One step at a time…

Its been a while since I have written…well did not have much to say. All I did the past few weeks was just eat, sleep, read and watch the idiot box. Well, actually I did make a small trip down to Pondicherry to see an old high school friend of mine who lives in Auroville. It was refreshing to renew a friendship and drive down memory lane. It’s amazing how much I remember and she does not! It was great to share her life for a few days and live right in the middle of Auroville, middle of nowhere.

For those who are more curious about Auroville you can find a lot of information on their web site. I can only say that I found the concept of Auroville a little unrealistic, but then I guess all dreams take a while to come to reality. I found some people escaping from reality and some who really believe in the teachings of Sri Aurobindo and are they’re trying their best to build this community of human unity. It’s definitely not for me. Shama seems to have a very normal working life. She is an architect who works in the area and wants to take projects in Pondicherry or Chennai the big town next door. She is one of the few I saw had a balance of the real life and principles behind the whole place. Has a healthy spiritual perspective of the place and a firm grounding in reality. Others who I met worked just as hard as we do in the “real world” they also need to make money to live and pursue their interests. They are not in an ashram environment being taken care of. They have taken a barren land and made it green, are trying to live in harmony with nature and with other beings. But, they have their problems.

Matra Mandir..Auroville.

The locals think they all have money and an easy life..well some of them do. They work in their native country for 2-3 months and then life off of that money in Auroville. In their spare time they volunteer and pursue some of their hobbies. They are surrounded by the same politics and pettiness that we all are. It’s a world within a world, interdependent on the outside world desperately trying to be independent. Still very far from that dream. But I found that some of the work that they are doing with alternative energy, with progressive constructions techniques and other organic cultivation programs very interesting. It takes a lot to change the world but at least they are trying in their own small way. Its a start right?

Shama and myself bearing the burden just by ourselves.

After a quick trip home, mainly to get my laundry done I made plans to head north to Delhi. Big advantage of living with parents is the fact that clean laundry appears like magic and meals are on the table. One advantage of moving back to India would be to have the mundane domesticality (is there such a word) of life being taken care of. Is it a good enough reason to come back? Still pondering. Well more about that later.

So here I was in Delhi, was received by an old college friend of mine who I failed to recognize. I barely knew this man in front of me; its good one of us had not changed much. I spent the whole day with Samir and his family. Once again reminisced about good old college days and caught up on gossip. It was really sweet to meet him and his family, a beautiful wife and an energetic kid who looked just like his dad. After a very long 17-hour trip I reached Manali, a beautiful town way up north of Delhi is nestled between the Himalayas in the Kullu valley. Here I met yet another old college friend and was his guest was couple of days. Indian hospitality is unmatched, there is nothing like it. I think I must have gained a couple of pounds in the last few days. His wife was the sweetest thing I have seen in a long time. It was great once again spending time with Rajeev and his family and catching up on life. I have not seen these friends in the last 12 years. Time flies. It has definitely flown by very quickly. We picked up the phone and talked to couple other classmates of ours and had a few laughs remembering the silly times we all had together.

Unfortunately, all plans to go north to Leh had to be cancelled as the Rohtang pass had the first snow for the season and roads where closed. Anyway, it was not meant to be. I did not resist the way things were going. I was once again just eating, reading and playing games with Rajeev and Nisha’s two kids. Adorable little boys who were reciting the “aunty” mantra for couple of days. By the way, I would have been “didi” (older sister) but I guess I was aged for the benefit of respectability. Samir’s son in Delhi insisted that I was a “didi” instead of “aunty”. I could not help but love him for that.

Rajeev was kind enough to arrange a resort stay in Dharamsala, which is where the Dalai Lama lives in Exile. Not exactly, actually he lives in McLeod Jung, which is another 15km away, but for some reason everybody in the world associates Dharamsala with him. Here I’m in the land of the Lama’s. I really cannot comprehend that fact that I’m here. Is it not strange that you think of a place and then one day you make it there? McLeod Jung is just as touristy as it can get in India. Souvenir shops are dime a dozen and have course the same breed of taxi drivers that I have met in Southeast Asia have their country cousins here as well.

It’s been a strange couple of days. After a horrible journey from Manali I reached the resort (complimentary of course) and slept the whole day. I don’t regret that for a bit as the bus driver dropped me off in the middle of the night miles away from Dharamsala. His excuse for doing so…it did not make sense for him to go all the way as he had only four passengers going that way. He put us in a taxi, which deposited us in the local bus stand. On advice of a Tibetan girl who was traveling with her mother I parked my self on the plastic seats till day light. I wish I could have asked somebody to take a picture of me trying to sleep. Here I was stretching my tired body on hard plastic chairs, surrounded by some stray dogs watching me with one eye. A sight. Slowly but surely the bus stand came to life with the state buses leaving one by one, conductors calling out their destinations and travelers getting out of their slumber It was still dark. A very sweet Indian tea wakes me up and I get mentally ready to bargain with the taxi drivers to take me to the resort.

I seemed to have caused a few raised eyebrows. It’s very strange for them to see an Indian girl traveling alone. I get an advice here and a puzzled look there. But overall they just don’t seem to know what to say. They see the backpack and think humm one of those, but when I speak perfect Hindi with the Punjabi accent they are a little taken back. The little hotel recommended by a lovely Swedish couple (Josephine and Bussa) was perfect till the owner started interrogating me. He wanted to see my passport, which I handed over, but he looked up and went “this is an Indian Passport, you are Indian!” I went yes! 100%. To which he said if I was sure about that. I’m 100% Indian and will always be, no matter where I live and how I speak. A little American accent does not change the fact that I will always be an Indian.

It’s been a strange couple of days. Yesterday, I came up to McLeod Jung and spent the whole day around the monastery here. It had a strange effect on me. I was still the whole time I was there. Not too many thoughts went by, I just gazed and watched people pass by. Got a few smiles and gave a few in return. I was rooted in the present. I was not the only one who was in relaxing the shades of the deodar trees. There was this young woman who was silently weeping and even though I wanted to go give her a hug something told me to leave her alone, which I did. Maybe the temple and its serenity had its effect on her. It did on me but in a very happy joyful way. Bought a smile to my face and a desire to shout on the top of my lungs. Don’t worry I did not.

At lunch in a near by cafe I met the Swedish couple while trying to translate their English to the waiter. They wanted a small wooden stick to clean their teeth and the Tibetan waiter was just staring blankly. I told him they want a toothpick and that was how we started a 3 hour-long conversation. The day ended with me trying to get back to Dharamsala. I did and in the process seemed to have caused some talk again. Good Indian girls do not travel alone. Everybody who helped me was so kind that I have changed my opinion about traveling alone in these parts. At first I was a little apprehensive but now am cool. Will be back for more.

A long cold night and I awoke to thunder and lightning. A bad omen. I had plans to visit a monastery, which hosts the Oracle Lama who is a host to some old spirit. Even the Dalai Lama consults him in religious and political matters. I was about to change my plans when all of a sudden the sun shined so brightly that I was blinded for a second. Before the weather changed its mind I packed my bags and went down into the local village to find some wheels, Once again, little girls stared at me and finally smiled when I forced them to. A very nice villager arranged for a guy on a bike to take me down into the valley. I was not sure if this was the greatest idea as the roads are incredible here. If you thought that the roads in Cambodia are hairy, wait till you see the ones in Himachal Pradesh. Steep and stony, they cause an initial panic in strangers to this land. Without starting his bike the guy took me slowly down towards Norbulinka Institute.

Unfortunately, he miss calculated and dropped me off a mile away and I had to tread back at a snail’s pace uphill. Oouch. All things bear fruit and my hike up resulted in me experiencing the whole institute in its quite Sunday settings. On one hand it was peaceful but sad that I could not see much. The institute works to keep the dying Tibetan culture alive. Sadly, I did not even get accommodations, as the guesthouse was full. Next time call was the advice given by one of the most beautiful Tibetan girl that I have seen so far. Talk about beautiful girls and lo and behold there is Miss Tibet competition going on in the town. One hand a candlelight vigil and other a run for the title.

Anyway, another strange encounter with Irish women bought me to another monastery. Here I was told one could see the Karmapa. Well, since things were taking their own course I went with the flow. A kind gentleman explained a few things and gave his extra white scarf to me to offer to the Karmapa. In return I got a red thread in blessings. The strange but kind Irish women offered to a ride back to McLeod Jung.

Here I’m sitting in the smallest Internet cafe and feeling a kind of restlessness that I have not felt in a long time. It seems things have been happening non-stop. I feel a kind a high, a nervous energy that I have not felt for a long time. At the hotel I meet Josephine again and am told that they have an appt to see the Karmapa tomorrow. It’s strange that I had an audience with him (public one of course) and he they were babbling about there to be interview tomorrow. Maybe I can be their porter for the day.

Will tell you more about this strange town later. I still don’t know what to make of it. One side a dying Tibetan way of life, surrounded by a very capitalistic town. The old looking sincere and the young a big doggy. Lets see what else is in store for me here. More am sure.

Tags: India

This entry was posted on Sunday, October 10th, 2004 at 8:31 pm and is filed under India. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.