Ah, India, retrospectively I can honestly say that this was the most intriguing and discombobulating journey that we have yet experienced. It's been two weeks since returning from this land of vibrant colors, pungent odors beneath the exotic layers of incense, spicy cuisine and cultural contrasts like colliding tectonic plates. I will try to do it justice, but alas, these are my own reflections and opinions....the perk of writing one's own blog.
At this point in our journey, we had been cocooned in the luxury of one of India's finest and most elegant hotels, the Oberoi Gurgaon. (It must be pointed out that luxury in India costs about the same as a Hampton Inn in the USA.) The hotel was the very essence of modern technology with its push button black out shades, opulent soaker tubs, marbled showers. At every turn throughout the labyrinth of hallways, we were greeted by a beautiful youthful Indian man bowing his turbaned head with the obligatory "Na Maste." By the time we reached our buffet breakfast we were both feeling fatigue from the constant bowing and "namasteing"! This was our first glimpse of the legendary Indian hospitality. It was the calm before the impending chaos of the city of Delhi, India (population 20 plus million) and by some estimations either the largest city in the world or the second largest.
Upon leaving the hotel, we inhaled a smell that was akin to burned rubber and some other unnamed industrial components. The atmosphere was hazy with what was regrettably the worse smog I'd seen since living in Los Angeles in 1970! But, more about the air pollution later. We were squired around the city via tour bus where we were immediately assaulted by the infamous Delhi traffic. Picture bumper cars all converging in one direction with no apparent heeding of the lines on the roads. Oh, and throw in a few skinny cows and starving stray dogs for good measure. Lanes? Hmmph the Indians scoff at traffic lanes. Every 5 seconds or so we witnessed what would constitute a serious violation of traffic etiquette in the USA, or at the very least, a potential fatal crash. The Indians take this in stride. Honking is the rule. There is a honk for "I'm on your left/ watch out." There is a honk for "Move over or you're going to get hit." Honk Honk Honking cacophony every day all day. We Americans drop our jaws in disbelief and ponder, "How in the world do they function like this?" And, "We could die in this traffic!"
Humayun's Tomb, (A UNESCO Heritage Site)
Mughal or Mogul, was a Muslim empire in India, 1526-2857 (when the British took control of India). The dynasty was founded by Babur, a Turkish chieftain who had his base in Afghanistan. Babur's invasion of India culminated in the battle of Panipat (1526) and the
Day 2: Mahatma Gandhi sites
The second site we visited was all about Gandhi; where he lived shortly before his assassination, his small residence within the compound, and the place where he was shot.
Indian school children bow their heads in reverence for the Mahatma Gandhi, the prime minister who was responsible for outlawing the caste system, particularly the treatment of the "untouchable" caste. Gandhi was the inspiration for Martin Luther King's peaceful resistance in our own American Civil Rights movement. Unfortunately, it takes human nature many years to catch up with the laws that are meant to correct social injustice. The caste system, though illegal, is still alive and well in India, particularly in the smaller villages. This will be discussed more in depth at a later posting.
A beautiful garden on the grounds of Gandhi Smriti -the house where he spent his final days
The Third site we saw this day: Qutub Minar Victory Tower
(the first major Islamic structure in the subcontinent dating back to 1193).
Day 3: The Red Fort (Once the seat of the Mughal Empire)
Interesting that the Muslims scoured the engravings on the walls to erase carvings of humans and animals. These markings of idolatry are against their religion.
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| The India Arch |
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| The most beautiful Banyan Tree I've ever seen (not that I've seen many) |
The Delhi streets teeming with bicycles and "tuktuks" or taxis. I think it would be tantamount to suicide to ride in one of those tiny yellow and green taxis, but we saw as many as 9 people crammed into one of them. Indians are accustomed to being crowded.
There were very few American tourists in India and maybe that is the reason that so many of the people wanted to have their pictures taken with the Americans! At first this seemed tricky and off putting, but once we realized that they were genuinely curious about us in a respectful way, we enjoyed being photographed with their families and their children.
Day 4: Thursday flight to NEPAL
Of note is the fact that we were admonished to exchange our 500 and 1000 Rupees currency bills for Rupee bills of 100 or smaller as NEPAL would confiscate larger Indian Rupee bills and larger bills are not accepted as currency in that land. Also interesting that Nepal is 15 minutes ahead of Indian standard time. Thirdly, on our flight to Kathmandu, our flight attendants sauntered down the aisle toting two aerosol bottles of insect spray to kill the mites and lice that we may have inadvertently brought aboard the aircraft!
After completing the immigration formalities, we met our guide for Nepal and headed to what was to be one of my absolute favorite hotels of all time, the Dwarika's Hotel. Built from materials salvaged from construction sites of original dwellings that were being torn down in favor of building more contemporary structures, the owner of this hotel created a veritable masterpiece of reconstruction artistry. Leaving the street and entering this world of Kathmandu of old was quite a treat!
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| Our room with a decisive Nepalese vibe ( I could have stayed here for days) |
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| View from the pillow! |
We took a short walking tour of the city en route to the Pashupatinath Temple:
This temple is dedicated to the Hindu deity lord Shiva and is situated on the banks of the sacred Bhagmati river. (side bar: The Bhagmati river was about the size and depth of the Greenbrier River in Watoga park. In other words, it was what most Americans would call a stream.) When we reached the opposite bank of the river, we heard Indian/chant being broadcast from a loud speaker nearby. This further enhanced the surreal nature of this site, for we were about to witness the rituals and prayer ceremonies performed by the Brahmin priests and the very public cremations of several dead people who had been placed on funeral pyres atop concrete slabs (ghats) extending out over the river. The families set the fires and waited for hours until their loved ones were burned to ashes. The ashes were then brushed from the concrete platform into the river where they were carried to the "holy" Ganges River.
Sidebar: Referencing UNRAVELING WHILE TRAVELING THROUGH INDIA
"Founded 3000 years before the common era, according to legend, by Lord Shiva Creator and Destroyer. If a Hindu has performed the sixteen essential, purifying Hindu rituals in his/ her lifetime ( a minimum requirement), and if the Hindu in question is not pregnant, under 10 years old, doesn't have leprosy, smallpox or tuberculosis AND if he/she is brought here to a burning ghat within 3 HOURS OF DEATH he/she can be cremated on a pyre on the banks of the sacred river and have the ashes deposited in its waters (which pour forth from the dreadlocks of Shiva). The reason the deceased loved ones have brought him here to this place is that, through cremation, the dead may achieve Moshka, one of the four goals for freedom from the otherwise endless cycle of rebirth that keeps a Hindu bound to the wheel of suffering here on earth."
For me, the experience of witnessing the very public grief associated with the ritual of cremation was profound. I felt like a voyeur, like none of us should be allowed to witness such a personal and tragic event. The dead were first "purified" in what most Americans would consider a river that is rife with detritus from the sewage of the town, not to mention the ashes of millions of burned bodies. The smell was an intoxicating mixture of burned flesh and sandal wood. Trash, animal carcases, and raw sewage were seen floating in these waters and it seemed incongruous that anyone of any culture could consider them a source of purification of the beloved dead family member. Another consideration is, of course, what disease might have caused the demise of the family member and the fact that now this disease has been lodged into these already vastly polluted waters. If India ever gets the Ebola virus (or any pandemic for that matter) it may be the demise of the entire country.
The family praying over the burning corpse of a loved one, the sunset, the music playing on the speakers, the mourning families, and the dire pollution of the river all coalesced to make for a very maudlin scene. It brought a few of us to tears. The smell of funeral pyre, polluted river, and the incense that permeated the whole area was an altogether mystical experience.
Another view of the temple. The priests are on the balcony overlooking the river.
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| Three devotees of the god Shiva who come to the temple each day at sunset to pay tribute to Shiva |
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| Sidewalk artisans peddling their wares |
More crafts for sale
This night there was a HUGE authentic Nepalese dinner in the Krishnaarpan restaurant. We savored local delicacies from the different regions of Nepal (24 courses to be exact)!!!!
Upon entering the restaurant we were told to take off our shoes and then we were led to low tables where we sat on cushions directly on the floor. Wonderful meal, but the rice liquor and enormous load of food made most of us very sleepy. I couldn't finish the second half of the meal. In other words, I made it through 12 courses. Gene, always up for a challenge, made it through all 24 courses!
Day 5: Early Morning Mountain Flight to see the Himalayas and especially Mount Everest
This is a sunny day, quite a lucky happenstance for viewing these majestic soaring peaks. On our chartered twin engine turbo prop plane, each of us had a window seat for ease in viewing. The pictures speak volumes about this magnificent experience (that also coincided with Gene's 65th birthday!)
Everest is the slightly taller peak in the middle of the photo!
Day 5 continuing: Old Street Market and Durbar Square in Kathmandu
This is arguably my favorite day so far in this trip. We were allowed to walk along the narrow winding streets of the market while savoring the surfeit of colorful market wares: vibrant colored clothing/ scarves/ sari/, fabric piled high in bolts (a quilter's paradise), wooden carvings, woven hemp art, spices, herbs, incense, the famous singing bowls of brass used for meditation. Walking was a challenge because of the thick traffic of cars, bicycle rickshaws, tuktuks, and ox drawn carts. We even saw carts being pulled by camels! This was the most exotic experience of this traveler's life.
Sidebar: All commerce happens in these street stalls. There no modern groceries or dept stores. Bargaining is the rule, and once we got the hang of it was quite enjoyable.
Day 5 continued: Durbar Square and the palace courtyard and buildings with intricately carved wooden supports and panels. The Kasthamandap literally meaning "the wooden pavilion." Local belief is that this pavilion had been built from the timber obtained from a single mythical tree and it is from this very pavilion that the modern name "Kathmandu came about.
We next visited the palace of the living Goddess. The guide shared with us some very interesting tidbits about this very much alive goddess. She is chosen from a pool of 8 year old contenders based on her beauty and overall "goddessness." Once she reaches puberty and at the onset of her first menses, she is no longer a goddess. She then retires to a life of former goddessness! I need to do more research on this, but it seems to me that she is virtually locked up like Rapunzel in her palace making the rare appearance at her window for the faithful who come to worship in her courtyard. We were blessed with her brief appearance, but a German tourist came in hoisting a camera and the goddess disappeared instantly. No photos of this goddess allowed, but you can find many images of her on the internet or on the brochures upon entering her palace.
Day 5 continued The Garden of Dreams Restaurant via bicycle rickshaw ride!
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| Our fearless rickshaw driver! |
Our driver was about 14 years old and had a handmade horn made from an old plastic lotion bottle! This horn was as vital to his mode of transport as was his wheels! Just sayin'
The Garden of Dreams was aptly named because it was an oasis of quiet after spending the morning in the throngs and traffic of Kathmandu.
The above 4 photos are of The Garden of Dreams
Day 5 continued: The Swayambhunath Stupa
After our lunch at the beautiful Garden of Dreams, we depart for the Swayambhunath Stupa. Believed to be a 2000 year old Chaitya , it is perched on a hillock offering a bird's eye view of the Kathmandy valley. Access to the top of the Chaitya is through numerout steps. The 'rhesus monkeys are everywhere! My impression is that this is a mystical place. Someone (a Budhist monk perhaps) is chanting and the music seems to carry us along to a hypnotic place. It's a sunny day with a soft breeze and I watch the prayer flags flap in this gentle breeze. My feeling is that I wish I could have this place all to myself for just a few moments. It overlooks Kathmandu and, if not for the scrim of pollution that seems to permeate all of India and Nepal, we could also see a panaroma of the Himalayas. I remember the guide telling us that the population of Kathmandu has doubled in the past 15 years. Like metastatic disease, the new buildings are overtaking the gorgeous ancient architecture. They have not yet learned about the devastation wrought by the "modern world." I hope that they do not wait too long to correct this situation. Also, I'm yearning for the Nepal of my imagination....the mystical Nepal that the first westerners probably saw a few decades ago. I'm thinking of our beautiful Appalachian mountains and Allegheny Highlands where the view of ridges can be seen for 30 miles or more and I am anxious about the future of Nepal.
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| Prayer flags flagging in the gentle breeze |
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| The front view of the Stupa |
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| A meditative view from the Stupa |
Day 5 continued..An evening lecture with a former mountain climber who had scaled the slopes of Mount Everest many times.
Unfortunately, we don't have photos of the lecturer, but it was a fascinating talk about his adventures with very famous climbers and trekkers. He gave us each a disc with many photos of his climbs, though.
This evening the group surprised the birthday boy, Gene with a rousing (and mostly in tune) Happy Birthday song followed by a very decadent chocolate cake. We ate at our hotel, outside under the stars and enjoyed the company of Patti and Jim, Polly and John.
Day 6 Nepal begins with a visit to the Kopan Buddhist Monastery:
(one of my favorite days on the entire trip
Most of my adult life, at least after I first learned about Buddhists, I have yearned to experience a monastery in the Himalayan Mountains. The group was taken by bus on a very narrow one lane winding road up to the summit of the mount to the monastery where we were allowed to walk through the verdant gardens and experience a peaceful morning among Buddhist monks who were engaged in study and/or meditation. Eventually we were led into the Monastery where a very affable monk greeted us and invited us to sit on the cushions that were lined up in front of him like school desks. We were about to be taught some of the fundamentals of Buddhist philosophy followed by a lesson in meditation.
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| Tiny statues of monks in comtemplation |
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| The view from Kopan Monastery |
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| The senior monk (who was really quite youthful and full of mirth) who led us through our brief study of Buddhist philosophy and then meditation |
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| View of the back wall of the monastery and temple |
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| This sign was posted at the entrance to the monastery! |
Day 6 continued: Next stop is Bodhnath, the largest Stupa in Nepal.
The word “Stupa” is a Sanskrit word that literally means “to heap” or
“to pile up.” The Monnier Williams Sanskrit-English Dictionary says
the stupa is “…a Buddhist monument, (generally of a pyramidal or
dome-like form created over sacred relics of the historical Buddha
(563-478 BC) or on spots consecrated as the scenes of his acts); a
relics shrine or relics casket.” It goes on to say that ‘stupa’ was
originally a topknot of hair, designating the upper part of the head,
but subsequently became used as an architectural term, indicating a
monument of a dome-shaped form over the sacred relics of the Buddha or
other saints or venerable persons. The connection between Shakyamuni and
a topknot is apparent since he is often depicted as having such a
topknot symbolizing his attainment of Enlightenment.
Stupas were found in India before the birth of Buddha Shakyamuni
where mounds of dirt were built around a tree as a tomb for the remains
of important figures such as kings and heroes. It’s said that the Buddha
was the one who changed that practice when he asked that his own
remains be placed within stupas that would represent the Awakened
Nature, as a reminder of the potential for enlightenment within us all.
When
it was time for Buddha Shakyamuni to pass into nirvana, he instructed
his followers to cremate his body and place his relics in a stupa so
that people of future generations could make a connection with Buddhism
and experience the Buddha’s blessings. What followed was a tradition of
stupa building that resulted in many thousands of stupas being built all
over Asia. Stupas exist in every Buddhist country in the world and in
every Buddhist tradition. They are places of pilgrimage for those
seeking their blessings.
This Stupa is built upon concentric ascending terraces resembling the pattern of a Mandala. All around the base of this structure is a continuous ring of 108 images of the Buddha and 147 insets containing prayer wheels. The area is surrounded by colorful shops and galleries selling local handicrafts to be bargained. Finally, we were allowed to wander around the perimeter of shops and do some serious bargain hunting. I ended up getting into a scrimmage with one of the vendors over the cost of several hand embroidered tunic tops. In fact, I got so engrossed in the game of bargaining that I lost track of time and missed the group as they went to lunch at the nearby rooftop Terrace at the Tibet International Hotel!
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| A view of the top of the Stupa. We added our own prayer flags to the thousands that were already threaded from the Stupa to surrounding buildings like a very colorful spider web. |
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| The faithful would walk around the perimeter of the Stupa touching each and every prayer wheel to make it spin. |
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| Here you can see a man touching the prayer wheels as he passes. The monks walk among the people on the street while talking on their cell phones! Everywhere one looks there is juxtaposition of the ancient and the modern, in architecture, dress, and long held customs. A remarkable place. |
Day 6 continued: Medieval town of Bhaktapur:
After our lunch at our beautiful hotel in Kathmandu, we travel to the medieval town of Bhaktapur. This is a UNESCO world heritage zone in the Kathmandu Valley. It is a study of how Kathmandu looked before western influence and modern life encroached. "All the buildings including many of the homes are ornamented with intricately carved wooden panels, windows and beams. If we thought that the relatively modern Kathmandu was exotic, this place was a time warp. We explored the palaces and temples. We shopped along the narrow winding streets, buying mostly for grand children. This is the place where we first witnessed the women holding the rice aloft in great platters and letting the rice fall to blankets while the shaft blew away in the wind.
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| Thatch and grass storage sheds for the rice that has been harvested |
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| A climb to the temple |
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| Courtyard in the medieval city |
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| Separating the grain from the chaff |
Day 7 Bidding farewell to Nepal and heading back to Delhi
At this juncture, it's important to mention that we were body searched at least 4 times at the airport before boarding the plane. I thought our American airports were notoriously over zealous about x ray and body pat downs, but the Nepal airport wins the prize. Also, all paperwork MUST be filled out in the correct manner...completely within the box! During our flight, an intrepid flight attendant sauntered down the aisle with two hairspray sized aerosol cans emitting a bug spray for the purpose of killing any vermin the passengers might have unwittingly carried with them on board! Yep, we're not in Kansas anymore, although we were on the brink of an "OZ" experience at the Taj Mahal.
Once we landed back in the land of Delhi, were subjected to another round of body searches, got through customs, and retrieved our duffel bags, it was time to hit the road for the 4 1/2 hour bus trip to Agra. By this time, I had decided that if I never see Delhi again in this life (and hopefully I wouldn't have to undergo it in another life as the Hindu's must) it would be just dandy. Negotiating the crowded streets of Delhi was frightening enough from the rather lofty seats of our tour bus. I can only imagine (at this point) the fortitude it must take to tackle those streets each day in a car! The bus finally left Delhi behind and I was looking forward to a quiet drive through bucolic countryside. Hahaha silly girl. India has roughly 4 times the population of the USA in about 1/3 the land mass. People and villages abound. Villages were smaller versions of the crowded Delhi. Piles of trash lined the streets and it prompted me to ask our guide if India had trash cans and landfills. The streets tended to be two and a half lanes laden with (again the skinny cows), donkeys, ox carts, pedestrians (whom I thought we would run over at least a hundred of them). I asked the guide, "What happens if a vehicle hits a cow?" His answer was simply that the driver would be beaten by the villagers and then tossed in prison!!!! I had a renewed respect for our driver who seemed to have the demeanor of a major general, but I digress.
Eventually, the crowds got thicker, the pollution got thicker, the noise got louder, and the guide announced that we were about to enter Agra. Agra..Agra...Agra, the gateway to the famed Taj Mahal and the home to millions who all seemed to live on the streets. Of course we did arrive on a raucous Saturday night, but the atmosphere was carnival like. As our bus traveled up the too narrow road for a huge bus, we witnessed what felt like disjointed frames from a movie film. It was as though all the houses and shops had the facade removed and we got a glimpse of life on the inside (life that would be private in our homeland). We saw people being shaved, people bathing and washing hair, playing cards, talking and dealing. The crowd seemed very excited to see our tour bus go by. (More American money being infused into their flagging economy). Agra came close to giving me a panic attack. The entire experience was completely surreal and I kept asking myself....How in the world do people live in these crowded, noisy, frenetic conditions ALL the time? Think....Perpetual Mardi Gras! The people we saw did not look particularly stressed. Maybe the entire country is populated by extroverts? They did not look unhappy or hungry or angry. They were just living their lives outside for all to see. "Country Roads Take me Home to the Place Where I Belong, Almost Heaven West Virginia." Agra was the quintessential culture shock for this American!
{In the 16th and 17th centures, Agra was the capital seat of the most important Mogul emperors from Babur through Humayn (remember his tomb in Delhi) and Jahangir and Shah Jahan. Shah Janhan had a beloved third wife, the beautiful Mumtaz Mahal (Ornament of the Palace) who died giving birth to his 14th child at 38 years of age! You do the math. According to legend, Shah Jahan was so bereaved at the death of his beloved who was traveling by his side during a military campaign, he shipped her body back in a golden casket and returned home to begin plans to fulfill her last wish: 1. To be buried in the largest tomb ever built 2. that Shan never takes another wife 3. that he devote himself to caring for his children } Citing UNRAVELING WHILE TRAVELING THROUGH INDIA
Then the bus pulled up to the guarded gates surrounding our uber luxurious Oberoi Amarvilas Hotel. The guards were armed and ready to shoot an intruder on sight. Inside these magnificent walls was arguably the most beautiful hotel in the world. We were met by a candle lit reflecting pool that rivaled the one we had seen in photos of the Taj. This was a palace and appeared to be made of white marble. It was awash with golden candle light and the sandalwood incense. All was quiet and peaceful...ZEN in fact. What an incredible juxtaposition to the noise and poverty outside these pearly gates. The contrast was so shocking that it was difficult to enjoy the experience of being in such a lush and opulent place knowing that the real world of India was what existed on the other side of the closely guarded wall. We were in India Disneyland for all intents and purposes.
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| The candle lit reflecting pool of the Oberoi Amarvilas, Agra |
Day 8 Taj Mahal and Agra Fort
The next morning we awoke and got on the road for the short drive to
the famed Taj Mahal a UNESCO world heritage site. Our goal was to arrive
very early to catch site of this glorious monument as the sun rises.
We had to pass through security checkpoints and (again) go through the
requisite body pat downs as our hand carried back packs were scanned.
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| Our first glimpse of the Taj Mahal as the sun is slowly rising above the horizon in the east |
As we soon discovered, not unless one happens to have a "nat geo" level of photographic genius, photographs cannot do this monument justice. It looks mystical and very much like "OZ" with its white marble that glistens even in twilight. It is said that the Taj Mahal changes color and texture throughout the day depending on the light. Although it is behind the ubiquitous scrim of the polluted atmosphere, it is still an awe inspiring site.
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| The gateway to the Taj Mahal |
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| A close up view of the lovely inlaid gems that embellish the Taj Mahal: jade, turquoise, amber |
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| This is a view of The Red Fort, a structure across the river from the Taj Mahal where Shah Jahan was imprisoned by his youngest son who became the Mogul Emperor for the next 49 years. |
All of the women in India, with the rare exception of college students in the large cities, wore the traditional sari dress while the men wore basic western garb. It has been said that even the poor women in India wear beautiful saris, and I don't believe we saw any two women dressed the same on our entire journey...a refreshing fashion statement indeed. The colorful clothing provided quite a respite from the parched dry surroundings of central India in the dry season.
We departed for the Agra Fort, another UNESCO world heritage site. Citing Tauk printed literature: "A sprawling campus which encloses within its double walls a series of intricately designed white marble and sandstone palaces and courtyards. Serving as the seat of the Afghan Kings and later the Mughal Empire for a considerable amount of time till the British took it over in 1858. This fort has been a mute witness to fiercely contested battles thus earning its keep even as the ownership changed."
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| A herd of sacred cows on the road through Agra! |
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| The outside of the entrance to the Agra Fort |
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| The Agra Fort in overview |
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| A Garden at Agra Fort resembles a Partere' |
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| Palace overlook at Agra Fort |
After touring the Agra Fort, we returned to our hotel for lunch and a respite from the crowds.
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| Can you spot the Taj Mahal in the distance? |
The night brought a special treat with some surprises. The women were ushered into a dressing room where we were swaddled in saris of our choice while the men were wrapped in turbans by a resident expert. The effect was that we looked like a sherbet mix of pale orange, pink, aqua, and green. A sari is a flowing, gossamer, bejeweled bolt of fabric that, in the hands of a seasoned sari wearer, becomes a gorgeous (and quite comfortable) elegant dress for all occasions. Even the women in the fields wore saris as they dug up potatoes. I will say that the men complained much more about their turbans. Apparently they are hot...
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| I honestly can't remember what I thought was so funny |
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| I think I'm going to make this my new fb profile pic! |
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| Ladies of the Taj |
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| The entire entourage! |
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| Is this Tony or Sidney? |
At this point, we are dressed up and ready for our elegant quintessential Indian dinner in the Jodha Mahal private garden under the stars. The Taj Mahal is close by and we hear an iman's haunting chant from a distant mosque entreating the faithful to bow to Mecca. Near our tables, there is a bonfire casting a golden glow on a beautiful dancer moving to Indian music. What a dreamy evening for us all.
Day 9 Train ride to Jhansi
The next morning, we departed for the train station to board en route to Jhansi and then to Khajuraho, argueably, the most strenuous leg of our journey through northern and central India. We were warned to beware of the beggars and thieves who dwell at the train station. Sidebar: About 20% of the population of India survives through begging and stealing.
My memory of the train station is that we were anxious to get through the crowd unscathed. Small children were running through the crowds with hands outstretched begging for money. We saw a little boy running on his hands and grossly deformed stubby legs in an effort to beg money for his family. Later we learned that many families will disfigure one of their children for the purpose of creating sympathy from passengers who will be more apt to throw coins. Mothers carried what appeared to be sleeping babies, but were in fact babies that had been drugged to keep them from crying during the begging process. In America, these scenes are somewhat confined to the nooks and crannies of our urban ghettos and slums. In India, the scene is ubiquitous and ominous.
Once we reached Jhansi station, we were ushered into Toyota SUV's for the remainder of the journey to Khajuraho and the Lalit Hotel.
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| Bicycle drawn cart on the country road |
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| A woman carries her laundry to the river |
There are no modern toilet facilities on these country roads so we were followed by a "toilet" truck for the ladies. The men were told to relieve themselves on the side of the road! My driver was named Yogi and he and I struck quite a friendship when I found out that he was an aspiring singer. He sang several popular and folk Indian tunes for us and we sang a few American songs for him as well including the obligatory Country Roads by John Denver! Sadly, I have no photos of Yogi, just very pleasant memories of a sweet man who managed to dodge starving dogs and skinny cows for several hours.
Nexst stop: Temple Complex at Khajuraho- A UNESCO World Heritage Site
Temple town of Khajuraho is much different from
any other temple city of India. It is not about religion and worshiping
and deities. The temples of Khajuraho are instead famous for the
eroticism etched on its walls in the form of sculptures. An amalgamation
of science and art of architecture, these 10th-11th century temples
have a very interesting legend behind them that connects them to the
origin of Chandela dynasty. It is said that in a fit of passion and
lust, the Moon God seduced and ravaged a beautiful Brahmin girls known
as Hemvati, resulting in the birth of Chandravarman (the founder of the
Chandela dynasty). Later, Chandravarman had a dream where his mother
requested him to make a temple, which would reveal all aspects of the
treasure of passion and erotic fantasy to the world. These carvings denote the Kamasutra.
Day 10 Travel through remote central India to the first safari lodge
After the previous days of our arduous travel through the smaller cities of central India, I was truly dreading the remaining drive to Bandhavgarh. It was delightful to discover the rich landscape of the remote and sparsely populated countryside. It made me wonder why any of the villagers would leave this relative paradise to migrate to the cities where the crowded conditions and poverty were significant. The guide explained the reason for this is that the caste system is still alive and well, particularly in the tiny villages. Lower caste moves to the cities for anonymity and a chance at a different life.
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| Mostly it's the women and children who work in the fields |
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| The men tend to the vendor stalls on the side of the road |
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| A countryside dwelling, much larger than city dwellings of lower caste |
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| Women carrying water from the river |
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| Women do the highway repair while watched by male overseer |
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