Today we leave Dharamsala. This trip has been very rich, but I'm ready to come home. The trip back to Seattle will be a long slog. A 15 hour overnight bus to Delhi, a plane ride to Kolkata with an overnight to recoup a little, then a plane ride to Bangkok. Another rest-up overnight, and then the really long haul from Bangkok to Seoul to Seattle. Back into Seattle on March 19.
Then resting up, and trying to process all that happened. See you soon.
Marie
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Tibetan Children's Village
"The greatest gift the Dalai Lama has given the Tibetan people is the education of the children" Tensing Sangpo, the Director of Education for the Tibetan Children's Village Schools told us today. Today there are eight different school sites across India serving more than 16,000 refugee children, but when the first refugees arrived in 1959, there were no programs to educate the children. The first refugees were put to work building the mountain roads in the lower Himalayan mountains. The children came along on the work crews and were parked by the side of the road while the refugees worked 15 hour days. When the young Dalai Lama visited these work sites, he realized that the future of his people was in jeopardy if the children could not be educated, so he enlisted his elder sister to open a nursery for the young children that eventually grew into this cluster of schools that blends the teaching of traditional Tibetan culture (language, religion, crafts) with education for the modern world (English, mathematics, civics, Hindi, technology).
Today many Tibetan children in Tibet do not have access to any education at all, or if they do, it is an education that is taught in Chinese and focuses on Chinese culture and values. Tibetans are also restricted in their ability to practice their religion, especially any connection to the Dalai Lama. So Tibetans who want their children to learn about Tibetan values and culture will walk their children over the Himalayan mountain range, eluding Chinese patrols, to bring them to the Tibetan Children's Village (TCV) so they can be educated. Parents leave very young children and return to Tibet, knowing they may never see their children again.
TCV has programs for infants through the 12th grade, and if a student wants to go on to college, they also seek to find the support for them. TCV is organized in 'homes' with 25-35 children per home with a 'mother.' The older children help with the chores, cooking and care of the younger children and they stay in the same home from the initial placement through 10th grade. In grade 11-12 they move out into a 'hostel' to prepare for increasing independence.
The curriculum in grades Pre-K is Montessori based with a Tibetan twist in the materials. For example, these matching blocks use images of people in traditional Tibetan dress, all the teachers wear traditional dress and the images on the walls are of Tibetan landscapes and symbols. The grade 1-8 curriculum emphasizes learning Tibetan language and culture as well as the other basic skills. Once the children are in high school, the Indian government has a prescribed curriculum.
The impact of the Dalai Lama's vision is palpable. The contrast between the children in these schools and the children we saw in Sarnath, or even the children in the early photographs of the Tibetan refugees, is stark. These children are healthy, well-nourished and thriving. They have hope for lives that move beyond begging or hard manual labor and they have pride in their culture, even though they live without a country.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Trekking in the Himalayas
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I am proud to say that I trekked up to Triund, a high pass (nearly 10,000 ft) in the Himalayan range up above Dharamsala! We carried up our own personal supplies, and our guides brought up all the food and other gear required. We stayed in some stone houses (10 to a room) that are maintained by the forest service, and they were a good protection from the wind that came up later in that night.
Most of the climb, up through rhododenron forests, there are only glimpses of the range through gaps in the ridge, but up at Triund, once you crest the ridge, mountains taller than Rainier march across the horizon. There's not much vegetation up that high, and this year, because it has been so dry, some of the mountain faces that typically are snow covered all year were bare and the tundra grass was browning.
We caught a glimpse of a snow leopard up along the ridge in the early evening, and the dogs who had climbed up from Dharamsala with us kept up a barking chorus all night long, maybe because of the full moon, but maybe also to tell the leopard to stay away.
As the evening darkened and the stars started to come out, some of us climbed up to a little higher ridge to watch the sky lighten again behind the mountains as the full moon started her climb. She finally rose over the top of a crag and bathed the whole mountain valley in a magical light.
This trek was a wonderful capstone to this trip, testing my own physical limits and offering incredible beauty and majesty in return.
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I am proud to say that I trekked up to Triund, a high pass (nearly 10,000 ft) in the Himalayan range up above Dharamsala! We carried up our own personal supplies, and our guides brought up all the food and other gear required. We stayed in some stone houses (10 to a room) that are maintained by the forest service, and they were a good protection from the wind that came up later in that night.
Most of the climb, up through rhododenron forests, there are only glimpses of the range through gaps in the ridge, but up at Triund, once you crest the ridge, mountains taller than Rainier march across the horizon. There's not much vegetation up that high, and this year, because it has been so dry, some of the mountain faces that typically are snow covered all year were bare and the tundra grass was browning.
We caught a glimpse of a snow leopard up along the ridge in the early evening, and the dogs who had climbed up from Dharamsala with us kept up a barking chorus all night long, maybe because of the full moon, but maybe also to tell the leopard to stay away.
As the evening darkened and the stars started to come out, some of us climbed up to a little higher ridge to watch the sky lighten again behind the mountains as the full moon started her climb. She finally rose over the top of a crag and bathed the whole mountain valley in a magical light.
This trek was a wonderful capstone to this trip, testing my own physical limits and offering incredible beauty and majesty in return.
Hindu Family Festival
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Ted and Peg Hope, who have organized this trip, have been working with Arun, a travel agent in Dharamsala, for a number of years. This year Arun invited them to attend a family festival, and I was fortunate to be able to come along. The festival marked the fourth anniversary of the death of Arun's grandfather-in-law. In the Hindi faith in this part of India, this date is celebrated with a huge family gathering. Arun said that more than 900 people had gathered from all over northern India to celebrate. According to Arun, this four year marks some aspect of the movement of the spirit from one place to another, perhaps now ready for reincarnation. His English, although good, was not quite up to the task of explaining the complicated meaning behind the festival. The family, relative and friends gather for three days, telling stories, doing pujas (religious rituals), culminating in a feast. The feast was served in shifts, with first men, then us (the foreigners) and finally the women lining up on mats o
n the ground. We were given plates made from large leaves and servers came by and served first rice and then one delicious Indian dish after another.
Afterwards we spent time with Arun and his family in their home in the village. Arun, as a quite successful businessman, has a large compound where he, his wife and young son live with his wife's parents, three sisters and their families and assorted other relatives that I couldn't quite place in the family tree. They are building other homes around the large central courtyard, which has a commanding view of the Himalayan mountain range.
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Ted and Peg Hope, who have organized this trip, have been working with Arun, a travel agent in Dharamsala, for a number of years. This year Arun invited them to attend a family festival, and I was fortunate to be able to come along. The festival marked the fourth anniversary of the death of Arun's grandfather-in-law. In the Hindi faith in this part of India, this date is celebrated with a huge family gathering. Arun said that more than 900 people had gathered from all over northern India to celebrate. According to Arun, this four year marks some aspect of the movement of the spirit from one place to another, perhaps now ready for reincarnation. His English, although good, was not quite up to the task of explaining the complicated meaning behind the festival. The family, relative and friends gather for three days, telling stories, doing pujas (religious rituals), culminating in a feast. The feast was served in shifts, with first men, then us (the foreigners) and finally the women lining up on mats o
n the ground. We were given plates made from large leaves and servers came by and served first rice and then one delicious Indian dish after another.Afterwards we spent time with Arun and his family in their home in the village. Arun, as a quite successful businessman, has a large compound where he, his wife and young son live with his wife's parents, three sisters and their families and assorted other relatives that I couldn't quite place in the family tree. They are building other homes around the large central courtyard, which has a commanding view of the Himalayan mountain range.
Uprising Day
March 10 was the 50th anniversary of Uprising Day, the day Tibetans rose in protest of the Chinese occupation of Tibet. The Chinese entered Tibet in 1949 and after 10 years of increasing repression and increasing concerns about the safety of the Dalai Lama, they rebelled in a non-violent protest. The Chinese government's voiolent response triggered the decision for the Dalai Lama to leave Tibet for exile in India. No one at that time dreamed that 50 years later he would still be in exile. Each year on Uprising Day, Tibetans and their supporters all over the world mark that first uprising. The Dalai Lama spoke, emphasizing the challenging conditions in Tibet where people are not even allowed to have a picture of His Holiness in their homes and can be put into prison for 15 years for raising a protest banner. He continues to call for an autonomous state of Tibet within China (the middle way) and did so again in this year's address, but it's hard to believe that this dream will ever come true. This little girl was born in exile, and although her family are teaching her what it means to be Tibetan and the ways of her culture, she may never see the country that her parents left and still long for.
The ceremony was moving - hearing His Holiness speak and continue to advocate non-violent protest after all these years, and then listening to the songs and the music, a march through the city and ending with a candlelight vigil for all those who have died in this struggle.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Karmapa Lama
This afternoon we had an audience with the 17th Karmapa Lama, Trinley Thaye Dorje. At 26, he is the head of one of the major sects within Buddhism and is seen by some as a potential successor to the Dalai Lama's leadership roles in the Tibetan communities. He was named as the reincarnation of the 16th Karmapa by the Dalai Lama in 1992 at the age of seven and escaped from Tibet in 2000. The Karmapa reincarnations are the oldest of the Tibetan lines and stretch back to the 13th century.
Tibetans in exile fear that when the Dalai Lama dies, the Chinese will 'find' the 15th reincaration and name him. The Dalai Lama himself says that since reincarnations happen because there is still work on earth to be done before Nirvana, any reincarnation should happen in exile, because the cause of a Tibetan Autonomous State has not yet been achieved.
The Karmapa Lama granted our group an hour audience in which we could ask questions and receive his blessings. He is very wise for his years, and fielded questions about finding peace within oneself in order to create peace in the world and about the current status of Tibet skillfully. I think that it was powerful for the students to see someone so close to their own age in such an important position within both the religious life of Buddhism and political life of Tibetans in exile.
Tibetans in exile fear that when the Dalai Lama dies, the Chinese will 'find' the 15th reincaration and name him. The Dalai Lama himself says that since reincarnations happen because there is still work on earth to be done before Nirvana, any reincarnation should happen in exile, because the cause of a Tibetan Autonomous State has not yet been achieved.
The Karmapa Lama granted our group an hour audience in which we could ask questions and receive his blessings. He is very wise for his years, and fielded questions about finding peace within oneself in order to create peace in the world and about the current status of Tibet skillfully. I think that it was powerful for the students to see someone so close to their own age in such an important position within both the religious life of Buddhism and political life of Tibetans in exile.
Dalai Lama - Long Life Ceremony
No pictures today. This morning was a celebration at the Temple to ask for long life and health for the Dalai Lama. The security was very tight for the ceremony and no cameras were allowed. The three hour ceremony drew in thousands of Tibetans (and some tourists) who love the Dalai Lama and we watched him process in with all his attendants, and then, if you were lucky (and I was) watched the ceremony on a big screen TV. Most of the attendees couldn't see anything, and just listened to the chanting for three hours.
I had been reading about the oracles that the Dalai Lama uses to help him make choices and decisions and today we were able to see them doing their devinations. The oracles wear very elaborate robes and large headdresses; as they begin to do their work, they dance - first slowly and then increasingly quickly, until they dance themselves into a trance. At that point the oracle takes over and whatever they speak is carefully noted. This morning the oracle collapased after giving his proclamation, and had to be carried out of the room.
The love of the Tibetan people for the Dalai Lama was papable in the crowd. One of the ways lamas are honored is with long white scarves (all the photos of the Dalai Lama are draped with them). At the point in the ceremony where the Dalai Lama spoke to the crowd, people in the crowd began to throw their scarves toward the TV screen and to say the 108 beads of the mala.
It was an honor to be there today. Even though I didn't understand a word, I know that I was in the presence of a truely remarkable human being and a great spirit. I add my wishes for his long and healthy life.
I had been reading about the oracles that the Dalai Lama uses to help him make choices and decisions and today we were able to see them doing their devinations. The oracles wear very elaborate robes and large headdresses; as they begin to do their work, they dance - first slowly and then increasingly quickly, until they dance themselves into a trance. At that point the oracle takes over and whatever they speak is carefully noted. This morning the oracle collapased after giving his proclamation, and had to be carried out of the room.
The love of the Tibetan people for the Dalai Lama was papable in the crowd. One of the ways lamas are honored is with long white scarves (all the photos of the Dalai Lama are draped with them). At the point in the ceremony where the Dalai Lama spoke to the crowd, people in the crowd began to throw their scarves toward the TV screen and to say the 108 beads of the mala.
It was an honor to be there today. Even though I didn't understand a word, I know that I was in the presence of a truely remarkable human being and a great spirit. I add my wishes for his long and healthy life.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Charang-Kat
Down the hill from McLeodganj, the home of the Dalai Lama and the heart of the Tibetan refugee community is Lower Dharamsala. This community has fewer Tibetans; the larger 'refugee' community are the Ragistani who came because of drought and famine in the largely desert province of Ragistan. Many of these people came with no funds and no prospects and have settled in a slum project. Many of them have been beggars and rubbish pickers for generations, and have continued these occupations here, but with fewer resources than they had back in Ragistan. There are over 700 people (360 of them children) living in appalling circumstances. In 2004, 100% were illiterate and 98% of the children were malnourished. The average age span is 35 years. Most families have six to eight children, and the cycle of poverty keeps repeating. Things are beginning to change, but the problems are huge. Bound by caste and a belief in karma, there is an incredible sense of hopelessness in this community.A local monk, Lobsang Jamyang, noticed some of the children gathering rubbish and eating the scraps from the window i
n his monestary. He was moved to start Tong-Len, a non-profit organization, in 2004 to provide some food and clothing, and since then has expanded the projects to try to begin to address some of the root causes of these problems through education, health, and social awareness programs, alcohol and domestic violence programs. Some micro-finance opportunities for other employment may be in the future particularly targeted toward the adolescent children who are still illiterate and at risk of simply marrying at 13 or14 and starting the cycle all over again.Most of the children still show significant signs of malnourishment. Their hair, which should be dark and shiny has the reddish cast of protein malnutrition and a 2 year old child may weigh as little as 2.2 kilograms (about 5 pounds). Obviously the long term impacts on not only health, but also cognition are huge. Most have not been vaccinated, and disease spreads easily through the slum as there are no good sanitation facilities. The project is forbidden from building any good sanitation as these folks are squatters on the land.
Jamyang has learned over time that intervention is slow and requires shifting cultural practices and beliefs. He also understands that he can't simply provide resources, because those resources often don't go where they are needed. For example, when they first started distributing vitamins and some food items, they found that some families were selling them to get money for alcohol. Now the project manager monitors more closely to assure that the target populations, the children and pregnant and lactating mothers, are actually getting the vitamins and food. If not, then that family is cut out of the program for awhile to learn the lesson.
They have opened a small school in the slum site (a blackboard and a cement floor under a tarp) where some of the children can learn about what 'school behavior' is in preparation to possibly go on to get some education. Forty of the children from the slums are now in boarding school just up the road. Jamyang involves these children in developing community education programs (through performance, song, dance) about issues like immunizations, sanitation, and nutrition. He is trying to instill in these children a sense of responsibility back to their own community and to use their connections with their families and relatives to bring better information and some hope. These children are the living proof to the community that education may actually result in a better life for their children, something none of them believed in 2004. Jamyang had trouble persuading families to send a child to school then, but now they are lining up for the few spots available.
The global economic crisis means that even the traditional sources of income for these people, begging on the streets or shining shoes, which are both dependent on the tourist industry, are diminished because fewer tourists are coming. Even rubbish collecting does not bring in as much. The metals and plastics they could sell for 32 rupees per kilo last year are now only bringing 32 rupees.
This visit was the first time that most of the students have seen this level of poverty and hopelessness face to face and the impact was very powerful. For me too.
M
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Tibetan Soup
After the rich foods of the plains of India (everything is cooked in ghee and paneer, a cheese that has the texture of tofu is one of the main sources of protein), it is refreshing to find that Tibetans eat a lot of Ghantauk, a wonderful soup made with very fresh vegetables and noodles. I searched out a cooking class here and spent a wonderful afternoon learning how to cook three different kinds of soup with varied noodles, including a little stuffed dumpling (sort of like a potsticker) called a Momo. Just like in Thailand and India, wonderful food is put together in tiny little kitchens with a single burner and a wok. Sangye, who taught me, had most of the vegetables prepared (chopped fresh boy choy, spinich, red onions, ginger, garlic, tomato, a little green pepper, and we spent most of our time learning to make the varied noodle shapes that give each soup its name. While we cooked, he told me the story of his escape from Tibet (Ahimsa post), then we shared soup together. Both my belly and my heart were full.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Ahimsa and stories of courage
Dharmasala has brought me to tears every day I have been here. Almost each person I meet tells another story of incredible courage and bravery about escaping the repression in Tibet.
Sangye (23) and his 19 year old buddy, simply left their village in Western Tibet, took a bus to Lhasa and then pretended to be 'businessmen' buying nomad artifacts so that they could get near enough to the Nepal border to risk the crossing over a pass near Mt Everest. Today he taught me how to cook Tibetan soups and as we rolled noodles together he told me a tale that if I saw it in a Hollywood film I wouldn't believe. They were surrounded by Chinese soldiers with guns and escaped through the wiles of a clever monk, they stumbled into one of the only safe homes near the border where the owner has a secret room dedicated to the Dalai Lama. (It is against the law and punishable by prison to even have his picture in your home in Tibet.) He was able to give them some directions that helped point them toward the right pass. They almost froze to death on the mountain passed, bluffed group of Chinese soliders with their businessman story when they were stopped for an identity check. After crossing the border into Nepal, frozen and starving and still in danger of being captured by Nepali police and sent back, they happened on two traders with yaks who formerly had traded with Tibet and sheltered and fed them. This retelling doesn't even capture the amazing events. Sangye said, "I don't know if we were stupid or brave, but we had to leave because we couldn't get an education, we couldn't speak about our beliefs or practice our religion and we wanted to see the Dalai Lama."
Kelsang at 23 walked out of Tibet into Nepal with her 11 year old brother. Her mother had died (and her brother, returning from India to see his dying mother had been put in prison). She left a career as a nurse, which she said was a good job, but distressing because she witnessed discriminatory treatment of Tibetan and Chinese patients in the hospital.
Every single refugee I have talked to says that, whatever else motivated them to leave, they have come to see the Dalai Lama. His power move people to risk their lives and leave everything behind - family, friends, work - to come to a country where they have no passport, no chance for employment, but do have the chance to be fully Buddhist, is astonishing.
The commitment of the Tibetan people to ahimsa, to non-violence and compassion, is also moving, especially in the face of the kinds of discrimination and repression they have faced in Tibet. Today we listened to a former monk who was imprisioned and tortured for over four months in Tibet because he raised his voice in protest about the restrictions on religion. After he was finally released, he happened to meet two of the guards who had tortured him on the streets of Lhasa. He actually greeted them and invited them to have tea with him. He lives the value of compassion, even for those who have harmed him, in the very core of his being, but I also heard similar stories and the reiteration of the commitment to non-violence and compassion for the Chinese people from every refugee I have talked with, although many speak of the Chinese government as cruel.
These stories are humbling; terrifying and courageous, heartbreakingly sad and breathtakingly inspirational. They are stories full of love - love for faith (and the man who symbolizes it), love for country and culture, and a love for the human spirit that refuses to be broken.
I'll end this post with a quote from Arundhati Roy that my friend Molly sent me yesterday. It seems appropriate.
"To love, to be loved
to never forget your own insignificance
to never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you
To seek joy in the saddest places
to pursue beauty to its layer
to never simplify what is complicated
to complicate what is simple
To respect strength, never power
above all, to watch, to try to understand
to never look away
and never forget."
M
Sangye (23) and his 19 year old buddy, simply left their village in Western Tibet, took a bus to Lhasa and then pretended to be 'businessmen' buying nomad artifacts so that they could get near enough to the Nepal border to risk the crossing over a pass near Mt Everest. Today he taught me how to cook Tibetan soups and as we rolled noodles together he told me a tale that if I saw it in a Hollywood film I wouldn't believe. They were surrounded by Chinese soldiers with guns and escaped through the wiles of a clever monk, they stumbled into one of the only safe homes near the border where the owner has a secret room dedicated to the Dalai Lama. (It is against the law and punishable by prison to even have his picture in your home in Tibet.) He was able to give them some directions that helped point them toward the right pass. They almost froze to death on the mountain passed, bluffed group of Chinese soliders with their businessman story when they were stopped for an identity check. After crossing the border into Nepal, frozen and starving and still in danger of being captured by Nepali police and sent back, they happened on two traders with yaks who formerly had traded with Tibet and sheltered and fed them. This retelling doesn't even capture the amazing events. Sangye said, "I don't know if we were stupid or brave, but we had to leave because we couldn't get an education, we couldn't speak about our beliefs or practice our religion and we wanted to see the Dalai Lama."
Kelsang at 23 walked out of Tibet into Nepal with her 11 year old brother. Her mother had died (and her brother, returning from India to see his dying mother had been put in prison). She left a career as a nurse, which she said was a good job, but distressing because she witnessed discriminatory treatment of Tibetan and Chinese patients in the hospital.
Every single refugee I have talked to says that, whatever else motivated them to leave, they have come to see the Dalai Lama. His power move people to risk their lives and leave everything behind - family, friends, work - to come to a country where they have no passport, no chance for employment, but do have the chance to be fully Buddhist, is astonishing.
The commitment of the Tibetan people to ahimsa, to non-violence and compassion, is also moving, especially in the face of the kinds of discrimination and repression they have faced in Tibet. Today we listened to a former monk who was imprisioned and tortured for over four months in Tibet because he raised his voice in protest about the restrictions on religion. After he was finally released, he happened to meet two of the guards who had tortured him on the streets of Lhasa. He actually greeted them and invited them to have tea with him. He lives the value of compassion, even for those who have harmed him, in the very core of his being, but I also heard similar stories and the reiteration of the commitment to non-violence and compassion for the Chinese people from every refugee I have talked with, although many speak of the Chinese government as cruel.
These stories are humbling; terrifying and courageous, heartbreakingly sad and breathtakingly inspirational. They are stories full of love - love for faith (and the man who symbolizes it), love for country and culture, and a love for the human spirit that refuses to be broken.
I'll end this post with a quote from Arundhati Roy that my friend Molly sent me yesterday. It seems appropriate.
"To love, to be loved
to never forget your own insignificance
to never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you
To seek joy in the saddest places
to pursue beauty to its layer
to never simplify what is complicated
to complicate what is simple
To respect strength, never power
above all, to watch, to try to understand
to never look away
and never forget."
M
Youngling Creche & Kindergarten
Today we volunteered at one of the schools in Dharamsala that teaches the children of the Tibetan refugees here. One of the major goals of the Dalai Lama, and one that is passionately supported by the refugees, is the preservation of the unique culture and language of Tibet, especially they are being systematically eradicated in Chinese occupied Tibet. In the early days of exile, many parents withdrew their children from school to earn some extra money at any odd job. The government in exile and the Dalai Lama stressed the importance of education and a number of both private and government run schools open. Youngling is a nursery school and kindergarten, serving kids from 18 months to 5 years while their parents work or go to school to learn skills.
The children are, of course, darling. We watched the day begin with morning prayers, mostly done as the children (not the babies, but the 2-5 year olds, stood in lines and sang back each line the teacher sang. Those kids stood there for well over 20 minutes, keeping in their straight lines in call and response. 
It seems that most of the instruction is done in this recitation style. After the prayers, we observed/helped in the four year old room, and the next day in the Kindergarten. The teaching style reminds me of the methodology they called Direct Instruction in the US. (Although there was no teacher guide to follow). The four year old children were learning the Tibetan alphabet and numbers and the English words for the days of the week. The teacher said a word and the children, sitting in little two person desks, called back the answers. The five year olds were learning three letter words with the 'a' sound in the middle (like bat, cat, jam). Again the teacher called out the phonetic sounds and the word and the children (at the top of their lungs) shout back. Although there was some squirming, obviously the expectation is that the children will sit quietly and pay attention for significantly long periods of time. This whole observation was a striking difference than most preschools I have seen in the United State. Songs and rhymes are obviously an important vehicle for instruction. For the days of the week and for the Tibetan alphabet, after the teacher modeled verbally, there was also a song that incorporated what she was trying to teach.
Teaching Tibetan culture is central to this school's mission, and the music teacher came to teach the four year olds a traditional Tibetan song. I couldn't get a translation from the teacher, but she said that it was a kind of marching or walking song. They also learn traditional Tibetan dance. On Monday I will visit one of the government run schools, the Tibetan Children's Day School.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Dharamsala
Monday we wended our way out of the Ganges plain, up through the clouds of smog, into the Himalyan mountains. We're now in McLeodganj, the upper village of Dharamsala where the Dalai Lami and thousands of Tibetan refugees live, a set of twisted and turning streets, all the buildings hanging off the edge of hillsides at 7000 feet above sea-level. This hillside village is a complex place with a history as twisted as its streets. The Dalai Lama escaped from Tibet in 1959 and was given refuge in this place, where he has lived for the past 50 years as he struggles for Tibetan automony and to sustain the Tibetan culture and practices in this community. The Tibetans have lived in relative harmony with the local hilltribes who were displaced themselves by the thousands of immigrants who still pour across the border. Although the Indian government offered the Tibetans asylum here, as often goes with large central governments, the local tribal people were not consulted. However, a large economy of tourism related to the Tibetan cause and to the practices and teachings of Buddhism has arisen here that supports both the local people and the Tibetans in exile.
We will be in this community for the next two weeks, volunteering at some local schools which are organized to combine the teaching of modern education with the teaching of Tibetan language and culture. We also have the opportunity to work with adult refugees to help them learn English and to hear their stories of escape from Tibet.
The climate here reminds me of late spring in the NW. Cool in the mornings and warmer after noon. Evenings are quite chilly. It's a relief to be out of the heat of the Ganges plain and into air that is cleaner, washed by the winds that pour down over the mountains each night.
The evidence of the presence of the Dalai Lama and Buddhist faith is everywhere. His picture, draped with white banners, is in every establishment, prayer flags fly over the homes and are strung down the hillsides, stupas with prayer wheels are found along the main streets, and most pedestrians stop by to spin the wheels as they walk to have a cup of chai or to meet a friend or to catch the bus.
The month of March marks important historical events for the Tibetan people, and this year is a particularly poignant time. Tuesday, March 10, is a very bittersweet day in Dharamsala. It is the 50th anniversary of Tibetan Uprising Day when the Tibetans orginally arose to protest the Chinese occupation of Tibet. The Dalai Lama left Tibet on March 14, 1959, finally arriving in India on March 31st. We have been told that there will be many events to mark this 50th anniversary, many of them questioning the viability of the Dalai Lama's adherence to the middle path all these years. Even the Dalai Lama himself seems to be moving away from this idea as the last of 8 rounds of talks with China have failed to make any progress for either Tibetan autonomy or for better conditions for those Tibetans still living in Tibet.
We will be in this community for the next two weeks, volunteering at some local schools which are organized to combine the teaching of modern education with the teaching of Tibetan language and culture. We also have the opportunity to work with adult refugees to help them learn English and to hear their stories of escape from Tibet.
The climate here reminds me of late spring in the NW. Cool in the mornings and warmer after noon. Evenings are quite chilly. It's a relief to be out of the heat of the Ganges plain and into air that is cleaner, washed by the winds that pour down over the mountains each night.
The evidence of the presence of the Dalai Lama and Buddhist faith is everywhere. His picture, draped with white banners, is in every establishment, prayer flags fly over the homes and are strung down the hillsides, stupas with prayer wheels are found along the main streets, and most pedestrians stop by to spin the wheels as they walk to have a cup of chai or to meet a friend or to catch the bus.
The month of March marks important historical events for the Tibetan people, and this year is a particularly poignant time. Tuesday, March 10, is a very bittersweet day in Dharamsala. It is the 50th anniversary of Tibetan Uprising Day when the Tibetans orginally arose to protest the Chinese occupation of Tibet. The Dalai Lama left Tibet on March 14, 1959, finally arriving in India on March 31st. We have been told that there will be many events to mark this 50th anniversary, many of them questioning the viability of the Dalai Lama's adherence to the middle path all these years. Even the Dalai Lama himself seems to be moving away from this idea as the last of 8 rounds of talks with China have failed to make any progress for either Tibetan autonomy or for better conditions for those Tibetans still living in Tibet.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
India-Pakistan Border
Yesterday we went to witness one of the more bizarre political/social events I have ever seen. Every day, when the border between Pakistan and India is closed for the night, there is a competition between India and Pakistan for who can round up the most spectators and put on the biggest show. There are actual
ly 
concrete bleacher built on both sides to seat the crowds who come. These pictures are all from the India side of the border, but although there were fewer people on the Pakistani side, the uniforms were equally as splendid and the roars from the crowd as loud. The whole event was a blend of calls of nationalistic pride, a mosh pit rave and the changing the guard at Buckingham Palace. There were crowd pleasing chants reminiscent of the cheerleading at football games, with one man on India's side leading "Long live Hindustan" while the other side tried to drown the c
rowd out by shouting "Long live Pakistan. Women and children were invited from the crowd to carry flags to the border and back (interesting that no men were allowed. This is the first time I have seen women given a privileged spot, and I wonder if it is because there is concern about what testosterone might spark if the men come face to face across the border. Then the music began to blare and the women and children began to dance in the street that leads to the border, almost a mosh pit rave. Finally the guards themselves came out to close the border, the Indian and Pakistani guards in an obviously choreographed display of fierceness, with very showy marching, music, high stepping and a 
ceremony that brought the two flags down exactly at the same time. Then the gates were closed for the night, and the truckers lined up on either side of the border settled down to drink chai, gossip with each other and sleep in their cabs until the border opens again in the morning. It's hard to believe that this circus happens every day with hundreds of people showing up on both sides, but we're told it does. Perhaps this event diffuses some of the tensions that this region has been steeped in since the partition in the 1940s. Can you imagine an event like this at the US/Canadian border?Hunger in India
Yesterday's Time of India published finding from a report by the United Nations World Food Programme about hunger in India. This report portrays in facts and figures the reality that we have seen starkly portrayed during our travels. According to the report, 230 million people in India are chronically undernourished and malnutrition accounts for nearly 50% of child deaths in India and 30% of adults have a BMI of less that 18.5. Most of the children we worked with in Sarnath were very small for their ages. Pre-natal malnutrion results in babies who are very tiny and small boned and the r
eport says that every second child in India is stunted in growth. Macail would tower over many of the 5 and 6 year olds, and the women are very tiny, their arms so thin that the bangles they wear for marriage do not fit over our large Western hands. More than 70% of children under 5 suffer from anemia, and according to this report, the levels of anemia are actually rising with 11 of the 19 states in India having more than 80% of children with anemia. 
eport says that every second child in India is stunted in growth. Macail would tower over many of the 5 and 6 year olds, and the women are very tiny, their arms so thin that the bangles they wear for marriage do not fit over our large Western hands. More than 70% of children under 5 suffer from anemia, and according to this report, the levels of anemia are actually rising with 11 of the 19 states in India having more than 80% of children with anemia. As we left Uttar Pradesh and moved in to the Punjab region, the differences between those who can eat and those who do not have enough food became even clearer. Punjab is the bread basket of India, producing nearly 70% of the food supply, and the relative wealth is evident. Many more of the population appear well fed, the men are significantly taller and sturdier than in the other parts of India we have visited and I actually saw my first obese Indian woman yesterday at the temple.
Rising food prices world wide and corruption and inefficiency in the "Targeted Public Distribution System" for food supplies, have, according to the Time "lead to greater food insecurity for large sections of the poor and near poor."
Friday, February 27, 2009
Amritsar and the Golden Temple
We are staying in the Pilgrim House in Amritsar, right next to the Golden Temple. This temple is a very holy site in the Sikh religion and thousands of pilgrims come each day to worship and give offerings of money and food. The history behind this building is complex and full of the kinds of war and bloodshed that happen when religious beliefs spill into the political and the passions those tensions seem to envoke, including in recent times when Indira Ghandi's government rousted out Sikh separatists in a botched and utimately for Indira, fatal, attempt to supress their effort for an independent Sikh state.
The temple itself is glorious. Set in the middle of a pool that reflects the gold leaf on the building with four entrances to mark the openness of the Sikh faith to all religion. Ragas are being sung 24 hours a day = a tabla player and two harmoniums all singing the words of their faith over and over, live inside the temple and broadcast over the pool. The music is actually quite glorious, the 16 beat phrases circling and rising in the morning air, supported by the murmer of the worshippers singing along quitely. Here, as in all the other temples we have visited, Buddhist, Jain, Hindu, the transmission of the practices of devotion are passed on to the children through the every day practices of worship. 
Here a grandfather is helping his young grandson take part in the ritual bathing that the men do before worship. (Women also bathe, but they have to do it in a little marble house where no one can see.)
Here a grandfather is helping his young grandson take part in the ritual bathing that the men do before worship. (Women also bathe, but they have to do it in a little marble house where no one can see.)Most striking, however, is the temple's communal kitchen. They feed thousands and thousands of pilgrims and the poor each
day. No charge required, although a donation is accepted. In lines, people line up and are given a large metal plate and file to an upstairs room adjacent to the temple. Sitting in lines on the floor they wait for servers to come around and spoon dal and a vegetable curry onto their plates, or lay a warm chapati in their outstreched hands. All begin to eat and then when finished, take th
eir plates to the large washing area. The sound of the metal plates hitting the collection barrel is a sustained sound through the Pilgrim house window 24 hours a day.
day. No charge required, although a donation is accepted. In lines, people line up and are given a large metal plate and file to an upstairs room adjacent to the temple. Sitting in lines on the floor they wait for servers to come around and spoon dal and a vegetable curry onto their plates, or lay a warm chapati in their outstreched hands. All begin to eat and then when finished, take their plates to the large washing area. The sound of the metal plates hitting the collection barrel is a sustained sound through the Pilgrim house window 24 hours a day. I sat next to a woman who had brought with her a small plastic bag, and after her plate was filled, she spooned it into the bag, obviously taking it home with her, either for another meal or to feed another body. Many volunteers come to peel onions, carrots, a whole raft of gree
n beans, - men, women and children - and the effort to cook this much food and keep the lines moving and people fed is staggering. This really is 'feed the people' in action.
n beans, - men, women and children - and the effort to cook this much food and keep the lines moving and people fed is staggering. This really is 'feed the people' in action.M
Why Am I Here?
I was reading Pico Iyer's book Sun After Dark and came across this passage that seems to capture some of the turmoil of emotions and feelings I have been having.
"I know that a trip has really been successful if I come back sounding strange even to myself; if is some sense never come back at all, but remain up at night unsettled by what I've seen. I bring back receipts, postcards, the jottings I have made, but none of them really tells the story of what I've encuontered; that remains somewhere between what I can't say and what I can't know...We travel, some of us, to slip through the curtain of the ordinary, and into the presence of whatever lies just outside our apprehension." pg. 8
This trip has not been simple, not in any way. The confounding nature of poverty and need are placed side by side with breathtaking beauty and a tremendous warmth of spirit; deep devotion and spiritual life lives alongside incredible environmental challenges and pollution that will eventually bring India to her knees if not address. As a traveler here, I am continually stood on my head, hoping that my camera and my attempts at story telling will convey even a little of the paradoxical nature of this country. There is a saying that India, whatever is true, the opposite is also true. I believe it.
M
"I know that a trip has really been successful if I come back sounding strange even to myself; if is some sense never come back at all, but remain up at night unsettled by what I've seen. I bring back receipts, postcards, the jottings I have made, but none of them really tells the story of what I've encuontered; that remains somewhere between what I can't say and what I can't know...We travel, some of us, to slip through the curtain of the ordinary, and into the presence of whatever lies just outside our apprehension." pg. 8
This trip has not been simple, not in any way. The confounding nature of poverty and need are placed side by side with breathtaking beauty and a tremendous warmth of spirit; deep devotion and spiritual life lives alongside incredible environmental challenges and pollution that will eventually bring India to her knees if not address. As a traveler here, I am continually stood on my head, hoping that my camera and my attempts at story telling will convey even a little of the paradoxical nature of this country. There is a saying that India, whatever is true, the opposite is also true. I believe it.
M
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Taj Mahal
One of the wonders of the world! And rightfully so. I got up at dawn to see it in the early light, and I'm glad I did. There were very few people around, and for once in India, it was quiet and serene. This monument to enduring love after death is stunningly beautiful. The white marble and semi-precious stone detail work gleams against the sky and is reflected in the pools that surround it. The proportions are mathematically precise and although it is a huge building, it seems contained and accessible. The minarets that surround it were built so that they lean 12 degrees out from the building so that if there were an earthquake, they would fall out away from the building. During the second world war there was danger that this site would be bombed, so the whole building was covered and disguised as a mountain.
But even here the disparity between men and women is evident. Three screening lines men and one for women, and we've been told that the young women should not go out of the hotel without one of the guys with them. I will be glad to leave this piece of cultural baggage behind. I guess that both Amritsar and Dharamasala are much safer and more respectful of women. It will be a relief not to feel so constrained. I guess that although there is still lots of work to be done in America, we have come a way. I just read statistics on child birth gender ratios in Dehli and there are 865 female births for every 1000 male births. Abortions of female fetuses is still a relatively common practice and little boys are the darlings of every family. (I'm not sure how I got from the Taj to gender relations, but I guess these things have been on my mind.) The fate of widows, although not as bad as depicted in the film WATER, is still pretty harsh. Because she 'belongs' to the husband's family she can become a virtual slave, doing chores and living on the mercy of her in-laws. In Indian cultural practices, a girl child does not belong to the family of her birth. She is just housed there until her true family is found. Even if she marries out of caste, she takes on the new caste status of her husband, regardless of her family's caste status.
We leave for Amritsar this afternoon. Another overnight train ride. I hope less stressful than the last.
M
Indian Trains
Indian trains are an adventure in themselves. Crowded, noisy and full of buskers selling samosas, chai, a chance to polish your shoes, or singing for a little money. Lots of beggers, both children and adults. It would be easy to give away all your rupees in the space of a city block.
On the trip from Varanasi to Agra, we missed our scheduled overnight train and a 12 hour overnight turned into a 24 hour scramble from one train to the other. I ended up in an upper bunk in a sleeper car with very little head room, all my luggage and some of other folks as well. Although I am very stiff today from sitting like a pretzel for too many hours, it gave me lots of opportunity to observe the culture on the trains.
Even in the reserved section, the seats are only reserved if you are adamant about claiming them, demanding your space. Folks just come and join you in the seat or on the bench,
opening up their stainless steel lunch boxes with chapatis and sabjii or curry.
opening up their stainless steel lunch boxes with chapatis and sabjii or curry. It's a challenge being a woman in the part of India. (We're told it will get better in Punjab with the Sikhs). The 'male gaze' is everywhere, and the younger women on the trip especially are targets, most especially Amy, our redhead. As you can see from this picture, the men are always staring at her. It's often uncomfortable as there is a sexual overlay. In Indian society, marriages are still arranged and often men and women don't have the opportunity to interact casually, so every interaction with a women is charged. I have to say, I'm thankful that I'm older. They just call me "Auntie."
When we travel as a group, we attract attention everywhere we go. It seems that we are as strange to the local Indians as parts of their culture seem to us. The protocol when we arrive at the train station is to drop our bags in a pile and circle them until we know where
the train is leaving from. Inevitably, we are soon circled by a crowd of men (rarely women). Eventually, we can engage some of them in conversation, if they speak English, and the tone shifts some. Most begin with a comment about Obama. Almost everyone I've met is overjoyed that Bush and has high hopes for Obama's ability to create better relations world wide.
the train is leaving from. Inevitably, we are soon circled by a crowd of men (rarely women). Eventually, we can engage some of them in conversation, if they speak English, and the tone shifts some. Most begin with a comment about Obama. Almost everyone I've met is overjoyed that Bush and has high hopes for Obama's ability to create better relations world wide. One of the phenomenons in India, not just on trains, are the number of children busking, selling flowers or tourist trinkets. Some of them, like some of the flower selling children I met in Varanasi, are selling before and after school to supplement the family income, but many, like this small girl who was working the train by singing a song, accompanied by some stones she clicked together, are often working for some 'boss' and most
all she makes goes to him. We've taken to giving these children food - a banana or an orange or some crackers - in hopes that they will actually get to eat it. The train stations are full of very ragged children who obviously are not in school since they are busking during school hours. Most of these children are very small, and the national figures on malnutrion and anemia are still very high in India. The kind of purposeful mutilation of children so that they will be more successful beggers that was depicted in Slumdog Millionaire is not as evident as it used to be from the reports of those in the group who have been to India many times, but the lives of these children are still very challenging. From what I've been reading about the begger/busker children, they live in a kind of slavery, answerable to their 'boss' 24/7. When we were still in Varanasi, I watched a group of small girls, maybe 9 or 10, playing on one of the Ghats. They were challenging each other to dance. I was just thinking about how much fun they were having and how typcially play looks, even across cultures, when an older man appeared, shouted at them and all of a sudden the play stopped, postcards and trinkets were pulled out of a small bag and they were busking again. The easy and joyous interaction of play shifted to '10 rupees, mama. Only 10 rupees.' In most of the larger towns, it's impossible to have an interaction with a child that is not connected with asking for money.
all she makes goes to him. We've taken to giving these children food - a banana or an orange or some crackers - in hopes that they will actually get to eat it. The train stations are full of very ragged children who obviously are not in school since they are busking during school hours. Most of these children are very small, and the national figures on malnutrion and anemia are still very high in India. The kind of purposeful mutilation of children so that they will be more successful beggers that was depicted in Slumdog Millionaire is not as evident as it used to be from the reports of those in the group who have been to India many times, but the lives of these children are still very challenging. From what I've been reading about the begger/busker children, they live in a kind of slavery, answerable to their 'boss' 24/7. When we were still in Varanasi, I watched a group of small girls, maybe 9 or 10, playing on one of the Ghats. They were challenging each other to dance. I was just thinking about how much fun they were having and how typcially play looks, even across cultures, when an older man appeared, shouted at them and all of a sudden the play stopped, postcards and trinkets were pulled out of a small bag and they were busking again. The easy and joyous interaction of play shifted to '10 rupees, mama. Only 10 rupees.' In most of the larger towns, it's impossible to have an interaction with a child that is not connected with asking for money.M
Monday, February 23, 2009
Music and Dance - Dr. Jain's students
One evening while we were in Sarnath, some of the children from the primary school came to perform traditional songs and dances for us. Their music teachers played the tabla and the harmonium, and they sang beautiful ragas. Their teachers had made them lovely costumes in bright colors - quite a contrast from the clothes we saw them wearing to school and out on the streets as they played. The children here are so beautiful and when they were dressed in these bright colors they looked like birds flying in a swooping dance on the rooftop.
Keeping the local dances and music alive is one of the goals of Dr. Jain's pr
oject. He wants these children to be proud of their heritage and traditions as well as learn the ways of the modern world. His goal is to sustain the good aspects of village community based on the Ghandian principle that 'Village is life.' Much to think about.
M
Dr Jain's Schools in Sarnath
e a
Dr Jain is a remarkable man who has committed his life to creating educational experiences for the Dalit (untouchable) caste children who live in the villages near Sarnath. His long term dream is to build from the preschools and primary school he now has to a junior, high school and even university.
Currently he has preschools in six different village sites, mostly taught by a local village woman who may have finished primary school herself. The children come each day for 4 hours and learn letters, numbers, Hindi, colors. When the children graduate from the preschool, the are eligible to go to a primary school he has created. The teachers there are from the villages. (A person can be teacher in this state in India with a 10th grade education and 1 year of teacher preparation - not university based. There are no fees associated for any of the schools. Dr. Jain pays the pr
eschool and primary teachers from donations. Once a student graduates from primary, Dr. Jain tries to find them a sponsor who will pay the 6000 rps (c. $250) per year to sponsor the student in one of the fee based local high schools. His ultimate goal is to have no fees for high school either.
His philosophy of education is much more holistic and based in Ghandian principals than most
traditional Indian education, which is still based deeply in the formality and rigidity of the old British system here. Corporal punishment is not unusual in many schools, but is forbidden in his schools. Music and dance, particularly the traditional forms from the village, are also stressed.
I feel blessed to have spent time with this man and witnessed his work. He's a good example of how one person can change the lives of many.
M
Dr Jain is a remarkable man who has committed his life to creating educational experiences for the Dalit (untouchable) caste children who live in the villages near Sarnath. His long term dream is to build from the preschools and primary school he now has to a junior, high school and even university.
Currently he has preschools in six different village sites, mostly taught by a local village woman who may have finished primary school herself. The children come each day for 4 hours and learn letters, numbers, Hindi, colors. When the children graduate from the preschool, the are eligible to go to a primary school he has created. The teachers there are from the villages. (A person can be teacher in this state in India with a 10th grade education and 1 year of teacher preparation - not university based. There are no fees associated for any of the schools. Dr. Jain pays the pr
eschool and primary teachers from donations. Once a student graduates from primary, Dr. Jain tries to find them a sponsor who will pay the 6000 rps (c. $250) per year to sponsor the student in one of the fee based local high schools. His ultimate goal is to have no fees for high school either.His philosophy of education is much more holistic and based in Ghandian principals than most
traditional Indian education, which is still based deeply in the formality and rigidity of the old British system here. Corporal punishment is not unusual in many schools, but is forbidden in his schools. Music and dance, particularly the traditional forms from the village, are also stressed.I feel blessed to have spent time with this man and witnessed his work. He's a good example of how one person can change the lives of many.
M
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Shivaratri
's 
Tonight one of the holiest festivals honoring Shiva begins. Shivaratri is the celebration of the transformation of the dark to the light and the power of destruction in creation. Although Hindus all over the world will be celebrating, Varanasi is the home of Shiva, where all creation began, so here the festivals have special meaning. The city is buzzing with preparations and from what we have heard, the whole festival is transformative - as one informant said, "you from the outside will come to the inside." The festival begins tonight for the pilgrims with a ritual bathing in the Ganga at the Burning Ghat, and then an 85 kilometer walk though the city from holy site to holy site where ritual pujas (ceremonies) are held to honor Shiva. This walk takes 14 hours and will end at noon tomorrow. The activities (dancing, music, fire festivals, and the drinking of lahssis laced with bhong) go on all night.
I walked the Ghats this morning early, and could see that the crowds were gathering, laundry getting done and preparations made. The Saddhus (holy men) were doing their puja rituals as the sun rose. Devotion is a critical part of Hindu life, and the sense of worship is all aspects of the day is palpable. There are altars to Shiva (this is Shiva's city) everywhere in the city, some in large temples, and some just built into a small cavity in the wall. Candles are floated on the Ganga, garlands strung around statues of Shiva and Paravati (Shiva's consort), milk is poured over lingums all across the city.
In the evening the fire pujas are performed at the edge of the river. Worshipers gather on the stairs and in boats on the river to watch the holy men perform the rituals, which are more like a dance. Ragas are playing loudly over big speakers and fill the night air with a repeated pulse of Shiva's name - a hymn of praise.
On Shivartri, all Hindus want to visit the temples to perform the rituals of worship, and the lines stretch for miles. Some folks will wait in line for 5-6 hours to perform a ten minute worship ritual, pouring milk, yoghurt or honey over the lingum that represents Shiva's creative power, the creation that is the transformation of destruction. The new balance created out of disequilibrium.
Tonight (now Monday), the grand procession begins and a festival that I guess rivals Carnival, with naked Saddhus, dancing, music, parades and street drinks laced with bhong (marajuana). The participants carry bags of dry rice and throw handfulls in to bowls that the beggers raise up along the route. Most of the participants in the evening are men and the crowds get a little scary with all the crazy energy of a frat party gone wild. We are making plans to protect the young women while still letting them see some of the festival.
During the daytime, however, many women are also part of the festival and it is quite calm now.
Blessings to you all on this holy day.
M
Tonight one of the holiest festivals honoring Shiva begins. Shivaratri is the celebration of the transformation of the dark to the light and the power of destruction in creation. Although Hindus all over the world will be celebrating, Varanasi is the home of Shiva, where all creation began, so here the festivals have special meaning. The city is buzzing with preparations and from what we have heard, the whole festival is transformative - as one informant said, "you from the outside will come to the inside." The festival begins tonight for the pilgrims with a ritual bathing in the Ganga at the Burning Ghat, and then an 85 kilometer walk though the city from holy site to holy site where ritual pujas (ceremonies) are held to honor Shiva. This walk takes 14 hours and will end at noon tomorrow. The activities (dancing, music, fire festivals, and the drinking of lahssis laced with bhong) go on all night.
I walked the Ghats this morning early, and could see that the crowds were gathering, laundry getting done and preparations made. The Saddhus (holy men) were doing their puja rituals as the sun rose. Devotion is a critical part of Hindu life, and the sense of worship is all aspects of the day is palpable. There are altars to Shiva (this is Shiva's city) everywhere in the city, some in large temples, and some just built into a small cavity in the wall. Candles are floated on the Ganga, garlands strung around statues of Shiva and Paravati (Shiva's consort), milk is poured over lingums all across the city.
In the evening the fire pujas are performed at the edge of the river. Worshipers gather on the stairs and in boats on the river to watch the holy men perform the rituals, which are more like a dance. Ragas are playing loudly over big speakers and fill the night air with a repeated pulse of Shiva's name - a hymn of praise.
On Shivartri, all Hindus want to visit the temples to perform the rituals of worship, and the lines stretch for miles. Some folks will wait in line for 5-6 hours to perform a ten minute worship ritual, pouring milk, yoghurt or honey over the lingum that represents Shiva's creative power, the creation that is the transformation of destruction. The new balance created out of disequilibrium.
Tonight (now Monday), the grand procession begins and a festival that I guess rivals Carnival, with naked Saddhus, dancing, music, parades and street drinks laced with bhong (marajuana). The participants carry bags of dry rice and throw handfulls in to bowls that the beggers raise up along the route. Most of the participants in the evening are men and the crowds get a little scary with all the crazy energy of a frat party gone wild. We are making plans to protect the young women while still letting them see some of the festival.
During the daytime, however, many women are also part of the festival and it is quite calm now.
Blessings to you all on this holy day.
M
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