Mamallapuram, India – My last moments in this bewildering and incredible country. In a day’s time, I fly to Singapore. Now for some review. Over six months ago I arrived from Minneapolis to the heat, hassle, and chaos of New Delhi. I left almost immediately for Ladakh in the far North of India (Jammu & Kashmir), with its thin cool air, vast mountain expanses, and Tibetan Buddhist culture. I spent the first few months wandering around the North of India: To the hashish soaked hills of Manali. To Dharamsala, the home of the Dalai Lama’s Tibetan government in exile, where I took a 10-day introductory course on Tibetan Buddhism. Then to the headwaters of the Ganges in Rishikesh. To the Taj Mahal in Agra. To the ancient and holy Hindu cities of Haridwar and Varanasi. Then up into the magical country of Nepal for trekking in the Himalayas, a 10-day vipassana meditation course, and hanging out in Kathmandu. A mad bus trip brought me back to India, to Bodhgaya in the poor and desolate state of Bihar, where I sat under the bodhi tree like the Buddha. From there I went to Jharkhand, and visited the little village of Benegaria, and the mission house in which my mother was born. On to Calcutta, home of barefoot rickshaw wallahs, cricket in the park, and mother Theresa. Then two nights straight on a train across the entire country to get to Igatpuri, near Bombay, for another 10 day meditation course.

Moving from cold, to hot, to sweltering, I left Igatpuri and spent a couple days exploring the incredible Buddhist, Jain, and Hindu caves at Ellora and Ajanta in Maharashtra. Then to the palm tree-lined beaches of Portuguese/Christian Goa- camping out in a hut on a lagoon, playing guitar, splashing around in the Arabian Sea, sipping fresh lime soda. From Goa, I went to Mysore, with its palaces and busy central market. Then to the cool hill station of Ooty. On to sticky Kerala, eating fresh grilled prawns beside the Chinese fishing nets in Kochi, attending performances of traditional Malayalam dance and Carnatic music. Then a couple days exploring the expansive Keralan backwaters by ferry. Then to the quaint fishing village and pilgrim destination of Kanyakumari, at the very bottom of India, where the Arabian Sea, Indian Ocean, and Bay of Bengal converge. From Kanyakumari, I wandered north through various villages and cities in Tamil Nadu, each dominated by elaborately carved Hindu temples, alive with the bustle of pujas, processions, and prayers (and the occasional elephant). Then on to the French quarters of Pondicherry, where I finally found a decent cup of coffee (although I have actually acquired a taste for the bitter and ubiquitous Nescafe). A day’s visit to the sprawling international new-age utopian community of Auroville. And finally to the stone carving center of Mamallapuram, with its ancient shore temple jutting out from the beach. An early bus tomorrow morning takes me to the airport in Chennai. I’ll be in Singapore by the evening. Continue reading →

Kochi – India is giddy with optimism. Not merely optimism, it’s more like assurance. India is on the verge of becoming a global superpower and there is nothing to stand in the way (except maybe for China.) Indians are feeling jubilant about development and international success, and the celebration has already begun. There is a tremendous sense of national pride. Striking up a casual conversation with an Indian, it will be only moments before you are asked “How do you find India?” Fully expecting you to tell them that India is the best country you have ever had the privilege of visiting, if you hesitate, they’ll offer up that opinion for you, face beaming. This kind of good-natured unselfconscious confidence and pride isn’t at all challenging, belligerent, or annoying; it’s refreshing, infectious. It’s the polar opposite of the kind of feeling you have as a traveler when you tell someone that you are from the USA.

This assurance of progress and better times ahead as a nation seems to transcend the myriad internal conflicts of regional, racial, and religious identity and strained competition for resources that such compressed diversity in such large numbers is bound to bring. India has its problems, sure, but what else is new? They’ve been living with violence, poverty, domination by this empire or that regime, wars, famines, and moral and natural evils of all kinds since long before anyone can remember.

I was chatting with a shrimp exporter from Bangalore as we sat in a dingy open-air rooftop cafe above the fray of the Kolkata streets. He said that he doesn’t meet many traveling Americans anymore, not since 9/11. He and his buddy, a dealer in ayurvedic natural plant extracts, were drinking whiskey and water, smoking cigarettes, and eating plates of meat– strictly taboo for a huge number of Hindus and all women, and the sure sign of a modern Indian businessman. “The thing with you Americans,” he said, “is that you never think it will happen to you, in your own home. Then you find out one day that you are not invulnerable and you freak out. Terrorism is just a part of life for Indians. We’re used to it.” Case in point: the train bombing only a couple weeks ago in which dozens of innocent people were burned to cinders when their train exploded on the way from Delhi to Pakistan. There was an official fuss, the papers stayed focused on the story for a couple days, but most Indians didn’t even blink an eye. I’m sure the next train that ran the same line was just as full as any other day. Continue reading →