Buildings gracing the slope of the mountains in the foreground grew in size and detail with each passing minute. We have arrived ... welcome to Darjeeling.
Showing posts with label India. Show all posts
Showing posts with label India. Show all posts
18 February, 2008
Darjeeling ...
The jeep kept shaking its frame back and forth like a leaf dancing on the wind as we hit the ever more inclining switch-backs. Lush green trees lined the road and blanketed the accompanying mountain as the driver continuously avoided death at every turn. The road, now level, continued to wind slowly as snow-capped Himalaya came into view.
Buildings gracing the slope of the mountains in the foreground grew in size and detail with each passing minute. We have arrived ... welcome to Darjeeling.
Buildings gracing the slope of the mountains in the foreground grew in size and detail with each passing minute. We have arrived ... welcome to Darjeeling.
06 February, 2008
Inspired
I had just finished "Blink" by Malcolm Gladwell earlier in the day and with Darjeeling and the Himalaya as a backdrop, I was inspired to write. I can't really say what I was going for, but this is what came out.
Soundtrack while writing: Fionn Reagan - Bunkers or Basements
wake, rise
blink and begin to realize
that time, yeah it flies
like a hawk in the sky
recedes and proceeds
at once or at ease
in control of its flight
and i'm hoping i might
stop, think
forget about last week
when you told me no
it'd be better if i'd go
take this ticket
and see the world on my own
the poverty and pain
the way they dance when it rains
the rich man denying the beggar
pretending he's got no change
and i know some might say
the world stays the same
but their heads are hung low
it's beacuse they're ashamed
their eyes haven't seen
the inner-city kid on the street
pick a text-book retreat
instead of a night with those creeps
or the immigrant and his son
ask about the battles he's won
or the boy at the ashram
the horrors he's seen
bonded in a factory
and sold by his family
for pennies on the dime
hoping that in good time
he would soon come home
and take his place at the throne
but now he's ridden with scars
never an option to change his stars
but he goes on living and breathing
contributing to this little known feeling
that man and woman alike
can choose to put up a fight
and be a catalyst for change
so rape and murder no longer remain
the world will never ever be the same
if we all contribute in small, minute ways
we can put change in a can
or lend out your hand
and recognize that that person
is not a mere man
but he's you and he's me
and everything in between
so let us all fight
for our natural rights
to live and to be
in all actuality free
no longer shackled and chained
to a past that has changed
Soundtrack while writing: Fionn Reagan - Bunkers or Basements
wake, rise
blink and begin to realize
that time, yeah it flies
like a hawk in the sky
recedes and proceeds
at once or at ease
in control of its flight
and i'm hoping i might
stop, think
forget about last week
when you told me no
it'd be better if i'd go
take this ticket
and see the world on my own
the poverty and pain
the way they dance when it rains
the rich man denying the beggar
pretending he's got no change
and i know some might say
the world stays the same
but their heads are hung low
it's beacuse they're ashamed
their eyes haven't seen
the inner-city kid on the street
pick a text-book retreat
instead of a night with those creeps
or the immigrant and his son
ask about the battles he's won
or the boy at the ashram
the horrors he's seen
bonded in a factory
and sold by his family
for pennies on the dime
hoping that in good time
he would soon come home
and take his place at the throne
but now he's ridden with scars
never an option to change his stars
but he goes on living and breathing
contributing to this little known feeling
that man and woman alike
can choose to put up a fight
and be a catalyst for change
so rape and murder no longer remain
the world will never ever be the same
if we all contribute in small, minute ways
we can put change in a can
or lend out your hand
and recognize that that person
is not a mere man
but he's you and he's me
and everything in between
so let us all fight
for our natural rights
to live and to be
in all actuality free
no longer shackled and chained
to a past that has changed
19 January, 2008
Rabies
Varanassi
The breeze was light and the warmth of the sun continued to pour over my skin as I sat at my usual table, at the roof's edge with my back to the railing and my eyes fixated on the winding Gunga (Ganges) below, at the hostel's rooftop restaurant. As conversation on some topic began to dwindle, Ren - sitting to my left - began rummaging through his LP in search of places to stay in Kolkatta, Boudie - facing me, his back to the Gunga - lit up a cigarette and I got up to play a round of pool while red-faced monkey's and their babies kept up their daily routine of scaling up toward the canopy above us.
The table's green felt was smooth and the balls glided over it nicely like a puck on ice. As I was setting up a cross-side shot on the 7 I heard a commotion. I looked up to find everyone in the restaurant backing toward the pool table as if they were being cornered by some type of beast ... they were. A large male Langur had climbed the building and set up camp at the table that Ren, Boudie and myself had been sitting at. He looked across the table and then scanned his audience, sensing the blend between curiosity and fear that was brewing in all of us. He wanted a fight, singling people out with his wild eyes while continuously flaring his lips letting the his sharp fangs shine. He was taunting us ... begging for the right chance to attack.
He went from table to table, knocking over plates and glasses that were in his path. He stepped closer, we stepped back. After what seemed like a few mintues at the time but in actuality only one or two, the staff came out with a pot of boiling water which the Langur recognized immediately ... he had done this before and knew exactly what the contents of that pot contained; scalding pain. As the staff came running, he vanished out of sight only to reappear on top of a building 30 meters away. (See video to get the jist of what a Langur is and note, the one I'm describing, yeah... not playful at all.)
After the tables were cleaned everyone settled back into their respective seats, including myself, to talk about the event that had just ensued. After we had finished recanting the details, Ren, referring to our table because the Langur had come up on the corner right by his seat, posed the question "What if we had just stayed right here? Do you think he would have done anything?"
"Why would you take the chance?" I said. "All they have to do is get one bite and well, you lose."
Boudie agreed. "Yeah, he wouldn't just bite". And then morphing his hand into something like a claw and then moving it toward his newly exposed neck he said, "He would bite and rip the flesh from your neck".
"It would really suck to get bit by a monkey" I said.
One minute later, it happened. I felt a quick sharp pain run through my neck and I knew I had been bit. I jumped out of my seat and turned around to find an adolescent hastily climbing up toward the canopy.
"Dammit."
Ren replied half-smiling "Dude, are you alright? You just got bit by a monkey."
The rest of the people at the restaurant began looking around, talking amongst themselves trying to figure out what was going. Then the staff came over to find out what had happened. After I explained and they saw the small wound (it wasn't painful except for the initial sting and there was little bleeding) they concluded that I had only been scratched by the monkey.
"No man, he got bit by a monkey. I was sitting there, right there" pointing, "and I saw him get bit by a fucking monkey" Ren replied, still half-smiling.
Finally they conceded that I had in fact been bit by a monkey as they applied some disinfectant to the wound. I told them in a calm manner that I would like someone to take me to the hospital to get treated for rabies. First I was told that it was nothing to worry about and that everything would be fine. Still calm, I explained that the reason for me going to the hospital was not because of pain or loss of blood, but rather the possibility of disease. I figured I must have bad luck because so far I had been the only person to ever be bit by a monkey and because of said bad luck, I might be unlucky enough to get bit by the one that had rabies. The staff then conceded and arranged for someone to take me to the hospital.
The story goes on with one thing after another. First the the man assigned to take me to the hospital was trying to make a commission by trying to take me to a private clinic which more likely than not his friend worked at. Then we made it to the hospital but only the emergency room was open. Apparently rabies is not an emergency because they didn't have the vaccine. They were able to give me an extra tetanus shot - I had to go across the street to buy the syringe and vile - that I did not need and advised me to come tomorrow when the general hospital was 'open' at 8 AM to get the rabies shot. The hospital opened at 8 but doctors were said not to arrive until 10, maybe 11 in the morning. After being disgusted by a pool of blood in a corner, smeared blood on the now off-white tiles and the used syringes on the ground, I then decided to leave and buy the rabies vaccine and syringe and just do it myself.
First of all, what do I know about injecting anything into me? I have had plenty of shots in my lifetime but never did I think to ask a doctor how to do it or to say "Hey let me try just in case I get bit by a monkey in India and have to inject myself with a rabies vaccine because the government hospital's there are unsanitary". I also thought I could just ask someone who had diabetes to help me out but was I seriously about to walk up to random people, fellow tourists or locals, and ask them if they had diabetes and if so, would they give me a quick jab. Hell, they could think I'm a junkie.
Thankfully, I decided against that ridiculous idea and had a rickshaw driver take me to the university hospital. I would have done this in the first place, but I figured a private clinic would have comparable rates to those in the states, and if you look up how much a rabies vaccine costs in the states, you would know that it is a ridiculous amount. This experience was amazing though. No forms or hour long waits. I simply told the receptionist I had been bit by a monkey and she immediately took me to a doctor, who took care of me in an incredibly timely matter. The visit to the private hospital came out to a grand total of about $10 (5 shots will be needed in total). In a travel clinic in the states, I would 1) have to fill out numerous forms, 2) wait hours on end and 3) paid the large sum of $180/shot. Ridiculous, no?
Rickshaw to university hospital: $1
Rabies vaccine: $10
Getting bit by a monkey, seeing blood smeared tiles, entertaining the idea of vaccinating oneself and finally finding a bit of sanity in such a crazy, overwhelming place: Priceless.
The breeze was light and the warmth of the sun continued to pour over my skin as I sat at my usual table, at the roof's edge with my back to the railing and my eyes fixated on the winding Gunga (Ganges) below, at the hostel's rooftop restaurant. As conversation on some topic began to dwindle, Ren - sitting to my left - began rummaging through his LP in search of places to stay in Kolkatta, Boudie - facing me, his back to the Gunga - lit up a cigarette and I got up to play a round of pool while red-faced monkey's and their babies kept up their daily routine of scaling up toward the canopy above us.
The table's green felt was smooth and the balls glided over it nicely like a puck on ice. As I was setting up a cross-side shot on the 7 I heard a commotion. I looked up to find everyone in the restaurant backing toward the pool table as if they were being cornered by some type of beast ... they were. A large male Langur had climbed the building and set up camp at the table that Ren, Boudie and myself had been sitting at. He looked across the table and then scanned his audience, sensing the blend between curiosity and fear that was brewing in all of us. He wanted a fight, singling people out with his wild eyes while continuously flaring his lips letting the his sharp fangs shine. He was taunting us ... begging for the right chance to attack.
He went from table to table, knocking over plates and glasses that were in his path. He stepped closer, we stepped back. After what seemed like a few mintues at the time but in actuality only one or two, the staff came out with a pot of boiling water which the Langur recognized immediately ... he had done this before and knew exactly what the contents of that pot contained; scalding pain. As the staff came running, he vanished out of sight only to reappear on top of a building 30 meters away. (See video to get the jist of what a Langur is and note, the one I'm describing, yeah... not playful at all.)
After the tables were cleaned everyone settled back into their respective seats, including myself, to talk about the event that had just ensued. After we had finished recanting the details, Ren, referring to our table because the Langur had come up on the corner right by his seat, posed the question "What if we had just stayed right here? Do you think he would have done anything?"
"Why would you take the chance?" I said. "All they have to do is get one bite and well, you lose."
Boudie agreed. "Yeah, he wouldn't just bite". And then morphing his hand into something like a claw and then moving it toward his newly exposed neck he said, "He would bite and rip the flesh from your neck".
"It would really suck to get bit by a monkey" I said.
One minute later, it happened. I felt a quick sharp pain run through my neck and I knew I had been bit. I jumped out of my seat and turned around to find an adolescent hastily climbing up toward the canopy.
"Dammit."
Ren replied half-smiling "Dude, are you alright? You just got bit by a monkey."
The rest of the people at the restaurant began looking around, talking amongst themselves trying to figure out what was going. Then the staff came over to find out what had happened. After I explained and they saw the small wound (it wasn't painful except for the initial sting and there was little bleeding) they concluded that I had only been scratched by the monkey.
"No man, he got bit by a monkey. I was sitting there, right there" pointing, "and I saw him get bit by a fucking monkey" Ren replied, still half-smiling.
Finally they conceded that I had in fact been bit by a monkey as they applied some disinfectant to the wound. I told them in a calm manner that I would like someone to take me to the hospital to get treated for rabies. First I was told that it was nothing to worry about and that everything would be fine. Still calm, I explained that the reason for me going to the hospital was not because of pain or loss of blood, but rather the possibility of disease. I figured I must have bad luck because so far I had been the only person to ever be bit by a monkey and because of said bad luck, I might be unlucky enough to get bit by the one that had rabies. The staff then conceded and arranged for someone to take me to the hospital.
The story goes on with one thing after another. First the the man assigned to take me to the hospital was trying to make a commission by trying to take me to a private clinic which more likely than not his friend worked at. Then we made it to the hospital but only the emergency room was open. Apparently rabies is not an emergency because they didn't have the vaccine. They were able to give me an extra tetanus shot - I had to go across the street to buy the syringe and vile - that I did not need and advised me to come tomorrow when the general hospital was 'open' at 8 AM to get the rabies shot. The hospital opened at 8 but doctors were said not to arrive until 10, maybe 11 in the morning. After being disgusted by a pool of blood in a corner, smeared blood on the now off-white tiles and the used syringes on the ground, I then decided to leave and buy the rabies vaccine and syringe and just do it myself.
First of all, what do I know about injecting anything into me? I have had plenty of shots in my lifetime but never did I think to ask a doctor how to do it or to say "Hey let me try just in case I get bit by a monkey in India and have to inject myself with a rabies vaccine because the government hospital's there are unsanitary". I also thought I could just ask someone who had diabetes to help me out but was I seriously about to walk up to random people, fellow tourists or locals, and ask them if they had diabetes and if so, would they give me a quick jab. Hell, they could think I'm a junkie.
Thankfully, I decided against that ridiculous idea and had a rickshaw driver take me to the university hospital. I would have done this in the first place, but I figured a private clinic would have comparable rates to those in the states, and if you look up how much a rabies vaccine costs in the states, you would know that it is a ridiculous amount. This experience was amazing though. No forms or hour long waits. I simply told the receptionist I had been bit by a monkey and she immediately took me to a doctor, who took care of me in an incredibly timely matter. The visit to the private hospital came out to a grand total of about $10 (5 shots will be needed in total). In a travel clinic in the states, I would 1) have to fill out numerous forms, 2) wait hours on end and 3) paid the large sum of $180/shot. Ridiculous, no?
Rickshaw to university hospital: $1
Rabies vaccine: $10
Getting bit by a monkey, seeing blood smeared tiles, entertaining the idea of vaccinating oneself and finally finding a bit of sanity in such a crazy, overwhelming place: Priceless.
28 December, 2007
I Forgot I lived In A Real World
Yesterday I looked beyond the crescent and star imposed on green and white and peered out into the open plains of western Pakistan. At the moment I was enjoying quite an enthusiastic performance, the border closing ceremony at Attari and Wagah, of the 'decorated' soldiers (decorated as in fashionable) of Pakistan and India trying to out scowl and out high-kick one another. Quite a sight indeed.
An hour or so later though, Benzanir Bhutto was attacked and killed by a shot to the head which was then followed up by an explosion that killed at least 20 others. As much as I have tried to keep up with the goings of the world while traveling, it has been difficult and it is not that I received this news dumbfounded wondering how this could have happened, but I did not expect this. This whole thing of news coming unexpectedly shouldn't be acceptable to one who aims to be a political scientist. Of course there is no formula to decipher how a series of events will play out, but a political scientist should be able to come up with likely scenarios and the preceding series of events should be able to be matched up accordingly.
So what does her death mean? Bhutto was (no longer is except in memory) the leader of Pakistan's biggest political party, Pakistan People's Party, and also a twice elected Prime Minister. She had been on 'self-imposed' (debated) for 8 years and her returning to Pakistan to take part in the political process was encouraged by countries in the West as it was thought to ease the instability in Pakistan and increase Pakistan, and more importantly for the US, Musharraf's democratic credentials. Although she was marred by corruption charges during both of her terms, she was welcomed back by thousands of supporters as well as suicide bombers who left close to 140 dead and hundreds more injured. Her party was expected to win the election, albeit not a majority, and she would most likely be the leader of the coalition government and serve as Prime Minister from an unprecedented third term. PPP (Pakistan People's Party) is Pakistan's most secular of political parties, so to those of us who had hoped this election outcome would be a set back for the extremists in the country, her death comes as unwanted news.
So once again, what does her death mean? Another question we must discuss before discussing that answer is who was responsible? From my point of view, two parties are responsible; Mr. Musharraf as well as the extremists who planned and carried out the attack.
Let us start with Musharraf. He was responsible for providing security for Mrs. Bhutto during the campaign rally and the bomber/gunman was able to get within 20 feet (maybe 20 yards, but still quite close) to Mrs. Bhutto and from that distance he carried out the attacks. For a 'former' general who consistently makes claims that he keeps Pakistan stable and secure, the fact that a terrorist (or whatever you label you wish to use) was able to get so close in proximity to Mrs. Bhutto raises eyebrows.
Now for extremists. Logically I place responsibility for her death because well, they, I believe, carried out the attack (I have not yet discussed who gave the order). Given their agenda, it is logical that they would not want an influential secular party in control of parliament. Whether it be for PPP's championing for modest women's rights or the possibility of taking a greater stand against extremists in the country (note: PPP could be far better but in Pakistan, well, probably as good as you're going to get for the moment).
So who gave the order? Did Musharraf not only provide the opportunity via poor security or did he and his minions (they truly are minions) plan the whole thing in a further attempt to thwart democracy and further strengthen his hold on the country? To start, I am quite certain that Bhutto's death wasn't that saddening of an event for Mr. Musharraf, but nor do I think he celebrated it. I say this because I believe a man who is power hungry doesn't like to share power or have other competitors. Surely with Mrs. Bhutto being out of the picture the likelihood of PPP recovering completely by election time is poor at best. Although people tend to rally behind new leaders in the face of tragedy, people also identify more with the figurehead than the party itself. Although Musharraf technically has one less competitor, who really won? The extremists.
Clearly in the past there has been back-agreements between them and Musharraf that would allow both of them to maintain a specific sphere of influence without the other meddling in their respective affairs. By taking out the possibility of an increasingly liberal and secular Pakistan, the extremists have begun paving the road to further instability thereby strengthening their hold in their respective spheres as well as branching out into new ones. So although it may make sense to some that Musharraf's is the real one behind this event, they should remember that to Musharraf, power is like a new toy to a 5 year-old ... good luck getting him to share it.
Whether I am right, ball-parked it or completely off remains to be seen. All I know is that this event has reminded me that the world is always turning and that in order to be truly informed about the present, one needs to be aware of events/persons/places and their respective pasts.
An hour or so later though, Benzanir Bhutto was attacked and killed by a shot to the head which was then followed up by an explosion that killed at least 20 others. As much as I have tried to keep up with the goings of the world while traveling, it has been difficult and it is not that I received this news dumbfounded wondering how this could have happened, but I did not expect this. This whole thing of news coming unexpectedly shouldn't be acceptable to one who aims to be a political scientist. Of course there is no formula to decipher how a series of events will play out, but a political scientist should be able to come up with likely scenarios and the preceding series of events should be able to be matched up accordingly.
So what does her death mean? Bhutto was (no longer is except in memory) the leader of Pakistan's biggest political party, Pakistan People's Party, and also a twice elected Prime Minister. She had been on 'self-imposed' (debated) for 8 years and her returning to Pakistan to take part in the political process was encouraged by countries in the West as it was thought to ease the instability in Pakistan and increase Pakistan, and more importantly for the US, Musharraf's democratic credentials. Although she was marred by corruption charges during both of her terms, she was welcomed back by thousands of supporters as well as suicide bombers who left close to 140 dead and hundreds more injured. Her party was expected to win the election, albeit not a majority, and she would most likely be the leader of the coalition government and serve as Prime Minister from an unprecedented third term. PPP (Pakistan People's Party) is Pakistan's most secular of political parties, so to those of us who had hoped this election outcome would be a set back for the extremists in the country, her death comes as unwanted news.
So once again, what does her death mean? Another question we must discuss before discussing that answer is who was responsible? From my point of view, two parties are responsible; Mr. Musharraf as well as the extremists who planned and carried out the attack.
Let us start with Musharraf. He was responsible for providing security for Mrs. Bhutto during the campaign rally and the bomber/gunman was able to get within 20 feet (maybe 20 yards, but still quite close) to Mrs. Bhutto and from that distance he carried out the attacks. For a 'former' general who consistently makes claims that he keeps Pakistan stable and secure, the fact that a terrorist (or whatever you label you wish to use) was able to get so close in proximity to Mrs. Bhutto raises eyebrows.
Now for extremists. Logically I place responsibility for her death because well, they, I believe, carried out the attack (I have not yet discussed who gave the order). Given their agenda, it is logical that they would not want an influential secular party in control of parliament. Whether it be for PPP's championing for modest women's rights or the possibility of taking a greater stand against extremists in the country (note: PPP could be far better but in Pakistan, well, probably as good as you're going to get for the moment).
So who gave the order? Did Musharraf not only provide the opportunity via poor security or did he and his minions (they truly are minions) plan the whole thing in a further attempt to thwart democracy and further strengthen his hold on the country? To start, I am quite certain that Bhutto's death wasn't that saddening of an event for Mr. Musharraf, but nor do I think he celebrated it. I say this because I believe a man who is power hungry doesn't like to share power or have other competitors. Surely with Mrs. Bhutto being out of the picture the likelihood of PPP recovering completely by election time is poor at best. Although people tend to rally behind new leaders in the face of tragedy, people also identify more with the figurehead than the party itself. Although Musharraf technically has one less competitor, who really won? The extremists.
Clearly in the past there has been back-agreements between them and Musharraf that would allow both of them to maintain a specific sphere of influence without the other meddling in their respective affairs. By taking out the possibility of an increasingly liberal and secular Pakistan, the extremists have begun paving the road to further instability thereby strengthening their hold in their respective spheres as well as branching out into new ones. So although it may make sense to some that Musharraf's is the real one behind this event, they should remember that to Musharraf, power is like a new toy to a 5 year-old ... good luck getting him to share it.
Whether I am right, ball-parked it or completely off remains to be seen. All I know is that this event has reminded me that the world is always turning and that in order to be truly informed about the present, one needs to be aware of events/persons/places and their respective pasts.
16 December, 2007
Goodbye Ashram ...
Day of departure: December 13The library was as loud as ever during game time as children and volunteers alike were playing games and putting together puzzles. After giving my best to the cooks, the only ones left to say goodbye to were the kids ... my boys. In the days leading up to my departure, I knew that I would miss them and that it would be hard to say goodbye but when it came down to it, it was harder than I had expected. When someone says they are going to leave the effect tends to be minute because things could always come up. One could stay a day, a week or month longer than had expected and because of that, why fret? The real goodbye makes it official and all the comfort that you had just the day before vanishes leaving you feeling alone and cold.
I first said goodbye to Manoj. Rambunctious, smart and often a punk (reminds me of myself), out of my students he was the one I would miss most. He wrapped his little arms around me and his head pressed into my stomach as I told him I would miss him dearly and that everything would be okay. My mind kept telling me that everything would be okay. I felt him start to cry and as I held him my eyes began to water as well. It might sound harsh, but I told him, as well as myself, that men don't cry, that we have to remain strong during the hardest moments of our lives. He then let go and turned away so I couldn't see him cry. I watched him calm himself and heard him say under his breath that "men don't cry ... men don't cry". He then looked up at me still with watery eyes and smiled. He smiled.I then said my goodbyes to my other two boys, Vijay and Gulshan. Vijay, who is quite the artist (he loves to draw parrots) and cricket player (a true baller), and Gulshan, the most playful and seemingly innocent out of the bunch, just looked at me like their best friend was going away. They called me 'biyah' (buy-yuh), their older brother, and told me just the day before that I was a good teacher, their favorite teacher with favorite being one of the words I taught them. Although not as visibly emotional as my goodbye with Manoj, I felt that I would be missed and surely they felt they would forever be remembered as two of the three boys who could always make me smile.
Teaching them was one of the greatest gifts that have ever been bestowed upon me. The children had such a desire to learn and often the speed at which they would pick up a new concept amazed me given their minute base in English. I wish I could show you the pictures that are forever locked away in my mind. The pictures of these boy's faces when a new concept 'just clicked' in their heads is priceless. One day I taught my boys the difference between 'this' and 'that' and when and how to use them appropriately. The next day when they came into class, without me saying anything, one took the book out of my hand and said "this is a book" while another pointed to the ceiling fan and said "that is a fan". From there they pointed to many other objects around the room using 'this' and 'that' accordingly. I cannot express the level of satisfaction and happiness that came over me. I mean they listened, they tried and they succeeded. In the few moments like those I caught a glimpse of what it might be like to be a parent and see your child succeed at something new. It is truly an unforgettable feeling.
Whatever I taught these children is merely a fraction of what they taught me. They gave me a lesson in resilience. They taught me when adversity laughs in your face the only thing to do is laugh back at it.
They reminded me that hope and love are the most powerful forces in this world. The two work together, lifting each other up when the other falls. Without them, we are simply the walking dead. They also taught me that every chore and every task can become a game. And most importantly, although it may have been just for a moment, they taught me how to look at the world like a kid again ... equally intrigued by the mundane and complex alike. Oh yeah, they also taught me to dance (see video, you'll enjoy it).So Goodbye Ashram. My time there will be remembered fondly and hopefully, I will be able to return one day.
Jaul melangeh ...
24 November, 2007
Bal Ashram ... so far
November 4th - November 11th:
As we passed through Virat Nagar, a village about 2 kilometers from Bal Ashram, I began to see the poverty and low standard of living (monetary term) that I had read about in some of my classes while attending university ... children bathing in the muddy water running along side of the road 10 feet down from the 40 year old man pissing in that same water. As a result, my mind started to race wondering about my time at Bal Ashram and what it would prove to be like.
A few minutes later we pulled up to the compound; the ground dirt and gravel with rock/flower/small tree lined walkways leading from building to building with shrub decorated hills in the background.
After greeting the manager and a few other staff members I made my way to my dormitory where Indian Wasps were flying all around in what I can describe best as orderly chaos. They were surrounding the door to my room, the entrance to the restroom ... everywhere. After watching 3 boys just walk right into my room, I stepped up to the challenge and just walked through while Dane Cook's joke about bee's played in my head.
At first I was a bit uncomfortable being dirty, having wasps fly continuously around me (at least while going to my dormitory and the restroom) and being unable to shake the feeling that mosquito's were swarming around me like I and the other kids on my block would swarm around the Ice Cream Man as his jingle jangle played around our street. Little did I know that these daily obstacles (the mosquito thing I have yet to shake due to the random bites that keep popping up) would add to the flavor and my overall happiness with being here. This place has become my sanctuary ... my haven in India.
I cannot begin to describe the pleasure that I have taken from being here in just this short amount of time. These kids are amazing. They have such an appreciation for life and one could not guess, nor would one want to, that these children were beaten, starved and forced to work for minimal or no pay ... many of them simply sold to employers by con artists who convince their parents to give them up or sometimes by even their own family members.
As I said in an earlier blog, these kids have hearts of gold and smiles to go along with it. They are very smart and one of the older ones, someone I now call a friend and mean it, even won the 2006 International Children's Peace Prize (Nobel Peace Prize for kids). He, as the others, will go on to do great things in life at the rate he is going.
They all study hard and play even harder. It amazes me how people can be so resilient. Their warmth and desire to better themselves as well as those around them is something that I admire.
I am happy here. Truly happy. I cannot recall a time when I have consistently laughed as much as I have here. Everything these kids do, they do with a smile. The most mundane tasks all of a sudden become a new game or a dramatic battle between competing factions and then ending in hysterical laughter.
This is home.
As we passed through Virat Nagar, a village about 2 kilometers from Bal Ashram, I began to see the poverty and low standard of living (monetary term) that I had read about in some of my classes while attending university ... children bathing in the muddy water running along side of the road 10 feet down from the 40 year old man pissing in that same water. As a result, my mind started to race wondering about my time at Bal Ashram and what it would prove to be like.
A few minutes later we pulled up to the compound; the ground dirt and gravel with rock/flower/small tree lined walkways leading from building to building with shrub decorated hills in the background.
After greeting the manager and a few other staff members I made my way to my dormitory where Indian Wasps were flying all around in what I can describe best as orderly chaos. They were surrounding the door to my room, the entrance to the restroom ... everywhere. After watching 3 boys just walk right into my room, I stepped up to the challenge and just walked through while Dane Cook's joke about bee's played in my head.
At first I was a bit uncomfortable being dirty, having wasps fly continuously around me (at least while going to my dormitory and the restroom) and being unable to shake the feeling that mosquito's were swarming around me like I and the other kids on my block would swarm around the Ice Cream Man as his jingle jangle played around our street. Little did I know that these daily obstacles (the mosquito thing I have yet to shake due to the random bites that keep popping up) would add to the flavor and my overall happiness with being here. This place has become my sanctuary ... my haven in India.
I cannot begin to describe the pleasure that I have taken from being here in just this short amount of time. These kids are amazing. They have such an appreciation for life and one could not guess, nor would one want to, that these children were beaten, starved and forced to work for minimal or no pay ... many of them simply sold to employers by con artists who convince their parents to give them up or sometimes by even their own family members.
As I said in an earlier blog, these kids have hearts of gold and smiles to go along with it. They are very smart and one of the older ones, someone I now call a friend and mean it, even won the 2006 International Children's Peace Prize (Nobel Peace Prize for kids). He, as the others, will go on to do great things in life at the rate he is going.
They all study hard and play even harder. It amazes me how people can be so resilient. Their warmth and desire to better themselves as well as those around them is something that I admire.
I am happy here. Truly happy. I cannot recall a time when I have consistently laughed as much as I have here. Everything these kids do, they do with a smile. The most mundane tasks all of a sudden become a new game or a dramatic battle between competing factions and then ending in hysterical laughter.
This is home.
The Pink City
Jaipur
October 30th - 10:30AM November 4th:
After my 18 hour "SuperFast Express" train ride, the last thing I wanted to do was deal with any hassle. My not being willing to barter or even acknowledge an offer by a rickshaw or autorickshaw led to my walking, unknowingly, 2 kilometers in the heat to my place of stay.
Note to self: when looking at maps, pay attention to the distance scale as 1 inch can mean 100 meters or, in my case, 1 kilometer.
The first two days I did absolutely nothing except dine at the rooftop restaurant, play guitar and obsess over whether or not the program that I had signed up for was actually legitimate. After being accepted, I was basically told to just show up ... If this had been in the states, it would be the exact same thing except that, well, I would be in the states. But I wasn't told to just show up in the states, I was told to just show up ... in India.
I finally put all my worries to rest once I met the organizer of the volunteer program I signed up for; a kind, soft-spoken man with a slight limp in his early 40's. After he had helped me with my bags and drove me to my new residence for the rest of my duration in Jaipur and explained a bit more about the program, I set out into the Pink City (Old City) and witnessed the real chaos that is urban India.
Later that day I met my future partner in crime, my fellow volunteer from Norway, and over the next few days we took on the sights of Jaipur starting with Galta (Monkey Temple ... you feed them right from your hand) and ending with the fabulous Amer Fort and Jal Mahal (Water Palace) ... all three are worth seeing.
After our last day of sightseeing, we met with another volunteer (a Canadian ... who would have thought?) who would be joining us in the upcoming days due to her arriving from South Korea, where she was teaching english, just the day before. The next morning, the Norwegian and I left for Bal Ashram, the rehabilitation center for rescued child laborers (who also may be orphans) not knowing what to expect, whom we might encounter and what our living situation would be like.
October 30th - 10:30AM November 4th:
After my 18 hour "SuperFast Express" train ride, the last thing I wanted to do was deal with any hassle. My not being willing to barter or even acknowledge an offer by a rickshaw or autorickshaw led to my walking, unknowingly, 2 kilometers in the heat to my place of stay.
Note to self: when looking at maps, pay attention to the distance scale as 1 inch can mean 100 meters or, in my case, 1 kilometer.
The first two days I did absolutely nothing except dine at the rooftop restaurant, play guitar and obsess over whether or not the program that I had signed up for was actually legitimate. After being accepted, I was basically told to just show up ... If this had been in the states, it would be the exact same thing except that, well, I would be in the states. But I wasn't told to just show up in the states, I was told to just show up ... in India.
I finally put all my worries to rest once I met the organizer of the volunteer program I signed up for; a kind, soft-spoken man with a slight limp in his early 40's. After he had helped me with my bags and drove me to my new residence for the rest of my duration in Jaipur and explained a bit more about the program, I set out into the Pink City (Old City) and witnessed the real chaos that is urban India.
Later that day I met my future partner in crime, my fellow volunteer from Norway, and over the next few days we took on the sights of Jaipur starting with Galta (Monkey Temple ... you feed them right from your hand) and ending with the fabulous Amer Fort and Jal Mahal (Water Palace) ... all three are worth seeing.
After our last day of sightseeing, we met with another volunteer (a Canadian ... who would have thought?) who would be joining us in the upcoming days due to her arriving from South Korea, where she was teaching english, just the day before. The next morning, the Norwegian and I left for Bal Ashram, the rehabilitation center for rescued child laborers (who also may be orphans) not knowing what to expect, whom we might encounter and what our living situation would be like.
Welcome to Bollywood
Mumbai
October 26th - 1PM October 30th:
My time in Mumbai can best be described as a blur. I arrived after being in transit for close to 30 hours; a 10hr train ride from Luxor to Cairo, 2.75 hrs from train station to the Airport, 3hr flight to Kuwait, 7 hr layover and lastly a 4.5 hour flight into Mumbai. Upon arrival at 5:10 AM I had to climb over 4 luggage carts to grab my bags and then negotiated a cab ride to my Bollywood safe-house. I then slept and awoke hours later in search of sustenance. The 'blur' began later that night at a local watering hole (cafe/bar) ...
Cafe Mondegar was packed and the only reason I went in is because I saw a big sign for Kingfisher (the local brew) and was craving a drink. I was awarded the last table in the house. While thoroughly enjoying my first drink, I was approached by the waiter who asked if another gentleman could join me. I conceded. The man who joined me turned out to be the finest host one could ask for; having is private driver give me rides home late in the evening, covering meals and drinks, and more importantly, showing myself (and two girls I met) the chaos that is Mumbai's nightlife.
My nights included chill pubs, crazy dance clubs, late (and I mean LATE) meals, waking my hosts surprised coworkers at 2 AM to use the restroom and catching some live Indian musical entertainment.
To my ever so gracious host: I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your generosity, sincerity and your uplifting thoughts on life and one might live it. Also, you would love the kids here ... hearts of gold and smiles to go along with it.
October 26th - 1PM October 30th:
My time in Mumbai can best be described as a blur. I arrived after being in transit for close to 30 hours; a 10hr train ride from Luxor to Cairo, 2.75 hrs from train station to the Airport, 3hr flight to Kuwait, 7 hr layover and lastly a 4.5 hour flight into Mumbai. Upon arrival at 5:10 AM I had to climb over 4 luggage carts to grab my bags and then negotiated a cab ride to my Bollywood safe-house. I then slept and awoke hours later in search of sustenance. The 'blur' began later that night at a local watering hole (cafe/bar) ...
Cafe Mondegar was packed and the only reason I went in is because I saw a big sign for Kingfisher (the local brew) and was craving a drink. I was awarded the last table in the house. While thoroughly enjoying my first drink, I was approached by the waiter who asked if another gentleman could join me. I conceded. The man who joined me turned out to be the finest host one could ask for; having is private driver give me rides home late in the evening, covering meals and drinks, and more importantly, showing myself (and two girls I met) the chaos that is Mumbai's nightlife.
My nights included chill pubs, crazy dance clubs, late (and I mean LATE) meals, waking my hosts surprised coworkers at 2 AM to use the restroom and catching some live Indian musical entertainment.
To my ever so gracious host: I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your generosity, sincerity and your uplifting thoughts on life and one might live it. Also, you would love the kids here ... hearts of gold and smiles to go along with it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)