John in India

Finally! John is here. I realized during Phil and Danielle's visits the impact of having outsiders take a brief look into my life here in India. Sometimes I cringe at their reactions and sometimes rejoice that good, it's not just me, this is a transformative, chaotic, vivid and wonderful place to live.

I was nervous about John's impending visit for a number of reasons, but realized that my number one concern was: What if John doesn't like India? What if he doesn't get why I chose to come here? I felt like there would then be this huge gap in understanding of the past year (almost) of my life.

But after jumping into our taxi from the international airport back to my quaint little flat in Arjun Nagar, I realized I had nothing to worry about. John has handled touts in Agra, precarious cycle rickshaw rides through the alleys near Jama Masjid, corrupt police hassling market vendors in Sarojini Nagar, and has successfully ventured out on his own to Connaught Place to the Cisco office. Amazingly enough, he has also survived this horrid Delhi heat, windstorms, and we even hand-washed our laundry together this morning. squish.

Those of you who know John probably had no doubt his adjustment would be fast. But it was confirmed when he sent me an email this morning, with no body, just the subject line: "can we get me a tiffen set?"

Welcome to India darlin.

From Nagasaki to Afghanistan... Burnt Shadows

Burnt Shadows by Kamila Shamsie

“Sometimes, when Hiroko looked back on the first years of marriage what she saw most clearly was a series of negotiations – between his notion of a home as a social space and her idea of it as a private retreat; between his belief that she would be welcomed by the people they lived among if she wore their clothes, celebrated their religious holidays, and her insistence that they would see it as false and had to learn to accept her on her own terms; between his determination that a man should provide for his wife and her determination to teach; between his desire for ease and her instinct towards rebellion. It was clear to her that the success of their marriage was based on their mutual ability to abide by the results of those negotiations with no bitterness over who had lost more ground in individuals encounters. And also, Sajjad added, taking her hand, when she once told him this, it helped that they found each other better company than anyone else in the world.”

The story of Shiva and the bull*

Hindu temples and Buddhist stupas pepper the landscape of modern Kathmandu. And where you find one, you often find the other. At first it seems odd, religious structures just two steps from each other, a seeming infringement upon a spiritual space. But the more time you spend in Nepal, the more you realize it is a country that embodies tolerance and a carefree, relaxed mood that is infectious. Infectious in the kind of way that makes you want to sit in a café in Thamel all day or lie on soft pillows and listen to live music at night.

Being in India for the past eight months, I’ve visited a number of religious sites: temples and gurudwaras, mosques and churches, Hindu, Jain, Sikh, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, and Bahai alike. Being raised Catholic, I have always found spirituality and peace in churches and cathedrals, which provide iconography, architecture, ritual and a sense of calm order that I understand and associate with my faith.

These past eight months have helped me appreciate and find spirituality in different, and sometimes unexpected, places and forms. In Nepal, Neeraj and I explored the area around Pashupati, a very holy pilgrimage site for Hindus and the spot where part of Pavrati’s body was said to have fallen. As we sat there, we watched sadhus relaxing near the Shiva lingams, we watched four bodies being cremated on the banks of the river, and we watched monkeys have free reign over much of the land surrounding the temple.

My first day we visited Swayambhu, a Buddhist temple in Kathmandu. The prayer flags could be confused for natural foliage they were so ubiquitous. As they fluttered in the breeze, individual prayers are sent forth on the wind. I love the idea of my prayer hanging on the wind, being sent skyward. Seems like a lot of responsibility for one little current of air to hold.

We visited Mankamana, the temple of “wishes of the heart” which included an exciting cable car ride with magnificent views to the top. As Neeraj took photographs around the temple and documented the slaughtering of a chicken as an offering for one’s “wishes of the heart” to be fulfilled, I sat and watched a group of women present their offerings to a holy man outside the temple. They had been waiting for about ten minutes before he indicated he was ready to take their offering. They followed his cue, taking out the (seemingly) 50 lbs of offerings out of their bags, arranging them carefully in front of him. Prayers were said, the offering made, and the women were off. I wonder what wishes of their hearts they brought. Or how you decide what are the true wishes of your heart.

Visits to these temples and stupas were a small part of my visit to Nepal, but they represented a much larger introduction to the country. There was an openness and relaxedness that was refreshing; an openness that allowed two religions to share a square meter of space as if to say, welcome, maybe if your prayer floats off its airstream it will still find my temple, and if it is truly your heart’s wish, it will get where it needs to go.

p.s. my connection at work is slower than slow so i will try to upload pictures later for the post. in the meantime, you can see my photos from nepal at http://picasaweb.google.co.in/carolynflorey/Nepal#

*the title of this blog post refers to the reason why there are bulls in front of many of the shiva lingams. ask neeraj for his version of the story because i don't know the real one!