Bangalore 2010

---

Bad Blog Karma

I have to say, writing this blog has been challenging for reasons beyond my apparent control. Even when I do put aside the time (which is hard when there's so much else to do), things go awry... I thought I published this blog about a week and a half ago, but I had to leave in a hurry and trust that hitting the 'publish' button and running (hit and run!) was going to work. Turns out it didn't. (No wonder no one commented on our fabulous new update!) So reproduced again from my journal, for your reading enjoyment, here is the story of our new years eve and the few days afterwards:

Bangalore 2010

Bangalore is India's IT powerhouse, a richer more sophisticated (read: Westernized) city then Delhi, though it shows to various degrees depending on the neighbourhood. We didn't visit any technology parks, instead staying in the area around an upscale shopping district that houses all the high end brands (think: Gucci) your swadistanic heart could desire, all within the kind of cacophony you'd expect of any Indian market or bazaar.

The highlight of Bangalore was New Year's Eve. Wise people have said that the first moment of the year sets the tone for the next loop around the sun. Although we easily could have been drinking and partying like maniacs with all the surrounding festivities (this upscale shopping district also has a lot of hoity-toity restaurants and clubs, which actually reminded me of Basel in Switzerland at night...), instead we chose to spend this defining time in a church! We went to St Mary's Basilica, once of the only churches with basilca status in India.

After our training in bhakti (devotional) yoga in Rishikesh and osmosis of Hindu customs overall, it was deeply moving to see the rich devotional spirit of the Indian people as they prostrated before Jesus and Mary and prayed with this powerful and subtle fervour I can't say I've seen in Canada. When midnight struck, many were shaking hands with each other, and as the only conspicuous (i.e.: white) Westerners around, people were particularily enthusiastic to share this act of New Years well-wishing with us.

Soul sore for Mysore

A three-hour bus ride West of Bangalore, Mysore is a cultural treasure. We spent only a day and a half, which included visiting the Mysore palace. Within its century-old (I know, a young construction!) material majesty, we tuned to the archetypal spirit of divine rulers. I mean, try standing in the place of the king's throne in an immense hall which opens to a more immense courtyard, surrounded by holy symbols in marble and in paint and gold-leaf across the walls and ceiling, and gazing out at the expanse with the attitude of a righteous lord. REALLY righteous, not in the conceited corrupt sense we ascribe to the rulers of today, but with all the nobility and integrity you can imagine in a sincere compassionate divinely appointed monarch. Let's just say the palacial experience was a rush!

Due to a succession of spontaneous opportunities, I visited the palace alone while Daniel and Keely were busy losing their senses. That is, they got in up to their noses in essential oils - a market for which Mysore is famous (in sandalwood production especially). Many Mysore shoppers struggle to find aromatherapy-quality oils that aren't cut with filler or carrier oils and passed off as pure product. However, Daniel and Keely managed to stumble into the home of an authentic fourth-generation tradesman, and came out with satiated sniffers and armfuls of delicate vials of frankincese and myrrh (I'm only half kidding, they did split one milileter of frankincese, which was the most expensive oil they sampled, no myrrh though).

My solo adventure (the next day while Daniel and Keely went to the palace) was a trek out of town to Chamundi hill, where the goddess Parvati was sent down by Shiva to slay a terrible demon. The story is important but also a bit quaint: Shiva, for a reason I've forgotten, gave the demon his blessing that no man would kill him, and instead of graciously accepting his invulnerability, the demon went and caused cosmic havoc. Since no MAN could kill him, it was by the sword of Parvati (Shiva's wife in the form of Chamundi) that the demon was done and decapitated. The hill is an important pilgrimmage site for Hindus, and after going through the rite of circumabulating the temples, offering flowerings, washing in incense smoke, receiving a pasty tan-coloured tikka on my forehead, slurping holy water and eating a sugary ball of prasad, I had a lovely sitting meditation in the shade of a neighbouring Shiva temple (which is dwarfed by the eight-story Chamundi temple, because she is the real star of the show up here). I even bought a cheap souvenir form one of the vendors lurking around the entrance of the latter temple, which was a bit of mistake as I had to nearly literally run away from the rest of the pack, who descended on me to try to hook another purchase.

In the evening, Keely and Daniel and I were together at the palace for the nighttime display: the great domed silhouette was lit up like the BC parliament buildings while in the central court a band played on. Interestingly, amid the slection of British and Indian-influenced pieces, we heard an orchestral version of 'Do a deer' from the sound of music. Golly this is a strange place sometimes.

---