Click on the picture below to be taken to the video -- a bit more grainy than the original photographs, but you'll still get the general idea ...
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
"Portraits of India" Photo Video
Lee has been busy editing photographs and pulling together a PowerPoint presentation of his efforts. Along the way he assembled a set of pictures of the various people encountered while on tour which he put to music (a track from the album BIG BLUE BALL entitled "River") and uploaded to his PICASA web album site. Here is the result, his PORTRAITS OF INDIA. Enjoy!
Click on the picture below to be taken to the video -- a bit more grainy than the original photographs, but you'll still get the general idea ...
Click on the picture below to be taken to the video -- a bit more grainy than the original photographs, but you'll still get the general idea ...
Sunday, December 28, 2008
A CAMBRIDGE CHRISTMAS AND BOXING DAY
.
We were joined soon enough by others and soon were busy talking with a young Chinese couple (she: studying for an MBA at Cambridge; he: a foreign service officer visiting from Beijing), a very young grandmother recently returned to live in Cambridge after several years in London, and another local resident who joined us after waiting inside the walled complex (as mystified as we had been in his isolation on the other side of the gateway).
Our collective position at the head of the line assured us entry to the choir area for the late morning Christmas Day Sung Eucharist service, featuring choir, organ and a small string ensemble and performed with all the “high church” pageantry imaginable. We sat close to the altar at the far eastern end of the nave, the perfect location from which to hear and observe all the various goings-on.
The service itself was beautiful, built around a Mozart mass played and sung masterfully. Although not as crowded as the Christmas Eve service of Lessons and Carols, many participants, including us, really liked this service better, encompassing as it did a totally involving and complete worship experience. For us, it essentially striped our celebration of Christmas down to its bare essence, a very nice place to be, indeed!
We had Christmas Dinner at Browns, one of the few local establishments even open on this important religious holiday.
Later we strolled around town, seeking out holiday decorations (of which there were precious few in reality), finally returning to our Guest House in the early evening.
With little else to help pass the time, we ended up, in our cramped but comfortable quarters, just watching Christmas specials on the BBC before, once again, succumbing to an early “witching hour” and drifting off to sleep much sooner than has usually been the case.
Boxing Day dawned bright, sunny and quite chill. Since the local buses were, as they had been the day before on Christmas, not running at all, we once again hiked into town.
The next couple of hours passed quickly in the company of an excellent local guide who took us on a very informative and interesting historic walking tour.
That evening we went to experience “Jack and the Beanstalk” done up as an all-singing-all-dancing Pantomime, an impossible to describe but extremely popular cross-generational entertainment especially associated with the end-of-the-year holidays. We had a blast – and yet another early-to-bedtime to follow!
And so ended our lengthy bifurcated sojourn in
Look for some concluding observations sometime soon!
Thursday, December 25, 2008
QUEUING IN CAMBRIDGE
Once again, a long travel day has led to spectacular results.
Our ten hour British Airways international flight from Mumbai to
Christmas Eve morning we got up easily enough - the five-and-one-half-hour time difference with
We weren’t exactly sure what etiquette required under the circumstances but lucked out when two local residents, Joanna and Graham, standing next to us in line, graciously took us under their wings. The day went very smoothly as a result.
As it turns out, those in line are allowed into the Chapel courtyard beginning at 7:00 a.m., late comers accommodated until church capacity (around 650 or so) is reached – which this year seemed to take until around 10:00 a.m., perhaps later.
The first few folks in the queue had actually turned up the day before. Heidi talked with one guy, fifth in line, who had attended the service some fifteen times previously; he’d camped out overnight in order to secure one of the coveted spots in the chapel choir area!
We were just outside that limit, but our early arrival did guarantee us admission. We ended up seated on the aisle a column or two back from the altar screen, allowing a (restricted) view of the choir and those participating in the service.
Once inside the courtyard, with pamphlet in hand describing what to expect while waiting, those in line are allowed to wander off to the loo, to purchase coffee and sandwiches at the snack bar, even to leave altogether as long as one returned before 1:30 p.m. when, in groups of thirty or so, we were allowed into the church.
Joanna was there to hold a spot for her mother, who had never attended before and who had prevailed on Joanna to go this year. Actually Graham was the one initially occupying her slot. He had injured his leg and had a cold to boot but had been recruited, along with another friend and two teenagers, to take turns holding the coveted spot in line. Joanna proved super organized: two folding chairs, ample snacks, reading material – all were supplied out of her large pink plastic bag!
I think Heidi and I ended up spending more time seated then did Joanna or her mother or any of the others who appeared over the course of the morning and early afternoon. The time went quickly enough as a result.
All up and down the line, folks settled in for the duration. Some played poker. There was a spirited Scrabble game going on among one gathering; another group of Chinese students squatted in a circle playing cards. We shared nearby space with a young Korean doctor and a family of four, trading stories about Christmases past and various holiday customs and traditions. We read a bit and walked around town, even stopping off to buy Boxing Day tickets to see “Jack and the Beanstalk”, a holiday pantomime playing locally here in Cambridge.
One group near the head of the line serenaded the rest of us mid-morning, as did the Senior Choristers themselves, who roamed up and down the line about an hour before the service began bedecked in Santa caps and singing secular songs of the season.
Even the weather cooperated: the temperature hovered around fifty degrees, and we even enjoyed some mid-day sunshine -- a great opportunity to photograph our surroundings!
The whole “queuing experience” proved relaxing, quite informal and rather enjoyable. Shortly before we went into the chapel, everyone packed up and left their gear piled up in a nearby covered portico – no checkroom needed, so security concerns, just a pile of stuff waiting to be picked up again once the service concluded.
Once inside the antechoir, we still had over an hour to wait. An extended organ prelude helped pass the time. Although the cloudy day precluded illumination of the stain glass windows surrounding us, the intricately detailed vaulted ceiling overhead was beautifully lit; and candles everywhere added to the overall beauty of the setting.
Dignitaries and others issued invitations to attend were ushered in as we waited, and there was a lot of last minute scurrying about in preparation. The overall atmosphere was one of great anticipation, however, as the congregation assembled, the Messiaen and Bach and Mendelshohn soared from the magnificent organ, and we read through our multipage program.
When the solo voice of the boy suprano (notified just seconds before that her had been chosen to open the service) echoed from the back of the chapel, "Once in Royal David's City...", everything came together - all the planning, the travel, the uncertainties, the waiting - to bring to reality one of our fondest dreams, attending the Christmas Eve service of Nine Lessons and Carols at Kings College Chapel in Cambridge, England.
Wow! We did it! We really did it! We're really here! We're here! Wow!
The service itself was absolutely beautiful: magnificent choral music, Biblical text intoned with a British accent, an incredible - and very large - Ruben's painting depicting the Nativity behind the altar. Who could ask for anything more?
After it was all over, we walked up into the choir area to rake in more of the setting itself, then hurried off for a light supper at a local pub before heading back to Broad Lands Guest House - where we both promptly fell into an exhausted sleep (that Indian time frame not definitely working against any alternative).
As always, the perfect beginning to our Christmas celebration and, now, a memory to cherish forever after ...
Monday, December 22, 2008
A DAY IN BOMBAY
Monday morning: up at 5:15 a.m. and on to Mumbai (Bombay) from Kerala by Jet Airway flight at 8:30 a.m. where we were to check into a Le Meridian hotel to await our very-early-next-morning (2:30 a.m. Tuesday) flight to London. Only we learned upon arrival that we had a half-day city tour on tap as well! So off the four of us remaining on tour went, cameras at the ready (Diane left to join her relatives here in Mumbai visiting the South Asian side of the family for end-of-the-year festivities) …
The city of eleven to thirteen million official residents (seventeen to eighteen million likely in reality) turned out to be much more than either SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE or media coverage of the recent Mumbai Terrorist Attacks had led us to expect. We found the traffic horrific (especially after the relative sanity of Cochin); the air, smoggy; the construction cranes and high-rise condominiums, popping up everywhere. We noticed less trash around, fewer blaring horns and, surprisingly, no Sacred Cows or tuk-tuks past the city limits. At the sites we visited and on the shopping streets, fewer touts and beggars seemed in evidence. There was a palpable sense of energy in the air as well, yet lots of tumbledown shacks and shanties along the roadways. Bombay is clearly its own place: not as “advanced” as Kerala; not as chaotic as Delhi.
Our “photo ops” included a humungous outdoor laundry service sprawled over acres and acres right in the middle of the city, ...
... the main rail station, a drive along the waterfront, the fort area once dominated by the British, the monumental Gate of India and nearby Taj Hotel (reopened just yesterday), and the Hanging Gardens (now more a welcome open garden space atop Malabar Hill). The tour kept us occupied for several hours and gave us at least some sense of the city along the way.
And now to repack our suitcases and change some important mental gears, changing seasons from summer to winter and thinking “Christmas” for the very first time.
Actually, we’ve been “in transition” for awhile already. Kerala houses a substantial Christian population, and we consequently often over the past few days have encountered Christmas Stars and numerous other indications of the approaching holiday – which, evidently, everyone locally joins in celebrating. We even came across a rural village elementary school where teachers were busily decorating a tree in the courtyard prior to a visit by Santa Claus that very afternoon!. Then last night we dined with a Syrian Catholic family in Cochin; they had a crèche on display along with some other festive decorations. Even here in “deepest India”, it would appear, Christmas has made its presence felt!
The city of eleven to thirteen million official residents (seventeen to eighteen million likely in reality) turned out to be much more than either SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE or media coverage of the recent Mumbai Terrorist Attacks had led us to expect. We found the traffic horrific (especially after the relative sanity of Cochin); the air, smoggy; the construction cranes and high-rise condominiums, popping up everywhere. We noticed less trash around, fewer blaring horns and, surprisingly, no Sacred Cows or tuk-tuks past the city limits. At the sites we visited and on the shopping streets, fewer touts and beggars seemed in evidence. There was a palpable sense of energy in the air as well, yet lots of tumbledown shacks and shanties along the roadways. Bombay is clearly its own place: not as “advanced” as Kerala; not as chaotic as Delhi.Our “photo ops” included a humungous outdoor laundry service sprawled over acres and acres right in the middle of the city, ...
... the main rail station, a drive along the waterfront, the fort area once dominated by the British, the monumental Gate of India and nearby Taj Hotel (reopened just yesterday), and the Hanging Gardens (now more a welcome open garden space atop Malabar Hill). The tour kept us occupied for several hours and gave us at least some sense of the city along the way.
And now to repack our suitcases and change some important mental gears, changing seasons from summer to winter and thinking “Christmas” for the very first time.
Actually, we’ve been “in transition” for awhile already. Kerala houses a substantial Christian population, and we consequently often over the past few days have encountered Christmas Stars and numerous other indications of the approaching holiday – which, evidently, everyone locally joins in celebrating. We even came across a rural village elementary school where teachers were busily decorating a tree in the courtyard prior to a visit by Santa Claus that very afternoon!. Then last night we dined with a Syrian Catholic family in Cochin; they had a crèche on display along with some other festive decorations. Even here in “deepest India”, it would appear, Christmas has made its presence felt!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
OUTSIDE THE BUBBLE
A day of leisure is rare enough when one is on tour, but to have more than one is a real treat indeed!
Yesterday (Thursday) before we left our mooring near the Thottappally Spillway, we visited a rural family homestead, a compact complex that seemingly contained everything needed to assure basic survival: several kinds of banana trees; mango; curry, allspice and cinnamon plants; chickens and a cowshed; fishing nets, and all manner of other plantings crowded into a plot not much larger than our lot in Shaker Heights. The family also had a small kitten, one of the few cats we’ve seen anywhere along the way. They also had satellite television and a DVD player!
The head of house and his wife demonstrated for us how to make coir, a substantial twine rope made from dried coconut fiber that has been soaked to soften it before being twisted into stout, course strands – a by-employment encouraged by the state and making good use of an abundant local commodity.
We also encountered a palm tree liquor guy who twice daily climbed a set of some ten palm trees in the area to collect liquid gathered from coconut buds and collected in clay jars suspended high in the trees, akin to how maple syrup sap is collected at home.
Then, back on board our two houseboats, we made our way slowly north to Pulinkunnu, debarking along the way both to visit a rural village and to see a long, narrow “snake boat” used in local annual river races (each paddled by a full complement of one hundred local villagers).
Our mid-day lunch was particularly spectacular, comprised of more than ten different spoon-sized bits of sweet, spicy and battered vegetables and even some freshly caught red snapper served on an ample banana leaf (making for minimal cleanup later, considering all the slicing and dicing that preceded the meal).
The weather all day was misty, cool and a bit rainy; but no matter: we enjoyed the “down time” enormously and are looking forward to another day of much of the same.
One of the biggest benefits of our Kerala extension has been the chance it has given the five of us to escape the “tour bus bubble.”
We had spent much of the previous two weeks observing India essentially through the window of our bus, avoiding eye contact when alighting to visit various sites (so as to minimize the imprecations of the aggressive touts selling souvenirs), even not greeting “anyone” with a cheery “Hello” because inevitably they wanted to lure you off to a shop somewhere.
Kerala has instead provided opportunities to walk through local villages, greet local residents and exchange wave after wave with those we float past on our houseboats – what a welcome change!
On our second day of cruising Kerala’s Backwaters (Friday), we debarked once in the morning to walk the water-soaked streets of a canal-side village to stand along the boundaries of a Hindu temple honoring Devi, a very popular female goddess, watching visitors from all over Kerala and elsewhere perambulate the Inner Sanctum while attendants set off booming fireworks and chanting voices provided ambient background “music.” The overall effect was quite magical!
In the afternoon we stopped again to walk along the canal to visit a local milk cooperative, a counterpart to another earlier stop at a distribution center where villagers could use ration cards to acquire a set quantity of rice, flour and kerosene, all provided by local state government programs. We even passed by a local Communist Party headquarters at one point; the only clue to the party’s presence, however, consisted of wall posters featuring the hammer and cycle – Big Brother was nowhere in sight!
As the day progressed, we shared the waterway with more and more houseboats, of all shapes and sizes, at times quite resembling the parade of boats along the Li River in Guilin, China.
Dileesh Kumar V, our local Trip Leader, feels the whole houseboat “industry” will flame out in another ten years or so. There are already some 500 boats floating around, and commercial tourism fostered by their presence has begun to transform local village economies. He feels it’s only a matter of time before the existing charm is compromised beyond recognition; we’re lucky to have come here at just the right time in this development process: our presence is accepted but not overly catered to, a difficult balance to maintain, I’m sure …
Saturday, quite refreshed, we drove back the two-and-one-half hours to Cochin to continue our tour. We stopped to visit a coir factory where the coconut fiber twine (using teak wooden looms originally installed by the British long, long ago) eventually ends up as thick woven mats used as flooring material.
In Cochin (also known as Kochi), early in the afternoon, we dipped our toes in the Arabian Sea, visited the oldest Christian church in India (where Vasco De Gama was initially buried in the sixteenth century; his remains have since been returned to Lisbon), hauled up Chinese-style fishing nets by pulling on heavy ropes, ate yet another delicious lunch at an outdoor café and eventually checked into our Le Meridian accommodations on the outskirts of town.
The early evening found us entranced, immersed in watching dancers apply stage makeup prior to a lengthy performance demonstration of Kathakali, a specialty of Kerala.
We followed up with dinner at a popular local hotel restaurant, again surrounded by “locals” and other visitors, feeling very much one with our cultural environment to a degree thought impossible only a short week ago.
Yesterday (Thursday) before we left our mooring near the Thottappally Spillway, we visited a rural family homestead, a compact complex that seemingly contained everything needed to assure basic survival: several kinds of banana trees; mango; curry, allspice and cinnamon plants; chickens and a cowshed; fishing nets, and all manner of other plantings crowded into a plot not much larger than our lot in Shaker Heights. The family also had a small kitten, one of the few cats we’ve seen anywhere along the way. They also had satellite television and a DVD player!
The head of house and his wife demonstrated for us how to make coir, a substantial twine rope made from dried coconut fiber that has been soaked to soften it before being twisted into stout, course strands – a by-employment encouraged by the state and making good use of an abundant local commodity.
We also encountered a palm tree liquor guy who twice daily climbed a set of some ten palm trees in the area to collect liquid gathered from coconut buds and collected in clay jars suspended high in the trees, akin to how maple syrup sap is collected at home.
Then, back on board our two houseboats, we made our way slowly north to Pulinkunnu, debarking along the way both to visit a rural village and to see a long, narrow “snake boat” used in local annual river races (each paddled by a full complement of one hundred local villagers).Our mid-day lunch was particularly spectacular, comprised of more than ten different spoon-sized bits of sweet, spicy and battered vegetables and even some freshly caught red snapper served on an ample banana leaf (making for minimal cleanup later, considering all the slicing and dicing that preceded the meal).
The weather all day was misty, cool and a bit rainy; but no matter: we enjoyed the “down time” enormously and are looking forward to another day of much of the same.One of the biggest benefits of our Kerala extension has been the chance it has given the five of us to escape the “tour bus bubble.”
We had spent much of the previous two weeks observing India essentially through the window of our bus, avoiding eye contact when alighting to visit various sites (so as to minimize the imprecations of the aggressive touts selling souvenirs), even not greeting “anyone” with a cheery “Hello” because inevitably they wanted to lure you off to a shop somewhere.
Kerala has instead provided opportunities to walk through local villages, greet local residents and exchange wave after wave with those we float past on our houseboats – what a welcome change!
On our second day of cruising Kerala’s Backwaters (Friday), we debarked once in the morning to walk the water-soaked streets of a canal-side village to stand along the boundaries of a Hindu temple honoring Devi, a very popular female goddess, watching visitors from all over Kerala and elsewhere perambulate the Inner Sanctum while attendants set off booming fireworks and chanting voices provided ambient background “music.” The overall effect was quite magical!
In the afternoon we stopped again to walk along the canal to visit a local milk cooperative, a counterpart to another earlier stop at a distribution center where villagers could use ration cards to acquire a set quantity of rice, flour and kerosene, all provided by local state government programs. We even passed by a local Communist Party headquarters at one point; the only clue to the party’s presence, however, consisted of wall posters featuring the hammer and cycle – Big Brother was nowhere in sight!
As the day progressed, we shared the waterway with more and more houseboats, of all shapes and sizes, at times quite resembling the parade of boats along the Li River in Guilin, China.
Dileesh Kumar V, our local Trip Leader, feels the whole houseboat “industry” will flame out in another ten years or so. There are already some 500 boats floating around, and commercial tourism fostered by their presence has begun to transform local village economies. He feels it’s only a matter of time before the existing charm is compromised beyond recognition; we’re lucky to have come here at just the right time in this development process: our presence is accepted but not overly catered to, a difficult balance to maintain, I’m sure …
Saturday, quite refreshed, we drove back the two-and-one-half hours to Cochin to continue our tour. We stopped to visit a coir factory where the coconut fiber twine (using teak wooden looms originally installed by the British long, long ago) eventually ends up as thick woven mats used as flooring material.
In Cochin (also known as Kochi), early in the afternoon, we dipped our toes in the Arabian Sea, visited the oldest Christian church in India (where Vasco De Gama was initially buried in the sixteenth century; his remains have since been returned to Lisbon), hauled up Chinese-style fishing nets by pulling on heavy ropes, ate yet another delicious lunch at an outdoor café and eventually checked into our Le Meridian accommodations on the outskirts of town.
The early evening found us entranced, immersed in watching dancers apply stage makeup prior to a lengthy performance demonstration of Kathakali, a specialty of Kerala.
We followed up with dinner at a popular local hotel restaurant, again surrounded by “locals” and other visitors, feeling very much one with our cultural environment to a degree thought impossible only a short week ago.
PARADISE DISCOVERED
In other places, at other times, I will dream of Kerala, I’m sure of it!
As I write, surrounded by the tropical lushness characteristic of Thailand and Malaysia – coconut palms, mango trees, plumaria blossoms, banana trees, we hear calls of unfamiliar birds mingle with far off, echoing recorded Hindu festival prayers accompanied by drums, flutes and conch shell as the sunrise brings a new day to light. It’s truly magical and entrancing setting and a far cry from what we’ve experienced so far elsewhere in India.
We arrived at our houseboat accommodations yesterday (Wednesday) mid-afternoon after a five hour air trip (1300 miles) from Delhi where we had spent the previous night following our earlier flight from Varanasi on Tuesday. As has been true so often on this trip, the long, long trek was well worth the effort.
Since gaining statehood in 1957, Kerala has been controlled by a democratically-elected Communist government. The state’s public welfare orientation is everywhere and immediately apparent, even during our two hour drive to Alappuzha here on the coast of the Arabian Sea: few sacred cows wandering around; few, if any, beggars on the streets; a popular and extensively used pubic bus network along the major highways; far fewer sputtering tuk-tuks and hardly any rickshaws anywhere; orderly (well, mostly so) driving patterns – a totally different atmosphere from the Golden Triangle area around Delhi in Rajasthan, believe me!
The six million local inhabitants enjoy a ninety-six-plus literacy rate, peacefully cohabit with some eleven different religious traditions, mix together rich historical traditions embracing Jewish, Arab, Portuguese, Dutch, English and Indian cultures, profit from a rich agricultural setting and close proximity to the Arabian Sea, are enjoying a construction boom as NRI (Non-Resident Indians) build condominiums all along the coast to use as vacation retreats.
Our two houseboats (Heidi and Lee have one to the themselves along with a crew of three; the others of the Final Five on the extension and our guide share a three room boat where we gather during the day and, often, for meals) are this morning moored alongside a canal, part of an extensive set of interconnected islands arrayed along the coast here in southern India.
In the 1960s a combined Indo-Dutch project lined this elevated network of canals in stone, replacing the more vulnerable mud dikes used for centuries as part of a rice agriculture irrigation system.
The rice paddies are lower than the surrounding canals. Each season the flooded fields are drained into the canals, and the brackish water neutralized by imported mussels which filter out the sea salt. Two crops of rice are produced each year, a plumper, softer variety than found elsewhere.
About ten years ago, backwater houseboat cruises were introduced to the area as a way to enhance tourism. The result is a relaxing wonderland retreat from the realities found elsewhere in India, a real paradise, indeed!
As I write, surrounded by the tropical lushness characteristic of Thailand and Malaysia – coconut palms, mango trees, plumaria blossoms, banana trees, we hear calls of unfamiliar birds mingle with far off, echoing recorded Hindu festival prayers accompanied by drums, flutes and conch shell as the sunrise brings a new day to light. It’s truly magical and entrancing setting and a far cry from what we’ve experienced so far elsewhere in India.
We arrived at our houseboat accommodations yesterday (Wednesday) mid-afternoon after a five hour air trip (1300 miles) from Delhi where we had spent the previous night following our earlier flight from Varanasi on Tuesday. As has been true so often on this trip, the long, long trek was well worth the effort.
Since gaining statehood in 1957, Kerala has been controlled by a democratically-elected Communist government. The state’s public welfare orientation is everywhere and immediately apparent, even during our two hour drive to Alappuzha here on the coast of the Arabian Sea: few sacred cows wandering around; few, if any, beggars on the streets; a popular and extensively used pubic bus network along the major highways; far fewer sputtering tuk-tuks and hardly any rickshaws anywhere; orderly (well, mostly so) driving patterns – a totally different atmosphere from the Golden Triangle area around Delhi in Rajasthan, believe me!
The six million local inhabitants enjoy a ninety-six-plus literacy rate, peacefully cohabit with some eleven different religious traditions, mix together rich historical traditions embracing Jewish, Arab, Portuguese, Dutch, English and Indian cultures, profit from a rich agricultural setting and close proximity to the Arabian Sea, are enjoying a construction boom as NRI (Non-Resident Indians) build condominiums all along the coast to use as vacation retreats.
Our two houseboats (Heidi and Lee have one to the themselves along with a crew of three; the others of the Final Five on the extension and our guide share a three room boat where we gather during the day and, often, for meals) are this morning moored alongside a canal, part of an extensive set of interconnected islands arrayed along the coast here in southern India.
In the 1960s a combined Indo-Dutch project lined this elevated network of canals in stone, replacing the more vulnerable mud dikes used for centuries as part of a rice agriculture irrigation system.
The rice paddies are lower than the surrounding canals. Each season the flooded fields are drained into the canals, and the brackish water neutralized by imported mussels which filter out the sea salt. Two crops of rice are produced each year, a plumper, softer variety than found elsewhere.
About ten years ago, backwater houseboat cruises were introduced to the area as a way to enhance tourism. The result is a relaxing wonderland retreat from the realities found elsewhere in India, a real paradise, indeed!
HOLY CITY ON THE GANGES
Our two night stay in Vanarasi was punctuated by both an evening and a morning boat trip on the Ganges to observe various religious rituals being performed by the faithful on the banks and in the river of this most sacred of places for Indian Hindus.
We also spent a morning touring the Deer Park in Sarnath where Shakyamuni, the historical Buddha, preached his first sermon, thus initiating the practice of Buddhism as a religious alternative to Hinduism.
The Deer Park is focused on an ancient stupa marking the historic event itself, another fairly recent structure wherein wall paintings recount the history of the Buddha himself, an offshoot of the tree under which he is said to have attained enlightenment and an international array of commemorative plaques honoring all that has occurred here over the centuries. The archeological remnants of earlier structures are everywhere as well. There’s a small but significant archeological museum, too.
The Park draws pilgrims from all over the Buddhist world: while we were there, for example, we encountered a large group from Thailand; at our hotel, a contingent from Malaysia turned up; there were Japanese around, too, creating quite an international visitor scene overall.
However, what draws the majority of visitors clearly are the numerous ghats along the Ganges where Hindu pilgrims perform group prayers in the evening and individual ablutions every morning. We observed the evening prayers (as noisily performed by seven Hindu priests) from a wooden boat just offshore; then returned the following morning to watch, again from a boat out on the river, various rituals being conducted up and down the steeply stepped riverbank by individuals or small groups of devotees.
On both occasions we also watched cremations being undertaken at two neighboring ghats where, day after day and well into the night, over a twenty-four hour period, bodies are burned on wooden funeral pyres.
Although not as many as we might have expected were present at either the evening or the morning rituals, the scenes we witnessed were still quite interesting and inspiring.
So, too, were the wild rickshaw rides to and from the evening prayers and the morning walk back to the bus through the warren of alleyways and twisting streets making up the oldest quarter of the city (known as Kashi to the locals).
Of course, we also visited (and shopped at) one of the workshops turning out the brocaded silks for which Varanasi is internationally known – so, not everyone will be receiving dung incense sticks for Christmas this year, it would appear …
We also spent a morning touring the Deer Park in Sarnath where Shakyamuni, the historical Buddha, preached his first sermon, thus initiating the practice of Buddhism as a religious alternative to Hinduism.
The Deer Park is focused on an ancient stupa marking the historic event itself, another fairly recent structure wherein wall paintings recount the history of the Buddha himself, an offshoot of the tree under which he is said to have attained enlightenment and an international array of commemorative plaques honoring all that has occurred here over the centuries. The archeological remnants of earlier structures are everywhere as well. There’s a small but significant archeological museum, too.
The Park draws pilgrims from all over the Buddhist world: while we were there, for example, we encountered a large group from Thailand; at our hotel, a contingent from Malaysia turned up; there were Japanese around, too, creating quite an international visitor scene overall.
However, what draws the majority of visitors clearly are the numerous ghats along the Ganges where Hindu pilgrims perform group prayers in the evening and individual ablutions every morning. We observed the evening prayers (as noisily performed by seven Hindu priests) from a wooden boat just offshore; then returned the following morning to watch, again from a boat out on the river, various rituals being conducted up and down the steeply stepped riverbank by individuals or small groups of devotees.
On both occasions we also watched cremations being undertaken at two neighboring ghats where, day after day and well into the night, over a twenty-four hour period, bodies are burned on wooden funeral pyres.
Although not as many as we might have expected were present at either the evening or the morning rituals, the scenes we witnessed were still quite interesting and inspiring.
So, too, were the wild rickshaw rides to and from the evening prayers and the morning walk back to the bus through the warren of alleyways and twisting streets making up the oldest quarter of the city (known as Kashi to the locals).
Of course, we also visited (and shopped at) one of the workshops turning out the brocaded silks for which Varanasi is internationally known – so, not everyone will be receiving dung incense sticks for Christmas this year, it would appear …
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