The age of rats

Somewhere around 12/7 on the way to Bikaner....

We get up at 8:30 AM to drive over 300 kilometers to Bikaner. Mr. Singh has made me a Punjab mix tape. Each song title takes up about 3 lines. Here's a couple of ideas as to what the songs are like. If you visit this site in the future, I hope to put some links to the music here.

Track 1: Sajem Meray Rangalay Jai Totay Mehlan
Description: A tabla E flat minor trance rhythm. It gives off a surreal, mystical feeling as it hits you most in the early morning hours.

Track 2: Kahan Gahay Baba Boleteytey
Description: A B flat minor down tempo song, with more melodic singing.

There are more songs like this, but you get the idea. The music matches the scenery. Deep guttural voices match the looks of desperation many of the surrounding townspeople have on their faces. Simply put, they are just happy to be alive. They don't need soap dispensers or bagel slicers. Give them a few pieces of wood and some chana masala and they are happy.

I also receive a great mix tape of a Pakistani Classical Musician named Hans Raj Hans. The album Mr. Singh gives to me is called Aaja Ve Mahdi. It is some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard. If you have iTunes, you can look him up at this address:
http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewAlbum?id=110951353&s=143441

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Bikaner and the Rats

So there's one major reason one goes to Bikaner and that is to see the Rat temple. The Rat temple is beholden as one of the most sacred temples in all of India. When we reach there, we see gray rats scurrying along the exposed stone temple floor. Having no shoes on adds another degree of adventure as we try and sidestep the rat dung. And yet, it is considered good luck to have these rats walk over your foot. It's especially good luck to see the big white rat. For the moment, I shake my head and wonder why.

For every strange Indian tradition, there is even a stranger mythical story. This one is no different, so here goes.

Travelling Sherman's Summary of Why the Rat Temple is Such a Big Deal

• It all starts with a real person named Karni Mata (Mamma Karni). She is believed to be an incarnation of the Durga God (see Oh My God).
• Karni had mad superpowers. Karni supposedly could bring people back from the dead. She could turn the water pure, she could help kings win battles, and she can feed people for days based on dirt and grass. Basically, Jesus, Allah, and Moses gave no competition to Mamma Karni.
• So Karni Mata had one son and one sister. The sister wants to take the son to a holy temple down the road to spice things up.
• The Karni Mata says o.k. to her sister, but warns not to dip the son into their holy tank they have over there. They have some disclaimer stating that dipping can be harmful to your health including death.
• The sister takes the son, ignores the orders and dips the son into the holy tank. The son drowns. The sister is crying.
• The sister goes back to Karni Mata to bring the son back to life since she heard Karni has superpowers. Karni says sorry, no way. The sister cries some more.
• Karni gives a compromise. She says to her sister there is a way to bring the son back. The sister asks how, to which Karni replies 'the only way my son will come back is as a rat'.
• So Karni does her magic and her son comes back as the one white rat at the Rat temple.
• It is believed by the locals that when elders die, they also come back as rats. So essentially, you can see great-gramma gertrude running around the rat temple once a week. The locals claim this the '8th wonder' of the world. I just wonder who does the janitor duty.

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The last days of India....12/8 - 12/10

To be honest, the last days of India reminded me of a hangover. You rub your eyes, you collect your belongings, and you make arrangements to go back home. We arrive in Delhi on 12/9 into a hotel that the 'company' provided for us. All I have to say is that these hotel workers were so awful, it becomes comical. For example, a hotel worker asks us if we would like a cup of tea while were waiting for our room to be ready. After we agree, the worker comes with the tea and charges us $3 US. Most people in India give tea out to their enemies.

After going to a hotel of our choosing, we have a somewhat relaxing day in India, as possible as that may be. We go to Cannaught Place - the upscale section of Delhi to get some new clothes.

Mr. Singh takes us to the Delhi airport on our last morning - 12/10. It has now been almost a month in India. I can honestly say that India is the toughest country that I have traveled in during my short life. The laws do not make sense, the touts seem to be at every turn and have one hand in your wallet and one mouth in your ear. But if you can get past it, you realize that India is mysteriously beautiful. I try to remember the Indians like Mr. Singh: Kind, honest and warm. We leave India emotionally drained. We will fly to Thailand for a recovery session yet to be determined. But that is another blog for another time. The further the India trip becomes a memory, the stronger the memory lasts. It has been an unforgettable trip that has made me a better person.

Keep travelling, wherever you are.

-Travelling Sherman

Jaisalmer and Khudi

12/4 - Jaisalmer

We pull into the Golden Sand City of Jaisalmer in the late afternoon. The rain has started to come down ever so steadily. We check into a hotel on the outskirts that reminds me of the Bates Hotel. Everything is in working order, but it seems like no fixtures have been replaced in the last fifty years. After taking an early dinner at a 'lonely planet recommended' establishment, we go straight to bed - praying that the bedbugs stay away for the evening.

12/5

So Mr. Singh has set up a tour from the 'company' today. The gentleman that will be giving the tour has a moustache that is an inch too big on either side. He joins us in the car as he sits in the front. After Mr. Singh drives us to the starting point - The Jaisalamer Fort - he drops us off for the morning tour with our 'company friend'.

For a lack of memorization skills, we can call this tour guide 'company friend', even though we have no idea if this tour guide works for the company and we know for sure that he's not our friend. The company friend guides us along through this fort - the oldest living fort as 4,000 Indians still live inside.

The company friend tells us that of the 4000 people, half are the Brahman (priest) class while the other half are the Rajput (warrior) class. The company friend is full of pride when he tells us that he is Brahman. He claims the he eats only vegetables and that he is clean, right before he hacks a big spitball into the ground.

Red handprints can be seen all throughout the fort. We are told the story....

• The men of the family would go out to battle. Many of them would die and never come back.
• The first thing the victors of an opposing army would do after slaying their dead is to come for the women. The women of the fallen sacrificed themselves in order to not allow this to happen.
• The women would cut their hands and make red handprints upon the door, and then bury themselves in a funeral pyre.
• When future nobility came to rule Jaisalamer, they began to see these handprints as good luck.

The rest of the fort tour by our company friend is fairly good. He rattles off other pointless facts that have escaped my brain once again. We see some more Jain temples, which by far humble the much dirtier Shiva temples within the fort.

We are finally taken to a Haveli. Havelis were inspired by the Mewari clans of the 19th century, as they had an Islamic architectural feel. The Patwa Haveli is one example. This Haveli, the one we are shown, was split later in the 19th century by 5 brothers who ran a merchant house selling ivory, silver and the like. The problem is that merchants, like many businessmen, were not satisfied with making some money. These merchants headed for the desert plains of the Pakistani border for the silk trade as Indira Ghandi takes it over in the 20th century. From this day forward the Patwa Haveli has been preserved as a national landmark.

The rest of the Jaisalmer tour turns lackluster, as we get shown various other emporiums where people try to guilt us into buying cash meres, shawls and other textiles. Between my years of training with Jewish guilt as well as my recent training with Indian con-artists, Lisa and I grow both bored and tired of the charade. We meet back with Mr. Singh and bid our 'company friend' farewell. May this strange man figure out his way in this more incredibly strange country.

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Khudi

Mr. Singh is back in the driver's seat as we head down the dusty road to Khudi, about 1 hour south of Jaisalmer. Khudi is famous for its camels and camel rides, as this becomes the program for the day.

At about 30 miles from Pakistan, it begins to feel like the Arabian Peninsula. Desert sand dunes as far as the eye can see along with sporadic cacti and other desert flowers shape the horizon. Today, we are a small group of three: myself, Lisa and a younger British woman.

I realize why I will never enter an equestrian tournament. Riding horses, camels and ponies are more suited for the female body.

Lisa and I begin to realize that our camels have taken on our personalities. Her camel is moody and doesn't want to walk anywhere in the dry heat, my camel is a little spastic and poops every 15 minutes.

We finally begin to get the hang of riding a camel. We increase the speed as we make our way from various villages to what we call a sunset point. Later we find out that many camel rides all converge on this point, making it the perfect hippie gathering.

My camel is named Disco. He is short, but feisty. He gets mad is the teenage guides use him for a gym vault. I would not feel bad at all if Disco took a big poop on our guide at this moment.

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The dinner is good that night. Lisa turns to bed early inside the non-heated bungalow hut. Mr. Singh then proceeds to beat me multiple times in Gin-Rummy. I'm going to get that card shark when he least expects it.

The bungalow huts prove to be worse than a night of camping in Nepal. It gets into the 30's Fahrenheit. Lisa and I have sent our sleeping bags home. The covers, being thin and narrow cover the most important organs of my body. The toilets are overflowed. I'm itching for morning.

But then, this is what India is all about - the highs and lows. I must admit, I'm in one of the most remote places on earth. I'll shiver a bit tonight for the experiences over the last week. I put on my beanie cap - my protective cap against the evil cold. I start to slumber. Good night for now.

Travelling Sherman

Hippies, lakes, and the blues

11/30 Pushkar

Mr. Singh takes us to Pushkar - the land of Brahman and the hippies. We are in desert country. The quick story is that Brahman was so upset that he lost Savrati (see Oh My God) that he started crying. Brahmans tears fell to the ground and produced three lakes. Today, it is customary to go to Pushkar and throw some pink lotus flower petals into these lakes.

There are so many friends around here that welcome us to Pushkar and try to Pawn their lotus flowers for some quick rupees. To be honest, I can't shed a tear right now. I'm sorry, but Brahman is going to have to wait another day.

Another quote I hate is the "Where you from?" quote. If they were really nice people, they wouldn't come up and barge into the middle of my conversation. Today, my answer to this question to the upcoming vagabond is "Very far, far away." The vagabond leaves only to try his luck on another tourist.

There is a great hike that Lisa and our Swedish friends - Johanna and Rangard - follow. Savarti, Brahmans first wife got all upset about the wedding (see Oh, My God) and decided to move up into the hills. It's only a 30 minute walk, but you can see for miles in any direction.

The all you can eat Indian buffet is a bad idea, especially when nobody else is around. Lisa and I survive with some mild indigestion.

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12/1 - Udaipur

We get back in the car with Mr. Singh, as God's compact vehicle takes us 6 hours south to Udaipur. Along the way Mr. Singh gets a flat tire. This guy changes to the spare in 5 minutes flat. I believe he may have done this before.

We pull into a tire 'shop'. There's no AAA out here. After banging the spare tire off the wheel, the mechanic patches up the tire and crowbars it back on to the hubcap. Flies are sputtering everywhere. There is a famous joke about how many people does it take to change a lightbulb. The same could be said about how many people it takes to change a tire in India. I say 3. One to change it, one to make tea, and the other one to sit cross legged and stare incessantly.

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We finally make it to Udaipur. Known as the lake city, there are a handful of lakes within a span of 10 miles. After resting that night, we wake up and walk through the old city through the city palace. It was the home of the Mewar Dynasty - the longest running dynasty in the world. The Mewar today is still honored and respected in Udaipur, if even only as a figurehead position.

Walking back through the old city, Lisa sees some spices she wants to buy. We get stopped by a well-dressed Indian lady whose name is Rochi. She speaks English very well, and makes us feel comfortable. We find out that there are also cooking classes available. Being a great eater of Indian food, I have no option but to give in to temptation. Lisa and I go back to Rochi's house and arrange the times, dishes and details of the operation.

It turns out we have an hour more of 'free time' before our driver, Mr. Singh, is supposed to pick us up. After getting something to eat, we see Mr. Singh passing by. After explaining that we are going to be out longer to take this cooking class, Mr. Singh's usual smile turns into a scowl. He doesn't really say much to me after that, only that we should take a rickshaw back to the hotel and that he will continue our tour tomorrow morning. As he leaves, Lisa and I are baffled as to what we did or said to anger him.

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Lisa and I walk the 1/2 kilometer back up the hill up to Rochi's house. We take off our shoes and are greeted by Rochi. Rochi is also a teacher - teaching high school students english as well as other subjects. We get right down to business. Lisa has brought her pocket notebook as we make Saffron Lassi, chipote, bangain bharta (eggplant curry), aloo palak (spinach and potatoes), and vegetable curry (the base for many Indian favorites such as Chicken Tikka Masala). Lisa is writing frantically as both her and I try to take turns at shaping the dishes.

What is interesting is that for all of these dishes, there is one kitchen the size of a closet. There are 3 pots and a couple of metal spatulas and spoons. There are no revolving doors, fancy cutting boards or steamers for rice. Everything is either boiled or sauteed. Rochi and her mom have this down to perfection. All the ingredients are cut for every dish immediately. All the ingredients have been bought fresh before. The regrigerators are smaller than most Television units.

Two hours later, we are eating. The food is delicious. I'm glad that Lisa and I have had the experience to enter an Indian home and see how life is really lived inside. We later learn that the amount of food we cook is not normal. Most Indians eat what is comporable to simple rice and curry plates most nights. Rochi and her family have been most hospitable. We thank them for not trying to rob us of more money, or trying to poison us with their food, or trying to sell twenty-five other products we have no interest in buying.

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12/3

Mr. Singh loads us up bright and early today at 8 AM. I feel like a 10-year old ready for day camp. We have our lunches packed and the itinerary set. For today's journey is to Jodhpur, the blue city with a stopover at the jain temples in Ranakpur.

The Jain religion is a minority religion these days in India, but has a long history. Similar to Buddhism, there is a path of enlightenment. Like the Buddha man, the Jain founder Mahariva gave up family life earlier, got rid of all of his possessions, and started his own religion. The idea is that they are looking to be spiritually perfect. They do this by preaching the big concepts: non-violence, truthfulness, don't steal, don't be possessive, and no sexual relations. The Jains believe that by doing this, their souls become pure and achieve a better life the next time around. To be honest, there is no way that I could follow this regimen (especially the last rule), but I applaud their discipline.

For every religion, there are dozens of temples that enshrine them. Jainism is no different. We visit a temple in Rankapur called the Chaturmukha Jain temple. It is supported by 1444 carved pilars, not one of them the same carving. It looks like a child used some ginger bread cookie forms and laquered the print in marble. But a second look shows the holy Mahariva in all of his forms. The Jain temples get Travelling Sherman's nod as the cleanest and most welcoming temples. No one hounds you for donations, the marble floors are spotless, and there is no camera fee. We stay long enough to take some pictures of the carvings and have a proper look around. It's time to get back in the SikhMobile of Mr. Singh. Still another 300 kilometers to Jodhpur.

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So Mr. Singh, for the first and only time on this trip, is upset at us. He's not outwardly upset, but you can tell he is not his usual jolly self. The conversation turns back to last night. He asks how much we paid for the Indian cooking classes with Rochi. After telling him, he retorts with the fact that the amount of money we paid her could suffice a family of four for one week. I want to state my case, but I'm in no position to do so. I just nod willingly and try to steer the conversation in a different direction. Mr. Singh is more worried that we could had been poisioned or kidnapped or the like. "This is India", he says, "People will do almost anything for money." While the concept could be true, I believe that a brief paranoia has struck him. Moments later, he comes to his senses. He says, "My friend, that's over. Let's go get some tea."

Taking tea at a local highway stop is not like it is back home. First of all, you pull over to the side of a dusty road and you see no chairs. Instead, there are rubber like cot fixtures, where the customers take a seat in cross-legged fashion. While waiting for the tea, Mr. Singh reads the Hindustan Times - India's largest newspaper. He translates the local headlines for me, and then procedes to work on Sudoku. Milk tea is the beverage of choice in India, but since my stomach has failed me from time to time, I do without the milk. Flies hover around us as they want in on part of the action. I've grown accustomed to their presence by now. I take the customary sips as I look out on the Indian highway. Local villagers wait for busses not on benches, but in squatting position with both heels on the ground. Old, young, man and woman have no problem squatting for long periods of time. My legs become sore from just looking at them.

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Jodhpur

We are in Jodhpur, the blue city. The old city of Jodhpur has apartment buildings covered with faded blue paint. Founded by Rao Jodha of the Rathore clan back in the mid 1400s, the Rathores controlled much of western Rajasthan. Jodha was paranoid that neighboring clans would attack, so he moved the Rathore city capital to Jodhpur in a hillside spot. On top of the hill, the Mehrangarh fort was built. Overlooking the city, the Mehrangarh fort still sits high above the city. The fort is over 6 miles long and has ten gates. Never once was it penetrated by its enemies. Lisa and I take the audio guide tour. For once, no one hounds us. Just myself, Lisa, and a piece of electronic equipment. The Prime Minister of India has declared this a Historical Landmark and thus has invested in maintaining its luster. I thank the Prime Minister as this has been the best spot on the India tour thus far.

Mr. Singh is waiting for us outside as we finish the tour. We buy some teas at the local "Lonely Planet" reccomended shop just outside the fort. We get to our hotel and take in some dinner. The rooftop overlooks the fort, which illuminates at night. Lisa and I hear calls to prayer from all over the city, as the 15% Muslim population gets ready for it's 4th of 5 prayer sessions of the evening. Everything from atop is cam as the music from the chanting is dreamlike. Not to worry, for we will be back on the ground in no time avoiding the touts, cows and street beggars. Tomorrow, Mr. Singh promises us the best Lassi in Rajasthan at a local shop. I fall asleep gathering my strength for another day in India. I pray to the spirits above for hot water.

Travelling Sherman

Oh My God

So Today's Journal entry is a little bit different.

Instead of giving you the days' events, I think that we need to take time out to talk about God. It's only the proper thing to do, given that we are in India.

To many, India is the hoilest place on earth. It is the home of yoga, ashrams, Buddha and mediation. Today's focus will be on the Hindu gods, since the majority of the people in India prace the Hindu faith.

Without further delay, these are travelling sherman's top 10 hindu gods. My apologies if the god of your choice is not on this list.

Top 10 Hindu Gods according to travelling sherman.




1. Brahman. The first of the Hindu tri-fecta, Brahman is what is called the creator. He is the God whose caste name is the highest on the planet. The Brahmans, or the priests, are top notch. Brahman is most revered in the town of Pushkar, in which Lisa and I later visit. The reason being is that he planned on marrying his long time Goddess girlfriend - Savarti. On their wedding day, Savarti was delayed in getting dressed, and the Indian wedding ceremony had started. Brahman needed a fill-in bride to complete this one portion of the ceremony so she calles this other woman - Gaytri - to take her place. Needless to say, Savarti is upset. She throws a curse on Brahman that he will go in decline as a God and will only be worshiped here in Pushkar. Years later, this turns to be true. While Brahman is still revered as the original, his stock has fallen recently due to Gods #2 and 3, to be explained forthcomming.





2. Vishnu, the preserver. He gets much respect around India due to the fact he was a wartime hero back in the day. He has supposedly been incarnated many times. The most famous ones being Krishna - the cowherder God explained below, and Buddha - everyone's favorite yoga idol.



3. Shiva. The destroyer and recreator. I guess you can call him the God that takes care of the Recycling. He takes old souls that has passed on and creates new ones. This God is everywhere. There are multiple temples in every city in India and Nepal. He has many different moods. When he gets angry, he turns into Bhirbab - this 'incredible hulk' like God that goes ballistic on anything crossing his path. All in all, Shiva is very much respected. He also rides on a neat-looking Bull named Nandi.



4. Pavarti. Shiva's consort - or wife. She is probably the sexiest Goddess of them all, so by all means, let's put her in the Top 5.


5. Ganesh. The elephant God. The Good luck god. Ganesh is also seen as a God of Knowledge. He was the Son of Shiva and Pavarti. Unfortunately, he had some hard times before achieving God Status, as Shiva the Dad was mad one day. Shiva is looking for his wife, Pavarti and sees her holding Ganesh in a loving fashion. For some reason, Shiva thought that Ganesh was making the moves on his mother and had his head cut off. Realizing what he's done, Shiva is torn to tears. The other Gods tell him that to redeem himself, he should take the first head he finds and put it back on Ganesh. After looking in the forest, all Shiva finds is an elephant. Sure enough, Shiva whacks the elephant's head and brings it back home for Ganesh. From here on out Ganesh becomes the elephant God. Elephants are celebrated throughout India - as Jaipur city elephant rides are as commonplace as rush hour traffic. Ganesh can now be found in gift shops, restaurants, and street vendors statewide.


6. Krishna. Everybody's favorite incarnation of Vishnu. He gets much heroic respect for his role in what Hindus call the Baghwad Gita. The story goes as follows.

Arjuna, an Indian general going back many centuries, is trying to win back the rightful ruling of his kingdom. He and his brothers are more than willing to fire out the Bows and arrows, but there's a catch. The people that they are fighting against are actually their jealous cousins, who also want to run the place. Arjuna starts to tear up when he realizes that he may have to kill some family members. That's when our superhero Krishna shows up as an armyman. Krishna tells Arjuna to get a grip. His overall message is, "Sometimes you just have to do your job, even though it's tough, because it's the right thing to do.'

Krishna was supposedly was also a cowboy as well as a part-time musician who wooed the ladies. All I have to say is that Elvis Presley has nothing on this guy, or God.



7. Hanuman, the monkey god. Another crowd pleaser. He is a hero of the famous story called the Ramayana. There's a whole story to this, but I'll try to summarize. There is this other King named Dasaratha who had this jealous wife named Kaikeyi. Kaikeyi is a younger wife, as Dasaratha has many wives. Kaikeyi wants her own son to become king. The problem is that her son is not the oldest one. The oldest son of Dasaratha's in named Rama. Kaikeyi gets all bent out of shape that her son won't be picked, and sends Rama into exile after the king Dasharatha's death. Years later, Rama gets some backup from this monkey god named Hanuman and reclaims the throne.



8. Gangaur. This Goddess is worshiped because she brings good luck. Recognized by her pink dress, Gangaur wishes them a safe return from battle. For women, they fling the pink flowers - signifying Gangaur - into a lake and pray for a good husband. This strategy may work as well as online dating.



9. Durga - the Goddess of destruction. While it sounds bad at first, Hindus believe she really destroys evil and is the true mother love of the universe. Personified as Lakshmi, the Goddess of Wealth, and Saraswati - the Goddess of Knowledge and Learning during the Hindu Diwali festival, Durga is like an old fashioned Mother Knows Best character. She is a consort of Shiva and holds great respect for the Hindu faith. That's why she makes the travelling sherman Hindu top 10.



10. The Holy Cow - the Kandenu God. They're not just for milking anymore. Cows are prevalent throughout all Hindu stories and traditions. Our friend, Krishna, was a cow herder. Our other friend, Brahma, created cows when creating priests. The Cow dung and cow urine are used in many Hindu ceremonies - including weddings - in which the people purify their houses. The horns on the cow represent the Gods. The face represents the sun and the moon. Their shoulders represent fire and their legs are the Himalayas. One can see cows o'plenty in almost every Indian city. Just don't ask for medium rare.

A disclaimer to anyone who may be reading this: The comments of the writer are not meant to be, nor are they meant to be used as fact in any way whatsoever. There are many Gods in the Hindu religion, and all of them have their place. These are simply some of my favorites.

Whether you are a religious zealot from the deep hills, or a cappucino agnostic living in a city, you cannot ignore this topic of God and religion when you are in India. Every bus has the Title of "God's Carrier" above the windshield. "God is great" can be seen on bumper stickers everywhere. What's great about Hinduism is that it's more of a buffet religion. You take what you like, you pass on what you don't like, and have as much as you want. Just make sure that you finish what you take, and use a clean plate each time when passing through the line.

-Travelling Sherman

Tigers, Textiles and Bollywood

"Tigers and Owls and Deers, Oh My"

11/25

It is Day 3 in our India program with Mr. Singh, are hearladed driver. We are driving to Ranthembore National Park. It is the home of the Tigers, as Indira Ghandi started Project Tiger years ago to prevent them from extinction. Today has been a long drive at approximately 8 hours. I idle the time away looking out into the wilderness. The chaotic touts of Agra have been replaced by low lying brush and a big red ball of sunset. We go to sleep early tonight, as we are informed by Azra, the safari manager, that our wakeup call is roughly 5:30 A.M.

11/26

We enter the jeep and are two of six people. We meet a Spanish couple, whose names escape me at the moment along with a Swedish coule - Johanna and Rangnard. As we reach the park entrance, we are greeted by our friends barraging the jeep asking if we need things such as earmuffs, wool caps, gloves, and the like. I'm so glad my friends get up so early to harrass me. I'm also glad that my seat is towards the middle of the jeep, so the others become the line of first defense.

We venture on into the park. The driver and the guide parade us around promising us to see tigers. To be honest, my head is hurting so much that I could really care less about a tiger. It's a beautiful park at roughly 200 square miles. Why wake up the tiger? He's probably having a good nap. I turn my eyes to the sky as the 'guide' shows us various huge sitings of deer and owls. I could have driven 10 miles from my hometown for this jeep tour.

The hours pass and the group is almost about to give up. No tigers. The huge jeep/bus in front of us is making more noise than a samosa street stand in Delhi. All of the sudden, we hear what is referred to as the 'monkey call'. The monkeys in the trees warn the deer that a tiger is coming. Sure enough, the monkey is right. A beautiful Bengal tiger parades himself through the forest. We take some pictures and think we are through. No problem, the guide says, let's drive closer to the tiger. Johnanna, the Swedish girl, is losing her cookies. No problem, the guide says. Who is to argue at this point, as I am sure all of the necessary precautions have been taken for our safety.

We get to about 10 feet from the tiger and the tiger crosses our path. The tiger ignores us like we were yesterday's news and continues to the other side of the forest. It is amazing. We take some more pictures. Soon enough we are on our way back to the hotel. We have seen the fabled tiger. I just hope that the world can see more of them over the next 100 years.

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11/26 -11/27

"Jaipur"

Mr. Singh, our driver plays 2 cassette tapes front to back constantly. He plays his Sikh relighous songs. They actually are quite good as they have their share of tablas and accordians. The top song (translated into english) is called "Call to God". It is sung by a Sikh Priest in E flat minor. Mr. Singh promises to make a mix tape for me before he leaves us. I think he has a crush on me.

We reach Jaipur a few hours later. Jaipur is known as the pink city, as its old city lined with off-pink colors. Mr. Singh tells us that Pink is the color of hospitality and that this is how its color was created.

Jaipur is the completion of India's golden triangle, as Delhi and Agra make the other 2 corners. Started by Swai Jai Singh in the 18th century, Jaipur became the Capital of the Rajput colony - which later formed to become the state of Rajasthan. Jai Singh was the Mahanajra (or king) of this dynasty for many years, and wanted to make a home that was safe and had some access to clean water. The city was made as a grid like system according to Hindu Texts. Its is one of the few cities in India where you may not actually get lost if given a proper map.

Jaipur is also home to some of the nicest textiles in India. They use semiprecious stones with silk to make beautiful wall hangings, shawls, saris and the like. Three hours and a few hundred dollars later, Lisa and I buy enough cloth to cover the walls of a small studio. Don't worry, that's not the current plan - I hope.

Mr. Singh gives us the proper city tour. We enter the Pink gates to the City Palace, and check out the textile and arsenal museums. We see the assortment of knifes and guns. I find out that these guys were the first to come up with pajamas. Millions of small children with underoos are eternally grateful.

We see the Janthar Mantar - King Jah Sing's Astronomy museum. There are assortments of sun dials, rising sign dials and every dial known to man. The guide gives a good job as he tells us how to compute the time using the sun, the sign of zodiac, and the angle of this sign. This guy definately would be the student you would use to correct tests and quizzes if you were the teacher.

There are plenty of other forts and sights we see. A pink blur seems to cross my mind as I take it all in. We retire back at the hotel in the afternoon. We get suckered in to see what is called a "Bollywood" movie. Supposedly these films are the highest money grossing films in the world. Read on to find out the review. Otherwise, you can close this book or web browser and relax for a while.


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"The Bollywood Cinema at Raj Mandir, Jaipur, India"

The name of this movie is called "Vivia" or in english "From engagement to wedding". How do those Hindi-speaking folk pack so much into one word?

Start of Plot: Skip if not interested

• So this family has one daughter and have adopted 1 niece. The adopt the nicece since the dad's brother and wife were in an accident.
• The niece is considered the 'eldest daughter' by the dad.
• The niece gives him his shawl every morning. They painstaikingly show this about 12 times. We get the point that the dad really loves this daughter.
• This father has a friend who knows a family with a son that is ready to wed. The father gives this friend a picture of a daughter. The groom's family is excited that their rich son is leaving the house.
• The mom resents the dad and niece since Dad spends way too much time with the niece instead of his real daughter. The mom gets all bent out of shape and decides she does not want to participate in the marriage.
• Right before the wedding, there is a fire in the bridal party's house. The niece goes back into the house to rescue the younger sister (or real daughter's) life. The bride receives internal burns in the process.
• There is a big dramatic scene about if the bride will be okay. During this scene, the mom comes around and accepts this niece as her daughter.
• The bride is okay. The husband comes to the hospital. They have money so they fly in this rich guy to fix her up. Everyone is happy. The audience is applauding for the 30th time during the movie.

End of Plot

Going to see an Indian movie is an experience I will never forget. The lines are long and the people are pushy, which is quite normal by Indian standards. As the movie starts, people have no problem coming in bit by bit for the next 30 minutes making as much noise as possible. Seven to Nine cell phones can ring at any time. In fact, our driver, in the midst of translating every 10 seconds (there are no subititles) picks up his ringing cell phone and has a 'quiet' conversation. I don't mind, as I enjoy this more than the movie itself.

The movie contains cheesy dream sequences and obvious music cues. Musical outbreaks happen through the movie. Bad lip syncing is a must. It is fun for the entire family. In the end, how can I complain. This is India after all. Everything is about drama. Even finding your seat is dramatic as yells across the theatre are commonplace. I'm glad that I've had this experience at the Bollywood Cinema. I just don't think there's room on my Netflix queue for any more of them.

Travelling Sherman

Agra, India

11/24

We see our driver, Mr. Singh, come up to the hotel in his tweed coat and black turban. He is happy to see us again, as we are of him. We step into the White dolphin car - our mode of transport for the next 2 weeks. He pulls open the passanger door as Lisa and I step inside.

Mr. Singh lights up two matchsticks of insense and has his morning prayer tapes playing in the background. I feel like I have just entered some mobile tantric room as his car is a shrine of peace. The white and pink flowers hang from the Dashboard. Next to it is his creed of how he is to protect and serve all visitors to his Nation of India. "It is my duty", he later tells us, "to make sure you are having good time in this program."

The 'program' for the day, as Mr. Singh calls it, is to drive to Agra. Agra is home of the famed Taj Mahal as well as many other fabled buildings. The drive is roughly six hours today. Mr. Singh is a fan of banannas as he stops by the fruit stand to order two bunches for the next few days. We take some bananas and store them in the back seat of the car. "2 bananas, 3 banans, no problem!" Our Sikh driver was definitely a monkey in his previous life.

Driving in India is a symphony of chaos. As every rule breaks Western intuition. They drive on the left side of the road and they use their horn every two seconds. In fact, it becomes way too common to see the sign "Please Blow Horn" on the back of a truck. It is way too common for cars to pass each other on to oncomming traffic. I close my eyes every 10 seconds for fear of another head on collision. Mr. Singh looks at me befuddled. "We drive, left, right, fast, slow, no problem!" We are told there are very few accidents in the major cities, and only very few accidents on the freeway. I tell Mr. Singh to just keep his eyes on the road.

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Today's first stop on the 'program' is the Agra Fort. There is a fairly long story, but I will try to limit it to a paragraph. This fort was the home of Shah Jahn - a Moghul emperor - grandson of the first Moghul emperor Akbar. The Moghuls were the Muslim tribes that occupied India for over six centuries. This Shah Jahn was quite the ladies man at a herum of over 5000 wives. S. Jahn's son, for either reasons of herum jealousy or just plain out power hungry, imprisoned his father later in life within the Agra fort. For the son had begun to assume power over the years. At any rate, the story goes that the last few years of Shah Jahn's life was spent in the Agra fort looking at the Taj Mahal from the bedroom. To me, that's not prison, that's a 4 star hotel with unlimited room service.

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11/25

Aap kay say hay? What's going on? Mr. Singh has us up at 6:15 today. We get dropped off roughly one mile away from the Taj Mahal. The sun has not come up yet, but the tourists are coming. We walk the rest since the Indian government has banned all vehicles within 1 mile due to pollution.

The Taj Mahal is considered the 8th wonder of the world. This Shah Jahn character mentioned above really liked Marble. He liked it so much that he instructs 20,000 of his closest friends to retrieve marble from Rajasthan, India over a 20 year period in order to build him a building. As I mentioned above, this guy had 5000 wives. He had a favorite wife, whose name I forget, but she must have been something. For he decided to start building this Taj Mahal in her honor when she died. Artesans come into the mix and bring in semi-precious stones, and then etch these stones in the marble. Each octagonal shaped marble piece took 20 days. One crack of the stone and they had to start over again. At any rate, S. Jahn's wife is buried here in the Taj Mahal. And after S. Jahn goes, he gets buried right next to it. All I have to say is that the estate tax accountants must have had a field day when he died.

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The reason we visit the Taj Mahal at sunrise is that sun and light affect this building tremendously. Being built of 100% hardened Indian marble, it is translucent in nature. When the sun or the moon or the stars hit the building, strange things happen to it. For example, when Lisa and I get there, the Taj Mahal becomes a soft, gray color. By midday, it becomes a pearly white color. People spend all day at the Taj Mahal just checking out the changing colors from the different lighting. It is a photographers dream come true. For me, I just like sitting down on the bench and getting away from the harrasing guides whom are not allowed inside.

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We stop on our way out of Agra at Fatehpur Sikiri, the old abandoned palace about 40 kilometers from Agra. It was the original capital of Akbar's reign, but was abandoned due to a low water supply. And given the 110+ degrees farenheit of the Indian summers, I don't blame him. We walk through the sandstone and marble structures and take pictures of the place. A highlight is that there is a pavilion where they played human chess. I guess it's good to be the king.

More to come, talk to you then.

Travelling Sherman