To our favorite travel agent, Julie at All-Travel.com
We would like to share with you some residual thoughts about our recent trip to India.
We saw India. We heard India. We touched India. We tasted India. We smelled India. We were India. India was unbelievable. A virtual kaleidoscope that tested our senses, India made us feel tiny, tiny, tiny. Yet at the same time the thrill of being a part of this great sub-continent will linger in our memories forever: an old, tired and probably hungry elephant in the fields in southern India; the atonal, ear-splitting, cacophony of horns on the streets and roads of Delhi, the capitol; the graceful, pleasant hands-together next to the chest, slight head bow greeting by the Hindus; a harrowing cycle-rickshaw ride we had in "old Delhi "; my experience with a scraggly, dirty street urchin in Benares; the initial view of the Taj Mahal on a sunny afternoon; our early morning rush-hour visit to the enormous Victorian Railway Station in Bombay; our delightful visit with our Indian friends, Sudhir and Neena, before our tour started; the thoroughly enjoyable "Rice" boat cruise in Kerala; the gorgeous Sari clothing of the Indian women; the pungent odors from the fire and smoke of the cremation pyres in Benares; and my frightening ride in a wee, three-wheel auto-rickshaw. All these experiences and more are imbedded in our minds, ready for a quick reminisce. As someone once said, "travel is more than the seeing of sights, more than the hearing of sounds; it is a change that goes on in the ideas of living".
Julie, first, in India 82% of the people practice Hinduism and 12% practice Islam. There are 18 major languages (about) and there are 300 major dialects (about) and 1600 minor dialects (about). So English, implemented by the British, is the only language that links all the Indian peoples together. 40% of all Indians speak Hindi, but English is the glue that appears to keep the nation together. In other words, no English, no unified country.
The second major component of the India equation is the mass of people. The U.S. is over 3 times the size of India, yet has almost 4 times less people. 1.2 billion people in India, versus 300 million in the U.S. And they are growing much faster than we are. Wow!
Julie, as we drove from the airport to the center of Delhi, I was amused by the traffic protocol of the Indians: some roads with lane markings, some not, but 3 cars squeezed into one lane because of the heavy traffic. They honk constantly, not so much to say -move over- but -I'm here to pass you, don't move one inch. And the two cycle rickshaw rides we had were exciting, moving through very crowded streets in 'Old Delhi' and Benares. Each ride, about 30 minutes long took us through highways of hassle, filth, fury and fatalism. Above the street, dreadlock knots and tangles of power lines sparked with abandon. The monkeys on the rooftops scurried endlessly, carelessly spitting on the masses in the byways below. Hawkers in the road sold plastic spiders, useless miniature water pumps, tattered post cards, Indian flags, hats, shirts, black socks and who knows what else. These streets were surely vibrant and alive.
Our hotels were excellent in all of the eight cities we stayed. Several had pools, gardens, and vistas that were incredible, especially the hotel in Udaipur, a renovated palace. We were extremely satisfied with all of the accommodations. And our tour manager, an American, was just excellent. He was one of the best we have ever had
The Taj Mahal in Agra was the most beautiful building, I think, in the whole world. Completed over 350 years ago, and 180 feet high, it is a mausoleum for a dead emperor's wife. The great white, onion dome, symmetrical and spectacular, is known to everyone, but until one sees it personally, it really is hard to appreciate. The white marble just shimmers in the afternoon sun. It is cornered by 4 extremely tall minarets and the entire edifice was designed by Muslims, not Hindus as many people believe. Without a doubt, it is one of the wonders of the world.
Speaking of wives, I found it somewhat unique and distinctive that most - about 85 to 95%- of all marriages are still pre-arranged. This can happen to children as young as 5 years old; then they get married at 10! The major reason for this typical custom is that there is not much interplay between the sexes. There really is no opportunity for them to meet each other. This is changing of course, but it will take generations for India to reach a level of interchange similar to our society.
Phil, after Delhi, we flew to Benares, aka Veranasi, and that night we took cycle-rickshaws to the steps of the Ganges River. Benares is a dirty, dusty maze of clogged streets and alleyways, small, squeezed shops and stalls, toy vendors, monkeys, mobs of young 'Dharma Bums', holy men, beggars, goats, monkeys, street hawkers and Brahma cows which leave evidence of their passing. It's as if you are watching an 'Abbott and Costello and The Arabian Nights' movie, but in Technicolor. It's truly amazing.
Among the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world, Benares is famous for muslim, silk fabrics, perfumes, ivory works, sculptures and young, western 'New Age' aspirants to the religious mysticism of the Far East.
Benares has a unique river frontage, with miles of steps for bathing, and an array of shrines, temples and palaces rising tier upon tier from the bank .
More than a million pilgrims come each year to this holy city, and most hope to die there in old age.
As we approached the Ganges River, the setting sun was beautiful with marvelous clouds above that great red disk, and then we saw the river itself. The mysterious, holy river! We were herded down several steps and into boats, - they were more like barges- being rowed by 2 young studs from the temple of the forlorn. We tossed a dish of flowers, adorned with a candle into the Ganges, made a wish, and then all together, uttered a prayer to the river God- Ohmmmmmmmmm! It was like a happening. Really!
Our barge proceeded down river, where on the steps of that great river, we saw several funeral pyres burning wildly, with the odiferous scent of bodies going through the cremation process. Acridic, yes, sweet, no! By each pyre there were many people, all religiously respecting the right of the dead to be cremated and the ashes to be yielded to the great river.
The adults are burned the night they die. Dead babies, no. These are not cremated, but unceremoniously tossed directly into the river, and left to float and bob their way to the ocean.
Phil, when we returned to the steps where we had originally started, we saw and heard the reason that so many pilgrims come to the Ganges. Six priests, standing on platforms, along the river were chanting, swinging buckets of fire, all in unison, and enticing the multitudes on the steps to join them in holy prayer. Cow bells were sounding, drums slowly and quietly were beating, and sitars were being strung with a melodic mood that reminded one of being lost in a forest. The priests, half-naked appeared to have the crowd in control, including us in the barges, and went through their routine with a discipline that indicated a lot of practice. After all they were of the highest Brahmin caste, right?
Stan, after our evening in Benares, we rose at 4:30am to get back to the Ganges River in time to see the sunrise splash over the quiet, serene waters. We got back into the barges, again being rowed close to the shore, and saw all the massive, concrete steps leading down to the lapping water.
The steps were coming alive with the humanity of India: people bathing, people washing clothes, people praying and chanting, people enduring Yoga positions, and people washing their hair and brushing their teeth. We saw no one urinating or defecating into the water, but I don't doubt that that happens. We were rowed up and back down the river for about 2 hours, and then returned to the steps, where we then had to struggle our way through a gauntlet of beggars, hawkers, and sellers of all things useless to us..
On the way up the road, back to the cars that would take us to our hotel, I was accosted by a 4 year old: a scraggly, dirty and dark street urchin with a little filthy dress on, she grabbed my shirt, would not let go, and for a quarter of a mile, while I seemly dragged her along, kept constantly murmuring, "ma, ma". Did that mean she was hungry? I didn't know. Finally, when I reached my chosen car, she let go of my shirt. The poor human! She certainly was persistent.
We saw sights that I could not believe in a thousand years. In Bombay, around 11 at night there were dozens of people everywhere wrapped up in blankets, sleeping on the sidewalks. They evidently had not even a shack to go to, and so were lined up on the sidewalk, side by side.
Going cross country one day in our motorcoach, we saw many cows in the fields and many cow ____. And there by the side of the dusty road, sat a woman slowly but thoroughly shaping these cow ____ into round disks. She had hundreds of these little packages all lined up, ready for sale to whomever needed fuel for their fire. A fire to keep warm, I imagine. I had never seen that type of operation before. Her cow ____ were distinguishable from those of her neighbor's because of her hand impression on the top- a signature of sorts.
Ron, the British gave India several tools from which to implement a unified and democratic country. Principal among these were the railroads which linked the north and south and the east and west all together and enabled the masses as well as the elite to move about.
Also, they provided a language, English, which established a common language link, for communication in business as well as government. And it aided immensely in achieving literacy, although even today, nearly 60 years after Indian independence, over half the country is illiterate.
The third prime tool or concept which the British 'gifted' to India was 'bureaucratic employment'. I think. They established a form of governance that would necessarily ensure that as many people as was possible would have a job. Hence, the bureaucratic, corrupt nightmare that has nearly strangled the capitalistic growth of this great country.
For example, on our flights around the country- 6 trips in all- I was amused at all the convoluted 'red tape"'we went through. To enter the air terminal, I had to show my passport, my ticket or boarding pass before I could continue through. Then I had to get a tag for all carry-on bags, even for Susan's purse. Then approaching the security check point, I had to make sure my boarding pass was stamped - twice- and that my carry-on bag tag was stamped. After passing through the security scanners, my passport was again checked and recorded, my bag tag was recorded and my boarding pass was recorded.
After then going through the gate to the plane sitting on the tarmac, where my boarding pass and passport was perused again, I was stopped again at the stair to the plane. Out came the boarding pass. Out came the passport. Only then could I ascend the stairway. Home at last! But no, at the top of the stair, my boarding pass was checked again. And then, finally, into the plane. At the end of the flight, as we exited the plane, they checked our boarding passes AGAIN! Maybe all this was for security, but I think most of it was simply there so that someone would have a job- a task to perform.
Betty, one of the most pleasurable sights for me were the Saris that the women of India wore daily. It is a piece of material about 5 or 6 yards in length, about 2 feet wide, and is used by nearly every woman or teenager in India. There is a waist-to-floor petticoat and a tight fitting blouse that ends just below the bust; short sleeved or sleeveless, Saris are made of silk, fine cotton or elegant chiffon. Some even have intricate embroidery with silk threads or gold threads yet. The Sari has been in existence for over 5000 years and as it is untied when worn - in several ways- it can cling to the body in a sensual way, but it's status as the traditional dress of India also signifies goodness and innocence. Of brilliant reds, yellows, blues, greens and other hues, they are a veritable explosion of vivid and vibrant color.
The practice of "Suttee", where a widow immolates herself on the cremation funeral pyre of her husband has been banned by the British since 1829, but it still happens although not very frequently. The reason is that widows are an invisible community. They cannot inherit anything from their dead husbands; they cannot remarry; since their identity is with the husband, the minute he is not there she is no longer accepted. She is marginalized. All of these poor women - and it is mainly in the poor classes that this exists- are considered worthless and worse, bad luck to know.
But, Betty, there is a much worse condition in India- the Dowry. Prevalent in all of India, this system calls for a large sum of money to be paid to the groom upon marriage. It may even put the bride's family into debt for years. The dowry is illegal in India, but it still occurs very, very frequently.
Now, often, the husband will harass his new wife for further payments: maybe a new television or a fridge or .... If nothing is forthcoming, than disaster can result. This disaster is euphemistically called a "cooking accident". Kerosene stoves and lamps are primarily to blame, and are regularly the customary cause for burns to the poor wife although wives often are doused with kerosene and set afire. A large number of victims, as well as the perpetrators of the violence, are from poor or lower middle-class backgrounds although this brutality is not limited to those classes. Many deaths occur because of this cruel and unjust practice. Steps are being taken to stamp out the dowry, but the tradition is deeply entrenched and progress is slow.
Ben, I'm not especially a train buff, but I am intrigued by the kinds and types of people who travel. Thus, on our third day in Delhi, the capitol, we got a ride to the 'Old Delhi' train station. Entering that very dark and foreboding station, I could see that my intuitions were correct and I started snapping photos right and left. The platforms were a visual cornucopia of humanity- Sikhs with turbans, families with children, children with no families, old men in their short, short pants, young men in suits, people sleeping, people eating, people talking, and even an old man with a bird cage. Truly, a movie of life.
In Bombay -
aka Mumbai- Susan and I hired a guide and driver for a couple of hours. In the morning we went into the Bombay Victorian Railway Station that was built by the British 150 years ago. A magnificent structure that is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and truly one of the great stations in the world. Inside, we were captivated by the hordes and hordes of people exiting the Mail Express trains to go to work in Bombay. Thousands and thousands of people! Our guide said that, "6 million people use these trains every workday." I can believe it.
After we left that great station, we visited an outdoor market- there again, the picture taking was superb- every kind of fruit was there, even bananas which Susan bought. I was surprised at the cages of tiny mice, the cages of dogs, and the cages of snakes. There were even racks and racks of meat- for the city's Muslims I guess. ( Hindus are vegetarians).
After the colorful and enticing market, I asked the guide to take us to the "Red Light District". He did. Although he was extremely nervous when I stuck my camera out of the window to take photos of those young ladies in the cubicles, side by side, at the rear of the sidewalk. There were several blocks of these 'abodes', and the ladies, when they saw my camera, hid their faces from me rather quickly. It was an interesting sidelight.
Bill, while I was walking along the road in Benares, the road leading away from the Ganges River, I saw a man splitting little sticks of wood, but leaving only about 1/2 an inch on the end, just like a little brush. Well, these miniature brushes are used by the Indian people to brush their teeth.
I thought, "how ingenious: they make do with very simple tools to improve and maintain their health."
We also noticed that there were 2 or even 3 Cricket games on TV at the same time. This is the major spectator sport in all of India. And it is more challenging to learn than chess. It may be easier to play, but the rules defy logic.
Played between 2 teams of 11 players each, it has an oval field with a flat strip of ground in the center called a 'pitch', about 22 yards long. At each end of the 'pitch', is a set of wooden stumps, called a 'wicket'. A player from the fielding team, the 'bowler' throws a hard, leather ball from one 'wicket' to the other. The ball bounces once on the ground before reaching the opposing team's 'batsman' who defends the wicket from the ball with a wooden cricket bat. The 'batsman', if he does not get out, may then run between the 'wickets', exchanging ends with the other 'batsman' -the
'non-striker'- who has been standing in an inactive role near the 'bowler's'
'wicket', to score runs. The other members of the 'bowler's' team stand in various positions around the field as fielders. The match is won by the team that scores more runs. So far, it's somewhat like baseball, right? But....
A 'wicket' consists of 3 'stumps' that are hammered into the ground, and topped with 2 wooden crosspieces, called 'bails' that sit in grooves atop the stumps. So to get each 'batsman' out, the 'bowler' tries to 'bowl' the ball so that it evades the 'batsman's' 'guard' and hits the 'stumps', dislodging the 'bails'. There are other ways also that will get the 'batsman' out. Once out, the 'batsman' is replaced by the next in the team's lineup. The 'innings' of the batting team will end when the 10th 'batsman'
is out, since there always must be 2 'batsmen' on the field. When this happens, the batting team is said to be 'all out'. At the end of an 'innings' the 2 teams exchange places. There is no set rule on how many 'innings' are played. It is simply agreed to before the match begins.
Well, that's enough of this business! Since the game was invented over 800 years ago, I am sure they have the rules down pat by now.
We thoroughly enjoyed this short but exciting tour of India, and this journal just skims the surface of all the sensory experiences we had and we might even go back some day. The National Parks beckon.
Take care,
Rick & Susan