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Published: November 3rd 2005
This morning I woke up bright and early for a 7:00 AM yoga class on the roof of my school building, where I welcomed the sunrise with asanas and chanting. Then, at 8:30, I met with my Kathak guru, did a little puja over my new ankle bells, and got to dancing.
Ahh, India.
I accompanied my host family to 2 Jain temples today, the last day of a 10-day religious fast that has been going on since I arrived here. As the 5 of us piled into their little red hatchback, my hostfather, Mr. Patni, pointed to a small print hanging from the rear view mirror, featuring a sylized broze figure seated in the lotus position.
"Annie!" Because Hindi speakers are accustomed to pronouncing every sound represented in a word, the Patnis interpret the silent e in my name to mean that my formal first name is "Annie." I don't correct them.
"Annie!" Mr. Patni says in his usual forceful-but-kind broken English, "this is our god, Lord Mahavira."
And then Divik, my host brother, asks me, "What is the name of
your god?"
Hmm. Good question.
"Umm...just 'God'."
"So that means you believe in all gods?"
Interesting conclusion.
"Yeah," I reply. "I guess I pretty much do."
The temples were beautiful, but not ornate like elaborate Hindu temples. The first consisted primarily of white marble everything, the main focal point being 3 stylized nude statues of men with, among other characteristics, droopy earlobes. I remember from my Intro to Buddhism class that these are one of many physical signs of the Enlightened One in various Eastern religions. In fact, the way the list of holy features plays out, Enlightened Ones are supposed to be pretty strange looking. Maybe their odd appearance detracts from a fulfilling social life, thus allowing them plenty of time to meditate in seclusion, in the desert and under banyan trees and the like. Anyway, these statues, as Mr. Patni told me, represent the first, middle, and last of 24 godheads/prophets recognized by the Jains. Unlike Christians, who have had one savior and are waiting for one more, the Jains have a history of coming across saviors every time they turn around. However, they're apparently going through a dry spell, because they haven't found one in 2500 years.
I felt a little awkward and out of my element in the temple, and all I could do was follow the family's lead: bow when they bowed, walk where they walked. They silently handed me fistfuls of dry, sweet-and-starchy smelling basmati rice, with nuts and rupees mixed in, and I followed their lead in dumping this mix onto small tables situated in front of various icons. Indians treat their gods as they would their beloved grandchildren; they offer food and small, shiny denominations of money. I stopped in a Hindu temple a couple days ago and watched children and adults alike stick little bits of sweets onto the mouths of pictures of various gods. According to the Judeo-Christian perspective, God feeds with us manna from the heavens; but as far as Hindus and Jains are concerned, it's God who deserves a little sustenance.
Truly, the entire Jain temple atmosphere felt pretty far removed from my own experience. I had decided to sit down on a marble staircase next to my hostsiblings, so as not to make any false moves, when I made a miraculous discovery:
The kneelers were numbered.
Small wooden kneeling platforms, stacked in the corner for the determined worshipper who planned to be there for a while, had numbers sketched haphazardly on their sides in red permanent marker. I imagined worshippers occasionally walking away with these handy little wooden stools. I pictured a tired temple administrator sighing, "Hey Rakesh? Now number 72 is gone. That's the third kneeling platform we've lost this week!"
The sight of those marked-up kneelers reminded me of all the mundane, utilitarian religious technicalities I have had dealt with during my own experience with the Catholic Church: adjusting the volume of a cantor microphone, counting collection money, commenting on the differing tastes of communion wafers at various parishes. At the most basic, earthly level, this is the stuff that places of worship are made of. It's the dusty underbelly of religion, the part that regularly has to be tidied up with a sheet of paper-towel and some lemon-scented Pledge.
Chicago Catholics believe in Jesus, the Son of God who rose from the dead; Jaipur Hindus worship innumerable colorful manfestations of God, one of whom has the body of a man and the head of an elephant. Yet the truth is, whether you're building a Church or a Temple, you've still got to take into consideration where you're going to put the bathroom.
Yes, India is a whirlwind of saris and camels and a monkey-god. But mostly, India is filled with people. And that's not foreign to me.
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katie
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Anne!
Anne, you are great. This entry was so amazing. Thats all I really have to say. I was so excited to see what you are up to, and now I'm just in awe of what you have been up to and your brilliant thoughts. I miss you. Keep up this journal.