Parting from India

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Dear friends,

I have left Jodhpur, and it was a touching parting. I was overjoyed when my host mom bought a platform ticket to see me off on the train. But when we got the train stop, I said goodbye and disappeared into the cabin. The sad look on her face and her watery eyes reminded me of how I had felt that morning, when I faced the fact that was drinking chai in their house for the last time. I didn’t realize how much I was going to miss their home until that moment, when it came down to the last day. At the station I gave Chancha a big hug and as she cried I thanked her, said goodbye and boarded the train to Agra.

Before she drove me to the station, Chancha gave me a cotton sari because I’d worn synthetic one the night before, and she explained that you must wear cotton in the summer to keep cool. I had taken them out for a goodbye dinner at their favorite place, Sadar Club. It was a really nice night and we joked about the normal things, like me marrying an Indian boy in Rajasthan, riding into my wedding on an elephant (I would have no less). I also told them more about my plans for the future when I get home, and I could tell them felt proud of me, their temporary daughter. At the end of dinner Dr Patwa grabbed the check even though I had warned him again and again that I would be paying. I exclaimed, “I am treating you to dinner!” and was beautifully ignored. “This is my goodbye present, now I will have to get you something else!” I cried when he still wouldn’t hand the bill over. With his usual sly smile, Dr Patwa sweetly said “oh no, we accept your present.” And then he paid the waiter.

I feel so fortunate to have stayed with the Patwas, I couldn’t have asked for a better host family. Similarly, I have no regrets about working with Sambhali Trust. I came to know early on that my NGO is regarded as the most functional among our interns, and this is for good reason. Whenever I shared the successes and work of Sambhali, I was often greeted with surprise and jealousy from interns with less functional organizations. My opportunities at Sambhali were generous, and the company beyond compare. I would suggest any Jodhpur traveler to at least visit Sambhali Trust, to see the amazing work they’ve done. And if inspired, stay on to contribute to women’s empowerment.

My days in Agra and Delhi were stressful, but still enjoyable. Being able to see the Taj Mahal, the cities’ forts, and temples of numerous faiths was exciting and inspiring. My experience would have been improved if I could have done at least one of the following; a) change my appearance to that of an Indian b) appear as a burly man c) speak fluent Hindi d) turn invisible e) be accompanied by an Indian husband/brother/guide with me at all times. Obviously, a combination of all of these would have blessed me with the greatest enjoyment. As it was, the hassling and harassment in Agra was a nightmare; it is absolutely no place for a lone traveler, in fact no place to go at all, if it weren’t for the Taj. The only redeeming factor was my phenomenal hostel, the Tourist Rest House, an Agra haven.

The Taj Mahal was GLORIOUS! I was suckered into hiring a tour guide, which I basically paid to take pictures of me (though of course bargained down original price), since I wasn’t really listening to what he said. I remember snippits about geometric parallels and amount of time and work and other historical things…Oh and when we were inside the Taj, beside the tombs of the Maharaj and his beloved Maharaja, my guide told me that the room echoes, and in the corner he yelled “Allah Akbar!” and his voice boomed throughout the room off the marble walls. It was really awesome to hear the powerful phrase in such a majestic Islamic structure. Besides that, the most interesting thing I learned from my guide was about him; he told me his Hindu parents gave him to an Islamic family to raise for the first ten years of his life because a medicine man told them that he would die otherwise. Maybe the evil spirit couldn’t find him in a stranger’s home; what an odd upbringing.

In Delhi I went to an amazing craft museum, with village art from across India. In one of the exhibits I was staring at the bright paint and intricate designs on small images of people and animals, and suddenly I realized that all of these figures come to life at night. I don’t know how it came to me, but I am so definitely sure of it, and as I looked around I could see how each wooden carving, clay and metal body would move and interact with the others. I decided not to ask the exhibitionists (hehe just kidding) about it, because they would be sure to deny it; although I am often trusted with local’s children and to pay for a service, secrets are seldom revealed to the foreigner.

My visit to the largest Sikh Temple in Delhi was a new, beautiful experience for me. The temple is reminiscent of a Hindu temple, in that there was a shrine/offering table in the center of the room. But the interior was large and roomy, unlike a hindu temple and more like a mosque. Music was playing in the center, three men playing a raga on drums, a harmonium, and a vocalist. I sat among the Sikhs for a while, listening to the music and watching a man wave a big white fluffy brush in fluid circles over the table. Offerings were brought in by visitors and placed on the table, which the Sikh priest blessed with his waving brush. Trying to tune out people staring at me for sitting among them, I instead zoned into the music. The singer’s voice was pure and beautiful, the drum beats and harmonium soothing and trance inducing. I couldn’t understand why no-one else was swaying to the beat, it pulsed through my mind so strongly, but I tried to sit still (can you imagine if I started sit-dancing in the middle of Sikh temple?)

As usual I was approached by an Indian male-a Sikh man sat next to me and then insisted on showing me around. Beside being very space-invasive, he was a really nice guy, and gave me a metal bracelet to protect me during my travels. He showed me around the temple and the holy waters and told me the entire history of the Sikh religion, which is very dramatic, and hard to digest when told in a thick Punjabi accent. He said he could tell I was a ‘good spiritual lady’ and that I was dressed like a Sikh woman, and advised me on how I should live by the Sikh religion. As a religion junkie, I can’t help but love when people try to convert me J

Next I visited Jamu Masjid, a huge famous Mosque with a large courtyard, central bath, and beautiful peaked domes for prayer (like what the Taj has). It was hard to feel the spirit of the place because people were talking on phones and taking pictures everywhere-at least 5 Indians took my picture sneakily with their phones. More relaxing was the Bahai Lotus Temple in south Delhi, which is a huge white building built in the shape of a lotus blossom. It is truly a sight to behold, and the interior is breathtaking. It’s a calm space for meditation surrounded by pools and gardens, and was very peaceful despite the large tourist traffic. It is beautifully kept and organized, a compelling representation of the Bahai religion. I ended my last day of Delhi, and of India, there, returning to my host’s house after calm contemplation.

Arriving at the airport I felt my excitement boiling over; I couldn’t help smiling, nothing could bring down my high. And then the check counter guy let me check my bag overweight without charging me; I literally soared towards the gates after that. I stopped in the prayer room for a few minutes, and soon boarded my plane. After a few hours I saw the sunrise out my window, and was so inspired that I wrote this poem:

The Moon at Sunrise

Have you ever seen the moon at sunrise?
She floats above a sea of color,
Above waves of rich orange and crimson, sharper than Crayola,
Deeper than miles and miles of roses.
Look farther across the sky waters
Where yellow fades to gray, then green, then…
That’s where the clouds end. In the crisp sky air we fly
Closer to the moon than ever, but still
She is higher into the darkness,
Into the indigo blackness of night. The sun is rising faster now
And shows the moon for who she is,
Silver sliver shining brightly against a faded disk.
Now see- shots of lava red
Are dancing around the edge of blackness
Where clouds lie beyond the curve of the sun’s sight,
The contrast only seen from night’s side.
How can colors so bright shine so close to shadow?
There is too much change, much life, much creation in sunrise
While its neighbor holds nothingness, but the moon.
In stillness, the moon
Must greet such a vibrant end to her night.

I also took a picture of this scene but it didn’t come out all too well.

I am now at home in dear Atlanta with my family and friends, and have bid goodbye to my travels for at least a little while. It is truly good to be home, and I hope to see all of you soon.

My love,

Ariel

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