The Roaming Stump

This week, some friends and I hired a taxi and left Delhi at dawn,

rolling along the gentle countryside for several hours before reaching Agra, quite possibly one of India's least prepossessing towns.

An industrial city with too-polluted air and a barrage of pushy high-power sellers, Agra is also home to the romance of what is arguably the world's most famous building, the Taj Mahal, still astonishing in its power.

I'm sure most of you are at least partly familiar with its history. (cue the violins...) Shah Jahan was so utterly devoted to his favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal, that when she requested on her deathbed that he show the world how much they loved one another, the grief-stricken emperor turned away from the business of running the empire and dedicated himself to architecture, resolving to build his wife the most magnificent memorial on earth.

Magnificent indeed. Work on the Taj began in 1632 and took 22 years to complete, employing a workforce of 20,000, including a fleet of 1000 elephants to carry the marble quarried 300 km away in Rajasthan. The years of work and attention to detail remain as impressive as ever.

I know no photos or verbal description could come close to conveying the feeling of standing in front of the Taj. It's built on the right-hand bank of the River Yamuna, so you're first confronted with this luminescent, graceful structure that almost appears to be floating on air—you can see nothing behind it. We were there at sunrise, and I felt like I was awake inside a dream.

You know the reaction you have when you first see a really beautiful person or work of art? Your pulse quickens, you go slack-jawed and wide-eyed, and just for a second, you forget to breathe? That's what it's like. It's the only time I've ever responded that way to a work of architecture—it was surprising.

And the surprises kept coming. As you approach the Taj, you notice the hundreds of amazing details tastefully embedded in its walls. Semi-precious stones from around the world form intricate inlaid patterns in the white marble walls, sections of which are exquisitely carved in bas relief.

Calligraphic verses of the Koran create frameworks, scaled to look uniform from the ground level. And as you shield your eyes from the rising sun, the feeling of the cool morning marble against your bare feet, you suddenly realize you are on the other side of the world.

Inside the pearl-shaped dome, the acoustics are perfect—they were designed to echo the chants from the Koran and musicians' melodies. It's rather small inside (sorry, no cameras allowed), and there you can see the replica tombs of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal. The real ones are kept in the crypt below.

As much as I could go on with overly-romantic descriptions of the Taj, I know most of you have seen similar photos and heard such accounts, so I won't waste any more of your time with my perceptions. Just know that it truly is about a thousand times more spectacular than you think it could be—despite all the hype, I don't think anyone could come away from it disappointed.

You should check it out.

This past weekend, I took a trip with David Leddy, another one of the artists in residence at the village. We boarded the Shiv Ganga Express on Friday evening and settled in for the overnight ride.

The trains aren't bad if you don't mind fat men with strange growths on their toes snoring loud enough to wake the dead or the occasional cockroach. It's like a big Indian sleep-over party.
We arrived in Varanasi bleary-eyed and exhausted, but excited and ready to explore the sights. We stayed with the relatives of our friend Ruchin, an Indian artist also in residence at the village. They were very kind and generous, allowing us foreigners into their home and feeding us delicious home-cooked meals for two days.

Varanasi, also known as Banares, is perhaps the holiest of India's cities, and it draws pilgrims from around the world to worship, meditate, and above all, to bathe in the sacred Ganga (Ganges). Its streets are a highly congested maze of rickshaws, motorbikes, and people.

Winding, narrow, dusty, and bumpy roads make for jostling travel in the unrelenting afternoon heat.

We toured several of the city's museums and temples and received blessings, unfortunately no cameras were allowed. But I will say that my favorite temple included a Disneyland style animatronic show on the second floor...it was like "It's A Small World," but depicted important stories and bloody sacrifices with Hindu gods. Awesome.

We then headed about 10km outside the city to Sarnath, which is one of Buddhism's major centers in India and is of great historic importance—when the Buddha had gained enlightenment, he came to Sarnath and delivered his first sermon (ca. 528 B.C.), usually referred to as Dharmachakra (The Wheel of the Law).


Since then, the site has been revered.

It includes a relic from Buddha, and the Bodhi tree, which was grown from a cutting of the famous tree under which Buddha reached enlightenment.

Finally, we headed to the banks of the holy Ganga, at once highly sacred yet physically far from clean.
As an image, an idea and a symbol of Hinduism's central realities—it is a place to be born and a place to die.
Along its banks, you will see bathers of all kinds,

clothes being washed, and the dead being cremated and scattered into the sacred waters.
Woah.
We took a boat ride to gain perspective before exploring some of the hundred or more ghats along the river.
The ghats are bustling with vendors and flower sellers who do brisk business, kite flyers, and Brahmins or holy men who dole out blessings to passers by whether you want it or not—of course, they expect payment in return. (check out my crazy head paint! yellow lines across my entire forehead! The Brahmin gave me a marriage blessing??!)

Evenings on the riverfront are special indeed. At dusk, leaf-boat lamps are floated down the Ganga
and synchronized pujas are performed which last for over an hour.
Blessings and worship are made by five young men with various forms of fire, incense, bells, chants, fans, conch shells, and water.

It is quite a production, and the steps of the ghats are filled with onlookers and participants of all ages.
This happens every night.

Behind the ghats are mazes of narrow lanes called galis which wind through the old quarters and exude the sounds and smells of this holy city.

They are fascinating to wander through, but one can get lost easily!
Some are bustling with shops, people, and the occasional motorbike barreling through, while others are more peaceful, quietly humming with the banalities of every-day life in Varanasi. Which include cows. Many, many cows.

We again boarded the Shiv Ganga, dusty and worn out from the hassles of travel in India, heads swimming with images crammed in two-day's time, some beautiful, some uncomfortable, and teetered on the edge of dreaming and conscious states before returning to the roar of Delhi at daybreak.

While many of you were getting ready for Easter, I was celebrating one of the most colorful holidays I've ever experienced. It's called "Holi," and it's a festival celebrating Spring and color in India. I asked many people about the story of Holi, because all festivals/holidays in India can usually be traced back to Hindu mythology. I received several different answers, but the most common is the one featured here: http://www.thecolorsofindia.com/holi-legends/bhakt-prahlad-holika.html

But here's what I can tell you:

It all starts the night before Holi, on the full moon. On this night, you celebrate the burning of Holika, the evil auntie/demoness who died in the fire. I was at a gallery opening that night, and they still had a huge bonfire, dangerously close to the gallery building, with drummers to celebrate. After lighting the fire, people start to throw powdered dyes/colors at each other, flower petals, and nuts into the fire. Then everyone dances around it:

The next day, the real fun begins. Holi is a national holiday, so celebrations begin early in the day and last all afternoon, into the night. this is when people "Play Holi", which means you get together and throw fistfuls of colored dyes and marigold-infused water at each other. (The dyes are made from natural, medicinal herbs traditionally prescribed by Āyurvedic doctors). It's inescapable...everywhere you turn, there is something being thrown at you...or someone dumping colors all over your body. Everyone wears white clothing to show off the colors better; my t-shirt was white before the party!

After a while, the music begins and everyone dances while continuing to play with color. And the color play got more and more intense...of course, someone pulled out a swimming pool filled with colored water and came dragged the foreigners into it ;-) It was hilarious!

But that's not all. Throughout the entire event are servants walking around with snacks, a drink called thandi (almonds, honey, milk), and even ice cream treats--all laced with hashish. That's right, folks...when i said it was crazy, I meant it. Everyone there was drinking and/or high, getting crazy with colors and music—ALL DAY. There were even little kids running around eating hashish-laced popsicles! Amazing, weird, exhausting, joyous, and unlike anything I've been a part of before. the photos don't do it justice...I was afraid to take out my camera too much because I didn't want it to get ruined.

But I hope you get some idea from this entry of what Holi is about...HAPPY HOLI!!

WEDDING RECEPTION

In India, a typical wedding in lasts 3-4 days—sometimes longer. The first day is a ring ceremony, and the women apply Henna to their hands and arms, and of course a celebration with music and dancing at the house. The next day is the actual wedding ceremony complete with a large procession that includes the groom riding a horse down the street to the temple or ceremony location. The next day is the reception, which is what I got to see.

This reception was small and modest by Indian standards, but it was still a lot of fun. I had no idea who the bride and groom were, but they and their families were extremely welcoming and just wanted to make sure everyone was having a great time. When we first arrived, we were ushered up to a platform to get a picture with the bride and groom...all of the guests do this, and then they make a large album for the couple. There is an open bar that serves alcoholic beverages, just like American weddings, but it is tucked away in the back and only the men go there. That area was just full of men standing around, smoking, drinking, and talking. The bar in the main reception area served fresh juices, sodas, and milkshakes for the kids. We found a table and waiters brought us plates and plates of appetizers and drinks throughout the evening—it was non-stop! There was a pretty awful DJ with dancing, which was fun...everyone was trying to teach us different ways of dancing. (I gave up after the Punjabi-style dance....it was so intricate, and I'm a terrible dancer to begin with!) But we had a good laugh.

Then, there was an entire second large room towards the back. When you walked in, there was an amazingly detailed ice sculpture of Ganesha, ( it looks like silver in this picture because of the flash). The perimeter of the room was lined with booths—"fake street vendors"— containing every different kind of spicy and sweet Indian food you could imagine, and a table in the center where a man was making fresh Naan. It was incredible—and believe me, I had my share!

Pretty soon, the fireworks started which was wonderful as well. The reception hall had walls, but no roof—so we were dancing and celebrating under the trees and the stars, and they just shot the fireworks off from the middle of the dance floor! I think every wedding should have that—it was great!

So that's my little peek into an Indian wedding. I know they can be much more elaborate than this, but I thought it was a pretty great party. Indians know how to have a good time!

Old Delhi was built between 1638 and 1648 by Shah Jahan. The Red Fort and Jama Masjid are the focal point of Old Delhi, and the surrounding area is full of narrow lanes packed to the gills with all different types of wares for sale. Walking through these winding bazars is a complete head trip—it is virtually impossible for anyone who hasn't been there to fully understand. The streets are packed with people, shoulder to shoulder. Vendors and shops line both sides of the streets, in which you can find everything imaginable...for example,there are entire streets that sell nothing but sugars, or others that just sell different types of ball bearings. There is so much to experience at once, it is indescribable...cows walking through the crowds, people bathing and urinating in the streets, rickshaws, bikes, and motor scooters plowing through the crowds, kids playing, monkeys, honking horns, people yelling and pushing, enormously crazy bundles of cables and wires that is the electric system, the feeling that you are taking your life into your hands every time you want to cross the street....it is an exercise in sensory overload to say the least—like walking straight through some bizarre National Geographic dream. It was very exciting! The photos and video clip on this page attempt to capture the feeling of being there, but in all honesty they don't do it justice.

After walking for a while and eating some of the most amazing Indian food I've ever tasted, including Tandoori chicken, Limka (a citrus soda drink) and Brain Curry (yes, I ate goat brains....and they were fabulous; I almost ordered a second helping!) we headed to Jama Masjid, or the Friday mosque. It is the largest mosque in India. We removed our shoes and walked inside, which is expansive and breathtaking and has birds of all sorts soaring overhead. Unfortunately, I have no photos of this because of the camera fee...but I will go back to photograph it another time. We were shooed out of the mosque because it was nearing sunset, and the prayers were about to begin...so no women or non-Muslims were allowed to stay. This mosque is what you see at the beginning of the video clip on this page.

We then walked to the Red Fort, which is sprawling and made primarily of red sandstone—hence the name. It was built by Shah Jahan and contains his opulent marble palace and residency within. Those buildings are highly ornamented and flanked by verdant green lawns on which the people of Delhi enjoy relaxing today.

This trip to Old Delhi was exhausting, and I still only saw a fraction of it. I'm sure I will have a few more adventures in this part of town during my stay—I'll keep you posted.