wedding

Hi

I was looking at some of my friend's study abroad blogs, and realized that I update and write way too much. I think it's become something of a guilty pleasure to come to the internet cafe and use computers--it's the bit of home and familiarity. And, I feel like I have an audience for my ramblings, even if it's just my parents. Hi, parents.





I went to a wedding--the cousin of my host brothers was the bride. It was crazy and fun--very colorful and lots of food. It was beautiful and sonically pleasing. There was a band at the wedding with tabla player and heavy synth and sounded like disco music over tabla with cellphone ringing. When the groom's party came, they brought a marching band, and many men firing guns into the air. So you could hear the two parties converging, for a good twenty minutes, much beating of drums and shooting (which scared me. I told my host brother I was scared, and he assured me they were experts and I was being a wimp. I shut up, then my other host brother comes over to me and says in a jolly tone, "this is very dangerous, yes?"). Anyway, creatied intresting sonic effect. I sat with the bride most of the time, who is not really allowed to participate in the festivities after the ceremony and before the fire-ceremony at the end. She was beautifully done up- you can see. the worst part was, they hired two girls to dance on stage for like three hours while the men got horny--clearly, they were not hired for their good dancing. Many members of my host family quietly told me that they also found this distasteful, too, so at least it wasn't just a liberal American reaction.

It must have been very expensive, it was very showy. The tradition is that the bride's family has to pay for the wedding. THis has big implications for women in india, becuase it means that daughters are financially undesirable, and is one of the reasons that infanticide and forced abortions of female babies are so common in India, and the proportion of women to men in the population is falling so much (is that the right way to say it? I mean there are fewer women). I wrote a bit about women in my notebook:

The battle against Kamdeo
must never be against her face
the beauty of women is
the beauty of all of us
and is under attack,
has always been.
Violence and subservience
the eternal producers of CHapati
while the men eat
the arrows of silence shot into her heart
and she beleives them
and has always.
So she is alone,
convinced she is a burden
constantly trying to make up for herself.

In my host family, I am constantly impressed by my host mom--she is cheerful and loving and always singing, one of the best spirits I have ever come across. She is lucky to have a good family--although she is the only woman in the house, her sons are devoted and helpful to her. There are two men in the house, her husband and his younger brother. Her husband is very crabby with her, and mostly ignores her and takes her for granted. This is how most marrages here are, I feel. But she is lucky that his brother lives with them, because he is sweet to her and they are very close. Most indian women don't have that, they are just alone under the burden of their husband's assumption that they exist only to serve his needs.

Maybe I'm unfairly steriotyping here--I have not traveled widely enough or met enough people to actually claim to know what I'm talking about. But I do know, almost all marrages here are arranged, and divorce is rare. This morning, a woman came to speak to us--she was being abused by her husband, and so she ran away into the city and found work herself. After she began to make money, her husband and sons followed her into the city and moved in with her, so now not only is she the mother, but also the only earner in the family. She cleans other people's houses.

More later
love
jed

To unfairly compare religions

Hello
Have not been keeping up with morning writing puja. Whenever I sit down at home, my host family comes in to try to make me drink chai or something. This is the hardest part about being here. Indians have no sense of personal space, so it is impossible for me to do any work of my own, or even have thoughts to myself. I appriciate their loving kindness and concern for me, it's just a cultural difference that it is my job to transcend, not theirs.

Firstly, saw the drupaud mela last night, a beautiful all night concert of the oldest type of Indian music. The concert goes for 72 hours straight, just constant music for 72 hours. Most of it was serengay, which sounds like a violin sort of, the drum (they don't use a tabla, because it's even older than Tabla music--I forget what the drum is called, but they lay it on it's side and the left end is the bass end), and increadible, indescribable vocals, not singing so much as making music with the vocal chords. Never seen anything like it. Most of the crowd were western hippies, much dreadlocks. Festival-type crowd. I liked them, the westerners who make it over here to India are mostly cool people, even though they can get a little freaky. A few thoughts:

What west presents itself here
dreadlocked, humble (?)
beautiful to my western eyes,
what west sits at your feet, India
and what west seets to regulate
the eternal beats uncontrollable?
how will you know us?
and how will we know you, through beauty, or music alone?
poverty and suffering and dust?
Or will we bother to learn?


The serengay breaths
as the pulse throbs
and spins out of control
1234 234 234 34 44444444
chacka thraab chaacka thrab ha
and the serangay breaths
through stringed nostrils
om ooohmmmmm ahoooooom

Because vocal chords strain to be unified, to become whole with the audience, to be reunited with the brahm, strain to be heard, to make noise not words, vocal chords reach out and become themselves, because music is ourselves and wea re a drop int he eternal ocean and these waves are controlled by a blind beareded saddhu beating a drum and pundit serangay watches and guides through tides of in and out, self and other, self an out and self and out and through an out and into brahm untouched.d

Ok. taken care of.
I want to share some thoughts about buddhism and hinduism. Mostly because I have no time outside of my internet cafe time to write, and it's important for me to crystallize my thoughts about it now. Because there will be a lot, lot more buddhism on this trip, and I want to be able to trace how my opinions changed. However, if you're just cheking the blog to see how I'm doing, feel free to skip this. We went to sarnoth a few days ago, birthplace of buddhism, and learned about noble truths and suffering and the middle path, saw beautiful high ornate gilded temples set amongst poverty and dust, village life, more rural than before.
Buddhist philosophy is beautiful, and true, and it leads to a stillness that is a real experience of the eternal. I deeply respect the silence, the practice of meditation, and I will get much out of practicing meditation myself both here and in Dharamshala. My problem arises not from the philosophy itself, but from the fact that it has such a discrete, discernable philosophy that can not only be taught, but enumerated (the four noble truths, the five aversions, etc.) It's a dogma that must be swallowed whole by it's followers, just the same as all the organized religions which I have such a profound problem with. These are the four noble truths: one, two, three, four. Sure, these truths are true, but surely there are more truths than that. And the only reason they are noble, is because you say they are.
The other peice of the puzzle is this: both buddhism and hinduism recognize that we are each a small part of one eternal, unchanging whole, that in this sense we are ourselves god and there is no god outside of ourselves. I like that. But hinduism allows for the Atman, which is the descrete tiny sliver of god that we carry in ourselves, and, as such, it allows for the (albeit temporary) existance of a self. Buddhism does not--it insists that the self is merely an illusion, just like the rest of reality, which is all illusion and delusion. . But this is not our daily lived experience, this is not our life, and you only have to open your eyes to see that. We inhabit descrete bodies with personalities that have to interact with eachother and the world around us. In this way, I feel that hinduism gives its followers more tools to deal with their actual lived lives, and to find meaning in their lives. Buddhism demands that its followers transcend their daily experiences, which is something that takes full devotion and practice. TO actually be a buddhist, you have to be a monk, you have to spend every waking moment trying to see beyond the illusion. But this is a luxury that comes from privilige. People who have to work to survive simply cannot do that. This begins to answer the question that has been bothering me so much about buddhism: they build these increadilbe, ornate temples which the philosophy does not seem to justify at all. How do they justify this increadible expendature of wealth for materials that are pleasing to the eye? The buddhist would say "because it's all illusion, so why not?' But now I realize, that buddhism really is the religion of privilige, and that's why the buddhists will always be increadibly rich. The tibetan buddhist organization thing, whatever the call it, is amazingly wealthy. Because there's no room in their philosophy for the hard daily toil of the people. And that's also why it has been so easy for the american bourgeousie to accept buddhism--because they have the luxury and the privilige to do it. Don't get me wrong, it's a good thing to do with luxury and privilige if you have it, like I said, it's a beautiful philosophy and the daily practice of meditation can save the world.

This is in contrast to hinduism, which is so various and manifold. Although there are central beleifs of Hinduism, they are innumerable, and it is up to the follower of the religion to form their own personal brand of hinduism. This increadibly complex ideological structure is mirrored and symbolized by the richest mythological and narrative tradition in the world, which allows the followers to personally relate to the philisophical ideas, to form personal relationships with their own god, and to really make it their own god. I've been going around the city interviewing hindus, and they each worship their own favorite god, Siva, Hanumaun, Ganesha, Vishnu (and any one of the millions of incarnations of Vishnu, esp. krishna), and they each have their own personal reasons for worshipping that god. This makes them increadibley proud and independant in their worship, and it allows them to make meaning of every day. It is very important to note that the buddha is the ninth incarnation of vishnu in the Hindu pantheon, so they do worship Buddha and follow buddha's teachings, but as only one peice of a much larger puzzle. You'll see images of the buddha in almost any north Indian hindu temple.

Not to say that hinduism is perfet, or even that it is good. some of the social practices around it are inexcusable, especially the caste system and the treatment of women. Also, the environment in which hindus worship is very difficult for me, the temples are often more loud and chaotic than the street. It's the mosh pit approach to religion. I far prefer the silence of a buddhist temple.

sorry to give you so much to read.
love
jed

Reality update

Hello
I have much I want to write to you, about spirit and buddhism and hinduism and mythology, which I have to say, but I have no time at all to do so, so it will wait, because there is always more time in the future. But now, I just want to say what I have been doing and what I will do, because it's interesting and if there are avid readers of this blog, then I guess yuou want to know what I'm up to.

Yesterday, trip to Sarnoth, the place of Buddha's first teaching, sacred site to buddhists. Have much to say about buddhism, will save it for later. today, I had class and program-stuff, and just went shopping for wedding clothes with my host brother, which was an intense and trying affair. I needed western clothes, cotton pants and button down shirt. Indian pants are tight in crotch area. Family very approving with my snappy looks. The first night of the wedding is tonight, which I will miss unfortionatly, and the second night of the wedding is tomorrow night. It is my host-cousin (a girl) getting married, a very big deal, long wedding, very auspicious day. TOnight i will go to the Drupaud Mela, an all night concert of Indian classical music, until six in the morning. Then tomorrow, I will conduct my first two interviews about hindi mythology to two grandmothers, who I hope will tell me good stories of the gods. I have a translator. Then tomorrow night, the wedding, then on Sunday I go to the Ashram/orphanage to volunteer, then a meeting with Shukaji, then sunday night is Shivratri, Night of Shiva, which is a huge hindu holiday, especially in this city which is sacred to Shiva, and will be quite insane and crazy.

Will post more later.
love
jed

dusty

a few corrections: the origional, mythological name of this place is Kashi, not whatever I said below. And the myth is partly wrong and highly oversimplified, but each myth is drastically different depending on who is telling it. My mentor, Shuklaji, seems to invent his own myths which vary wildly from the origional tellings--and I know he's read and translated the origionals many, many times. This is because mythology is only what we want it to be as humans, it has no truth.

Also, that picture 2 is not of the main ghat at all. It's just another ghat.

In hindi, the word for the runs is "dust," which is amazingly fitting for this place. I have been exceedingly dusty, and have had some mind-expanding adventures in the toilet. So, this one word describes nearly all the unpleasentness of being here. Am on the mend.

Best
jed

Picture 2

OK. this is a picture of main ghat. India is impossible to photograph, especially the daily lived experience of it, so I am sorry if you cannot visualize my surroundings from this.

Trial picture post

Photobucket is too slow, but I don't know how much space this blog gives me. This is just one picture to try. It was taken at Assi Ghat, just a few moments from my house

OK. That took way too long. Photobucket won't work at all, and we'll have to make due with a very few pictures on the blog. The origional plan of just uploading them all isn't going to fly, even a little bit.

Settling in Banaras

The founding of banaras:
siva was very sad. his wife, pavrati, asked him why he was so sad. he said, 'it is all this coming and going, all this rebirth and redeath. so much suffering in this world my brothers have created.' And so Pavarati (sp?) said 'we should create a land where everyone can escape, can reach salvation, after one go'. and so, they joined together (siva is often depcited as half man and half woman) they joined together in one, thrust their spear down on the ground in the land between the Assi river and the Ganga, and created Kathka in this spot. The truth is, hindu scholars agree, that truly the city of Kathka is an etherial place, not really on this earth, and to come to Banaras hoping for an easy way out of Samsara is silly. But, this is where it is supposed to be, if you die here, you are free. ANd that's where I am now. isn't that sweet? how fucking cool is that?

Another short descriptive:
Wandering in kilometer after kiloeter of narrow feudal allyway, dodging cows and their dung, children gleefully calling "haillo! Haillo!" this place itself an earthly god with humans in her veins (many humans. there are so many indian people, it's crazy. New York doesn't know from population density).this place itself an earthly god with humans in her veins, excreting filth to be returned to Mother Ganga, which is the mother of all life, which is basically a big open sewer. It is septic.

A thought:

Arjuna, warrior hero of the pandavas, needed to kill Karna to win the war of the mahabrata. Karna, hero of the Kurus, could not be killed while he carried a magical shield of protection. So Krishna, the cowherd, incarnation of Vishnu, talked to Kunti, who was mother to both Karna and arjuna (but only raised Karna), and asked her to tell her son Karna to leave his shield behind. She did, and obedient to his mother, he did not carry his shield into battle. Thus, Arjuna slew him with his gandava bow. Allright. So who was heroic, who was honerable here? Arjuna was supposed to be the hero, supposed to be fighting for justice, but who said so? Karna was brave and honorable and loyal. Arjuna is the hero, just because Krishna said so. SO just because he's a god, he gets to decide what's right and wrong? We're just supposed to take his word for it that Karna's a bad guy? Thats not morality. This was a point raised by Shuktaji, who is an old man with hair growing from his ears who sits for hours a day and talks to me about hinduism and life and whateveris on his mind. He is very wise, and laughs at everything, especailly the great evils, the great suffering. I'm supposed to be learning mythology from him, but I'll have toget that from books.

Visit last night to host Aunt's house, easy to be polite when you can't speak the language--just sit there. Wedding soon.

More later. I am now living in one place until april 20, so will have no crazy travelling stories, just ramblings about what I'm learning.
Hope you all are well.
best
jed

Banaras day two

This was written this morning, much has happened since then.

What an increadible, vibrant city, city of siva, city of light, city of the roaming cow--all Indian cities are the city of the roaming cow--city of insane westerners seeking enlightenment, city of the ganga, the dirtiest holy body of water in the world. (today, I was walking along the ghats, and disturbingly saw a baby floating in the ganga, mouth frozen in perpetual cry. They don't burn the dead babies before giving the mover to Gagaji, because they are not polluted.)Yesterday got first intro to Banaras, you can feel a rush of life in the streets and on the river here. Hat chai on Assi Ghat (where the program house is near) saw the nightly fire puja, and had dinner at a pizzerria. Pizza not good after Indian food, completely bland even overloaded with garlic, but i'm glad we ate there because the owner (Govin-ji) invited the four men of our program (we've since grown to five with the late addition of George) me, Nate, ben and our leader Adrian, back to his home above the pizzeria for a very informal jam-jam session of tabla and serengy. Govin was a masterful tabla player--the man is muchly mafia connected and has nothing to do all day besides own AssiGhat and practice the tabla. Two drums sing like athousand drumcircles under hummingbird fingers. I will begin to learn to play tabla on Monday. The serengy is a tradiitonal Indian instrument, but it's poorly made, so prof. serengy players just use a violin, held upside down sitting on floor, balanced on the arch of the foot, and played very impolitely. Much more emotion conveyed. Best music I have heard ever. Indain approach much better--much less repetition and more freedom and more emotion.

Chai is delicious and westerners who think they can make it at starbucks are highly delusional.

Eating with your right hand makes food better and soul happier than a fork ever will.

Washing yer ass with water much more sanitary than just shmearing it with toilet paper. Sorry to offend the polite company that this blog keeps, but I thought it was important information that needed to be shared.

Bucket showers good, too.

Everything is better here. Especailly the cowdung, which is holy, and smells much better than peopledung.

Had a crazy ride from the trainstation yesteray. One skinny indian working the gearshift and breaks and gas, another skinny indian sitting on top of him steerinmg. Missed everything by inches. Much use of horn. Every inch of streetspace given over to life or its waste, every moment filled with horns and bells and shouts, life is chaos and always watching reveal the laid back quality of Banaras, selves getting entertained by crazy citybrothers. This chaos knows no boundaries, and never dies, just flows, into temples and holy places, into houses and hovels, into the ganga itself.

Too much words
love
jed

First night at homestay family, completely open and glad to have me. I feel shy and awkward, but happy. need to learn Hindi quickly. Two broters speak English, two fathers don't and mostly ignore me, mother sits and tries to teach me hindi amongst much charming giggling and happyness.

Journal entries

SOme thoughts.

From Bangkok Temples:

Metallic godsized buddha
Serene on top of
a thousand reproductions of himself.
Each image a god himself--
does size matter?
Godsized golden buddha
your face is the same
Face of Power
that rules the rest of the world.


From Kolkota:
Rivers of bodies thirsty
for endless things
lives controlled by
physical needsm, an endless population
just trying
to survive
to get enough to eat
to get enough energy
to pray.
for the hundred rupees to pay
for that breif moment to stare
into the eyes of God of Time
and re-use an offered offering of flowers.

I didn't look at her,
the eternal destroyer,
could have met my eyes in an instant
in temple mosh pit
seething with violence
and, yes, greed
for life, need
to maintain
as has been maintained.
The Empty truth of
the material existance
which funs religion
and destroys the eternal spirit.

rhythem of the street skyroketed to breakneck heights of rushing bodies & wheels & selling & spitting red &begging & crying & emptytoothed men who should have been emporers in their eternal form trying to scam themselves into existance & everyone vibrating with the energy of the present. the absolute surrender of life as it is, and thirst to continue in the eternal present, to never stop the past, never let go of the future.

Stay safe and dry. If you want something from India, shoot me an email and tell me. Everything's cheap and lovely.
love
jed

Kolkota

After two beautiful days in Bangkok, I find myself in India, Calcutta, for the first time. What a crazy place. Saw the Buddhist temple in monsoon level rains in Bangkok. Now, in Kolkota. My first indian experience, fifteen minutes in the Mother Teresa House, cut short by sullen nuns, and then into the Kali Ghat, which is a famous temple to the goddess of time in death worshipped here in Bengali. My first impression of India, this is what happened. Was handed a basket of flowers, and lined up behind barefoot hindus, barefoot myself, shoes entrsted to someone else. A kindly old woman cut in frot of me, and we bowed to eachother. A pushy man decided it was his job to make sure I got into the temple and made eye contact with the godess. The temple was a mosh pit in front of an unimpressive altar. My self appointed guide brutally pushed the old woman aside, forced me ahead of a girl from our group--marrissa--who I think wasn't as important to him because she was a she. I thought a fight was going to break out at first, then realized that this is how it worked. Found myself in front of the goddess kali herself, who I didn't notice at all, and a man demanding 100 rupees, who I did. Hadn't changed money yet, handed him a dollar. Consternation! blasphemy! Sacrifice him to the goats! So I handed another. OK, OK, was given a sandalwood dot on my forhead, and pushed out of the way. A man demanded another dollar, did not give. was the only one to see the goddess from the group. Much determined begging, while I stood in front of the sacrafice altar, three kids devoted half an hour to pestering me after I gave in and gave one of them a pencil. Watched men kill three goats in a row, a sacrafice to the goddess, heads lopped of brisquely at an unadorned altar, blood flowing into he street. Serisouly, though, am very impressed by Indians in general, I love their energy and each one of them is caught up in the present moment, thrilled to be alive, mindful and energetic.I have much to learn from them. I am thrilled to be here, the promised land, and thrilled to be alive. Tonight, a twelve plus hour train ride to Banaras. sorry about the spelling.