Let's Get Ready to Play the Holi!!!

So says our guide Amir. To us, it sounds like we’re getting ready to rumble with our nemesis from the nearby parochial school.  But Holi is much more fun and more colorful than a rainbow.

I’ve been fascinated with Holi since I first saw it as an Amazing Race challenge.  In fact, we built our trip around the opportunity to “play the Holi.” Holi is the Hindu and Sikh equivalent of Carnivale with a bit of Mardi Gras thrown in.  Everyone participates in colorful Holi fun by celebrating and throwing colored powder on each other. Not little bits of color- handfuls and handfuls of bright color! Bonfires dot the roads, painfully close to nearby houses and structures. These serve as gathering spots so friends can plan their frivolity.

It’s a day when many Indians get wild and get a bit tipsy. Imagine scooters packed with riders covered from head to toe in purple, orange and green dye. Some folks don white outfits and coat their skin and hair with oils so they don’t ruin their good clothes and skin with the dyes. Imagine a hearty game of tag on colorful steroids.

We started the day in Jaipur visiting the Amber Fort via elephant ride before Holi got rolling. We then got a final bit of shopping in, enjoyed local Indian fare, cultural dancing, and my personal favorite, elephant decorating. Their skin is soft, dry and coated with countless wrinkles and wiry hairs.  Their eyes seem to look deep into your soul.

I know personally that it took more than a rough loofah to get the green off my back. Most folks are tuckered out, smashed and just plain Technicolor by mid-day that they are ready for a bath and a nap. Happy Holi!!!!

What Day is it? What Day is it?

It may mean Wednesday and “hump” day in the US but in India it means, “camel rides!!!” Today we had the chance to spend the morning with Ram and his two-humped sidekick, Battle. While tigers may be the main attraction at Ranthambore Park, we were captivated by our jaunt into own in our camel drawn carriage.  Ram had friends that seem to sell everything from saris to masala tins and the image of blonde women (and Jeff) seemed to draw a lot of attention from the townfolk. When we “parked” Battle in the town square, we were concerned that someone might steal him.  That seemed to give Ram quite a chuckle and he assured us Battle would be waiting for us. For future reference, camel rides, much like elephant rides, are quite bumpy, higher up than you might imagine and both love their banana treats.

An Indian Fixer-Upper

A wise man (OK, our guide Amir) once said, “There are two groups of people- those that have visited the Taj Mahal, and those that have not.”

Sunrise at the Taj is all it’s cracked up to be.  Something about the white marble is so clean, pure and symmetrical amongst the chaos that surrounds its gates. How can you NOT fall for a memorial to love? Built by emperor Shah Jahan in 1653 as a memorial to his beloved queen Mumtaz Mahal, the site is actually the mausoleum for the lovers and features intricate inlayed stone work, jeweled ceilings and pristine gardens and pools.

How is Jeff going to top this?

The Circle of Life

Millions of pilgrims- and tourists- annually visit Varanasi. It’s much like the Islamic hajj to Mecca, Catholic forays to St. Patrick’s Cathedral or Ole Miss fan trips to Oxford. It’s packed with pilgrims, holy cows, tourists and trash. But what draws the crowds is the Ganges.

Hindus believe the Ganges holds the power of salvation in every drop. It is one of the most sacred places in the world and serves as the spiritual heart of India.  Although its water is fouled by pollution of both the living and the dead, Hindus believe it has the power to cleanse the sins of one’s life and therefore is just the spot to be cremated.

Tiny pedicab drivers negotiate the narrow lanes and packed bazaars, negotiating a sea of scooters, pedestrians and livestock to drop us along the waterfront where we join the throngs boarding small wooden rowboats to experience Varanasi at sunset.

Over 80 ghats, or steps, line the water, each with its own significance and use. Many use the steep stairs each morning for their bathing rituals, to meditate, to practice yoga or to dry laundry along the shore.  But at night, Manikarnika Ghat is our focus.

It’s hard to describe the scene. The funeral pyre at the ghat has burned 24 hours a day for over 1,000 years. Huge piles of wood are ready to add to the blaze and holy cows nuzzle the embers in search of tasty flowers among the ashes.  One after another, wrapped bodies are immersed in the Ganges and added to the flame before a full cremation.  A funeral at Varanasi is a celebratory, albeit expensive send-off for an Indian family. Although illegal, some bodies are weighed down and buried in the river as the funerals are too expensive for many Hindu families.

There are others that are not burned in Varanasi’s fire- pregnant women, small children, holy men, those bitten by a cobra and those who died from small pox. Hindus believe Gods already live in these bodies and shouldn’t be burned.

Boats gather at the end of the evening at Dashashvamedh Ghat for Ganga Arti, a flame-filled prayer ceremony with singing, chanting and dancing with lighted lamps. Both pilgrims and tourists purchase small marigold rings dotted with wax to be lit and floated on their way carrying wishes and prayers for loved ones who have passed on.

Namaste.

Masala: India's Secret Spices

You can tell a lot about a place by its food. On an early foray to New Orleans we enjoyed a cooking class where we learned about the Cajun culture and the Holy Trinity, the delicious mix that is core to most local recipes.

In India, we were introduced to masala.

We were fortunate to spend our first evening in Delhi in the home of Rashmi and Anil, a lovely local couple who opened their home- and their kitchen- to us. We began the evening with a visit to the neighborhood “shopping center”- more of a stretch of vegetable stalls, kiosks, and shops to purchase necessities for our feast. Most interesting were the milk dispensers where local staff bring their milk canisters to the market, pay their rupees, and the spigot dispenses either whole or “toned” milk. We made a quick stop at the local Hindu temple so that Rashmi could make a short visit (Tuesday is apparently an auspicious day for a temple visit AND they give you candy as you leave!)

Once back in the kitchen, Rashmi pulled out her well-worn and well-loved masala tin that is home to the spices that underpin most Indian dishes. A nearby pat of ghee (clarified butter) is always at hand. While we worked, we enjoyed a few rounds of local Kingfisher beer (perfect to wash down spicy samosas.) We made chapatti, we made naan, we made dishes I can’t even pronounce but surely enjoyed. We shared local gifts- our Ghirardelli chocolates and home-made Arkansas pepper jelly and Indian spices and teas.

By the end of the evening, my realization was that we are all more alike than different.  Indian cell phones ring with our same AT&T ringtone as businessmen go about their business.  Women grabbed last minute items at their local shops just like our frequent Publix runs. Proud grandparents share crayon drawings on their refrigerators and wedding photos line walls of their homes. They discuss cricket matches with the same fervor of an NFL play-off game.  And they open their homes to new friends to break bread, or in our case, chapatti and naan.

India: Crazy, Chaotic and Charming

India is a fascinating dichotomy. With a literacy rate of 74%, 58% of the population still use open toilets. Indians own the most gold per capita in the world and host elaborate weddings with guest lists into the
thousands but income levels average less than $ 7,000 USD annually. In this country where historic and varied Hindu, Sikh and Muslim temples and mosques rest side-by-side, religious differences underlie long held enmity with its next-door neighbor, Pakistan. Yet, it continues to captivate us.

A heavy fog of pollution is omnipresent in Delhi. This governmental center of the country, Delhi is reminiscent of Washington DC with its wide boulevards and embassy row while Mumbai favors New York City as its financial and business capital. Delhi is made up of two distinct areas- Old Delhi, famous for its Mughal architecture and hectic labyrinths of footpaths, and New Delhi, designed by British urban planner Sir Edwin Lutyens, with its well-appointed rotaries and wide boulevards. We’ve enjoyed amazing architecture while learning about the country’s heritage. At Jama Masjid, India’s largest mosque, we were issued what can only be described as festive hospital gowns to cover us properly for this holy site. We also visited the strikingly simple Gandhi Memorial. Bicycle rickshaws were our mode of transportation as we negotiated the chaos of Chandni Chowk, a congested commerce area selling everything from motorcycle parts to precious metals.

We particularly enjoyed Bangla Sahib Gurdwara, the massive Sikh temple. I’ll admit to a fascination of the stoic Sikhs with their elaborate turbans hiding the long hair required by their religion. After removing our shoes and socks, we were lent bright orange bandanas as head coverings. We washed our feet in the holy pool before entering the ornate gold covered temple. Imagine Trump Tower meets Taj Mahal with bling, bling, bling. Think golden altar, crystal chandeliers and gold-veined mirrors. A hold man with a feather fan continuously fans near the Holy Book to chase away pertinent flies who dare land on the book. Chanting and readings from sunrise to evening draw crowds who enjoy the temple’s meditative pools and on leaving, are issued a small sugar and ghee concoction serving as a Sikh communion of sorts. What a first day in this special place