Gurukula

Happy Valentine’s day.  After an overnight bus trip from Pondicherry to Bangalore (sleeper bus, quite comfortable, except for the really bad patches of road), we stickhandled our way through the local buses to get to Oso Dodi Gate, where the Gurukula is located.

A Gurukula is a place partially supported by followers of a guru based in Varkala, Kerala.  They have other spaces as well, and this one is on twenty acres of land outside Bangalore.  Ma (Margaret) is the one who lives here and manages everything.  Visitors come during the year, and especially on this weekend for the annual Guru Puja, where the guru comes and people come from all over to celebrate and hear his words.  There has been a legacy of spiritual masters who have influenced this place, starting with Narayan Guru, and the the Nataraj Guru.  The current master, Muni Narayan Prasad, arrives tomorrow morning, and Amy and I will volunteer to help set up the place for an influx of perhaps hundreds of people on Sunday.  There will be music on Saturday night, and I have already played guitar with Abe and Sajeev, Abe playing wonderful bamboo flute and singing simple ragas that I am able to accompany.

This place is beautiful, natural, very simple.  It is a place of contemplation, reading, yoga, and helping with the cows and gardens, preparing food for people, setting up canopies for the yoga space and some tents for people to stay.  There are many other animals here too, four dogs, three cats, many varieties of birds and butterflies.  Tonight we watched the quarter moon setting to the west, and it was quiet and peaceful.  I am really enjoying my time here already, and looking forward to Guru Puja and beyond.

Ma is an amazing woman, yet another “little guru”.  She is older, but looks very young, beams with love and light, and works through everything that needs to be done in this busy place.  Things are hard to get done, with workers making promises and then not showing up.  In the past two weeks, with financial help from donations, she was able to install a new pump for the drinking water well, so we now have fresh clean well water that is safe to drink.  The cow provides milk, paneer, yogourt, and food for the two new calves born a couple of months ago.

We also met Ma’s daughter and son-in-law, Manjeri (Manju) and Henry.  They are a wonderful couple who have many “children”, including several species of animals, dogs, cats, and even a pet monkey.  However a traumatic think happened today to Mommy Manju.  Her pet monkey, Rhea, suddenly got sick and died after Manju and Henry left them with people to come here.  Rhea was rescued at a few days old, when here mother was killed.  She ended up coming home with Manju and Henry, and as they said, she is more human than most humans.  Her sudden death was the loss of a child for them.  The are taking the bus back to Hyderebad to deal with the situation, and to make sure there is no virus that can spread to other animals in the household.  They will return by bus tomorrow night, arriving Saturday morning.  What an intense day for them (and us).  Our love goes out to them.

More to come on Gurukula experience.  (Sorry no pictures – our camera was stolen!)

Tiruvanammalai

Where to begin?  It’s been a while since I’ve posted a blog, because the Internet has been either absent or very intermittent.  We were spoiled in Kochi, with steady Internet at our homestay.  Since then, we were off the grid completely in Kodaikanal, even without cell reception for four days.  Then in Madurai, there was no wifi.  Now, here in Tiru, we have wi-fi in our room, sometimes, and we never know when it will work and when it won’t.  Frustrating, but I just have to let go.

Over the past week, there haven been so many adventures, I’ll never catch up.  So I will write about here, Tiruvanammalai, home to a magic mountain, Arunachal.  The road from Madurai to Tiru is very flat.  Then as we approach Tiru, the mountain Arunachal looms above the town, where legend says Shiva manifested.  Magic mountain, power spot, this place is a magnet for spiritual seekers from all over the world.  Here is where Sri Ramana Maharshi was drawn at 16 years old.  He spent many years living in and around a cave on the Arunachal mountain, silent, ascetic, meditating.  Years!  Then, responding to the urgings of many disciples, he came down and started to establish an ashram at the foot of the mountain, which is the main centre drawing people from all over the world, to meditate, pray, chant. The guru died in 1950, and his legacy lives on.  He spoke little, and when he did it was in simple language.  He didn’t talk philosophy or Bhagavadgita or Vedas.  He said: “Who am I?”  He taught people to seek the True Self within.  That is all.  He never sought disciples or followers, didn’t want to be called guru, he only wanted to life a simple, ascetic life.  To me, he was “the real thing”.

Arunachal from the bus stand in Tiru

The energy of the devotees is very intense, though I must say, most are absorbed in their own practice, and quite honestly, most are unfriendly, even miserable-looking.  I don’t quite get it.  “If you are doing so much spiritual work, why are you so miserable?” Amy says.  Still, I do sense a mystical energy here that affects me as well.

We have spent four days here in Tiru.  We climbed to the caves on Arunachal, sat and meditated with many devotees, and visited the ashram and heard wonderful chanting.  Still I didn’t feel very comfortable.  I wasn’t really “getting it”.

Kids near the ashram on the way up Arunachal

Then we went to visit a friend of Sajee’s.  Anand is from Kerala, he married a western woman named Gayathri and is raising two sons.  He came to live in Tiru five years ago and bought some land outside of town, facing the mountain.  He is gradually building an organic permaculture farm, growing many varieties of fruit trees, vegetables, with a cow.  He also built a simple “open studio” and several huts where people who are meant to come would stay for days or even months.  He and his family live a beautiful simple peaceful life.  Gayathri is a very accomplished visual artist and potter, and is preparing a gallery exhibition of her work for Kashi Café and Art Gallery in Kochi (we were there), and then another in Cuenca, Spain (we were there too many years ago!).

On the day we went to visit Anand we got up early and rode our bikes to the farm for 7 am Yoga with Krika, a visitor from Italy who is living there.  After, we sat with Anand for several hours, and I could have just stayed.  I felt so fulfilled, so peaceful, and was touched by the magic of Arunachal.  I felt Anand spoke to my soul.  He seemed to identify my particular mind-space at that moment, and I learned valuable lessons from him.  He spoke about just being, not doing.  Of course, he said, there is much to do, but once we let go of our need for ego gratification, our need to be recognized for our “achievements”, everything in life is a meditation.  “I could tie the cow to the post, instead I walk with the cow – cow meditation.  I could build an irrigation system, instead I carry small buckets of water and water the plants and trees by hand – water meditation.  I have no need to prove anything to anyone.  Here, I experienced ‘death’ and ‘annihilation’ of my ego self, and now I am only here with Arunachala, and I am very happy and peaceful.”

Sitting with Anand and Amy facing Arunachala, I got it completely.  I realized I could easily stay here for months.  We will return.

Temple Elephant in Tiru

Of course, as everywhere in India, there are many contradictions.  In town, big signs were posted all over announcing the death of a very important man.  Apparently two thousand people came to his funeral to pay their respect.  There were lots of fireworks, an elaborate procession with music.  It turns out (someone said) he was the biggest crime boss in the area!

Sadhus at the Temple

And there are so many miserable-looking western “seekers”, unfriendly, “self”-absorbed, no smiles, nothing.  Because of the very strong presence in Tiru, many local people have become jaded and also unfriendly.  For the first time ever in India, the host of our homestay was nasty, miserly and unkind. 

There are hundreds of people persistently begging all the time.  This is a town where there are many many ashrams offering free food to everyone daily.  One time Amy bought some chai for a woman begging, to avoid giving money.  She smiled gratefully, and after she drank the chai, she came back to Amy and asked for money again.  It never ends.

Tiru is a magic place, and like everywhere in India, is full of contradictions.  It’s everything!

Next stop, Pondicherry.

Leaving Fort Cochin

Ginger Restaurant Jewtown with Amy

Our time is almost up in Fort Cochin, though we return for a few days in March before we fly home.

It’s hard to describe how wonderful this place is.  Though people are friendly all over India, especially when you get out of the biggest cities, here is even friendlier!  Many mornings I park myself on a bench at the beach to write, contemplate and watch the ships pass through the channel.  I see Sandia there each morning, since it is her spot to clean on the beach.  We have become friends.  This morning she approaches and says “Uncle (!), do you remember the words I taught you in Malayalam?  Name?”  I say “Peyre!”, she taught me that.  She asks about our children and about where we live, and tells me about her two children, of whom she is clearly very proud.  I will miss Sandia.

And each morning I pick up a little cardboard cup of masala chai from Sobehr.  He knows I don’t want sugar, and so makes a fresh batch for me without my asking.  Yesterday we were at the repair shop of our bicycle man Kumarek.  As we left a “2-wheeler” scooter pulls over, and it’s Sobehr, who saw us on the side of the road, and had to stop to say hello.

Cherrai Beach with Amy

It’s a little sad to leave, and my heart is filled with gratitude for our time here and for the fabulous people we have come to know.  We’ll be back I know.

Paul on the bike

One of the greatest gifts of our Cochin time has been Yoga with Sajee.  Sajee is a Yoga Master, and Yoga is life, not just postures.  I want to remember his teachings, and integrate them into my life.  In a way, it’s nothing new, all spiritual teachings lead to the same place.  Yet I am learning from Sajee and it’s sticking.  Some sayings (approximate):

We are all lonely travellers in this world.  We are born alone and we die alone.  We spend a few minutes with each other.  When we love someone, we are really loving ourselves.  We can only really love ourselves.  This is our purpose.  We are one in the cosmic conscious (sic).

In the child pose, he says: “Feel that you are an unborn baby in the mother’s womb.  We’re not doing anything, all is provided for us by the cosmic conscious.  We breathe the oxygen, we do not make it, it is given to us.  We eat food, we do not create it, it is provided.  If we can be like the newborn baby, then we experience the true self, and remove the ego.  Ego says ‘I did this, this is mine, this is not yours, I am this, you are that.’ All illusion.  If we are free from Ego and duality, all is one in the cosmic conscious.”

Paul and Sajee Backwaters

I have received a lot of healing energy from Yoga, Ayurvedic Massage (thank you Vivek!), and from living in Fort Cochin among these wonderful friends. 

Paul and Sandia

Thank you India, thank you Sajee, thank you Fort Cochin.

Men and Women

I try not to be judgemental.  I have a hard time accepting some things about Indian culture.  Gender roles are ultra-defined.  Women’s roles are strictly set out, and “happily” adhered to by most.  One wife wakes up at 4:30 am to make sure she has time to prepare lunch for her husband before he leaves for work at 7:30.  When she was ill and spent two days in hospital, her husband and son checked into a hotel.  God forbid they should actually make food for themselves for two days – just not done.

Sandia's Family and Neighbours

Many men work away from home.  In one family, the husband works in Dubai, and only comes home to Kochi for two weeks a year at Christmas time.  This is normal and common.

Boys and men frolic on the beach, swimming and playing together, in bathing suits and western clothing.  Women watch.  A couple of them may go in the water, fully clothed in their traditional saris.  This is normal, and totally accepted.

Most don’t know how to swim, though they are surrounded by water.  A houseboat in Allepei tipped at the dock, and two children and two women died, and many were injured.  We heard of another tragedy, where 40 children from 10 to 12 years of age were on a field trip from school, on a wooden boat with a capacity for 20 people.  The boat sunk and dozens died.  They couldn’t swim, and there were only a couple of life jackets, not in use.

We saw a celebration in Munnar with 25 women dancing freely together – the husbands were nowhere to be seen.  If they were there, the women could not be free to dance, since the husbands would not like other men to see “their women” dancing.  Only when the men are not around are the women free to “party”.

Women Dancing

On the buses, women sit at the front, men in the rear.  Even Amy and I separate in deference to the custom.  Why?

In the little restaurants, dozens of men sit, no women to be seen.  They are at home, cooking and cleaning for their families.

Whatever the man says, this is what is done.  Yet the women appear strong, happy and not meek.  Most seem to accept this reality, without question.

If a woman is divorced or widowed, there is usually no consideration of remarriage, and even if there are children, they are left to provide for them alone, often with extreme deprivation.  We did hear that in the Muslim community, a brother of the husband or other family member might marry the woman – perhaps an additional wife – to provide.  But in the Hindu tradition, this is not done.

Men leave their wives, and there is nothing to be done, no help, no support.  To me it seems unfair, but in this world, it is accepted as what is.  My western judgement (discernment?) cries out that this is completely unfair, but I don’t know if it’s seen that way here.  It’s hard to fathom.

Yet, the people seem happy, so friendly, warm and genuine.  Perhaps it is the daily spiritual connection that allows them to accept what is with grace and make the best of it.  I don’t often hear complaints, but do experience their sense of gratitude to God or the Cosmos for life, however it is presented.

Children rarely cry, except for very young babies.  They seem content, happy with their family life, and curious to meet us “fresh monkeys”.  Yet we hear that children are beaten (the “bamboo massage”) and this is acceptable, as long as it is done to teach and not because of uncontrolled anger.  We hear stories of rape of daughters by fathers, and sometimes these things are reported and dealt with, sometimes not.  Sometimes the mothers say and do nothing to stop it.

So many contradictions and questions.  It's hard to avoid judgement, but I try.

Munnar

One of our favourite activities here in Cochin is spending time with our Yoga teacher Sajee and his family.  On weekends, we go on little excursions to places nearby.  This weekend we were more adventurous.  Sajee’s wife Ajee took a half-day “leave” from her work, and we picked her up in Ernakulum in the Tata car with Vinaya, their 14 year-old daughter.  Then we headed out to Munnar, a four-hour journey through the Western Ghats (mountains).  The travel was a little tortuous – the roads are quite atrocious once you get away from the big towns like Ernakulum.  Potholes, narrowed stretches, and even the areas that are not damaged are so narrow we have to pull over to let a bus pass.  And this is the main road to Munnar, a very popular tourist hill station.

Travels with Sajee and family

We stopped along the way, for lunch, to stretch, to see some of the nice scenic views in the hills.  Once we had travelled for about an hour, the mountains begin, the road twists and turns, and for once, there is space between towns, forests, open spaces, and lots of green everywhere.  It starts to get cooler as we go to higher elevations – ahhh – we’ve been hot for a month, this is such a pleasant change.

We finally arrive in Munnar at around 6 pm, and there are no rooms available.  We travel back 8 kms to the previous town called Pallivassar, found a very expensive little hotel (2000 rupees a night = $40!).  Sajee, Ajee and Vinaya took the larger room in the hotel building, so they could bring an extra mattress, and we took a room on stilts, elaborately decorated like a tree house!  It was very small, cute, and when we walked, the room shook!  There was a TV in the room, so we stayed and relaxed for an hour, watching Animal Planet on one of the few English stations.  We learned about the life of rhinoceroses – very interesting.

Tree House

We went for dinner in the larger hotel next door, and as we ate, we heard recorded music playing outside in the back.  A group of about 25 Indian women were celebrating a birthday.  They lit a campfire, and were dancing happily in a circle around the fire.  When one of them came through the restaurant, she invited Amy to come and dance with them.   Vinaya and Ajee joined.  Then they invited me to dance!  I was surrounded by 25 beautiful Indian women, who took turns dancing with me.  Wow!

 

After, we went back to our room to sleep in the nice cool room.  I awoke in the middle of the night to a new sensation – silence!  Fort Cochin, though a small town, is always noisy.  The fans are always going to combat the heat, there is A/C next door, there are dogs barking, horns honking – cars, tuk tuks and “2 wheelers” -  people’s voices very early in the morning, loud crows and other birds.  Usually I wear earplugs.  Here, it was so nice and quiet – peace.  At least until 6:15 when the church up the road starting blasting morning devotional music in Malayalam!  Wake up!!

We went back to Munnar for breakfast, then we went “trekking” in the tea plantations.  We walked up the hillside for at least an hour, till there were no people, only birds and trees and tea bushes everywhere.  Sajee went for a stroll and saw a cobra.  We walked, we talked, we sat, it was wonderful!  Talks with Sajee are often Satsang.  He speaks about what is real life – freeing ourselves from the “golden veil” of  pleasure and illusion, liberating ourselves to find the true unity of Self with Cosmos.  I say: “I understand that as a goal, but it’s not even my goal in life, at least not at this time.  I want to be here, to experience the pain and pleasures, to live fully on this earth, hopefully with little moments of realization of the true Self. “  He said: “Those moments are for those who have experienced cosmic conscious(ness).  You know what is Truth, and when it is time, you will be ready to be liberated.” 

 As we descended back towards town, Ajee stopped to talk to a local villager, and she invited us to her home for tea.  We learned that she works for the tea plantation owners, they provide the house for 13 years for their workers.  She earns 150 rupees per eight hour day ($3), her husband is away, she has three children, must pay for school, medicine and all.  We gave her some rupees (she didn’t want to take them, but we convinced her it was a gift, not payment for tea and hospitality), and we went on our way.

On our way home, we again made several stops to break up the long journey.  Our last stop was a bird sanctuary.  By the time we got there, it was almost closing time, so we decided to just walk around the sanctuary – the birds would also fly outside the sanctuary, wouldn’t they?  We did see some very nice water birds, egrets, colourful kingfishers, ducks, as well as some land animals, some that looked like reindeer, water buffalos, and so on.  Again we stopped to talk to some locals at a “Toddy” shop.  Toddy is an alcoholic drink made from coconut flowers, and so we sampled it, a couple of sips anyway, then took the rest home in a bottle.  As we were leaving, the proprietors shouted and pointed up the hill, and there was a wild elephant strolling through the woods – yet was another highlight of our trip – our first wild elephant sighting!

Time spent with Sajee and his family is precious, soon our time will be up in Cochin, and we will have these many special moments as memories.

Politics and Culture

India has a rather unruly democracy, but a democracy it is.  In spite of rampant corruption (where is there no corruption?), people are free to speak their minds, free to protest government policies – though sometimes the police and military do brutal crackdowns in “problem” areas of the country – and free to practice their religions and cultural traditions.

The other day as I was riding my bike to my favourite morning stop, I saw a group of protesters walking down the main road, KB Jacob Road, carrying communist flags and chanting loudly.  Of course, the Communist Party of India is fully legal and recognized here.  In fact in Kerala the Communist Party regularly won state elections and was the ruling party for more than 20 years, until they were recently voted out and replaced a more right wing party.  Nevertheless, they are a force to be reckoned with here in Kerala.

Protesters parade

On my way back from the beach, I pedalled through a large park area, and there they were again, parked in front of the local Excise Tax office, loudly complaining about policies.  There seemed to be an older man who was the leader, and he spoke for a while before the chanting began again.  The police were there, watching calmly, not interfering.  There was little tension, it was an acceptable activity for society here.

The "rally"

I read in the Indian newspaper about allegations of corruption, bribes and so on.  And of course there are family dynasties that always seem to be either in power, or on the threshold of power.  The Gandhis have always been a force since Mahatma, and the latest of the family, Rahul, has recently been chosen as vice president of the national ruling party, the Congress Party.  There are editorials for and against in the paper, not unlike the rants we read in Canadian papers for and against Stephen Harper (mostly against, I’m thinking).  So it’s same, same, only different.

People talk politics freely here, almost as much as they talk about the recent India / England cricket match (same same only different).  This is the big news.

It amazes me to experience the culture and politics of India.  In some ways, it is very sophisticated.  The art forms are based on thousands of years of practice, and are very highly developed.  The music is complex, soulful, varied, and the musicians show great mastery.  There is nothing backward about the musical accomplishments here.  The same goes for the many types of visual art and installation art we are seeing.  The first Bienniale in India is happening here in Kochi, and so we have visited several venues.  Some of the art is political, including a gripping presentation about unrest in Orissa state, where large industrial companies have displaced the local tribes to construct a huge industrial area.  When the tribes people came to protest peacefully in 2006, they were met with landmines and police bullets.  More than 60 people were killed, and the atrocity has been covered up, until this artist created a video and art installation – at great personal risk – to bring the situation to the world’s attention.  And so we were able to see this as part of a major Art Festival in Kochi.

Some of the art is highly conceptual.  In fact the concepts are so high they are way over my head.  Amy and I walk through several installations, and shake our heads.  “What was that?”  To me it seemed very self-indulgent and without a lot of depth or content.  Other presentations were much more interesting.  Artists from all over India as well as other countries (Pakistan, Iran, Australia, Holland, Germany and elsewhere) are presenting here.  It’s a big production with at least 20 venues.  I’m glad we are able to experience it.
As part of the Bienniale celebrations, last night we attended Shakespeare in the park, a presentation of a Polish theatre troupe, re-imagining Macbeth in a production called “Macbeth: Who is that Bloodied Man?” There were spirit like creatures on stilts, an operatic singer “narrating” parts of the story in heavily accented English, some dialogue, motorcycles, fires, and lots of killing.  It was a real spectacle, and we enjoyed it very much.  Of course, there were many locals watching as well, and we noticed at least a dozen cell phones going off at various points in the play, and the people answered their phones and carried on conversations in fairly loud voices as though it was normal (I guess it is!)

Ghosts on stilts - Macbeth

After the show, we went to the Teapot Café for chai masala, iced coffee with ice cream and dessert.  I asked the waiter about the “Death by Chocolate”, and he deadpanned: “Chocolate cake.”  So I passed.  Then the people at the next table started talking to us.  Of course, they were from Vancouver, so we traced common connections - there were many - and they recommended the “Chocolate cake”, so we ordered it (it was very good).  We had a nice visit with them, they had just arrived Cochin, so we offered suggestions of places to visit, and of course, saw them again this morning at our recommended breakfast restaurant (Kashi).  We will see them again in Canada, I’m sure.  Such is the way of travel.

Robert and Nicole (and Death by Chocolate)

 India, strange and wonderful.

My Bicycle Adventure

The best way to get around Cochi is by bicycle.  Rather than rent a bike, this year I took a bike from our yoga teacher Sajee and repaired it for around 600 rupees ($12).  I’ll use it for the month we are here, then leave him with a usable bike.

It’s worked out really well.  One day last week Amy and I rode down to Kashi for one of our favourite lunches, sprouted salad with whole wheat garlic toast and pressed coffee.  I was commenting to her how it’s just the perfect bike.  I shouldn’t have said that!

After lunch we went outside to pick up our bikes and head to a shop up the street.  Amy took off, and I unlocked the bike and stepped on the pedal to mount.  As I did, the left handlebar snapped right off and I took a nasty spill.  I scraped my elbow, bruised my left hip, and scratched my chest while ripping my favourite orange shirt from GIRO (Gabriola Island Recycling Depot).  Disaster!

Amy was nowhere to be seen.  Some people saw me fall and helped me up.  I told them I was fine, and walked the bike to where Amy was.  I was more shocked then hurt, but it did shake me up!  So we walked the bikes home and I tended to my (minor) wounds.

The next day I walked the bike to the repairman and in body language showed him the problem.  He fussed with it a little, then waved down the street – in other words he couldn’t do the welding job required, and it was “down that way”.  Okay fine.  So I walked a few blocks down the little village road, and spotted a shop where a man was welding.  I said hello and showed him the bike.  After a moment he shook his head and said something like “goswulda”.  I said pardon, and he repeated: “goswulda, goswulda” and waved in the other direction.  Finally I understood: gas welder!  He said go over the bridge and then turn left.  So I did. The bridge crossed a stream.  I walked the bike several more blocks down an even smaller village road.  Trust the universe, I kept saying.

A group of young men were hanging out on another little bridge.  I asked if they knew the gas welder, and one man stepped up to be the “agent”.  He said “Yes yes” and pointed to a shop across the road.  “He is coming, he is coming. Just wait”.  After a couple of minutes, I saw a tuk tuk truck slowly coming towards the shop.  As it approached I saw that it was towing another tuk tuk truck with a rope.  This was the gas welder.  After I helped them push the broken-down truck into a parking place adjacent to the shop, he took a look at my bike, fiddled with the handlebar, and nodded yes, he could fix it.  Of course the young man was translating, while telling me about his business: “You know the Chinese Fishing nets?  I have three, they are mine.”  Hmmm, not sure about this guy.

The welder proceeded to whip out his gas torch and metal “solder” and joined the handlebar to the frame.  Then the other man rummaged through the store for some sandpaper and sanded the edges smooth.  The welder emerged from another part of the store with a can of black paint and with his finger, dabbed paint on the repaired part.

The “agent” seemed to be negotiating on his behalf, since his English was good.  He said: “ It will cost 100 Rupees, normally it would be much more, maybe 400.”  Such a prince, I thought.  So once it was done, I gave the welder 100 rupees ($2).  He seemed a little embarrassed (probably would have charged 50 if the “agent” wasn’t there).  Then the agent said I should give him extra, and the welder then waved him away to say no no.

I must say this young man and his crew made me feel uncomfortable – they were not very nice.  That is unusual here, most people are just wonderful.

Okay so I have my spiffy “new” bike – just don’t touch the paint for a while the welder warns me.  So I ride home happy.

Of course the next day I have a flat tire – my poor bike is still not out of the woods.  I walk it back to my repairman – not there.  Oh boy!  So I look for another shop to fill it, and went to at least four places before I finally found one, who filled the tire for 10 rupees (ripoff!).  I rode home, and it was flat again!! The next day I went back without the bike to talk to him, and he’s there.  So I tell him I will be back in an hour with the bike.  When I return with the bike, he’s not there!  Now I’m getting pissed off!!

Amy comes with her bike, and we get ready to leave when he shows up, pointing to his lunch “tiffin” – a container of food he had gone to pick up.  He looks at the tire, says “Puncture?” and I leave the bike with him, returning in an hour.  All fixed.  Of course I check the bike over, have him put a new screw in the bell, and generally tighten things up, the lock, the fenders, etc.  How much I ask? 15 rupees.  I thought he said 50 so I gave him that ($1).  He gave me 35 back in change.

Our bike man with our bikes

And now my bike is perfect again.

Strange and Wonderful

India can be so strange to our western eyes.  Such a crazy mix – beautiful and odd.

There is a struggle between the old and new.  Arranged marriages are the norm, with strictly prescribed steps, all controlled by the parents or in their absence, uncles and other relatives.  We may look askance at this practice, yet when we questioned a local person about it, he asked: “So how did your ‘free’ marriage work out?”  Divorce in India is almost unheard of.  Then there is the Ayurvedic doctor who divorced her alcoholic husband.

One man sits with me at my favourite morning spot by the water, and regales me with his life story, his philosophy, his own late marriage process and more.  He bewails the advent of Internet and cell phone, saying “Our children are destroyed by these technologies, they show no respect for parents and elders anymore.”  He also decried the pursuit of wealth: “Money makes the devil dance.” 

Here in Kochi, we have seen more than anywhere else in India a real blend of religious life: Hindu, Moslem, Jain, Jewish, Zoroastrian, and others, all seeming to coexist in harmony.  And the lines between religions are blurred.  The Hindu temples each have a chosen deity to whom people come to offer prayers and thanks (puja).  Then there are Christian shrines with their saints – Mother Theresa, Jesus, Mary Magdalene, St. Francis Xavier.  Christianity takes on a decidedly Malayalam flavour here, with similar music to the Hindu temples.  And the muezzin’s call to prayer at the mosque is also similar, sweet and mournful, not harsh and insistent as we have experienced in other places.  If I could sum it up I would say that spiritual life is sweet, ever-present and inviting in whatever form you choose.  And while some say Hinduism is polytheistic, with all the deities and idols, Hindus say no they are completely monotheistic – there is only one God, and that God is for everyone and in everyone.  The deities are simply aspects of God that can be described and used as a tool for prayer and thanksgiving.

Billboard - old and new

Most of the women and men wear traditional clothing: saris for the women and dhotis for the men.  Yet some prefer jeans and Nike shirts.  You never see short skirts or much skin on Indian women, while many western tourists are dressed for the beach, to the chagrin of some locals.  Many locals are barefoot, most wear chappals (sandals).

Boy with his pet pigeon and egg

While India is certainly not a clean environment, with mounds of garbage everywhere and open sewage streams running through the towns, people take great care of their bodies.  Morning ablutions are performed faithfully and thoroughly, people look squeaky clean, with hair shining.  Children in school uniforms are scrubbed and glowing.  This morning I saw a group of girls strolling together to school, stopping to pick some beautiful strands of yellow flowers from some low-hanging branches.

Huge tree in the field

There is a peaceful joy emanating everywhere – so different from my memories of grey and miserable faces on the subway and streets of Toronto.  They have so little, yet they appear to be rich and happy in life.  Life is good – even with hardship and suffering – God provides.

My Favourite Place

Chinese Fishing Net

My favourite spot in Kochin is by the water, sitting on a bench, the last Chinese Fishing Net in front of me.  My favourite time is in the early morning when it’s cool and quiet.  I watch the men retrieving the odd fish from the nets.  Hundreds of crows are squawking, scavenging bits of food, twigs and seaweed.  A family of goats drops by, the billy in charge of his several wives, playfully butting heads with his current #1 wife.  Hawks, kites (a hawk-like bird with a cream-coloured head) swoop gracefully.  I see what looks like a heron float by.

Goat Family

Fishing Boat

Sandia

I greet Sandia, the woman who cleans this little stretch of beach each day (except Sunday – holiday).  She has a sweet smile.  I see her every morning when I come here.  A young man with a backpack greets me: “Good morning, Sir” before I have a chance to make eye contact.  A man collects plastic bottles for resale to recyclers.  Thank God!  There are thousands of them littering the beach!

DCI Dredge VIII

The dredging ship DCI Dredge VIII rumbles by, sucking in the sea-bottom and then dumping further out in the Arabian Sea, then returning to refill its hold and repeat the process, back and forth, through the day.  This channel was formed in 1920 when Lord Willingdon, the English colonial “ruler” of Kochin commissioned a dredging ship - The Lord Willingdon of course – to dig the channel between the Arabian Sea and Vembanad Lake, creating a major shipping port in Kochi.  In doing so, he also created a new island called – Willingdon Island, of course.  (Gellman Island – has a nice ring, don’t it?)  Now, Kochin is a major seaport carrying containers, liquid natural gas, and exports of tea, spices and manufactured goods from Ernakulum and the rest of Kerala.

A naval helicopter roars overhead.  The Naval Headquarters and Command for South India, as well as the Naval Training Academy and military airstrip are all here.

I LOVE Kochin.  Staying in one place for a month allows us to become a part of the community here just a little bit.  We know the old woman who operates the Empress Bakery, a small shop on KB Jacob Road, the man who offers me masala chai (with no sugar) at his stall on the beach.  These rituals make my life so rich – I feel comfortable, at home, at peace.

This is my reflection time, and I am cherishing it.