"The whole world is family." - The Mahopanishad
You know it will be a good day when you start it out in a rickshaw.
I took my first ride in a rickshaw, through the cramped neighborhood where I swear the bicycle repair and the delivery detours took place in "The Amazing Race." We merged into oncoming bus, car, cart, motor scooter, pedestrian and cow traffic and after the initial "I'm going to die, I'm going to die," feeling left, it was replaced with "This is so f$#king cool." We were pedaled through a neighborhood that contained literally thousands of tangles of wires, some with monkeys scampering across them. The modern version of swinging through the trees.
We made our way to Jama Masijd, India's largest mosque. It can hold up to 30,000 people. It was was built by Shah Jahan (don't worry, more on him later. Right now just remember that he also built the Taj Mahal for his beloved wife, Mumtaz Mahal), and gets that amazing color from red sandstone and marble. It was finished in the late 1650s.
You must leave your shoes at the door with the "shoe minder" and the women have to don a brightly colored robe to hide our shoulders (brought back memories of being bundled up in Qom), but oddly, did not have to cover our hair. Half the group looked like hunchbacks with our backpacks tucked under our sheaths.
The architecture of the mosque itself is an interesting mix of Hindu and Islamic and Persian styles. A Mughal style (Shah Jahan was a Mughal ruler, so we will be seeing much more of this). The interior is fairly plain, but it still has that unique stillness that places of worship always seem to have.
As I wandered around, I found myself in the way of a man taking a picture with his cell phone. When I went to get out of the way, he followed me with the phone. Then I understood that he and his wife were trying to take my picture. So I smiled while he shot away, then I turned my camera on them. He grinned, and she was smiling until I actually snapped the picture, so now she looks quite solemn in her brilliant purple sari. She liked the picture, though. I didn't expect this in India, but it is charming and makes it quite easy to connect with people - especially when they start it.
We continued on to Raj Ghat. A memorial on the spot where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated after his assassination in 1948. There is a simple black marble platform, with an eternal flame (our guide called it the "eternal flame of patriotism") set in a calming lawn area. Many people were there, families taking pictures and obviously reflecting quietly on this place and the person it memorializes. The father of modern India.
One group of women quietly sidled up to me and surrounded me. They were trying to sneak a picture with me. Another opportunity handed right to me. We all posed together, but before they could escape, I gave their companion my camera and told them that now I wanted their picture. Then we all Nasmated one another and laughed and went our separate ways.
I love the Namaste gesture and the thought behind it. Just as "Salam" with a hand over the heart seemed special to me, so do the pressed-together palms, the gentle whisper of "Namaste" and the small bow. So simple, but so beautiful. A mutual recognition of the the soul in the other. Is anything as divine as that?
As we waited in the parking lot, a big bus load of children arrived to tour Raj Ghat. I jumped off the bus and asked them all if I could take their picture. The children (and the adults) were so excited to pose for me, they kept saying, "Thank you, thank you." I could only repeat the sentiment back to them.
Our guide is Madan. He asked our permission to call us "friends" instead of "ladies and gentlemen." He calls me "Madam Jillian." After I took the pictures of the children, Madan said, "Madam Jillian, how many new friends did you make today?"
I have been to mosques, synagogues and many churches, but never a Hindu Temple. My first exposure to this was the Lakshmi Narayan Temple (Birla Mandir). The guide book calls it "a rather overexcited red and cream confection." Somehow that trivializes it a bit, because it was also one of the first Hindu temples that allowed the lower caste (the "untouchables") inside it after Gandhi made that a requirement for inaugurating it in the late 1930s. Inside were deities beautifully decorated, all smiling and content. People filtered in and out to pray, make offerings of food or flowers, and receive blessings. There was faint chanting and music being piped in. It was very relaxing and communal.
It was also my second connection to Ethiopia.
The swastika symbol is ancient. The one we see everywhere here is not "the one that scares us," as Madan said. This same symbol was the design in some windows of the churches at Lalibela. There, it memorializes the symbol Christians used to identify themselves to one another but avoid persecution because they were not openly wearing a cross. It is fascinating how all of these things weave together from continent to continent.
Then it was time for the obligatory carpet demonstration. I kind of enjoy these things. They give you some carpet history, dramatically unfurl the carpets, feed you, then try to sell them to you. These were Kashmir carpets and they were stunning. The man doing the presentation said, "Walking on a carpet like this in socks is like walking on the beach in socks." I thought that was a particularly evocative image.
The whirlwind day in Delhi ended Qutb Minar. A spectacular complex of Islamic religious buildings and ruins. The main attraction is a victory tower that was started in 1193. The tower is nearly 73 meters high, with balconies and a beautiful tapering shape. Again, the stunning red sandstone gives everything that warm glow that seems to alter as you change your viewing perspective. The elaborate calligraphy and carvings are simply eye-popping.
There is also a 7 meter high iron pillar that is in the courtyard of the mosque here. It was originally outside a Vishnu temple, and was here a long time before the mosque. The guidebook states that scientists have never discovered how it was made. It hasn't rusted in nearly 2000 years, and nobody knows how it could have been cast with the technology in that time. It used to be rubbed for good luck, so now there is a small fence around it to keep unlucky fingers off of it.
Our day would not be complete without a big feast. We stuffed ourselves with wonderful, spicy, hot, delicious Indian food and called it a day.
Overall, a wonderful introduction to India.
You know it will be a good day when you start it out in a rickshaw.
I took my first ride in a rickshaw, through the cramped neighborhood where I swear the bicycle repair and the delivery detours took place in "The Amazing Race." We merged into oncoming bus, car, cart, motor scooter, pedestrian and cow traffic and after the initial "I'm going to die, I'm going to die," feeling left, it was replaced with "This is so f$#king cool." We were pedaled through a neighborhood that contained literally thousands of tangles of wires, some with monkeys scampering across them. The modern version of swinging through the trees.
We made our way to Jama Masijd, India's largest mosque. It can hold up to 30,000 people. It was was built by Shah Jahan (don't worry, more on him later. Right now just remember that he also built the Taj Mahal for his beloved wife, Mumtaz Mahal), and gets that amazing color from red sandstone and marble. It was finished in the late 1650s.
You must leave your shoes at the door with the "shoe minder" and the women have to don a brightly colored robe to hide our shoulders (brought back memories of being bundled up in Qom), but oddly, did not have to cover our hair. Half the group looked like hunchbacks with our backpacks tucked under our sheaths.
The architecture of the mosque itself is an interesting mix of Hindu and Islamic and Persian styles. A Mughal style (Shah Jahan was a Mughal ruler, so we will be seeing much more of this). The interior is fairly plain, but it still has that unique stillness that places of worship always seem to have.
As I wandered around, I found myself in the way of a man taking a picture with his cell phone. When I went to get out of the way, he followed me with the phone. Then I understood that he and his wife were trying to take my picture. So I smiled while he shot away, then I turned my camera on them. He grinned, and she was smiling until I actually snapped the picture, so now she looks quite solemn in her brilliant purple sari. She liked the picture, though. I didn't expect this in India, but it is charming and makes it quite easy to connect with people - especially when they start it.
We continued on to Raj Ghat. A memorial on the spot where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated after his assassination in 1948. There is a simple black marble platform, with an eternal flame (our guide called it the "eternal flame of patriotism") set in a calming lawn area. Many people were there, families taking pictures and obviously reflecting quietly on this place and the person it memorializes. The father of modern India.
One group of women quietly sidled up to me and surrounded me. They were trying to sneak a picture with me. Another opportunity handed right to me. We all posed together, but before they could escape, I gave their companion my camera and told them that now I wanted their picture. Then we all Nasmated one another and laughed and went our separate ways.
I love the Namaste gesture and the thought behind it. Just as "Salam" with a hand over the heart seemed special to me, so do the pressed-together palms, the gentle whisper of "Namaste" and the small bow. So simple, but so beautiful. A mutual recognition of the the soul in the other. Is anything as divine as that?
As we waited in the parking lot, a big bus load of children arrived to tour Raj Ghat. I jumped off the bus and asked them all if I could take their picture. The children (and the adults) were so excited to pose for me, they kept saying, "Thank you, thank you." I could only repeat the sentiment back to them.
Our guide is Madan. He asked our permission to call us "friends" instead of "ladies and gentlemen." He calls me "Madam Jillian." After I took the pictures of the children, Madan said, "Madam Jillian, how many new friends did you make today?"
I have been to mosques, synagogues and many churches, but never a Hindu Temple. My first exposure to this was the Lakshmi Narayan Temple (Birla Mandir). The guide book calls it "a rather overexcited red and cream confection." Somehow that trivializes it a bit, because it was also one of the first Hindu temples that allowed the lower caste (the "untouchables") inside it after Gandhi made that a requirement for inaugurating it in the late 1930s. Inside were deities beautifully decorated, all smiling and content. People filtered in and out to pray, make offerings of food or flowers, and receive blessings. There was faint chanting and music being piped in. It was very relaxing and communal.
It was also my second connection to Ethiopia.
The swastika symbol is ancient. The one we see everywhere here is not "the one that scares us," as Madan said. This same symbol was the design in some windows of the churches at Lalibela. There, it memorializes the symbol Christians used to identify themselves to one another but avoid persecution because they were not openly wearing a cross. It is fascinating how all of these things weave together from continent to continent.
Then it was time for the obligatory carpet demonstration. I kind of enjoy these things. They give you some carpet history, dramatically unfurl the carpets, feed you, then try to sell them to you. These were Kashmir carpets and they were stunning. The man doing the presentation said, "Walking on a carpet like this in socks is like walking on the beach in socks." I thought that was a particularly evocative image.
The whirlwind day in Delhi ended Qutb Minar. A spectacular complex of Islamic religious buildings and ruins. The main attraction is a victory tower that was started in 1193. The tower is nearly 73 meters high, with balconies and a beautiful tapering shape. Again, the stunning red sandstone gives everything that warm glow that seems to alter as you change your viewing perspective. The elaborate calligraphy and carvings are simply eye-popping.
There is also a 7 meter high iron pillar that is in the courtyard of the mosque here. It was originally outside a Vishnu temple, and was here a long time before the mosque. The guidebook states that scientists have never discovered how it was made. It hasn't rusted in nearly 2000 years, and nobody knows how it could have been cast with the technology in that time. It used to be rubbed for good luck, so now there is a small fence around it to keep unlucky fingers off of it.
Our day would not be complete without a big feast. We stuffed ourselves with wonderful, spicy, hot, delicious Indian food and called it a day.
Overall, a wonderful introduction to India.
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