INDIA, the Other World

Day 1:

Chennai, India greeted us at 6:10 with smog. I get up every morning we arrive in port to see the sun rise and take arrival pictures…but this morning India would not have it. I learned a valuable phrase in pre-port the night before arriving in Chennai: IWA, which means “India Wins Again”. IWA became a very important phrase during my travels throughout the country. After waking for the nonexistent sunrise I put myself back in bed. Roughly a half an hour later I could tell that we had pulled into India; the ardent smell of burnt feathers seeped through the cracks of my doorway and rested right in my nostrils. Little did I know that this was only one of MANY smells about to tantalize my senses and also the launch of my sneeze-fest!

My friend, Katelyn, and I wanted to get a little bit of shopping done before we left for our Delhi/Agra/Varanasi trip with SAS at 3:30 p.m., so we took off in search for the ever-so-famous auto-rickshaw! Immediately after getting off the ship we were offered a bicycle rickshaw, which we later learned was highly unnecessary because it only took us about a half of a mile down the road where we had to transfer to an auto-rickshaw. Just the site of the undersized, yellow, three wheeled monsters got me excited! We negotiated with the driver to pay 200 rupees total for him to take us to the market, T nagar. The ride was everything I thought it could be and more; honking, zooming, weaving, and even yelling. This experience was all hunky-dory until we made our first “stop” at what I will call Mystery Store #1. This was most definitely the furthest thing from a market – it was a ritzy store complete with a suited doorman. We had the nice man inside who spoke English quite well to tell our driver exactly where we wanted to go hoping that would fix our little communication problem. As we were getting back in our rickshaw we were roped in by a snake charmer with two cobras. We both took pictures knowing very well that he would ask for money in the end – I gave him 10 rupees (25 cents). We then headed to our second stop, I will call this the Fake Market Street. Our driver told us it was T nagar…he was clearly confused. All that was being sold on this street was shoes and plastic trinkets. We actually walked around for a few minutes, saw a brightly colored temple (randomly placed), which was surrounded by a mote filled with eel-like fish. I honestly don’t know where I was. We decided to ask our driver to take us to a different shopping area – we gave him the name both in words and on paper and insisted we were taken there. This brings us to Mystery Store #2. We were told by the clerks inside that the rickshaw drivers knew exactly where we were asking to go but they would only take us to these stores because they get commission. I had heard about this happening to people from previous voyages but kind of hoped to avoid it. We were pretty fed up at this point and time was running out so we just had them take us back to the ship where they tried to charge us 1400 rupees!! Those crazy fools, we paid them 400 total.

At 3:30 I left on my SAS trip with 65 other students. We arrived at our overly extravagant hotel in Delhi around 10:00 p.m. where half of the ship seemed to be as well. It was a really nice place…but I was kind of looking forward to escaping the students for a while. A lot of SASers decided to “hit the bar” in the hotel that night, which I think is pretty darn ridiculous. Drinking is not something that is predominant in India; in fact, it is extremely inappropriate for women to be seen drinking – most places won’t even serve women alcohol, but some SAS kids are on a mission. Out of all of the ports we visit you would think India would be the place where you could go without consuming alcohol in mass quantities. Apparently not.

Day 2:

We woke at 4:15 a.m. to get to the train station to board the Shatabdi Express to Agra. On the bus ride over I noticed a large handful of people squatted on the side of the road, in fields, looking as if they were waiting for something. I couldn’t quite figure it out until I got a full view of a man pooping. This was one of the first things about India that kind of threw me for a loop. It is extremely common and accepted to do your “business” anywhere you please. I’m sure you are thinking “ewe” or “nasty” but when you see it with your own eyes, it makes sense. The entire country is overflowing with litter. If you eat a banana you don’t go looking for a trash can to throw the peel away, you toss it on the ground. Sanitation is virtually nonexistent. Even the streets that run past the richest homes were filled with trash. I don’t remember much else from the train ride – I was a very sleepy girl.

Directly after arriving in Agra, we began our sightseeing adventures with Fatehpur Sikri, a deserted city built by Emperor Akbar. The temples were built entirely out of red sandstone giving it a lot more beauty than I had expected. This was also the place where we experienced our first set of hawkers pushing all sort of trinkets, jewelry, and postcards. I remember how they could be from my experience in Mexico, but some people clearly had no idea how to deal with the situation. The best way to handle them is to make zero eye contact, say “No, thank you” while continuing to walk briskly. Girls on our bus would start cutesy conversations with the hawkers saying things like, “I will come back, I promise”, but complain about how they would not leave them alone when they got back on the bus.

Okay, our next stop was the Saga Departmental store, which had an uncanny resemblance of my Mystery Store #1! The items were outrageously overpriced, but according to our guide, Navin, it was the only shopping center approved by Semester at Sea (I don’t believe him…I think he gets commission). After this exciting shopping excursion I got to relieve my extreme hunger at lunch at Hotel Mansingh – traditional Indian food. After lunch we visited Agra Fort. This is where Shah Jahan, the builder of the Taj Mahal, was imprisoned by his son and later became the halls and palaces for the Mughals. The only really neat thing about the place was you could see the Taj in the distance; it was a little smoggy, but it was definitely there. Fun story: one of the professors on our trip got harassed by a hungry monkey! It jumped down all the way from the top of the temple to steal her orange. I am officially terrified of these rabid monkeys.

OFF TO THE TAJ!
The first moment to see the renowned Taj Mahal was absolutely surreal. It was much more powerful, intricate, and massive than I had imagined. I had almost expected to be unimpressed with the structure, but I was more than proven wrong. The first twenty minutes, however, were incredibly overwhelming and stressful – not only was I trying to take in this unreal site in front of me, but also trying to take that perfect picture while a hundred other people had the same idea. You either had to wait you turn or shove your way to “the spot” – both options I was not too keen with. By the end of those frantic twenty minutes, I felt as if I had been run over by a rickshaw. I decided to put my camera to the side and simply breath in the atmosphere. There were surprisingly a ton of Indians there – many more Indians than white people (excuse the jargon, but I don’t know how us to label us along with all of the other European tourists). I spent a good amount of time sitting on the ledge of the Taj doing some people watching. The people are stunning with their brightly colored saris, bindis, and happy smiles. Just as the sun began to set casting a beige/pink tint on the marbel we had to leave. I was truly sad to leave something so beautiful – at least I have it as a memory.

We had dinner at the hotel once again, and went to the train station to head back to Delhi. Somehow a group of 20 of us got separated from the rest of the group along with both our guide and leader on our way to our train spot. There were some moments of distress seeing as none of us knew when exactly our train was suppose to arrive, but we finally figured out where we needed to be…if there is one thing I had learned so far on this trip it is that everything works out in the end. As we waited for the train to arrive around 10:00 p.m. we noticed these two children, most likely brother and sister, playing amongst all of the hustle and bustle. They looked as if they hadn’t bathed in months and only eaten a couple of times a week. The half and hour I spent around them I did not see any sign of their mother. These kids didn’t just wake up in the morning and say, “Hey, let’s go play at the train station tonight”; they probably spend everyday at this train station begging (among the many other beggars – most being deformed). By the time was got off the train all I wanted to do was sleep, but IWA came into play once more. Our massive tour bus was blocked in by workers, trucks, crates, etc. It was midnight - people work all hours of the day here, 24/7/365. Reaching the hotel was a moment of pure bliss after being in constant transit for the past nineteen hours.

Day 3:

This was the day of all days in India. We woke up at 6:00 a.m. to do a little sight seeing in Delhi before heading to the airport for our flight to Varanasi…which didn’t do too much in keeping me awake. As we arrived in Varanasi I could already feel the difference in the air – I knew I was about to experience something unlike the previous cities. The city itself seemed slightly more rural than Delhi and Chennai; less big buildings and more people. Right when we got on the bus, Navin informed us that the Prime Minister is coming to Varanasi the next day and because of that we would not be able to visit the Ganges River in the morning – it would be completely closed. (Another case of IWA) Instead we were going to try to get on the river that evening. This instigated an outbreak of “What?!” “Why?” “Whah whah whah!” – clearly there is nothing we can do about the situation, but some students just looooove to complain. We transferred to the hotel, had some lunch, then we were allotted a whole HOUR of rest! This was our only down time the entire trip (besides sleeping), in which I spent watching Bollywood music videos on my hotel TV. I was so grateful to have some time to myself; I was completely emotionally drained by this point and I hadn’t even seen Varanasi yet.

After our little break, we began our afternoon excursions. Our first stop was at the ancient ruins of Sarnath, where Buddha gave his first sermon to five of his former companions. There are four places where every Buddhist must visit in his or her lifetime: 1. Buddha’s birthplace, 2.The tree where Buddha reached nirvana, 3. Where Buddha gave his first sermon, and 4. Buddha’s resting place. We saw hundreds of Buddhists dressed in white on their pilgrimage. There was an odd/awkward mixture of Buddhists kneeling, saying their prayers, and tourists snapping pictures. I’m not sure how I felt about it…but I think the feeling was not a happy one. We then went to the “New Buddhist Temple” where I took off my shoes and felt the marble beneath my toes. The temple had some captivating paintings on the wall, but I feel as if I missed its significance.

Alright, this is where the adventure begins! Here was the plan: We would take the bus to meet the rickshaws, which were to take us to the boats, which were to take us to see the ceremonies on the Ganges River. All 65 of us climbed into 33 different bicycle rickshaws. My friend, Mina, and I shared a rickshaw – our driver (or peddler) was probably half the size of me with teeth the color of a coke can from the constant use of tobacco. When the ride started out it was just plain fun; there was outrageous, hectic traffic, millions of smells wafting up my nose, kids waving “hello!”, horns, bells, whistles, and voices ringing in my ear. I was basking in a sensory overload. After riding for roughly ten minutes, all of the rickshaws had to make a u-turn because they road ahead was closed due to the Prime Minister. So…we headed in a different direction and this is where it gets interesting.

The sun was beginning to set as we turned down a narrow side street jam-packed with rickshaws, motorcycles, cows, beggars, litter, stray dogs, Indians manning their shops, talking with friends, cooking food, watching 60 white kids ride by on their common means of transportation. Even in these itsy-bitsy bicycle cars we were able to get in a massive traffic jam, only moving a few feet every couple of minutes, which gave me ample time to take in my surroundings. A beautiful young girl with eyes sparkling with dreams stood at the edge of her home, which was more like a hole cut out in the side of the building half the size of my cabin room lit by one single bulb. She was holding a tin cup for begging and wore a gigantic smile while waving hello to me. A group of males sniggered to each other as our rickshaw stopped in front of their shop. Muslim women cloaked in black from head to toe rode by on rickshaws. A boy climbed over the front wheel of our bicycle with his bare feet trying to cross the crowded street. Small dogs with matted hair withered away just inches away from my feet. In all of this powerful poverty, I have to say that this was the most beautiful street I have ever been on in my life.

After making it quite a way down this particular street, our guide came walking by waving his arms saying, “Go back, we cannot go. We cannot go, go back!” Once again, our rickshaws flipped a U-ey. I figured we were heading back toward the busses until we began making some strange turns down random alley ways. Many of the rickshaws split off into different directions. Our rickshaw turned down this rugged, dirt alley filled with cows. We would get down one street just to turn around and do it again on another street. At this point, Mina and I had no idea what was going on. Were we going to the Ganges, or were we going to the busses? After about a half on hour of this crazy game, things started to get a little sketchy. The sun had gone down and kids were running up and down our rickshaws, grabbing at us, hassling us to take their pictures or give our camera to them to take pictures. Our group leader, Dan, decided to borrow someone’s phone to call Navin and find out where the heck he was. Turns out, Navin had gone back to the busses a long time ago and was waiting for all of us! We made our last turnabout and headed back to the busses…no Ganges River (another case of IWA). I would have been incredibly upset to not see the river that evening if I hadn’t had such a compelling, intense, enthralling experience on the rickshaws. By the end, I had dust crusted up my nose, a butt in severe pain, and a mind of mush. I really had no idea how to put this evening into words, so I hope I have done it a little justice.

Day 4:

(I apologize for the length…you don’t have to read all of this! J)

We tried, once again, to make it to the Ganges River in the morning even though Navin said our chances were very slim. Although I had crossed my fingers and prayed the night before, I was really unsure of what the outcome was going to be. It wasn’t until I saw the massive row of white tour busses that I knew we were going to make it! The first definite glimpse of the calm, grey waters up ahead perked up all of my senses that could possibly work at 5:30 in the morning. The stone steps traipsing down to the Ganges were like a red carpet for the deceased.

Hindus from all over come to the Ganges River for two reasons: to fulfill a pilgrimage and to perform a death ceremony. Every Hindu must come to the river at one point in their life to bathe themselves in the holy water. After bathing, swimming, and sometimes even drinking the water, they fill a gold tin pale with the water, mix it with milk and honey and carry it to the temple of Shiva. This whole experience is supposed to bring you closer to salvation.

Varanasi is the oldest and holiest city to Hindus. It is said that if you die in Varanasi you bypass straight to heaven, no questions asked. People used to actually come to a temple in Varanasi to commit suicide by chopping off their own head – this practice has been banned. Instead, people will come to the city on their death bed and stay in “hospices” along side the river waiting to die. When one does die, the body is cremated by the man’s son - if he does not have a son, then by his nephew -if he does not have any male relatives, then he will be sent to the electrical furnace. Sons are highly valued in Indian culture, which is why there are huge problems with female infanticide (women aborting their female fetus) and overpopulation. Our guide said that he hadn’t seen that furnace lit in the twenty-five years he has been taking people to the Ganges. The cremation occurs on the top of the steps along side the river and lasts about five to six hours. When a husband dies, the wife removes her nose ring and places it inside the husband’s mouth before being cremated. Women, however, are not allowed to view the cremation. We saw two men wading in the river, sifting through the ashes looking for these jewels, which is actually an approved profession. After death, the family mourns for one full year, which means they do not celebrate any holiday, festivity, ritual, the entire time. The whole ceremony is extraordinarily interesting and gripping.

The architecture surrounding the river made the area that much more impressive. Only pictures can do it justice, really. We saw many men and women bathing in the river that morning. You would think that all of these people would get horrendously ill from immersing themselves in the same water they just cremated their father in, but their unreal ability of mind over matter, believing the river can only bring purity into their lives, brings them more health than harm. We only saw one cremation that morning – just one single stock of smoke billowing from the steps of the Ganges. There are more in the evening because it takes most families the whole morning/afternoon to transit to Varanasi. The river, in all of its morbidity, held a strong sense of serenity. We walked back to the busses, weaving through the tent-like huts made out of cloth and dirt with Indian residents perched inside looking as if they are just waiting for the day to pass. I have to admit, I was a little elated to leave the Ganges behind – my emotional capacity had been filled.

The remainder of our morning was spent shopping! We went to a silk shop and a bead shop where they made everything then and there. I got all of my souvenir/gift shopping done! We left for the airport at 2:00p.m. and stood in an insanely long line at the security check in the miniscule Varanasi airport. There was a line for men and a line for women – the women can only be frisked by other women and they were definitely not equipped to handle our proportion of females/males. We stood in line for an hour and fifteen minutes, I’m sure of it. Here’s a nifty tid-bit: we were in the airport at the same time the Prime Minister of India arrived…and left in a helicopter. We got to our ship at 12:15 a.m. and I made a massive bowl of oatmeal! It felt great to be back in the comforts of our ship.

Day 5:

I woke up early (yes, I am crazy) to call my family (12 hour time difference). There was a phone service set up right outside the ship charging only one dollar for three minutes. I got to talk to my sister, brother, and both of my parents!! I was so happy to hear all of their voices – I am so thankful for my family and everything they do for me. I miss you all a ton!

Anyway, later than afternoon my friends and I decided to go to a Bollywood movie! I have no idea what it was called, but I saved the ticket. It was incredibly entertaining, over-exaggerated, and just plain silly. I loved it! The movies last for up to five hours and they have an intermission. We skipped out at the intermission because we don’t speak Tamil and we started to get a little lost in the story line. It was a perfect way to spend my last day in India.

Conclusions about India:
It is too soon for me to analyze what I have seen and experienced, and what I have not seen and not experienced. All I know is I do not like Indian food. I tried…it is just not my thing.