Tuesday, November 16, 2010

What Would Buddha Say?

Image of Buddha at Mahadbodhi temple.
I spent the last few days of the tour with a group of eight lovely French people who had been on the same river cruise. After docking in Patna we traveled by car to several sites on our way to Varanasi. One stop was Bodhgaya, the spot where Gautama Buddha attained enlightenment under the Bodhi tree. Having neglected my research on this place I went with a simple image of a majestic lone tree on a quiet hillock that emanated sacred vibes.

Our group was short on time so we went directly Bodhgaya. It was closed. As fate would have it, the crown prince of Thailand was visiting the same day. So instead of visiting the spot of enlightenment, we went first and had buffet lunch in one of the many tourist hotels in the dusty, congested city. Afterward we returned and the prince had left, presumably going to the Thai monastery. There are many Buddhist monasteries in Bodhgaya from all over Asia including Japan, Korea, Bhutan and Tibet.

Upon entering the grounds I saw the Mahadbodhi temple on the spot of a temple originally built in the first BC. THE tree was behind it. In honor of the crown prince's visit this magnificent temple was all tarted up with golden bows made of flowing fabric, artificial lotus flowers, fake cherry trees in full blossom and glitter encrusted Styrofoam peacocks. I would have much preferred the undecorated version. Within the temple is a golden statue of the Buddha accessible through a small doorway. There was much pushing and shoving to see this image of the enlightened one. I blocked a group of pilgrims from running over the senior citizen French lady in front of me. What would Buddha say?


Leaves of the Bhodi tree.

We made our way to the back of the temple to see the Bodhi tree, which is said to be a sapling of the original. This beloved tree was surrounded by chanting and frequently dour-faced pilgrims, its heavy sprawling branches providing shade to followers, monks and tourists alike. Behind iron gates a silver throne marked the spot where the Buddha sat. I tried in vain to imagine the Buddha there. It was too crowded. I took pictures. Around the side of the temple were stepping stones imprinted with beautiful golden lotuses and placed in spots where Buddha took his first steps after enlightenment.

A monk sifting through meditation beads.
Around the perimeter of the grounds was another tree where monks from the monasteries come on a daily basis to meditate, chant, read and prostrate themselves. They have simple elevated wood palates covered with prayer rugs. One monk meditatively sifted through prayer beads. Another monk was looking at his cell phone while his family visited. A mongrel made his way among them, wagging his tail.

I looked for a quiet place and found one structure empty of people. It housed several stone carved statues of Buddha. Votives and incense burned on a small alter. The statues looked perfectly serene. I had a few minutes to sit before leaving.

On the way out there was a deluge of souvenir sellers. I didn't want a Bodhi tree leaf in a plastic baggie or a string of plastic prayer beads. I just wanted to take away the sense of peace I felt in the room of silent Buddhas.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Oh the Things I've Seen!


Sunset on the Ganga River.

Slowly, slowly we are making our way up the Ganges river. Every day has been different. And oh, the things I have seen! There is almost no way to see this part of India by way of land. It's extremely difficult to get to these spots via terra firma. Here are a few of the sights I've seen and things I've experienced along the Mother Ganga:

*   Hot pink goats in the villages. They're painted bright pink and in various patterns so they are easily identifiable.
*    Seventy species of birds. Among my favorites are the Black Ibis with its long curved beak and the golden colored Brahminy ducks.
* Entering the Ganga via a lock from a smaller feeder river. Until this boat began sailing last year, the lock had been closed for 40 years.
The decorated feet of a young village girl.
*     Cremations, Hindu celebrations of life and death. I saw four simultaneous cremations with a fifth body being transported atop a bus. 
*    Sitting on the stupa of a ninth century Buddhist University and watched the sun set on the Ganga. I longed to spend the night in that peaceful place among the ruins.
*    I watched a big black water snake swimming toward the boat.
*    Limestone statues of the goddess Tara. The carving was exquisite.
A couple of goats kidding around.
*    A ferry boat crossing the Ganga jammed with passengers and a horse.
   *     The most magnificent and glorious sunset  on the Ganga. It was my first after we entered the main river. The reflection of the sun on the water was the color of pure gold, the sun itself was a deep bright orange and the sky was lit with pink. I understood the essence of the word Glorious.
* Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of open-billed storks roosting in trees on an island with a century-old temple
*     A woman balancing a green gourd the size of a watermelon on her head. 
*     A village festival where there were dozens of water buffalo, their horns painted a deep red.
*     A child of less than three staring at me with a combination of horror, confusion, and fear. It was clear he thought I was an interloping alien.
*    Twelfth century terra cotta temples with carvings of daily and heavenly life.
*     Riding in old fashioned horse-drawn tongas.
*    A palace in Murshidabad built by one of the last Nawabs filled with art treasures from the early 19th century.
*    Baby goats butting heads.
*    Sending candles and marigolds downstream on the Ganges for Diwali. I watched the lights float into what seemed eternity.

More to come...

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Weaving and Smoking



Women stringing thread to weave on the  handloom.
 This morning we stopped in the village of Akbarpur, where there are lucrative cash crops in mango and lychee fruits and small cottage industries including weaving cotton Gumchas (bathing sheets) and making bidis. Bidis (aka beedis) are hand-rolled cigarettes.

Women handweave the handsome, Ralph Lauren-esque plaid gumchas that are several meters in length and take up to four hours to weave. I bought one for a friend who is very fond of plaids for about $4 . The women make them on old handlooms in their houses which are open to a courtyard. Children, chickens and goats do roam there.

Women and young girls produce the bidis.They use tendu leaves for wrappers, fill them with tobacco and tie them with thread to keep everything in place. With a basket of supplies in their lap, women can roll up to 600 bidis a day. After rolling them, they bundle 25 together and tie it with orange thread. The finished products are then shipped off to bidi companies for packaging.

I haven't smoked in more than 20 years (I started when I was 12) but in the spirit of supporting a cottage industry I bought a bundle. Besides, I find bidi smoke aromatic. I paid 60 rupees (about $1.50) and later found out the fair price was 10 rupees (about 23 cents).

Me on the sun deck smoking my bidi
Accompanied by a Kingfisher Strong I lit my bidi. It didn't taste good like a cigarette should, but then I think all smoking materials are unpleasant no matter where their point of origin. My relapse into smoking was short-lived and like Bill Clinton, I didn't inhale.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Buffalo Baths & More

The other day I watched a water buffalo being bathed on the bank, in the shallow waters along the Bhagirathi River. A young man was giving the buffalo's  flank a good scrubbing which he (the buffalo)  
A water buffalo gets a bath.
seemed to enjoy immensely. The boy lifted the buffalo's tail and cleaned it thoroughly which he (the buffalo) didn't seem to enjoy, much less immensely. Then, with two whacks from a stick administered to his rump, the buffalo submerged his powerful animal body up to his shoulders. His bath over, his black coat was all shiny.

Like a Discovery Chanel documentary, this timeless land unfolds as we glide soundlessly on the river. Am I still in the 21st century? 


A ferry boat crosses the river--standing room only.
I watch people work. With their hips swaying, women in vibrant saris balance great bundles of harvested grasses on their heads. A fishing boat filled with men gather sand from the river bottom to use in building their homes. They use perforated buckets on bamboo poles.

We pass fields of tumeric and mustard greens, banana trees, sugar cane and pampas grass.


At all times during the day small children come running out of their homes screaming "Ta-ta, ta-ta, ta-ta," the equivalent of hello. There are no other boats on the river like this and they are thrilled at the sight of it. Sometimes I wish they were not so thrilled. Today we cruised past many small villages. Children streamed out of the jungles and onto the banks like ants from a flood. Okay kids, I see you. Please give your little lungs a rest. You're scaring the birds.

Locals on the river bank.
And there are a lot of birds: gray headed lap wings, open-billed storks, and white breasted kingfishers. Clouds of white egrets are as plentiful as pigeons, The other day I saw a pack of jackals including a male and female nuzzling each other.

Farming, bathing, fishing. Daily life goes on, even when it stops. Yesterday we slowly passed by two bodies being cremated. It was the first time I've seen this. After lighting a fire beneath the head, they slowly slipped off a white cover from one of the bodies. It seemed completely natural to see this. It's part of the ebb and flow of life here.







Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Whatever Floats My Boat

My cute, woodsy cabin.
I've never been interested in one of those big obnoxious luxury cruises where you stuff yourself silly with buffet food and take a craft class making houses with popsicle sticks (seriously, my mother said she did this on one—she liked it.) However, I love floatin' on this boat in India. I arrived five days ago and boarded the Bengal Ganga. The official two-week cruise starts this evening when the rest of the guests arrive. In the meantime, I've been enjoying every minute of this ship full of old-school cool, little luxuries and service extraordinaire.

 Built in the colonial style, the ship is decked out in shining teakwood and polished brass. It has only 28 rooms so it makes for a more intimate cruise. My cozy twin-bedded cabin is perfect. The room has a desk, closet and a nicely done bathroom with soft towels (yeah! towels at Indian hotels are often stiff and rough as sandpaper). There's plenty of storage, cabinets and drawers below the beds. I want a bed exactly like this for my home.  My room is even big enough to accommodate sun salutations during my morning yoga practice—but the upper sundeck is even better. I leave the screened windows open most of the time for the fresh air. It had been very warm but in the last two days it has suddenly turned cool—wish I would have brought my Seattle fleece but I have a nice wool scarf I scored in Jaipur.


A pretty lime green home on the lush banks of the Hooghly.

My days anchored on the Hooghly river (which eventually joins the Ganges) have been spent watching the daily doings of people along the river, bathing, building, washing, praying, and playing. Children get excited when they see the boat and come running and shouting. There's no other boat like it on the River. From the shore I hear cows mooing, roosters crowing, and sheeps bleating. I saw a Gangetic dolphin surface early one morning and lots of snowy white egrets flying around. Big kites (the bird kind not the toy) soar in the sky. One landed very near on the defunct smokestack. They are powerful birds of prey but I think they were just looking for an easy meal from the fisherman.

One day I went fishing with the local fishermen. Their small boat had a little "tunnel" covered with thatched palm leaves. They fish, cook, eat, and sleep on the boat. While they use their fishing nets, my angling gear was an empty plastic water bottle with nylon line wrapped around the middle of it. On the end of the line was an iron weight of about 2 kilos and two fishing hooks which I baited with roti (bread) dough balls. Of course I managed to tangle my line up but the fishermen patiently untangled it for me. The helpless American. I didn't catch a thing. But it was peaceful and relaxing.
The rest of the time I've written, read or napped on the sundeck. And I've eaten. The food here is phenomenal. It is not drenched in the gravies and oils so prevalent in the restaurants of Rajasthan. It's home cooked Indian food with very fresh vegetables prepared well with just the right amount of seasoning. The soups, vegetables, fish, chicken and Indian breakfasts like upma are so good I've been eating every bite. I hope they have a tailor on board so I can have my pants taken out. I'm not used to eating three big meals a day. I've also enjoyed the company of the ship's manager each evening for happy hour and dinner. Atul and I had Kingfisher beers and talked about our cultures, Indian philosophy and I practiced my Hindi. His English is perfect.

A lone fisherman on the river.
The staff, all 30 of them, are the best. It doesn't hurt that many of these "boys" are quite attractive Rajasthani men with winning smiles. I don't even mind waking up at to one of those smiling faces knocking on my door, black coffee in hand...