tiny, separate shrines. Early morning visitors, like me, could pay their respects to these deities, and so I had my morning feast before breakfast even began!

The journey to Jodhpur was five hours, broken up by a stop at the magnificent and breathtaking Ranakpur Jain Temple. Black-faced monkeys, with large beady eyes, were lined up on top of the cement wall that bordered the road leading up to the temple. They were on high alert for food tossed out of car windows by tourists. As soon as our vehicle came to a stop behind a bus, a huge alpha male monkey pushed the females and youngsters away, declaring his dominance over any food that may come his way. Our driver warned us not to roll down the windows, even to snap a photo. These monkeys will jump into the car and take what they can get their hands on, including your cell phone!

We arrived in Jodhpur at 5pm, only to be slowed down by the dense rush hour traffic. My head was pounding from hours of highway travel, truck horns, and a body that was slightly dehydrated. It’s hard to drink as much as you need when you are travelling through vast expanses of paved road with no decent toilet stops in sight. We found out that our hotel was situated about eight blocks down a crowded pedestrian lane, squeezed tight with carts and people. Two men from the hotel came to help us carry our luggage, which was already becoming heavy with the extra weight of goods. We then climb multiple flights of steep steps to the tiny reception desk, and then up two more flights to our rooms. We were asked to pay in advance to stay for four nights. Only then were we handed our heavy metal room keys.

 Note to fellow travelers to India: Always look at your rooms before paying in advance, especially if you are already getting signs of funk. As soon as I walked in and saw the stark room, the floors still wet and smelling like old, dirty water, my heart sank. There was peeling paint and rusty bathroom fixtures, and blaring sounds coming through the paper-thin walls. I sat down and put my pounding head into my hands and said to myself, “I cannot take this for four nights.” If I was in my twenties, traveling through India, I would have been willing to deal with the discomfort and suffering that this hotel provided. Twenty years ago, traveling to India with my guru, I did deal with hotels that were sparse and uncomfortable, sleeping dorm-style on thin floor mats, long bus rides and no choice in the matter. But I am sixty-six years old and, since I have already experienced the heat of India sadhana with my guru, I felt no immediate urge to take that path again.

I quickly considered our options: 1. Call the driver and get our bags hauled through the insane streets with darkness descending. No. 2. Chalk it up to a poor choice but a good opportunity to practice with no sleep and quite possibly bed bugs. No. 3. Ask for a refund. Unlikely. 4. Stay one night, do some tapasya and hope for the best, then look at other options and take a loss. Yes.

 I immediately began searching for other hotel options outside of the Old City. I had now acquired the useful knowledge that the Old City was completely congested, noisy, and quite unbearable. I found a few good options and walked next door to my friends’ room.  Being the more experienced India traveler, they were leaning on me to make the hotel bookings or to reject them. I blurted out, “I don’t think I can do this for four nights—maybe for one.” They were so relieved, and let out a big sigh saying, “Thank God! We would have stayed, but we’re so happy not to.” Together, we found a good, more expensive alternative and decided to move on to Pushkar one day early. I begged and bargained with the hotel manager and his response was “Sorry Madame, hotel policy. No refunds.” Finally, after much back and forth, he gave us one night's refund. Everyone was happy.

The Old City of Jodhpur is home to the Mehrangarh Fort Complex and the Sandar Market, and since we were in the neighborhood, we visited the next morning. Also, close by, was the best spice and essential oil perfume shop in Jodhpur. India is full of sensual delights—the curries, the incense, the essential oils, the bright rainbow-colored clothing, and even the trucks adorned with streamers, pom poms and plastic flowers. After moving to our upgraded hotel in the afternoon, we were all in ecstasy with hot showers, clean linens, an indoor restaurant, and quiet rooms. Finding some sanctuary in the dust and noise and intensity of the city streets is essential. Especially around the half-way mark when the body is getting worn down and needs to be replenished.

We began our second and last day in Jodhpur early in the morning with a walk to the Blue City muraled streets. It was a quiet time of day, with the low light giving the bright blue painted walls a special quality. I went crazy taking pictures, and met the most delightful women and children, all more than willing to talk and be photographed. There were numerous litters of puppies, some nursing in metal cupboards just off the street, others tugging at old socks lying in the road. The proliferation of street dogs in India is out of control but the puppies are always so adorable to behold. We chatted with three sisters, ages ten to twelve years old, who were hanging out in the doorway of their simple family home and tiny store. With little grasp of English, they managed to carry on quite the lively conversation. When I recognized the carving of Saraswati, Vishnu and Ganesha above their door, the eldest girl’s mouth dropped open. She was visibly stunned that I knew my Hindu deities. This whole morning was such a highlight of our trip and certainly of Jodhpur.

Apparently, tourism was down this year. Everywhere we ate, shopped and stayed, people were eager to serve us. In the nearly empty restaurants, the waiters were running to our table at lunch to take our order and bring our food. They took the time to chat with us and demonstrate the art of wrapping an 82-inch-long turban cloth around their heads.  As we navigated through the streets and cities of India, I was aware of our privilege as tourists; we wanted to offer our kindness and generosity in a country where the people survive on very little and work very hard. Every rupee counts; every tip is pocketed with gratitude; every purchase is valued.

(To be continued…)