Days 46-50. INDIA

        I don’t think I’ve ever been prepared to travel as much as I had been for India. Other countries on our itinerary, like Morocco for instance, stood out to me as surprises. I didn’t necessarily expect to see what I saw. For India, though, the build-up was immense. I was told months before my voyage even began about how different India is to Americans, and then numerous times throughout our travels, about how influential it would be. The five days I spent in 4 different cities from the traditional south to the westernized north was some of the most memorable days of my life. It’s not that I had a realization, or a mental breakdown, rather, a newfound understanding of a people entirely different from our own. Other countries, you can escape from; your hotel, any building can be refuge from the differences on the street. Not India. India is in your face. What Luke “the voice” said is completely true: from the time your feet hit the ground, to the time you’re back on the gangway, you are inescapable from India. It is there, and it is yours to deal with… not the other way around. Still, I had such an amazing time in the country. I can truly say I will never look at India, or this part of the world the same way again.

        The first thing you notice about India, and I hate to say it due to its negative connotation, is the smell. Waking up early on Thursday, there was a distinct twinge in the air. It’s not an odor, it doesn’t smell particularly like anything; it’s more of heaviness in the air that comes with a highly industrialized and way overpopulated area like Chennai. The air was as thick on deck 7 outside as it felt inside, and there was a noticeable blanket of smog over top of the city. At the bottom of the dock, police barricades were set up to block off an area for us in which to travel to and from the ship. Just on the other side of those barricades, crowds of drivers and merchants began to form.

        The first day, I had secured a spot on an FDP. For those who aren’t familiar with the 3-letter acronyms assigned to pretty much every SAS (see?) thing, FDP stands for Faculty-Directed-Practica. It is a field trip. Your professors organize trips to places that are relevant to their expertise, and then bring students along. Generally, you have to complete a certain number for each class. This one was a “Farm Visit” for Dr. Sarah Swank’s evolution class. Since we were berthed in a pretty industrial-looking port pretty far from the city, I decided to remain on the ship until the trip departed at 1230. I descended the gangway, and the heat and humidity hit me at once. I was in the south of India, and in case I didn’t yet realize it, the weather kindly reminded me. We boarded busses, which were far different from what coach busses back home look like. For one, the drivers sit in an enclosed space, sort of like a cock-pit of sorts. My guide later in the week told me that because of the crazy traffic, large-scale bus drivers have to have that privacy from distractions. That crazy traffic was about to be realized. Picture a monstrous bus, barreling down the street, weaving in and out of lanes, running red lights, stopping for absolutely nobody. Everyone, from the small Rickshaws to the minivans slowly weaved in and out of eachother. There was no such thing as standing still. While blinkers existed, they were replaced with horns and arms out of windows. It was impossible to hear yourself think, because a horn was blaring at every second.

        We drove for about an hour. The farm was only a few miles away as the crow flies, but with Chennai’s millions of people moving around in the heat of the afternoon it took a bit longer.

        There, I was introduced to Arul , who welcomed us to his farm. His farm was situated on 70 acres of land just outside of the main city of Chennai, but just inside its legal limits. As he put it, the farm used to be in the middle of nowhere. Back in the 70s, it took a mile-long paved road to get to the farm. But now, the city has expanded so much, that it’s practically downtown just outside of his gates.  The farm was an interesting experience. Because of the mass modernization, Arul told us that he makes very little on his actual farming, and instead earns his living through his Bed & Breakfast and tourist program he has next to the farm. Still, his 70 acres are used for everything from Cattle grazing to Coconut trees, and was very interesting to walk around and see the agricultural side of India. The greatest part of the day, though, was visiting the adjacent agricultural village to Arul’s farm. We boarded a flatbed trailer made out of bamboo and 2 wheels, and pulled by a 2 oxen, and bumped along for a few minutes. As we drove through the village toward the local elementary school, soon a crowd of people was walking behind our trailer, yelling, jumping and shaking our hands out of excitement. When we got to the school, it was uproar. Kids were so excited to see us. In India, they learn English and American phrases so that they are ready for a globalized world, and you could see their fascination putting this learning to practice. I would wave and say “Hi!”, and the entire lot of them would reply “Fine! How are you!?” and then reach out their right hands to give a handshake that they had obviously learned in school.

        I went through the masses of kids at the school to a classroom, and saw an English lesson on one of the chalkboards. The teachers stopped class to let the kids visit with us, but I was invited in to the classroom where I saw what they were learning. The numbers 1-10 were on the board with “One, Two, Three.. etc.” written next to them. The teacher spoke very little, broken English, and through her, I managed to explain I was from the United States. She lit up, and grabbed a map, and asked me to point where. I pointed to DC, and you could see in their eyes that they didn’t believe somebody could actually exist somewhere so far away on the map. I wanted to say that the feeling was mutual, that I couldn’t believe I was standing over *here* on the map… in India! But I kept my mouth shut, and went outside to play with the kids. They wanted to see us dance, so we pulled out some of the best American digs we know… The Hokey Pokey, and the Macarena. They’re both cultural faux pas in the states, but rural southeast India, we were a frickin’ hit. The kids were so wonderful and polite, and put a smile on my face that didn’t come off for awhile. With so much poverty in India (that you’ll hear about next), seeing beautiful, smiling kids who are getting an education was a needed replenishment to our spirit.

        Arul also showed us how workers climb up a coconut tree to cut down the coconuts. The trees are nearly 75 feet tall, and they climb up there with no harness or safety equipment. Basically, you have a loop of rubber around your torso, and one around your feet, and through a highly complex motion of bending and twisting, you make it up the entire tree using the friction between your loop and the tree bark as your only help. After he did it, they offered any of us the chance to try. Seeing as how nobody else was volunteering, and it would probably be awhile until I was back at Arul’s farm, I took the chance and tried it. I could only get about 5 feet off the ground. If that, before I almost fell and broke my face- but I survived. In the end, a bunch of us ended up trying, and I even convinced my professor to try it. When you don’t stop encouraging, almost everybody gives in… haha.

We returned that night to the ship through the chaos of Chennai traffic, and I took the evening to get packed and showered for my adventure the next day

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“Please note: This is a rigorous itinerary involving a lot of traveling and early morning departures. “

        That’s what was in our field guide when I signed up for CHE 20: Taj Mahal & Varanasi, my 4-day adventure through India. The disclaimer proved to be quite accurate.

        0345 was the time at which the trip began. The 70 of us met in the ship’s union, and met up with John, our trip leader, and the world-famous Physician’s Assistant who makes the hilariously educational health presentations at Logistical Pre-Port. We got our itinerary, our boxed breakfasts, and headed down the gangway as a group in the early morning to board our first bus. The busses took off to Chennai Airport, where we were given our boarding passes, and were told to clear security. With the Mumbai terror attacks in the recent memories of every Indian nationwide, security is intense. Everyone is individually screened, and your bags are rummaged through indiscriminately. Not that it matters much, but it just accounted for a bit more time. We boarded our plane not too longer, and were off for our first destination, the capital of India, New Delhi. We were only in New Delhi for an hour or so, we would return the next day… our purpose in ND was only to connect to our first major stop on our itinerary, the holiest city for the Hindu religion, Varanasi.

        ** I truly think that you can’t understand India without a working knowledge of the dominant religion, Hinduism. It permeates every action and every space… why the amount of begging is skyrocketing and the amount of crime (pick pocketing, rapes, fights) is near-zero for tourists is explicable with only one thing: the Hindu religion.
        Hinduism is almost 8,000 years old, and maintains that every body is just a shell for a spirit, a soul if you will within it. When the body dies, the spirit moves on, and is re-incarnated into another organism. This could be human, dog, bird, or centipede, and everything in between. Depending on how you lived your life dictates on the complexity of the organism to which you are assigned after death. IF you make it to human, you have the ability to escape the cycle of birth-rebirth-birth-rebirth, that you have been doing for possibly hundreds or thousands of years. If you live your life with good karma, never hurting others, lying, cheating, etc., then you can die and achieve “nirvana,” the escaping of the cycle.

        Most importantly though, Hinduism maintains that every thing has a place in the world. When you think about it, it’s quite interesting. In the eyes of a Hindu, from the beggars to the businessmen, the dogs to the cows, we’ve all been in each other’s place at one point in our existence.

        Varanasi is to Hinduism what Jerusalem is to the Jews. It is home to the river Ganges, the holiest body of water in the Hindu religion. When one dies, they are cremated, and if lucky, they are cremated on the banks of the Ganges, and then spread within the river. While still alive, it’s said that bathing in the Ganges cleanses the soul of any sins committed. Of course, with the staggering statistics about germs and grime in the river, I asked my guide how anybody could justify getting in a body of water so dirty that it can literally kill you. Rajj, a practicing Hindu replied that “with faith, people will do anything.” How true, I thought.

        Our first day in Varanasi was spent in a city orientation of sorts, driving around to get the feel for it. Varanasi is so unlike anything my eyes have ever seen. It makes the traffic in Chennai look like that inside an American gated community. The streets are unpaved, and the busses and cars alike swerve back and forth. Fender benders are no cause for concern, and unlucky pedestrians die hourly, not daily. The entire city has a tint of red to it, in its archaic brick architecture. The intersections of roads have no signals, just large circles with a police officer in the middle. He does not direct traffic, just looks on. If you act out of line in the intersection… whatever the hell that could mean… he steps into the circle and whacks you with his 8-foot long bamboo stick. Most drivers are driving bike-rickshaws or motor scooters, so are susceptible to his whack. I felt bad every time I saw them do it (often).

        SAS put us up in a great hotel in the middle of the city, and we spent the arrival getting situated and unpacking for our day-long stay in Varanasi. We had an amazing lunch, with some amazing, spicy food. India is known for their intense blends of spices that they put on everything from chicken to their bread. Taking a bite of the chicken was an incredible experience, and my mouth didn’t realy know how to process the flavors. Comically, when I commented to one of the servers that it was spicy, he misunderstood me, and said “no… we knew that the Americans were coming today, and only put on half-recipe.” So you can see, that if they used whatever the “full recipe” is, I would be without a tongue today.

        That evening, I had one of those moments that makes everything else in your life come to a grinding halt. There were a few of them in India, and this was the first. Our tour busses took us from the hotel down to the middle of the city into a large park. We parked, and all around us were 72 2-passenger bicycle rickshaws. We were to pick one, and then they were to take us all the way to the River Ganges, where we would meet up with the group. Now I’ve been on a bicycle, and I’ve been in Varanasi traffic, but I’ve never been driven by a bicycle *in* Varanasi traffic, and I was pretty anxious about the idea. Jill (my co-star from “No Land”) and I hopped in rickshaw number 40 and held on tight. Between the two of us,  there was very little “cheek room” and we found ourselves laughing as we gripped on for dear life. Then the rickshaw driver stirred to life, and dragged us into the traffic, then hopped on his bike and started to pull us. It was incredible. Cars, motorbikes buzz by you, only a foot or so from your outside-facing ear. People walking, cows trotting, vendors vending, dust and smells from the city blended into one in the open road as the sun slowly set, casting a dark red tint on the sights. I spent the entire ride just looking around, watching the views fly by me. It was clear that they were as interested in me as I was in them. Picture 72 rickshaws with white kids rolling one after another (though it got more broken up in traffic) on a local street… they were curious as to what I was doing on their turf. Going through the traffic circles was like approaching a jigsaw puzzle scattered on the floor. Up in the distance, you see vehicles, people, animals meshing into two directions; it seems impossible to pass with all limbs in tact; then as you get close, a small sliver of path appears from nowhwere, and you fly into the toilet bowl-traffic circle. You bump into eachother, banging wheels and honking or ringing your bell until you take your exit and regain moving in one direction on a new road.

        We finally reached our destination, the River Ganges. This was the first time I had seen the river, and instantly knew why this was the most holy sight in Hindu following. From street level, a huge decline, probably a few hundred stairs proceeded down to the banks of the river. The reason for the slope, I’d find out later is that in the rainy season, the river rises almost all the way to the street level, flooding all that we would be descending in to that first night. We walked down toward the banks to see the evening worship that Hindus do to the Ganges river each and every day. A building adjacent to the ceremony sight opens their roof to tourist groups such as ourselves, and we went up there to get a good view of the service. The entire atmosphere was overwhelming. I divided my time between taking in the sights and sounds that were happening around me, and looking at my fellow students faces. We were all undergoing the same thing, and it was visible on each and every one of our faces: not one of us ever knew that such an evening existed on the planet; and didn’t know what to think of what we were seeing. Giant platforms were erected in font of the river on which men stood and performed in unison tributes in the river’s direction. Fire, incenses, bowing, spinning and dancing took place while a group sang, played and drummed over a loud PA system. All the while, pilgrims bought groups of flowers bunched together with flammable gel in the middle, and released these burning tributes at the banks of the river, which floated down, tiny lights floating down the river in the night sky as far as the eye can see. Incredible.

        After the ceremony, we headed back up to the street, grabbed our rickshaws and headed up for a 30 minute ride back to the busses. The hotel set up an amazing dinner for us outside, and anticipating *normal* American student behavior, they brought in a full bar (extremely rare in India) and DJ and dance floor. They had forgot, however, that we had been up since 3:00 in the morning, so it was eat, and then sleep for the vast majority of us.
       


        Our second day on the trip, we were treated to the second of those “stop. Think. Realize” moments in life. We woke up at 5:00 AM, and headed to the banks of the river again to board small boats and ride the River Ganges to witness one of the oldest, most unchanged traditions in human history. Pilgrims descended upon the river before sunrise to bathe, cleanse and be around the river. More importantly, as I mentioned before, it is the final resting place for Hindus lucky enough to die at the river. Dead bodies, hundreds a day, are brought to the banks of the river and burned, cremated, and then released into the river. It’s a wondrous tradition that has continued since the beginning of… well recorded history. Almost 8,000 years. No words will do justice floating down this river with the sun arising in the background. I will say, though, that probably the best pictures I’ve ever taken in my life were shot that morning. It was an emotionally exauhsting morning, floating the river and then walking through the city for an hour or so. Beggars, maimed children, lepers, all of the stuff that you don’t want to hear about was there that morning to show us the darker side of a nation, the kind that only exists in horror movies and bad dreams. We were prepared, though, and took from each unfortunate sight a sort of understanding of how lucky we really are in comparison. A process of de-ignorance happened to each of us.

We visited another historical sight, the place where Buddhism was created. Buddhism is a subset of Hinduism, split off by… you got it… Buddha, when he sat under a tree for a number of years and reached what he called enlightenment. This all began when Buddha gave his first sermon in Varanasi at a temple. We visited that temple and walked around the entire area to get a feel for it. I was talking to a friend and remarked that it’s interesting that while this place didn’t mean anything to me specifically, it is the Jerusalem of these peoples.

        After a visit to an archaeological museum of Varanasi, we headed to the airport and flew to New Delhi, where things changed immediately. Where Varanasi is a view into the past, the history of India, New Delhi is the present, the future. The seat of government, New Delhi serves as the capital of the largest democracy in the entire world. It is home to the parliament, the embassies and the Indian war memorial, IndiaGate, all of which we were able to see. It is also much more modern. Nightclubs are in more demand, shopping malls, movie theatres, large hotels are in actual existence. We were taken to the Ashok Hotel, one of the most amazing in all of India. We were welcomed with fresh flower necklaces and fresh dye to put the ceremonial ‘dot’ on each of our foreheads. We had a great buffet dinner in the hotel before retiring to bed for some much needed sleep




The next morning started a day that I had dreamed about for as long as I can remember; destination: the Taj Mahal. We transferred from the hotel to the Delhi train station where we fought through the absolute madness of the crowds to get to our platform. At 6ish, we boarded the Shatbadi Express train east to Agra, the sight of the Taj Mahal.

The Taj Mahal is one of the seven modern wonders of the world, but its story is hardly known. Some 400 years ago, Shah Jahal, the ruler of India fell in love with a beautiful woman, known to us as Mahal. Their love was intense, and they made 3 promises to one another. If she died, Shah Jahal promised to 1) never re-marry 2) guarantee that one of their 14 children would become the next king and 3) that the Shah would build an everlasting monument to their love together. Mahal died in childbirth with her 14th child, and Shah Jahal was overcome with sadness. He took applications the world over for his monument to his wife, the Taj Mahal, before choosing the current design.

To me, this was a completely surreal adventure. I’m glad we were there for nearly 3 hours, because it took me almost 2 to realize where I was. Approaching the monument, you could see it off in the distance, and then when you walk in, it’s just there. Right in front of you. Seeing the Taj was an incredible, mesmerizing experience. You’ve seen the picture of the Taj Mahal probably 1,000 times in your life, and I have too. To be standing in front of it, to touch it, to watch the sun set over it, to walk in it, walk on it… it was so surreal. We just stood, in awe, for awhile.

As the sun set, a sort of silence fell over the thousands of tourists there. Especially with us SAS students, who know how fleeting every moment is, we realized how special it is to be there and how long it would be, if ever, before we returned.

We returned from Agra and the Taj by the same train we came, and arrived back to our home in Delhi at the Ashok hotel.

The following day, it was time to return to Chennai by way of flight. Upon arrival, it was only 2:00 pm, and I couldn’t justify getting back on the ship just yet… a full 4 hours before on-ship time. I probably should have, since I smelled like death and was even more tired… but I couldn’t bring myself to. I’m glad I didn’t because it was such a good, quick experience. A few friends and I got off the bus at the Spencer Centre, one of the main malls in Chennai and spent an hour or so shopping and looking around. We then fulfilled one of the last rites of travel to India, and took a motor rickshaw, a sort of 3-wheeled covered contraption through the busy city streets of Chennai back to the ship. I looked around, took one more whiff of Indian air, and ascended the gangway, a much more understanding person then I was 5 days before.


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India is a wordless place. My dad told me something like that when he visited for the first time, and it’s true. India doesn’t have the luxury of space like we do in the States. For that reason, homes are made everywhere, from fields to underpasses, and it’s a tough thing to see. Yes, the negative stuff is there: poor, maimed children do come up to you and beg. People do try to sell you EVERYTHING at EVERY TIME no matter where you are… and it certainly wears on you. However, I think that it’s their culture. If Morocco seemed like it was an “in your face” culture, India puts it to shame; there is just no comparison.

The people are so unique. They are so proud of their heritage, their country, and their culture. Also, they are honest. While I walked the streets with fear in other countries, the philosophy of Hinduism and good will keeps violent crime and horrifying scams in India at a complete minimum. The people mean well, want an honest living, and don’t wish much harm on you. More so, they are friendly, welcoming, gentle, and kind… it was a privilege to be in their country and to understand how different this world can be. India will be with me forever, in its natural beauty and its debilitating poverty. It is truly the biggest difference thus far from westernized culture I’ve ever seen in my life, and certainly on this voyage.

Finally, I’d like to repeat something many people have said to me. Everybody should go to India. You will understand why when you’ve gotten back, but you should go, and see what life is like on the other side of the world. I promise, you’re in for a great surprise.