After a sweet farewell with the family with whom we were staying in Kolkata, we took the overnight train to Varanasi ( Benares ). The train stations are overwhelming. People spread out on blankets sleeping on the floors, dogs walk about. It always seems confusing and teeming with sound, sights, and life. Such a contrast with what the only Unitarian woman minister in the Khasi Hills told us was difficult about her trip to Boston . She stayed in the guest house of the UUA headquarters. She said the building was empty, so quiet and lonely.
At Varanasi we walked along the Ganges River , watching the dhobi wallahs wash laundry, beating the clothes on rock washboards. Every day of the week, every week, year after year after year, people pray, bathe, wash clothes, and play in the water. Water buffalo relax in the river. Women shape cow dung into bricks that dry in the sun on the river banks. At one of the burning ghats, we witnessed seven cremations and the ritual process that follows when the priest with his back to the river throws a last clay pot of water over his shoulder on to the fire – pot and all – and walks away. We sat and watched the flow of life as ashes blew on us like snowflakes. We watched as a youth of about 12 – 14 years old did the clean up work as goats ate up the marigold garlands and dogs sniffed through the ashes. The place felt peaceful and commonplace. The rituals did not seem intentional and precise, but more like everyday work. The human body –small and wrapped – burned to ashes and dispersed by the end of the day.
Everything in India feels to us like the Ganges River – activity without ceasing. A tender sight was an old man who came up to a cow who had chosen to sit by the river next to a shrine to Shiva. He touched the cow so tenderly with such devotion and love. He stroked the horns and then touched his own forehead. He petted the ears and touched his head. He stroked the face, the back and as he moved to leave, the cow stretched out a front leg as if to ask for more.
We watched the evening fire rituals along the water, prayers like dances with bells ringing and people chanting. In the morning we rowed out in a little boat as the sun rose. Again the pray-ers, the bathers, as well as people practicing laughter yoga and hatha yoga. We wandered the alleyways around the town, losing our way in narrow passageways. As we walked, people offered help and we twisted and turned around corners and walkways. When all seemed lost, we came out right where we needed to be.
After Varanasi , six of us traveled in a minivan around to remote Buddhist sites in the towns: Bodhgaya, Rajgir, Nalanda, Patna , Vaishali, Kushinagar (Kasia), Lumbini, Kapilvastu, Sravasti. We visited the sites thought to be where the Buddha was born, where his father ruled, the place he sat under the Bodhi tree, preached his first sermon, where he taught, where he converted a robber, spent 24 rainy seasons, where he announced he would soon die, where he died, and where he may have been cremated. We saw sites and ruins of once great monasteries and universities where Buddhist communities and sanghas grew.
Sitting under the Bodhi tree brought back memories of so many beloved trees. Circumambulating shrines and touching bare feet to warm earth felt good. It was a privilege to witness pilgrims and monks from Buddhist communities in Asia practice their devotions, hear their chants, walk and sit with them. At one temple, we took the beginner’s meditation in zasen zen.
Hindus view Buddha as the 9th incarnation of Vishnu. It’s been powerful to witness devotions and all the lives influenced by the Buddha’s teachings and to feel the impact on us as we experience the places where he was born, enlightened, taught, and died.
It was challenging to travel in a minivan and see similar size local vehicles and even smaller packed with two to three times as many passengers with more on the rooftops and holding on to the back rails. We constantly confront our privilege and struggle with how to deal with people trying to offer a flower, beads, blessings, postcards for money, how to tip with people continually offering little services, and how to be with people asking for money. There have been many friendly, fun times, talking with children and adults. Some people asked to be photographed with us.
The roads are extremely rough and rugged and traveling took much longer than the kilometers would have had us think. We had flat tires, engine trouble, saw overturned huge trucks, heard explosive tire blow outs, and witnessed too many near misses. The drivers here are skillful and find a way to weave in and out of impossible situations.
The drive between Buddhist sites is through rural agricultural areas, beautiful fields of grain and tribal villages with mud huts and thatched roofs. We witnessed so much life as we traveled.
At Lucknow we took the overnight train to Jansi, arriving around 4:00 in the morning. In the station, we watched a cow on the railroad platform going up to groups of people, maybe looking for handouts. Then it strolled by us, past the station entrance, continuing to the exit gate where it strolled out.
We made our way to Orccha and happened upon a Brahmin ritual to bring rain. Bill tried snapping his fingers, rubbing his hands, clapping, slapping his thighs, and stomping his feet. The priests were using milk, ghee butter, fire, and water. Later there was thunder, a big wind and dust storm and a few drops of rain.
After the visits to the Buddhist sites, we traveled to Khajuraho and visited the peaceful green grounds with flowering shrubs and the beautiful temples with sculptures depicting so much life. At one of the temples women and children were offering puja, prayers, flowers, and water. Another was full of playful monkeys. By dark the temples were lit and almost magical.
We are now back in Delhi for a few days visiting the Red Fort and the huge Friday Mosque or Jama Masjid where foreign women, no matter how covered their heads and bodies, are being asked to wear gaudy, bright colored printed smocks. This was difficult and began many conversations between us and with other travelers and attendants at the mosque.
In Delhi we are fortunate to be staying in the flat of a cousin of our friends. So good to glimpse what people’s daily lives are like and to walk, not to tourist sites, but around neighborhoods.
We miss you and hope life is going well for you. You are in our thoughts.
Love,
Barbara and Bill
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
March 13, 2009
How fortunate we are to stay with a family in Kolkata. We’re grateful for the conversation, delicious meals, looking at old photographs, learning family history and stories, and the way they weave together with the larger history of India. How great it is to be in a neighborhood and walk to the market to shop for fruits and vegetables. We’re able to wash out our clothes and hang them on the line outside on the balcony. One evening we all sat together in front of the television eating dinner and watching a weekday nightly drama on Partition. Good to experience normal life.
We’ve talked with the elder of the household. She is 84years old and her wedding was on the rooftop terrace of this house. She gave birth to her two children in the bedroom in which she now stays in a hospital bed. She has many stories to share.
We’ve visited the cemetery and the gravesites of family members.
When we get lost in the larger neighborhood, someone always shows up to lead us where we want to go. So much happens on the street corner right outside the house. Chickens are raised, sold, and slaughtered. Clothes, dishes, and bodies are washed. People sleep, sell grain, laugh, and play.
We walked to the Mother Teresa Mission House. We attended the rosary and mass. The chapel was full of sisters, novices, and guests. The sermon was on going beyond just feeding the hungry and nursing the sick, to respecting people. After all the blessings we’ve been fortunate to receive at temples, we feel fortunate to receive communion and blessings here. We are seeing the connections among religions—displaying images, offering food, blessing with touch. Afterward we talked with the priest who had just flown to Kolkata from San Diego, CA. He currently ministers in Tijuana.
In Kolkata, we have also sat silently in Jain Temples.
We traveled from the heat of Kolkata to the cool Khasi Hills to Shillong, Jowai, and Padu to visit Unitarian congregations, schools, and people. We visited Children’s Village, a Unitarian home for children whose mothers have died. Children’s Village was just opened and dedicated on February 28. Though the children come from as far away as 100 kilometers and they have so recently left their extended families and villages, they are open to being with us. We sat together, took hands, smiled, and hugged. We also visited Unitarian primary and secondary schools—schools open to all and without tuition. We walked around classrooms shaking hands with each student. The children and youth are polite and friendly. There is a shortage of teachers and these children all seem curious and eager to learn.
The Unitarian churches are throughout remote areas of the Khasi Hills. The ministers we met are third generation Unitarians. They are respectful of the tribal indigenous religions. We travelled with a minister who is General Secretary of the Unitarian Union over rugged dirt roads. To arrive to a small rural village and see a steeple with a flaming chalice amazed us.
This minister also took us to visit a sacred grove where tribal rituals are practiced. He told us local legends of creation and of the workings of the cosmos.
We received warm hospitality from Unitarians. They sang hymns to us, shared food with us, and before meals offered blessings in the Khasi language. As we talked with people, we felt connected in common beliefs and principles. We attended a service and heard familiar readings and hymns read and sung in Khasi.
We drove from city to town to village to town to city. The roads are full of bright, colorfully painted trucks, some with pictures of the Hindu god Krishna, some with the Islamic moon and star, some with a Sikh warrior, some with Jesus, and we hear there are some even with a flaming chalice!
These beautiful trucks are hauling loads of coal, much of it exported to Bangladesh. The mining and trucking are changing the lives of these rural villagers, the air, the rivers, and the mountains.
We learned of a tribal system of a numbers code of dream interpretation. People use this code to select lottery numbers! And the lottery is conducted with bows and arrows. We witnessed 20 men each shooting 20 arrows into a target of hay. The last two digits of the total number of arrows hitting the target is the winning number.
The people in the Khasi Hills have features that appear Tibetan and Chinese. They carry loads and dress differently than people in other areas. They don’t speak much Hindi and the dialects of Khasi vary village to village.
The Khasi Hills are so unlike other places we have visited. All this is India too.
We are grateful for such a variety of experiences.
We are back in Kolkata for a couple of more nights staying in our friends’ family home. We will leave to visit Varanarsi and then travel to Buddhist sacred sites.
We hope all is well for you.
Love,
Barbara and Bill
How fortunate we are to stay with a family in Kolkata. We’re grateful for the conversation, delicious meals, looking at old photographs, learning family history and stories, and the way they weave together with the larger history of India. How great it is to be in a neighborhood and walk to the market to shop for fruits and vegetables. We’re able to wash out our clothes and hang them on the line outside on the balcony. One evening we all sat together in front of the television eating dinner and watching a weekday nightly drama on Partition. Good to experience normal life.
We’ve talked with the elder of the household. She is 84years old and her wedding was on the rooftop terrace of this house. She gave birth to her two children in the bedroom in which she now stays in a hospital bed. She has many stories to share.
We’ve visited the cemetery and the gravesites of family members.
When we get lost in the larger neighborhood, someone always shows up to lead us where we want to go. So much happens on the street corner right outside the house. Chickens are raised, sold, and slaughtered. Clothes, dishes, and bodies are washed. People sleep, sell grain, laugh, and play.
We walked to the Mother Teresa Mission House. We attended the rosary and mass. The chapel was full of sisters, novices, and guests. The sermon was on going beyond just feeding the hungry and nursing the sick, to respecting people. After all the blessings we’ve been fortunate to receive at temples, we feel fortunate to receive communion and blessings here. We are seeing the connections among religions—displaying images, offering food, blessing with touch. Afterward we talked with the priest who had just flown to Kolkata from San Diego, CA. He currently ministers in Tijuana.
In Kolkata, we have also sat silently in Jain Temples.
We traveled from the heat of Kolkata to the cool Khasi Hills to Shillong, Jowai, and Padu to visit Unitarian congregations, schools, and people. We visited Children’s Village, a Unitarian home for children whose mothers have died. Children’s Village was just opened and dedicated on February 28. Though the children come from as far away as 100 kilometers and they have so recently left their extended families and villages, they are open to being with us. We sat together, took hands, smiled, and hugged. We also visited Unitarian primary and secondary schools—schools open to all and without tuition. We walked around classrooms shaking hands with each student. The children and youth are polite and friendly. There is a shortage of teachers and these children all seem curious and eager to learn.
The Unitarian churches are throughout remote areas of the Khasi Hills. The ministers we met are third generation Unitarians. They are respectful of the tribal indigenous religions. We travelled with a minister who is General Secretary of the Unitarian Union over rugged dirt roads. To arrive to a small rural village and see a steeple with a flaming chalice amazed us.
This minister also took us to visit a sacred grove where tribal rituals are practiced. He told us local legends of creation and of the workings of the cosmos.
We received warm hospitality from Unitarians. They sang hymns to us, shared food with us, and before meals offered blessings in the Khasi language. As we talked with people, we felt connected in common beliefs and principles. We attended a service and heard familiar readings and hymns read and sung in Khasi.
We drove from city to town to village to town to city. The roads are full of bright, colorfully painted trucks, some with pictures of the Hindu god Krishna, some with the Islamic moon and star, some with a Sikh warrior, some with Jesus, and we hear there are some even with a flaming chalice!
These beautiful trucks are hauling loads of coal, much of it exported to Bangladesh. The mining and trucking are changing the lives of these rural villagers, the air, the rivers, and the mountains.
We learned of a tribal system of a numbers code of dream interpretation. People use this code to select lottery numbers! And the lottery is conducted with bows and arrows. We witnessed 20 men each shooting 20 arrows into a target of hay. The last two digits of the total number of arrows hitting the target is the winning number.
The people in the Khasi Hills have features that appear Tibetan and Chinese. They carry loads and dress differently than people in other areas. They don’t speak much Hindi and the dialects of Khasi vary village to village.
The Khasi Hills are so unlike other places we have visited. All this is India too.
We are grateful for such a variety of experiences.
We are back in Kolkata for a couple of more nights staying in our friends’ family home. We will leave to visit Varanarsi and then travel to Buddhist sacred sites.
We hope all is well for you.
Love,
Barbara and Bill
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
March 4, 2009
Mumbai (Bombay)
Across the bay from Mumbai is the island of Elephanta. We crossed the water by boat, docked at the island, walked the long walkway, climbed the many steps to the Elephanta Caves to discover their sculptures and the stories, mythology, and spiritual and psychological wisdom they portray. The Sacred Sites book is a fine guide. We go slowly, taking in. The sculptures are in pairs – Shiva and Paravati in their mountain abode at Kailasa where all is well opposite Ravana Shaking the foundations of Mt. Kailasa; Shiva as the master yogi seated still and calm in meditation paired with Shiva dancing the universe, still centered while in the ceaseless flow of life; then the idyllic marriage of Shiva and Paravati paired with the wrathful Shiva striking out against evil. There is the three-faced Shiva: destroyer, creator, and balanced one. The last sculpture is a powerful image of Shiva as androgyne, half-male, half-female, as an image of the possibility of harmony, integration, and wholeness. So difficult it is for us to capture in words the power of this place and our journey to it across the water.
We have been fortunate to share meals with the relatives of friends, to experience daily life of some people living in Mumbai. We have experienced powerful pilgrimages to grave sites and birth places.
There is a man we passed on the streets several times each day. His legs are permanently around his shoulders and he asks for money. We talked with our friends of our awkwardness at seeing him. Our friend asked for our leftovers from a restaurant. As we walked by the man, she bent down and their eyes met. She asked if he would like some food. He smiled and said, “Yes, thank you.” There was something so powerful about their engagement in real human interaction and the sharing of food. The next times we saw him we all could greet one another.
Pune
We traveled by train to Pune. We had plans to stay at Maher, homes for abandoned children and women. We didn’t know how we would find and recognize Sister Lucy who said she would meet us at the rail station. Sisters Lucy and Monju came right into our train car, embraced us with hugs, scooped us up, and loaded us and our luggage into their jeep. We traveled through Pune to outside the city to a rural area. We arrived at Maher at 9:30 at night and received a warm welcome by the community of young children, teens, and staff, 240 children. They clapped a chant of welcome, sang “Happy Welcome, dear Uncle and Auntie,” and “Glad to see you, very, very glad.” They sang with gestures, “Hello, Hello, How are you?” Sister Lucy invited us to light branches on their lamp of light. A young woman stepped forward holding a tray of flowers and spice with a lit candle in the center. Everyone sang a Hindu chant as she circled the tray around us and then painted third eyes on our foreheads. Garlands of marigolds were placed around our necks. The young children then ran forward, “Good evening, Auntie. Good evening, Uncle. How are you? What is your name? What country? My name is….”
After the welcome we were served a healthy, delicious dinner. We ate with the staff outside, away from the city, away from the traffic, under the stars. Sister Lucy told us her story of the beginning of Maher. She is a Catholic sister. A woman being battered came to her for help. She listened compassionately and then sent the woman home, asking her to return the next day. In the night the woman was set on fire by her husband. The woman died. Sister Lucy knew she couldn’t just close herself off in the safety of the convent. She had to do something. Twelve years later there are 20 some homes.
Sister Lucy saw the barriers religions and castes have made, and she envisioned a home where all faiths are honored, all major celebrations marked, and where all are welcome.
The Maher banner has symbols of all the major world religions and scriptures from them are on display. She wanted all the prayers to be inclusive, and so they are.
We were shown our simple, clean, small quarters with a pit toilet and Indian bath down the hall. The water and electricity supply is sporadic, and we felt so comfortable.
We have so much to learn from this community, from these people. The women and children seem comfortable, confident, their faces beautiful and open. We visited many of the homes, including homes for aging women, women with mental disabilities. We met women who had been widowed and abandoned by their families, women who had been raped repeatedly and rejected by their families, women who had lived in the city public toilets, women who were unmarried and pregnant. Many of the women, who come for refuge, find healing and are trained to become house mothers or cooks at the homes. The buildings are all so basic, simple, and plain. There is so much joy and laughter. They show one another and us so much respect.
At each home we visited, we received their same welcome ritual. We were offered tea and shared meals with the communities. The hospitality they show touched our hearts.
We joined the children for their 5:30 am yoga and meditation. All these young children and teenagers sit quietly on the ground together before the sun has risen. Afterwards they sweep the grounds, wash their own clothes and bodies. At 7:00 am the youth have a one hour Indian dance class before going to school. There are prayers in the evening. On the weekend they have tabla drumming classes and singing.
A volunteer from Holland does art with them. She is also translating Dutch picture books into English and she invited us to edit the stories. We were glad to give a little something back to this wonderful place of healing and hope.
Our last night at Maher, everyone sat in circles on the ground. One of the young people prayed for our safety, for our families, and our community. Bill said that in our community we all join hands. Everyone took hands. He said, “We join hands with one another to remind ourselves that we are all connected to everyone around India, all around the world, that we need one another and that we are one family.” Barbara expressed our gratitude and prayers for their safety, well being and peace. We had purchased bags and bags of grapes for a special treat for the children. Each child came up to us to receive a bunch of grapes as a ritual of the giving and receiving among us.
The next morning as we left, the children sang a goodbye song and kissed us on both of our cheeks.
Kolkata (Calcutta)
We traveled from Pune to Kolkata where we are fortunate to stay with the family of friends. They too have so graciously welcomed and included us. Their home is in the Muslim area of Kolkata and the 5:00 call to prayer wakes us to a time of meditation. As the calls to prayer happen throughout the day, we take them as moments to pause.
Here in Kolkata we have had a meal in the home of a couple we met at the ashram in Puducherry (Pondicherry). We lost their contact information and through many steps and helpful people, we were able to connect. They guided us through the Ramakrishna and
Vivekananda center and temple. These two religious leaders taught religious unity.
We also had the experience of following a dignified, lovely 74 year old man as he led us on a winding journey with twists and turns and the help of many people along the way to the humble shrine of a beloved Sufi saint.
So much of this journey feels like a dream, mythic, out of our collective human consciousness. We are experiencing so much. There is so much to say and not enough words.
We are ever grateful for your love and support.
Barbara and Bill
Mumbai (Bombay)
Across the bay from Mumbai is the island of Elephanta. We crossed the water by boat, docked at the island, walked the long walkway, climbed the many steps to the Elephanta Caves to discover their sculptures and the stories, mythology, and spiritual and psychological wisdom they portray. The Sacred Sites book is a fine guide. We go slowly, taking in. The sculptures are in pairs – Shiva and Paravati in their mountain abode at Kailasa where all is well opposite Ravana Shaking the foundations of Mt. Kailasa; Shiva as the master yogi seated still and calm in meditation paired with Shiva dancing the universe, still centered while in the ceaseless flow of life; then the idyllic marriage of Shiva and Paravati paired with the wrathful Shiva striking out against evil. There is the three-faced Shiva: destroyer, creator, and balanced one. The last sculpture is a powerful image of Shiva as androgyne, half-male, half-female, as an image of the possibility of harmony, integration, and wholeness. So difficult it is for us to capture in words the power of this place and our journey to it across the water.
We have been fortunate to share meals with the relatives of friends, to experience daily life of some people living in Mumbai. We have experienced powerful pilgrimages to grave sites and birth places.
There is a man we passed on the streets several times each day. His legs are permanently around his shoulders and he asks for money. We talked with our friends of our awkwardness at seeing him. Our friend asked for our leftovers from a restaurant. As we walked by the man, she bent down and their eyes met. She asked if he would like some food. He smiled and said, “Yes, thank you.” There was something so powerful about their engagement in real human interaction and the sharing of food. The next times we saw him we all could greet one another.
Pune
We traveled by train to Pune. We had plans to stay at Maher, homes for abandoned children and women. We didn’t know how we would find and recognize Sister Lucy who said she would meet us at the rail station. Sisters Lucy and Monju came right into our train car, embraced us with hugs, scooped us up, and loaded us and our luggage into their jeep. We traveled through Pune to outside the city to a rural area. We arrived at Maher at 9:30 at night and received a warm welcome by the community of young children, teens, and staff, 240 children. They clapped a chant of welcome, sang “Happy Welcome, dear Uncle and Auntie,” and “Glad to see you, very, very glad.” They sang with gestures, “Hello, Hello, How are you?” Sister Lucy invited us to light branches on their lamp of light. A young woman stepped forward holding a tray of flowers and spice with a lit candle in the center. Everyone sang a Hindu chant as she circled the tray around us and then painted third eyes on our foreheads. Garlands of marigolds were placed around our necks. The young children then ran forward, “Good evening, Auntie. Good evening, Uncle. How are you? What is your name? What country? My name is….”
After the welcome we were served a healthy, delicious dinner. We ate with the staff outside, away from the city, away from the traffic, under the stars. Sister Lucy told us her story of the beginning of Maher. She is a Catholic sister. A woman being battered came to her for help. She listened compassionately and then sent the woman home, asking her to return the next day. In the night the woman was set on fire by her husband. The woman died. Sister Lucy knew she couldn’t just close herself off in the safety of the convent. She had to do something. Twelve years later there are 20 some homes.
Sister Lucy saw the barriers religions and castes have made, and she envisioned a home where all faiths are honored, all major celebrations marked, and where all are welcome.
The Maher banner has symbols of all the major world religions and scriptures from them are on display. She wanted all the prayers to be inclusive, and so they are.
We were shown our simple, clean, small quarters with a pit toilet and Indian bath down the hall. The water and electricity supply is sporadic, and we felt so comfortable.
We have so much to learn from this community, from these people. The women and children seem comfortable, confident, their faces beautiful and open. We visited many of the homes, including homes for aging women, women with mental disabilities. We met women who had been widowed and abandoned by their families, women who had been raped repeatedly and rejected by their families, women who had lived in the city public toilets, women who were unmarried and pregnant. Many of the women, who come for refuge, find healing and are trained to become house mothers or cooks at the homes. The buildings are all so basic, simple, and plain. There is so much joy and laughter. They show one another and us so much respect.
At each home we visited, we received their same welcome ritual. We were offered tea and shared meals with the communities. The hospitality they show touched our hearts.
We joined the children for their 5:30 am yoga and meditation. All these young children and teenagers sit quietly on the ground together before the sun has risen. Afterwards they sweep the grounds, wash their own clothes and bodies. At 7:00 am the youth have a one hour Indian dance class before going to school. There are prayers in the evening. On the weekend they have tabla drumming classes and singing.
A volunteer from Holland does art with them. She is also translating Dutch picture books into English and she invited us to edit the stories. We were glad to give a little something back to this wonderful place of healing and hope.
Our last night at Maher, everyone sat in circles on the ground. One of the young people prayed for our safety, for our families, and our community. Bill said that in our community we all join hands. Everyone took hands. He said, “We join hands with one another to remind ourselves that we are all connected to everyone around India, all around the world, that we need one another and that we are one family.” Barbara expressed our gratitude and prayers for their safety, well being and peace. We had purchased bags and bags of grapes for a special treat for the children. Each child came up to us to receive a bunch of grapes as a ritual of the giving and receiving among us.
The next morning as we left, the children sang a goodbye song and kissed us on both of our cheeks.
Kolkata (Calcutta)
We traveled from Pune to Kolkata where we are fortunate to stay with the family of friends. They too have so graciously welcomed and included us. Their home is in the Muslim area of Kolkata and the 5:00 call to prayer wakes us to a time of meditation. As the calls to prayer happen throughout the day, we take them as moments to pause.
Here in Kolkata we have had a meal in the home of a couple we met at the ashram in Puducherry (Pondicherry). We lost their contact information and through many steps and helpful people, we were able to connect. They guided us through the Ramakrishna and
Vivekananda center and temple. These two religious leaders taught religious unity.
We also had the experience of following a dignified, lovely 74 year old man as he led us on a winding journey with twists and turns and the help of many people along the way to the humble shrine of a beloved Sufi saint.
So much of this journey feels like a dream, mythic, out of our collective human consciousness. We are experiencing so much. There is so much to say and not enough words.
We are ever grateful for your love and support.
Barbara and Bill
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