Happy New Year!!! Yesterday we took a taxi from Kanchipuram to Mamallapuram (Mahabalipuram). We had been planning on taking the bus, but Mom was not feeling so well so we decided to leave the adventure of our first bus ride in India for another day. Not long after we left our hotel, we passed a shrine to Ganesh. Our taxi driver stopped the car without any warning, jumped out, placed a coin or two in a beggar’s bowl, and paid his respect to Ganesh. He then jumped back in the car and drove off as though nothing had happened. My guess is that New Year had something to do with this unusual behavior. Ganesh is the remover of difficulties and it is advisable to ask his help with beginnings. The taxi driver probably hoped Ganesh would remove the difficulties of the coming year. The rest of the drive was more or less uneventful. There are often designs in chalk in front of doorways. The ones on New Year’s Day were much more complex and colorful than usual.
After we had checked into our hotel and put our luggage up in the room, Dad and I went for a walk on the beach while Patrick and Mom worked in the Internet Café. I was very strange when I realized that I felt out of place because I was wearing traditional Indian clothing. After walking for a bit, I wanted to go for a swim, but I decided against it because I have to hand wash my own We found a nice café owned by a Frenchman called Nautilus, which had meat, french fries, omelets, and, best of all, chocolate crepes on the menu. It was delicious and had a nice atmosphere. After satiating our cravings for western food, we meandered down the street looking at shops. Mamallapuram is definitely a tourist trap. It was really strange for me to see white people in blue jeans and T-shirts again, I have to admit.
At night we went to see two performances-a folk dance and a classical dance (Barata Natyam) performance. One of the classical dancers was particularly excellent. Her facial expressions were clear, but not overdone. One of her dances showed her as Yashoda playing with, and remonstrating, the mischieveious Krishna. The dance ended when she rocked Krishna to sleep. As she creeped off stage, as an exhauseted mother would creep out of the room of her sleeping child, the audience burst into applause. With a concerned facial expression, she rushed back on stage, signalling for the audience to be quite, and desperately rocking the imaginary cradle. It was very well done. She completely captured the essance of any mother with a mischievious. but well-loved, child.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Linda: Kapalishvara Temple, Chennai, from Dec. 28
Kapalishvara Temple - Chennai
From Christian India, we venture forth to Hindu India, traversing the crowded streets on foot to the Kapalishvara Temple. There has been a temple here since at least the 7th century, but the present temple dates from the 16th century built in the Dravidian style of southern India with its rainbow colored gopura and pavilions in front of the temple. Things are so old here, that already I find myself saying, “Oh, 16th century. That’s new.” To get there, we passed the streaming, packed streets of Chennai. As warned, pedestrians are the last on the pecking order of right-of-way on the streets in India. We carefully crossed streets amongst 4-5 lanes of traffic (mind you, this is on a two lane road – small, two lane road), bus, car, taxi, autobus, bullock, bicycle, then us. Sidewalks, in various states of disrepair, are not for walking, it seems. The people walk on the edges of the street, and we learned to walk on the right side, facing traffic (opposite of the US) to avoid the autobus drivers stopping and asking if we need a ride. Everywhere, tiny little shops selling just about everything. The streets are so dirty, despite the efforts of the people to keep the dirt at bay, that it is hard to see past the dirt and into the shops, noting that they contain everything under the sun. As I learned to look more closely, one saw shops selling basic food next to shops selling toilets, next to shops selling cell phones, next to a shrine, next to a shanty home, on and on and on. Each shop has several inhabitants, all curious, watching us go by. And, because it was so warm, we’d forgotten that it was winter – the sun began to set.
With helpful directions from shopkeepers, we left the everyday world of India and entered the temple district. All of a sudden, there was the same little shops with the same dirt on the outside, but inside! Jewels. Gold. Silver. Saris. Shrines. The gold jewelery shimmered in the windows – each piece worth $1000 US. Such incredible craftsmanship. I would have loved to have gone in to peruse such work, but was too embarrassed. Perhaps on our return. Then, the huge 40 meter gopura towers above the eastern entrance. As we came at night, our camera did not photograph it well – still figuring out the details of the camera. The gopura is quite new, built in 1906 and is plastered with vibrant stucco figures – garish next to the finesse and detail of the statues and figures inside the temple. Here was Hindu India at its most vibrant. The temple is a complex of shrines within a wall. In the back, there is a tank, a very large area of water that must have once been surrounded by gardens and used for cleansing and rituals. When one enters the temple, one goes clockwise around the center shrine which is dedicated to Shiva, one of the three central gods of India, Brahma being the creator or the world, Vishnu the sustainer/protector of the world, and Shiva the destroyer (of evil, of impurities). Of course, all come from one Supreme God, but the Hindu sects associate with one of the three aspects of God as personified by Brahma, Vishnu, or Shiva. This is a very simplistic explanation, as each god has various forms, consorts, wives, symbols, children, and incarnations – each of which have their own rites and rituals. It is very complex … very complete. Of all the religions, Hinduism explains metaphysical cosmology in the most detail.
It is nighttime and the people have come to pray. There are smaller shrines surrounding the large one. Some people are quietly sitting, some pray in front of the various shrines, some prostrate themselves full length while circumambulating the main shrine. A puja ceremony takes place in front a larger shrine, dedicated to Shiva’s consort, Paravati. Bells sound, horns call, drums roll, incense abounds, and in the distance, inside the shrine, one sees a many-tiered lamp moving in front of the statue, asking for the blessings of the deity to answer the prayers of the people gathered. People come, happy and intent on their supplications. We were not sure if we could go to the inner sanctum (we could), there was a long line, it was late, and we were very hungry. Enough for one day. It was a blessing to see our first temple at night, in all its intimacy and vibrancy. Here, we were one of the crowd of Hindus – and no one asked to give us a tour (for payment, of course). I think coming on foot helps be more anonymous.
We ate and slept, and in the dawn of the morning, the call for the Islamic prayer is heard through the window. What a wonderful thing – to awake to a call for people to pray, for that to be the first thing you hear, like the church bells in Europe. This, followed by the musical call of the birds – their own opening prayer and a gift. The World in a Day
next to the bt Indian musicians and dancers - all and I dress in saris., an activity more appealing and enjoy
From Christian India, we venture forth to Hindu India, traversing the crowded streets on foot to the Kapalishvara Temple. There has been a temple here since at least the 7th century, but the present temple dates from the 16th century built in the Dravidian style of southern India with its rainbow colored gopura and pavilions in front of the temple. Things are so old here, that already I find myself saying, “Oh, 16th century. That’s new.” To get there, we passed the streaming, packed streets of Chennai. As warned, pedestrians are the last on the pecking order of right-of-way on the streets in India. We carefully crossed streets amongst 4-5 lanes of traffic (mind you, this is on a two lane road – small, two lane road), bus, car, taxi, autobus, bullock, bicycle, then us. Sidewalks, in various states of disrepair, are not for walking, it seems. The people walk on the edges of the street, and we learned to walk on the right side, facing traffic (opposite of the US) to avoid the autobus drivers stopping and asking if we need a ride. Everywhere, tiny little shops selling just about everything. The streets are so dirty, despite the efforts of the people to keep the dirt at bay, that it is hard to see past the dirt and into the shops, noting that they contain everything under the sun. As I learned to look more closely, one saw shops selling basic food next to shops selling toilets, next to shops selling cell phones, next to a shrine, next to a shanty home, on and on and on. Each shop has several inhabitants, all curious, watching us go by. And, because it was so warm, we’d forgotten that it was winter – the sun began to set.
With helpful directions from shopkeepers, we left the everyday world of India and entered the temple district. All of a sudden, there was the same little shops with the same dirt on the outside, but inside! Jewels. Gold. Silver. Saris. Shrines. The gold jewelery shimmered in the windows – each piece worth $1000 US. Such incredible craftsmanship. I would have loved to have gone in to peruse such work, but was too embarrassed. Perhaps on our return. Then, the huge 40 meter gopura towers above the eastern entrance. As we came at night, our camera did not photograph it well – still figuring out the details of the camera. The gopura is quite new, built in 1906 and is plastered with vibrant stucco figures – garish next to the finesse and detail of the statues and figures inside the temple. Here was Hindu India at its most vibrant. The temple is a complex of shrines within a wall. In the back, there is a tank, a very large area of water that must have once been surrounded by gardens and used for cleansing and rituals. When one enters the temple, one goes clockwise around the center shrine which is dedicated to Shiva, one of the three central gods of India, Brahma being the creator or the world, Vishnu the sustainer/protector of the world, and Shiva the destroyer (of evil, of impurities). Of course, all come from one Supreme God, but the Hindu sects associate with one of the three aspects of God as personified by Brahma, Vishnu, or Shiva. This is a very simplistic explanation, as each god has various forms, consorts, wives, symbols, children, and incarnations – each of which have their own rites and rituals. It is very complex … very complete. Of all the religions, Hinduism explains metaphysical cosmology in the most detail.
It is nighttime and the people have come to pray. There are smaller shrines surrounding the large one. Some people are quietly sitting, some pray in front of the various shrines, some prostrate themselves full length while circumambulating the main shrine. A puja ceremony takes place in front a larger shrine, dedicated to Shiva’s consort, Paravati. Bells sound, horns call, drums roll, incense abounds, and in the distance, inside the shrine, one sees a many-tiered lamp moving in front of the statue, asking for the blessings of the deity to answer the prayers of the people gathered. People come, happy and intent on their supplications. We were not sure if we could go to the inner sanctum (we could), there was a long line, it was late, and we were very hungry. Enough for one day. It was a blessing to see our first temple at night, in all its intimacy and vibrancy. Here, we were one of the crowd of Hindus – and no one asked to give us a tour (for payment, of course). I think coming on foot helps be more anonymous.
We ate and slept, and in the dawn of the morning, the call for the Islamic prayer is heard through the window. What a wonderful thing – to awake to a call for people to pray, for that to be the first thing you hear, like the church bells in Europe. This, followed by the musical call of the birds – their own opening prayer and a gift. The World in a Day
next to the bt Indian musicians and dancers - all and I dress in saris., an activity more appealing and enjoy
Linda: Mamallapuram, January 2,3
Linda: Mamallapuram – January 2
Mamallapuram is a seaside resort town on the Bay of Bengal. It has several very old temples from the 8th century AD as well as a dance and music festival. We are planning to stay here for several days, partly to rest, partly to let Patrick work, partly to see the dance and music festival.
We’ve been here a week, completely immersed in Indian culture and seeing only a few Westerners, which has been rather surprising. Today, we checked into a guesthouse. “Don’t need reservations. Plenty of room. Lots of room.” This particular guesthouse was what is sometimes called a “backpackers”. It was absolutely brimming with people that I thought was left behind 30 years ago. Dreadnaughts, afros, tie die, and that slightly glazed look euphemistically called “laid back”. After a week of Indian dress and Indian clothes, I had quite a culture shock! And some women were scandalously dressed – spaghetti straps and baggy pants! To see how a foreigner sees is a rare glimpse, and it was a strange experience to be somewhat on both sides at the same time. At any rate, we managed for a day as it was our room was clean, but the owners were not hospitable and the room was not comfortable. Bucket baths with hot water carried in from outside is not a first choice. Fortunately, we had better luck the next day. Two lovely rooms – for less that our hippie pad.
The musical concerts here have been mixed as far as quality but fascinating as far as content. There are two hour long concerts each night on an open stage, under the stars. The backdrop, which you will see in the photos (still working on that) is one of the rock cut carvings. It is carved into the side of the hill and depicts Arjuna’s penance. The story is part of one of the foundational epics of India, The Mahabharata. The five sons of King Pandu, through no fault of their own, are robbed of their kingdom by their cousin. They try to avoid warfare through compromise, but in the end war is unavoidable. Arjuna, the middle son, goes to the mountains to fast and pray, asking for divine guidance and grace in order to right what was wrong and restore the kingdom to one of balance and goodness. On the background, one can see an emaciated Arjuna, standing on one leg. Shiva is to his left, granting his wish, and he is surrounded by other gods and goddesses who also come to bear witness to the rightness of his pleas. To Arjuna’s right is a Naga, or cobra god that lives in the water. At one time, a natural spring ran down a fissure, covering the Naga with water, thus immersing the statue in its natural element. The figures are incredibly beautiful.
As mentioned, the concerts are in front of this spectacular set of carvings. There have been folk dances from many places around India, with people in their tribal costumes using tribal instruments and dances. The drum has been a significant factor in the tribal dances, as well as horn and singing. The women dancers from Rajasthan were stunningly beautiful with their wide skirts and veils, covered in mirrors that sparkled in the light. Such a vibrant, happy dance. In the dances of Rajasthan, one can clearly see the origins of both Middle Eastern Dance and gypsy dance. Grace, movement, beauty, simplicity of style, strong rhythms.
Today, Eleanor rested, Patrick worked, Matthew was on his own, and I was left to wander the streets of Mamallapuram and ancient temple sites on my own. Of all the sights we’ve seen, this site has reached my heart the most. Instead of being constructed, most of the temples were carved out of the living rock. It had all the elements of the temples we have seen, but each shrine was more isolated. Each had its own world. There must have been 10-15 temples dotting the top of this hill/mountain, including an enormous tank on one side. The photograph only shows an extremely small portion of the tank or pool. 1000 meters? More? Measuring under the open sky is difficult, but it took many minutes to walk along it. The feel of this place was one of utter simplicity and oneness with nature. Despite it being in a city, the area still had a feeling of wildness and reminded me of Cappadocia, Turkey, that vast area of Christian spiritual communities from 1000 years ago. There were steps, cut into the stone, leading onto a rocky perch. One can easily imagine a sage of old, sitting on this perch for decades, content in their inner thought and in the outward beauty. There were a variety of shrines in the area, all unique, and most with spectacular carvings of the various deities on the walls and backs. Even the floors had some simple geometric sculptures. In several places, the carvings were missing. One could still see their outline on the walls, but the statues themselves are probably gracing a museum, far from their home. They must have been truly exceptional. One can see it from what remains, and from the knowledge that the people removing them probably took the best examples.
Besides wandering ancient temples with their air of … I was going to say quiet contemplativeness, but it wasn’t quiet. There was something very vigorous in the lay of the land. It was spread out and active rather than closed in and passive. Both are possibilities.
Mamallapuram is a shopper’s paradise. It is overpriced, but it has good examples of things from all over India. This area is especially know for its stone carvers. Lining the back streets, one can see stone carvers, using electrics saws, it is true, but also the chisel and sanding that one would expect. And, the quality of what they are producing is breathtaking. It is a pleasure to see the old crafts continue. The shopkeepers do keep up a steady invitation to browse, but are not particularly pushy. Striking up a conversation is easy and always interesting. I have yet to explore the beach. Maybe I will, maybe not.
PS: Because of the foreign tourism, restaurants are top notch and I’ve actually let my food guard down a notch and ate fresh fish. And French fries! Back to idly, utthapam, dosai, and South Indian thalli – all of which I like - soon enough. One does have to check the water bottles, though. Several had caps that were already opened – something I had not run across yet. Proprietors will refill water bottles with tap water and sell them to the unwary. Again, my thanks for the information on that particular problem!
Mamallapuram is a seaside resort town on the Bay of Bengal. It has several very old temples from the 8th century AD as well as a dance and music festival. We are planning to stay here for several days, partly to rest, partly to let Patrick work, partly to see the dance and music festival.
We’ve been here a week, completely immersed in Indian culture and seeing only a few Westerners, which has been rather surprising. Today, we checked into a guesthouse. “Don’t need reservations. Plenty of room. Lots of room.” This particular guesthouse was what is sometimes called a “backpackers”. It was absolutely brimming with people that I thought was left behind 30 years ago. Dreadnaughts, afros, tie die, and that slightly glazed look euphemistically called “laid back”. After a week of Indian dress and Indian clothes, I had quite a culture shock! And some women were scandalously dressed – spaghetti straps and baggy pants! To see how a foreigner sees is a rare glimpse, and it was a strange experience to be somewhat on both sides at the same time. At any rate, we managed for a day as it was our room was clean, but the owners were not hospitable and the room was not comfortable. Bucket baths with hot water carried in from outside is not a first choice. Fortunately, we had better luck the next day. Two lovely rooms – for less that our hippie pad.
The musical concerts here have been mixed as far as quality but fascinating as far as content. There are two hour long concerts each night on an open stage, under the stars. The backdrop, which you will see in the photos (still working on that) is one of the rock cut carvings. It is carved into the side of the hill and depicts Arjuna’s penance. The story is part of one of the foundational epics of India, The Mahabharata. The five sons of King Pandu, through no fault of their own, are robbed of their kingdom by their cousin. They try to avoid warfare through compromise, but in the end war is unavoidable. Arjuna, the middle son, goes to the mountains to fast and pray, asking for divine guidance and grace in order to right what was wrong and restore the kingdom to one of balance and goodness. On the background, one can see an emaciated Arjuna, standing on one leg. Shiva is to his left, granting his wish, and he is surrounded by other gods and goddesses who also come to bear witness to the rightness of his pleas. To Arjuna’s right is a Naga, or cobra god that lives in the water. At one time, a natural spring ran down a fissure, covering the Naga with water, thus immersing the statue in its natural element. The figures are incredibly beautiful.
As mentioned, the concerts are in front of this spectacular set of carvings. There have been folk dances from many places around India, with people in their tribal costumes using tribal instruments and dances. The drum has been a significant factor in the tribal dances, as well as horn and singing. The women dancers from Rajasthan were stunningly beautiful with their wide skirts and veils, covered in mirrors that sparkled in the light. Such a vibrant, happy dance. In the dances of Rajasthan, one can clearly see the origins of both Middle Eastern Dance and gypsy dance. Grace, movement, beauty, simplicity of style, strong rhythms.
Today, Eleanor rested, Patrick worked, Matthew was on his own, and I was left to wander the streets of Mamallapuram and ancient temple sites on my own. Of all the sights we’ve seen, this site has reached my heart the most. Instead of being constructed, most of the temples were carved out of the living rock. It had all the elements of the temples we have seen, but each shrine was more isolated. Each had its own world. There must have been 10-15 temples dotting the top of this hill/mountain, including an enormous tank on one side. The photograph only shows an extremely small portion of the tank or pool. 1000 meters? More? Measuring under the open sky is difficult, but it took many minutes to walk along it. The feel of this place was one of utter simplicity and oneness with nature. Despite it being in a city, the area still had a feeling of wildness and reminded me of Cappadocia, Turkey, that vast area of Christian spiritual communities from 1000 years ago. There were steps, cut into the stone, leading onto a rocky perch. One can easily imagine a sage of old, sitting on this perch for decades, content in their inner thought and in the outward beauty. There were a variety of shrines in the area, all unique, and most with spectacular carvings of the various deities on the walls and backs. Even the floors had some simple geometric sculptures. In several places, the carvings were missing. One could still see their outline on the walls, but the statues themselves are probably gracing a museum, far from their home. They must have been truly exceptional. One can see it from what remains, and from the knowledge that the people removing them probably took the best examples.
Besides wandering ancient temples with their air of … I was going to say quiet contemplativeness, but it wasn’t quiet. There was something very vigorous in the lay of the land. It was spread out and active rather than closed in and passive. Both are possibilities.
Mamallapuram is a shopper’s paradise. It is overpriced, but it has good examples of things from all over India. This area is especially know for its stone carvers. Lining the back streets, one can see stone carvers, using electrics saws, it is true, but also the chisel and sanding that one would expect. And, the quality of what they are producing is breathtaking. It is a pleasure to see the old crafts continue. The shopkeepers do keep up a steady invitation to browse, but are not particularly pushy. Striking up a conversation is easy and always interesting. I have yet to explore the beach. Maybe I will, maybe not.
PS: Because of the foreign tourism, restaurants are top notch and I’ve actually let my food guard down a notch and ate fresh fish. And French fries! Back to idly, utthapam, dosai, and South Indian thalli – all of which I like - soon enough. One does have to check the water bottles, though. Several had caps that were already opened – something I had not run across yet. Proprietors will refill water bottles with tap water and sell them to the unwary. Again, my thanks for the information on that particular problem!
Friday, January 2, 2009
MATTHEW
First attempt at posting unaided. January 2 2009. We just shifted hotels - just to a more congenial environment. This place, Mahabalipuram, is a hippie hangout and a tourist trap. After a whole week of eating Indian vegetarian food it was interesting to get some Fish and Chips (French Fries for those of you in the US.) It is great to be able to watch cricket on TV also. So far Linda has done a great job of posting and analyzing our trip. That is probably how things will continue with me chipping in temps en temps.
I found singing American Indian Chants quietly to my self was a powerrful defence against the noise, dirt and chaos of the city streets - it was a reassuring family type feeling.
The taxi ride from Kanchipuram to Mamallapuram was interesting. The driver was the best - nothing passed us and he rarly stopped blowing his horn but I realized that there were several diffent meanings in the horn rhthyms. But he was also very pious so that everytime we went by a temple or some other significant religious phenomenon he would tke his hands from the wheel, clasp them together and bow. At one point he put coin on the dash. A few moments later he stopped at a little temple, leaped from the car, put the coin in the cup of a devotee woman brifly prayed asdescribed above and was back in the car and driving within 30 seconds. He hardly spoke for the whole journey but did let us know that it being New Years Day many of the motorcycle drivers were drinking alcohol - no exactly reassuring but his prayers more that compensated. well I am going to try to get this posted and admire my handiwork. We are all very well and I in particular am looking forward to Ramana's place - Arunachala. Until soon.
I found singing American Indian Chants quietly to my self was a powerrful defence against the noise, dirt and chaos of the city streets - it was a reassuring family type feeling.
The taxi ride from Kanchipuram to Mamallapuram was interesting. The driver was the best - nothing passed us and he rarly stopped blowing his horn but I realized that there were several diffent meanings in the horn rhthyms. But he was also very pious so that everytime we went by a temple or some other significant religious phenomenon he would tke his hands from the wheel, clasp them together and bow. At one point he put coin on the dash. A few moments later he stopped at a little temple, leaped from the car, put the coin in the cup of a devotee woman brifly prayed asdescribed above and was back in the car and driving within 30 seconds. He hardly spoke for the whole journey but did let us know that it being New Years Day many of the motorcycle drivers were drinking alcohol - no exactly reassuring but his prayers more that compensated. well I am going to try to get this posted and admire my handiwork. We are all very well and I in particular am looking forward to Ramana's place - Arunachala. Until soon.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
12-31-08
That’s it, I’m moving to India. Today was a rest day and, after a slow morning, Mom, Patrick, and I headed for the sari shops. Patrick, it turns out, has excellent taste in Saris. We took our first auto-rickshaw, which was very bumpy – so bumpy in fact that I had a touch of asthma. The streets of Kanchi are quite different from those of Chennai. They are generally smaller. There are many more animals. In addition to dogs and cats, there are also numerous cows, goats, and even the odd horse-drawn cart. The sides of the roads are covered in posters, advertising so many various shops and encouraging the purchase of so many various items that it is difficult to know where to focus. I was very glad the rickshaw diver knew where he was going, because I would never have picked the sign of our desired silk shop out of the hundreds in view.
Buying a silk sari is an experience that no one should forego. We must have viewed well over a hundred saris, of different quality, color, price, pattern, and material – all had silk, but some were mixtures of silk and some other type of material; the amount of silk decided the price. They began by asking what price-range we were looking at, to which we replied that 1500-2500 rupees (~$30-50) would be best. They acknowledged this, but insisted on beginning by presenting us with their masterpiece. It was a deep blue, pure silk sari, and it was stunning. The tail, the last part of the sari which drapes over the shoulder and is in clear view, depicted each of the 108 poses of Shiva dancing Barata Natyam. Once we were truly ready to begin, they asked which color I would like to look at; I asked for green. They then paraded a series of saris in front of me, light green, dark green, green with a red border, orange saris with a green trim, saris with intricate embroidery, saris that changed color in the light. We selected a few, as in about fifteen, for the second round.
Sometime in the middle of our sari viewing session, we were joined by the man who weaves the saris. Tea and coffee was ordered and we talked for at least 45 minutes. He was very interesting – intelligent, knowledgeable, and humble, but eager to pass on what he knew to those who were interested, namely us. We discussed many thing – the Ramayana, dharma, the insignificance of any individual, the role of the Brahmin in a traditional Hindu society, his education at Amherst, the usefulness and lack thereof of an American degree in Business Management in India, the structure of family life when he was a child and ho it has changed, etc. He pointed out that dharma, any good or correct action, changes through time. He provided an example in marriage. In the Ramayana, King Dasharatha, Rama’s father, had over 5,000 wives. Rama, the incarnation of the god Vishnu, had only one wife, demonstrating that the dharma of marriage in his time was to unite one man with one woman. However, in the Mahabharatha, things have changed. The Pandavas, the five virtuous sons of Pandu, are all married to the same woman, Draupadi while Krishna, another incarnation of Vishnu, is the husband of quite a number of women. The sari-weaver, whose name I never discovered, explained that Krishna’s time was a time of war. There had been wars before his life, there were wars during his life, and there were wars after he passed on. His approval of the Pandavas marriage and his own actions demonstrate that dharma in his time accepted any number of men and women in a marriage.
Because dharma is ever-changing, the role of a Brahmin was to decide what dharma is in a given situation. They would roam from village to village, arriving in the morning, eating, and then passing judgment on whoever wanted to present their dilemmas. No Brahmin would stay in one place because they could then become influenced.
We also discussed his life as a child. His grandfather, the oldest male in the house, was apparently an absolute dictator-his word went, no matter what. He grew up in a house with 17 children and 8 adults, and no one had any personal space. To even want personal space was considered a sin. There was the radio room, the telephone room, the kitchen, the birthing room, the room where women went during that time of the month, etc., but there was not a single bedroom because a bedroom is a place for someone to go to be alone. He said that this structure of family life was common throughout India, but that it is virtually non-existent now. He did not, however, pass judgment on whether he thought this to be a good thing or not, although he did say that if he were a grandfather, he would be more loving and interact with his grandchildren more than his own grandfather.
After much more painful decision making, we eventually picked out six lovely saris, three more than we had intended to buy. I got one that is green and turquoise, one that is orange and green, and another that is dark blue and green. The first two were about 2500 Rs and the third was 800. Mom and I then got measured for sari tops from the same materials as our saris, to be delivered tomorrow morning. I can’t wait. I will have to try on at least one sari tomorrow before we depart for Mamalapuram (a.k.a. Mahabalipuram), which Dad may not be overly enthusiastic about, but I think he will survive. We were then lured into the other room, after having just made a several thousand rupee purchase, to look at ready-made skirts, tunics, etc. I noticed one skirt that was particularly beautiful and pointed it out to Mom, after which I was encouraged to try it on for size. I was quite surprised when a girl, probably a few years younger than me, followed me into the changing room and strated undressing me! I suppose it is considered a great honor to have someone undress you, as though they were your servent, but I found it quite disconcerting...
Until Later,
एलानोर - Eleanor
Buying a silk sari is an experience that no one should forego. We must have viewed well over a hundred saris, of different quality, color, price, pattern, and material – all had silk, but some were mixtures of silk and some other type of material; the amount of silk decided the price. They began by asking what price-range we were looking at, to which we replied that 1500-2500 rupees (~$30-50) would be best. They acknowledged this, but insisted on beginning by presenting us with their masterpiece. It was a deep blue, pure silk sari, and it was stunning. The tail, the last part of the sari which drapes over the shoulder and is in clear view, depicted each of the 108 poses of Shiva dancing Barata Natyam. Once we were truly ready to begin, they asked which color I would like to look at; I asked for green. They then paraded a series of saris in front of me, light green, dark green, green with a red border, orange saris with a green trim, saris with intricate embroidery, saris that changed color in the light. We selected a few, as in about fifteen, for the second round.
Sometime in the middle of our sari viewing session, we were joined by the man who weaves the saris. Tea and coffee was ordered and we talked for at least 45 minutes. He was very interesting – intelligent, knowledgeable, and humble, but eager to pass on what he knew to those who were interested, namely us. We discussed many thing – the Ramayana, dharma, the insignificance of any individual, the role of the Brahmin in a traditional Hindu society, his education at Amherst, the usefulness and lack thereof of an American degree in Business Management in India, the structure of family life when he was a child and ho it has changed, etc. He pointed out that dharma, any good or correct action, changes through time. He provided an example in marriage. In the Ramayana, King Dasharatha, Rama’s father, had over 5,000 wives. Rama, the incarnation of the god Vishnu, had only one wife, demonstrating that the dharma of marriage in his time was to unite one man with one woman. However, in the Mahabharatha, things have changed. The Pandavas, the five virtuous sons of Pandu, are all married to the same woman, Draupadi while Krishna, another incarnation of Vishnu, is the husband of quite a number of women. The sari-weaver, whose name I never discovered, explained that Krishna’s time was a time of war. There had been wars before his life, there were wars during his life, and there were wars after he passed on. His approval of the Pandavas marriage and his own actions demonstrate that dharma in his time accepted any number of men and women in a marriage.
Because dharma is ever-changing, the role of a Brahmin was to decide what dharma is in a given situation. They would roam from village to village, arriving in the morning, eating, and then passing judgment on whoever wanted to present their dilemmas. No Brahmin would stay in one place because they could then become influenced.
We also discussed his life as a child. His grandfather, the oldest male in the house, was apparently an absolute dictator-his word went, no matter what. He grew up in a house with 17 children and 8 adults, and no one had any personal space. To even want personal space was considered a sin. There was the radio room, the telephone room, the kitchen, the birthing room, the room where women went during that time of the month, etc., but there was not a single bedroom because a bedroom is a place for someone to go to be alone. He said that this structure of family life was common throughout India, but that it is virtually non-existent now. He did not, however, pass judgment on whether he thought this to be a good thing or not, although he did say that if he were a grandfather, he would be more loving and interact with his grandchildren more than his own grandfather.
After much more painful decision making, we eventually picked out six lovely saris, three more than we had intended to buy. I got one that is green and turquoise, one that is orange and green, and another that is dark blue and green. The first two were about 2500 Rs and the third was 800. Mom and I then got measured for sari tops from the same materials as our saris, to be delivered tomorrow morning. I can’t wait. I will have to try on at least one sari tomorrow before we depart for Mamalapuram (a.k.a. Mahabalipuram), which Dad may not be overly enthusiastic about, but I think he will survive. We were then lured into the other room, after having just made a several thousand rupee purchase, to look at ready-made skirts, tunics, etc. I noticed one skirt that was particularly beautiful and pointed it out to Mom, after which I was encouraged to try it on for size. I was quite surprised when a girl, probably a few years younger than me, followed me into the changing room and strated undressing me! I suppose it is considered a great honor to have someone undress you, as though they were your servent, but I found it quite disconcerting...
Until Later,
एलानोर - Eleanor
Linda: Kanchipuram - The Temple City
Kancipurum – The Temple City
Unfortunately, we had not eaten before going to see the Jagadguru, thinking we’d be there for an hour or two at the most and would then go back to the hotel. Instead, we were in a taxi going on a tour of the various temples of Kanchi! We were not in the best state to appreciate the temples, I must admit. We were tired, thirsty, hungry, and … having difficulty communicating. We were also not quite psychologically prepared for the barrage of possibilities at the temples. Coming with a guide also meant being introduced as a visitor, which opened the door to another tour guide. – something which I have always avoided like the plague. Instead of being able to meander through a museum or temple, one is taken around, talked to, and shuffled quickly from one place to the next. I suspect this is what most tourists want, but I am more of a “savorer” of places rather than the “quick bite”, preferring to spend hours in one area or it is too much, too fast. So, it was the whirlwind tour of temples, each with a guide who wanted payment. We did have a blessing from one of the priests for our family, which was quite beautiful (donation required afterwards). If we were not so overwhelmed, so rushed, so bombarded by different people wanting to help (for a fee), and so hungry I’m sure we would have managed better. As it was, we endured. . I must learn to set my own pace and not be “guided”. Otherwise, I will not see India and I will not be able to fully appreciate her people and ways.
In retrospect, we met some pious and interesting people at the various temples. There was a devotee of Shankara at a museum who was particularly helpful and took great delight in sharing the stories of Shankara, Rama, Krishna, other deities. His presence of duty, acceptance, and happiness was a joy and an inspiration. And the sight of the frail body of Narayana, with his joy in the moment and his attitude of service and helpfulness. Then, the powerful presence of Sharma – he is someone with whom one would wish to spend a long time.
Today – writing and resting … and maybe, if I’m brave, some sari shopping.
The sari shop – which Eleanor has detailed! What a wonderful, human, enterprising, warm, and satisfying experience for all. Everyone was happy. The shopkeeper, who educated as well as entertained us. The help who enjoyed both our interaction with them and with each other. The young women who were very impressed and interested in Patrick, a young man buying a sari for a girlfriend. This was indeed interesting. There was never just looking and bargaining. After showing us a few quality showpieces and determining the price we wanted to pay, five people scurried back and forth displaying a glittering array of sari upon sari. Then, cups of tea, more saris, then an animated and interesting conversation with the shopkeeper, followed by more saris. All were comfortable, all were happy. Then, the final choices, fabric draped over Eleanor and, inevitably, buying more than we planned. Followed by the promise of more tea, more things to look at - and yet, no pressure either. Just a simple joy in showing what they had and a simple acceptance that we were not interested. Then, all is done, everyone prepares the shop for the evening while we visit once more with the proprietor and … enjoy the last cup of tea/coffee. We came back to the hotel very happy and animated. What a joyful way to do business – and this is from someone who will avoid help at a store!
So, success in the shopping department and in negotiating prices with the auto rickshaw drivers! High marks for adjusting to India today.
Unfortunately, we had not eaten before going to see the Jagadguru, thinking we’d be there for an hour or two at the most and would then go back to the hotel. Instead, we were in a taxi going on a tour of the various temples of Kanchi! We were not in the best state to appreciate the temples, I must admit. We were tired, thirsty, hungry, and … having difficulty communicating. We were also not quite psychologically prepared for the barrage of possibilities at the temples. Coming with a guide also meant being introduced as a visitor, which opened the door to another tour guide. – something which I have always avoided like the plague. Instead of being able to meander through a museum or temple, one is taken around, talked to, and shuffled quickly from one place to the next. I suspect this is what most tourists want, but I am more of a “savorer” of places rather than the “quick bite”, preferring to spend hours in one area or it is too much, too fast. So, it was the whirlwind tour of temples, each with a guide who wanted payment. We did have a blessing from one of the priests for our family, which was quite beautiful (donation required afterwards). If we were not so overwhelmed, so rushed, so bombarded by different people wanting to help (for a fee), and so hungry I’m sure we would have managed better. As it was, we endured. . I must learn to set my own pace and not be “guided”. Otherwise, I will not see India and I will not be able to fully appreciate her people and ways.
In retrospect, we met some pious and interesting people at the various temples. There was a devotee of Shankara at a museum who was particularly helpful and took great delight in sharing the stories of Shankara, Rama, Krishna, other deities. His presence of duty, acceptance, and happiness was a joy and an inspiration. And the sight of the frail body of Narayana, with his joy in the moment and his attitude of service and helpfulness. Then, the powerful presence of Sharma – he is someone with whom one would wish to spend a long time.
Today – writing and resting … and maybe, if I’m brave, some sari shopping.
The sari shop – which Eleanor has detailed! What a wonderful, human, enterprising, warm, and satisfying experience for all. Everyone was happy. The shopkeeper, who educated as well as entertained us. The help who enjoyed both our interaction with them and with each other. The young women who were very impressed and interested in Patrick, a young man buying a sari for a girlfriend. This was indeed interesting. There was never just looking and bargaining. After showing us a few quality showpieces and determining the price we wanted to pay, five people scurried back and forth displaying a glittering array of sari upon sari. Then, cups of tea, more saris, then an animated and interesting conversation with the shopkeeper, followed by more saris. All were comfortable, all were happy. Then, the final choices, fabric draped over Eleanor and, inevitably, buying more than we planned. Followed by the promise of more tea, more things to look at - and yet, no pressure either. Just a simple joy in showing what they had and a simple acceptance that we were not interested. Then, all is done, everyone prepares the shop for the evening while we visit once more with the proprietor and … enjoy the last cup of tea/coffee. We came back to the hotel very happy and animated. What a joyful way to do business – and this is from someone who will avoid help at a store!
So, success in the shopping department and in negotiating prices with the auto rickshaw drivers! High marks for adjusting to India today.
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