Chris in India

A conclusion, of sorts, or lack thereof

2005-09-28T07:01:00.000-07:00

“He who travels far will often see things

Far removed from what he believed was Truth.

When he talks about it in the field at home,

He is often accused of lying,

For the obdurate people will not believe

What they do not see and distinctly feel.

Inexperience, I believe,

Will give little credence to my song.”

- Hermann Hesse, Journey to the East

A man stopped to talk to me on the trek down from Kedarnath. What are you doing here, why have you come, what did you see, what did you learn, what impressed you? I felt like I was being quizzed or interrogated, and I could tell immediately that he had some sort of template in mind. I told him the truth. I was incredibly moved by the mountains, the hike was a beautiful feeling of human pain, I was amazed by the determination of so many people. "You have seen nothing. You have learned nothing. Goodbye."

Much of this accompanied the entire trip. Before hand, there were discussions of what one should expect, and what we want to get out of this trip. During our time there, there were debates over what was worth taking in, and experiencing; debates about what this trip was about; debates about what kind of experience was a valid one, and what kind of experience was missing the point.

As the man trounced off down the path, I reflected. What he said had struck me deeply. I certainly had missed something. I missed the experience that he had. John, I missed the experience that you had. Dan and Betul, I missed your experiences, and I missed the experience of not taking the trip at all, of spending a summer at home, of going backpacking in America, of an infinity of other things. All experiences are as such. We filter reality through our own perceptions, our own mind's eye, and our own personalities. However, I did not learn and see nothing. I missed the experience of being more deeply moved by the religious and human aspects, and he missed the experience of being more deeply moved by the artistic and environmental aspects of Kedarnath. Who is to say which experience is more valid?

Often during the trip people spoke about the great importance of entering an alien culture. It teaches you about other people, and another way of life, and that in turn teaches you about yourself. You learn about what you value, what makes you uncomfortable. What you take out of a trip to India shows you a part of who you are. To superimpose some sort of template on what should be experienced on a trip is to subvert the incredibly important experience of learning about oneself.

Of course, as I have conceded already, to have one experience is to not have another. To not superimpose a template is perhaps to lend no importance to seeing things apart from one's own natural mode of thought. In the end, I suppose the best thing is to, like always, find the balance between the two. Without the one, a person learns nothing about his or herself. Without the other, the person learns nothing about anyone else. I think on such a trip, the two are equally important.

That equality is an important thing to remember and cherish when traveling in a group. Two people can bicker back and forth forever, because they have different intentions and preconceptions. I think it is rare and beautiful to find a person who exudes no personal desires on either type of learning, and discovers her or his self and everyone else simultaneously and spontaneously. However, the majority of us go into a trip like this with desires. We think we want to get this and this and this out of the trip, or that and that and that. We think it is more important to get this and this, or that and that. We are even so attached to our own personal desires, that when someone else is missing that experience, we feel they are missing everything. Of course, they are missing no more than we are. Everyone is missing something. But we forget that fact, and put value judgments on one type of experience or something. It is good to point out what someone is missing. They can reflect on that, and learn about why they are missing it, what that means about them, and then next time perhaps they won't miss it. It is bad to say someone is missing the important thing (this I state as true, but realize it is only an opinion). To state that one is missing the important experience is to devalue his or her own experience, and thus devalue she or he. I don't think that is productive.

Now, I think I have extinguished myself on that topic, and I would like to switch gears. The question now on my mind is as follows. You made this trip to India, you have put off writing the paper for weeks, finally you want to write about your experience, and this is what comes out. What does that say about you? What does it say about me that I am writing this paper about judging other people's experiences, rather than writing about poverty, or babies pooping on street corners, or kids clinging to my leg in train stations, or cripples with dysentery, two half limbs, one full one, and a couple of fingers crying to me saying "Please sir, 10,000 rupees is not enough. I will die of this disease." What does all of that say about me?

I don't know. Maybe nothing. Maybe it says more about this assignment. I think it would be more effective to write ten poems about my time in India. Or twenty. For me the trip is more like snapshots than an essay. We jumped from poor Delhi to rural Mussoorie, to the madness of Kedarnath, to the spiritual vacationland of Rishikesh, to Little Tibet (as I have affectionately nicknamed Dharamsala). I could write one and many poems about each place, and the poems would all be completely different and have different messages and tones. I am not trying to blame any of you, I know that you have to give some sort of assignment. And for others it is probably much better than poems. I just feel limited by this paper, and I so desperately want to convey what India really was to me. I am struggling to figure out how to really do it in this paper. No matter, you will have my journal, and that will serve better than this.

You see, I don't really know what to say. I can tell you something like this:

I was in the train station, on the way to Dharamsala. It had been a long day. I was tired, exhausted. I still felt sore from Kedarnath. All I wanted was to sit down. But I looked around and saw filth. There was trash everywhere. The smell of feces and regurgitated digestive juices emanating from the tracks. On the ground was dirt and grime and grease, and homeless children. I looked at them, felt sorry for them, and thought how I just don't want them to touch me, and how if they did I would want to wash my hands. I kept on standing, with my pack (and all my possessions) on my back. I didn't even want to put my pack down, because the floor looked so uninviting. Finally, the weight was too much, and I was too tired. I took off my pack, put it on the ground, and sat on a chair. A begging kid walked up to me and didn't touch me. I put some rupees in his hand. I think our hands touched. I wasn't sure, but I wanted to wash my hands. There was a water fountain or a sink or a bathroom, but I felt like all of those would have been even dirtier. I folded my hands on my lap, and tried not to think of the microscopic world beneath my fingernails...

Or:

Aarti is a weekly ceremony that they hold on the banks of the Ganges. It is interesting, and people come from all over India to see it. Everybody crowds around the river banks, and many people even plunge in, bathing in the fast moving water. There is much anticipation. Little children and sometimes even grownups walk around dispensing lotus-shaped flower baskets with little candles in the middle that people can light and send downstream. The ceremony starts with bells and music right as the sun sinks beneath the horizon...

Or:

It is clear that religion is of preeminent importance in the lives of humans. One can see the illuminating nature of this truism the world over. It is lacking in no culture. Indeed, religion and culture are so closely intertwined that it is not even clear which is a manifestation of which, or if both are manifestations of each other in a constant flux of give and take. Superceding all other aspects of life, as one can witness in the mountain pilgrimage site known as Kedarnath, is the importance of the deeply metaphysical and asecular understanding of a higher being, reality, or goal. There is everywhere and in everyone a striving for this higher ground, this godliness. What is omnipresent and unchanging is not the nature of that godliness, but the quest itself...

In the end though, my trip was all of those things, and far far more. To write a five page paper on this is a somewhat dubious task. I want to write an honest paper. I want to be true, and not give you five pages of narratorial fluff, or stream of consciousness mumbo-jumbo. I want to try and put you into my head while I was in India. The problem with that though, is that I am not ‘in my head while I was in India’ now. I am in America now, two months removed. The best I can do is try to put you into my head now, as I recollect India. I don't know how well I am accomplishing that task, but as I said, you will have my journal. Look for this essay there, and pay less attention to these vain attempts to try and recollect something that was mysterious at the time, and even more uncertain now.

poems

2005-05-30T23:57:00.000-07:00

Alright, so I actually have my book today, so I can write some of the thoughts I have had. However, I am in Dharamsala and this place is incredible, so I will keep this brief. I am just going to copy down here some of the poems I have been writing, and I will say at the bottom of each where it was written. They will go in chronological order

My legs might fail soon
One main carries another
Legs feel better now

-Haiku I thought of on the trek up to Kedarnath. Some people got up the mountain by riding in baskets on the backs of other people.

We sat there above frozen ice pond
below frozen snow mount
and our minds were filled with hallucinations of Shiva and Vishnu and all the other omnipresent deities.

We watched the storm roll in.
We could not leave,
entranced by the Himalaya
ensnared by this magical place.

We wrote our universal thoughts.
We wrote our realizations and epiphanies and discoveries and Aum Namashivas.

The rain broke the spell and we were forced to leave.
But we shall always remain
here, and everywhere.

-written 4 kilometers above Kedarnath after day hike up to frozen mountain lake

Sitting.
Hotel balcony, feel sick.
Heat is too hot
hard to move.
Nauseous, heavy, tired but not sleepy.

Watching Rishikesh.
Ganga speeding by
pleasant but dirty.
Human feces.
Dead dogs lie under cool boulders on the shore.

Small people moving around.
Biotic city,
ant farm.
Looking for albino ants.
Lonely on the balcony,
sick and hot.

Two birds fly.
Land.
Fly again.

Ganga speeding by,
Life speeding by.
Sitting.
Hotel balcony.
Calm, slow,
time passing slowly by.

-written in Rishikesh after a day of puking.

Rishikesh

2005-05-27T22:31:00.000-07:00

Ah man, my journal entry on this is so much betterthat this blog will be. Oh well.

I got real sick two days ago. Started puking in the streets of rishikesh. Made afeverous dash back for a mile, maybe mile and a half, back to the hotel. Showered, collapsed in bed. Felt terrible. Felt like dying. Took a cipro pill and thought about street bums for a second. They don't get cipro pills. Pretty crazy to imagine just going through this experience with no medical help. I was really in a lot of pain and discomfort, and that was before I started puking again.

Two days later, I feel better now. Went for a long walk yesterday with Darrion and Mike. Bought some clothes. Apparently those white pants I bought are not to be worn without underwear. That sort of defeats the purpose. Oh well. They cost less than $2 US, and it made this shopkeepers day to sell a bunch of clothes to three westerners. He even gave me and Mike a pair of free sunglasses. I gave mine to a Saddhu (this is funny because Saddhus are holy Hindus who renounce all worldly things and live by begging). He looked great with those teashades. After I finish this post we will walk by the same place. Hope hes still wearing them. The keyboard hereis pretty fickle with the space bar, so use your imagination.

This place is a mixture of holiness and defecation. People throw their trash into the Ganga, India's most holy river, as if their trash needs blessing. The river is seen as so holy that nothing could ever defile it. Thus, the shores are lined here and there with human shit. People piss in the water. People bathe in the water. People wash their clothes with detergents and soaps in the water. The shores generally smell of rot.

On the other hand, there is a certain holiness to this place. People pause on the bridges and stare out atthe water with wonder in their eyes. The Indians seem to be unphased by the dirtiness of the surroundings, which is a spiritual experience in and of itself to witness. I can't imagine something that I would find so holy so that I wouldn't care if there was trash and feces all over. The connection these people have to the river is something much deeper and profound than mere sensory perceptions.

There is also a very large international population here. I like to describe this place as spiritual spring break town. There are almost as many Israelis as Indians, and people from all over Europe dot the cafes. Some can be seen chewing each bite of food with incredible care and delicacy, and taking two hours to eat a meal. Others can be seen planning himalaya treks or white water adventures. Everybody seems to have their own reason for being drawn to this place. And the city caters to the large spiritually hungry population. Everywhere you look there is yoga this and ayurveda that. I feel like it sort of cheapens the whole thing. Its no different from communion to me; providing enlightenment and salvation to the masses. Oh well. You gotta provide something to the masses I guess. Anyway, it is a pretty incredible town, and if I hadn't gotten sick I would have done the Yoga too. This is a great place to get introduced to India for westerners.

Have fun, namaste, kal pyo mustikaro(That is spelled wrong but it sounds like that... it means eat drink and be merry, with mild sexual connotations.)

-Chris

Mussoorie

2005-05-19T03:46:00.000-07:00

I continue to be enchanted by the people of this place and the place of these people. The two give rise to eachother and create a single entity, or energy perhaps. It is an atmosphere and with each breath you are aware of it. Everyone you smile at smiles back. The streets are a loud chaos of death-defying driving, horns, goats, people, cows, and stray dogs. But through it all everyone seems to keep their cool. The cows walk confidently next to speeding cars and careening motorcycles as if they know their holy place in this country. Aside from a few quick words after a near miss the drivers all understand and accept the madness of the streets. Parents do not pull young children out of the way of traffic. The kids are fully aware and capable as they go skipping along with uniforms and backpacks down perilous mountain roads.

As you walk through the bazaars, the smell of dosas, pakoras, so many curries and wonderful incense fills your nose.The shopkeepers are friendly and playful. Everywhere you are bombarded by colors and signs in both hindi and english. Thirty minutes, a full belly, and less then one us dollar later, we are off to the next evetn, the next store, the next breath of Mussoorie air.

Three days of beauty

2005-05-19T02:17:00.000-07:00

I feel I have been here for weeks, or maybe months. This post can not possibly do justice to all that any of us have seen done or experienced here in just this short amount of time. I could spend hours writing here but I am in Mussoorie and there is far too much to see and do here to spend much time in an internet cafe. After all, as one bright young child told me "This is Mussoorie! You are in India, and this is the greatest place! Come! See the temple!" And so I will listen to the child.

Delhi was incredible. We saw so many people, and each one had a smile to match our own. The people here are genuinely amused by us. They seem as excited to have us as we are to be here. They are all eager to converse, and even engage us in philosophical discussion. As I said, these words are painfully inadequate to describe the experience.

After putting on a slacklining show for a crowd in Delhi it was off to Mussoorie. Here we see a different side of India at the base of the Himalayas. There is great natural beauty here, as well as numerous holy places. We have seen Jain, Hindi, and Buddhist places of worship, even if from afar. Again, the people here are very outgoing and friendly, especially the children. Today we went to the local Kempti waterfalls. The main pool at the base of the falls was swarming with Indians splashing playfully in the water! It was incredible to watch. We were in search of a more secluded spot though, and headed off the beaten path to a smaller but equally magnificent swimming hole. We stayed here for a while, and then split up. The majority of the group went back to see the temple and go to the hotel. Darrion, Seth and I decided to stay for more bushwhacking and adventure. We traversed some slippery paths down a hill following a crystal clear mountain stream. Eventually we found a nice deep swimming hole that suited our tastes. We sat or swam until Darrion pulled out his journal. He asked me to write something, and I took him up on the offer with a short poem. Seth followed, and finally Darrion wrote a verse. It was a close and intimate moment as we all read eachother's poems aloud on the rocks by the clear pool and the waterfall. Here is the poem I wrote. Please also see Darrion and Seth's page for the other poems, for they all go hand in hand, and shared a moment in time. Indeed, please visit everyone's page, for this entire trip is a beautiful poem, and we are all sharing the experience together.

You who are wonderful
You who are beautiful
You who writes this
who reads this
who sees this
You are an avatar.
You are me and I am you
And so on for eternity and infinity.
And oh!
Brahman is all
In his encompassing grasp
In her gentle embrace
And you my friend are an avatar of that grace.
You who are wise,
You who are pure,
You who know that what I say is true,
This poem is for you.

Welcome

2005-04-25T20:43:00.000-07:00

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