India - musings

When I first came to India in the late 80’s, I stayed in Bombay and environs for a couple of months. I’d thought to go further but so enjoyed the city and people there that I stayed and vowed to come back.  Here I am returned 30 plus years later and loving India even more. I’m more mature now and appreciate the breadth and depth of culture here. I remember being so impressed by the old and new then. I wrote about the juxtapositions and contrasts coming together back then. My favourite image was an old kabab shop which had used the wall of the Holiday Inn as part of it’s structure. Old and new. Adaptations.  

This time I see so much industry.  Everything is in motion. So much development.  It’s easy to see the lousy roads and poor sidewalks that make one think of Mexico but what jumps out at me is all the great corporate offices. In Delhi the contrast was Old Delhi and New Delhi. The hundreds of year old market place of Old Delhi was a world away from the grand government buildings of New Delhi.  

It’s such an inclusive world with an old bicyclist hauling bags of material on his ancient machine vying for road beside the latest commercial trucks and vans.  Everything imaginable is here.  Temple, church, mosque all in a row.  Restaurants serving vegetarian and non vegetarian foods, western foods and eastern foods.  

My brother who lived in Hong Kong and loved what I saw as chaos in the stores would love it here. A single store sells autoparts, canned vegetables and plumbing plungers.  I can’t imagine how this happens.  We have our stores separated and even our city blocks are specialized but not here to any great extent.  I imagine a diaper sales man coming into a lamp store and the deal is just too good for an Indian merchant to resist.  My brother had an MBA. He understood business better than me and appreciated the deal. I’m a doctor and see a foot categorized in the cranium.  I want my stores to be organized like the Hudson’s Bay of my childhood. I’m most comfortable in Harrods. There’s method in the madness here but it’s too obvious a different form of organizations is going on.

I love the ladies in colourful saris without helmuts riding side saddle on the backs of modern motorcycles.  The men wear helmets because it’s the law.  

The streets are a cacophony of sound with horns honking like a metallica symphony. In the holy places there’s quiet.

On the street there’s often disrepair but when I pass through the doors of shops, hotels and office buildings I find myself back in the 21’s century.  There’s so much corporate wealth and so much old wealth. I think when I was in Bombay I was more impressed by relative poverty.  The country was poorer then  An economic revolution has occured.  I walked all over Bombay, and there were crowds walking in the streets with lots of bicycles, occasional cars and a few scooters.  The material wealth today is so apparent in vehicles and smart phones.

I loved seeing the Harley Davidson dealership here in Kochi. It was near to the Mercedes and Porche dealerships.  

I read a book about the last Jews of Keralla.  Jewish merchants had been here for the spice trade since long before BC.  St. Thomas, the disciple of Jesus had walked here from Israel and seeded 11 churches in India.  In general the disciples followed the already established jewish trading communities. Here the backwaters make this whole area extraordinary, the rivers being an amazing protected highway system.

The Indian Navy has a port here on the Arabian Ocean.  The Portuguese were the first Europeans to come here but were soon pushed up to Goa where they remained.  The area of Keralla has a mix of Hindu, Moslem, Christian and communists.  I laughed reading a novel set in the region where a wise man accuses the Communist Party leader of worshipping the trinity of Marx, Engels and Lenin, the trinitarian god of the godless. Communism or rather socialism are working well here, the area being one of the most prosperous in India.

The hotel offers ayurvedic medicine and massages . I’ve been considering an ayurvedic massage. Laura hasn’t any interest in the spa. She’s so enjoyed the Crown Plaza rooms. Room service has been excellent. I’ve just enjoyed sweet lassies , a plate of cheese and crackers and cappuccino. The cappucino in India is the best I’ve ever had.  

I love that people speak English. There’s still a lot of misunderstanding both ways with nodding and smiling but it overall makes things a whole lot easier.  There’s so much kindness here and people really do want to help. This Crown Plaza hotel has been extraordinary for that.  I stop to think and someone asks if they can help.  It’s unnerving at times but mostly its rather pleasing.

10% is the standard tip but everyone seems pleased with 50 or 100 rupees for most other things.  100 ruppees is a couple of dollars. it’s a bit like New York but there that sense that everything revolves around money is hit or miss here.  Here it’s muted. Paris, in my limitted experience of the city, it was always in your face.  This morning the waitress commented on Laura wearing the Kochi Harley Davidson tshirt the day before.  She was positively interested in Laura as one human to another. I dont’ get the sense of entitlement with ‘tips’ that I’ve experienced in other big cities. Here it’s appreciated obviously but it’s not demanded.

In my day to day life at home tips don’t really enter into it much. I don’t get tipped and generally only tip at meals or with hair dressers for me or my dog. I remember my political science professor friend saying that in Indian ’there’s individual baksheesh, while in Canada the backsheesh is institutionalized.’ 

The most valuable experience is the sights and sounds and being apart of the culture and history of the place.

I’m loving taking pictures and enjoying reflecting on what I’m seeing. I’m enjoying writing about my experiences and pleased that friends appreciate this and thank me.  Photography and writing are what I really enjoy especially when I have so much new and interesting to photograph and see. My friend Anil paints and draws so we so enjoyed when he posted his pictures ,as he did them in Venice.  

I like to draw and have when I’ve had more time.  I imagine I’ll get back to it one day, when a whole day lays before me like a blank canvass.Even now I’m wondering about going outside for a walk down the street. We’ve been enjoying being in the room and hanging out today, the trip a bit of a whirlwind, so a down day has been appreciated.  

I think of Somerset Maugham writing of his travels and describing the meal as the important  event in the slow steamship journey.  We’ve certainly enjoyed our meals here, such flavours and variety.  We also get a peak at the other guests. This morning there were three very peculiar old birds I imagined were spinstered friends who’d all offed their husbands in some Agatha Christie manner.  

Time moves so fast now. I believe it was slower back then.  Maybe that was just for the elite and priviledged, the characters in then Bronte Sisters novels.  Here you get some sense of the 19th century days of sophistication. The princes held this land and the Moghuls and the British at different times. Now India is the world’s largest democracy despite Nehru’s interest in central government and control.  Their beurocrats and government services were always important. The city is a hub for that.  

When I was driven out to the Elephant Training Camp I drove by small farms and beautiful large homes. They were vaguely reminiscent of southern plantations.   If I’d gone further I’d have ended up eventually in some of the primitive villages which were described in the public health presentations at the conference I attended.  Here I’m in the bustle.  I’m pre retirement but as we hear of friends becoming sick and others dying the sense of time takes on a new meaning.  

This is an ancient land of many empires.  Canada is such a young land.  There are 1.3 billion people here and 37 million people in Canada.  

Right now I’m a tourist in paradise. I’m here with a beautiful lady and am so thankful I’ve come. 

  

India, land of Scooters and Motorcycles

Here in India I’ve been amazed at the number and variety of motorcycles. The most common seem to be Honda, Suzuki and Yamaha. The Royal Enfield is also very popular.  It’s a more substantial machine but from my own recollections a rougher ride.  Still it’s a great little machine. 

Honda Hero, a 125 cc bike was the most common motorcycle we saw in Delhi. The traffic is so bizarre with constant horn honking and jumping from lane to lane when not playing chicken with buses that most bikes are in the under 200 cc variety. There simply were no stretches of road where one could get up to 60 or 80 cc. Even on the country road to Agra, in the car, we travelled at most at 90 km an hour. 

Most of the limitation is the road maintenance.  India is not Germany. If I think of American roads as first world and Canadian roads as second world, India is definitely barely third world.  I’d not ride my Harley in Delli but thought in day time I’d do well on my on road off road KTM enduro. At night the roads become a kind of nightmare of lights and horns, the kind of place Nicholas Cage, as hell biker, would fit right into.  The Indian drivers seem quite at home here. They’re definitely as crazy as the motorcyclists of Rome.  

Here in Keralla the roads are way more peaceful and I’ve actually seen several 1200 cc motorcyles. There are Triumphs and Harleys that seem to manage quite well. Lots of KTM Dukes too.  

There seems to be a local manufacturer of scooters, all of which are in the 75 to 250 cc range. Lots of Suzukis but I didn’t recognise the makes of most. 

When I stopped at Harley Davidson to buy a tshirt I learned that there are indeed tens of thousands of Harley drivers in India and thousands show up for an annual Sturges type event they have here. The Harley is definitely a luxury motorcycle here. The terrific store is in the neighbourhood of the Porsche and Mercedes car dealerships 

In Cambodia I saw a family of 5 riding on a motorcycle but so far here I’ve only seen a family of four.  The driver is often wearing a helmut but rarely are the passengers. When I had my Russian Ural Side Car Motorcycle I brought home a futon mattress in the side car. Here I’ve seen a fellow carrying a mattress on the back of his motorcycle. Just like in Cambodia they use the motorcycle to carry everything so there’s stacks of wood, large water bottles, microwaves and tvs.  Some are strapped on but usually it’s the job of the guy on the back to hold onto some awkward huge thing while the guy on the front tries to drive in the maniac traffic.  

The girls sit side saddle. Not all for modesty. Laura figures it's the sari’s. In Italy the women rode themselves in high heels and opera dresses but here the girls that are driving themselves, a common phenomena,  are more practically dressed with sensible shoes. In Cambodia the standard footwear was flip flops and that’s just what everyone wore.

Personally I’m a full set of leathers, helmut and boots biker.  In the heat this would be impractical. 

(I loved my first bicycle and my Dad running along beside me till I could master two wheels on my own. My brother, Ron bought a Yamaha 125 cc motorcycle and took me for my first motorcycle ride on the back as a teen. I bicycled across Europe on a Raleigh beside the beautiful and adventurous Baiba. Then with intrepid Maureen I rented motorscooters in Hawai and began the love affair with powered two wheels. After crashing a Norton 750 I stopped motorcycling for a decade till older, more mature and sober I fell in love with again with scooters, the Aprillia 50 cc. and the incredible 50 cc Honda Ruckus.

My friend Laura had ridden motorcycles as a teen and helped me get my motorcycle license, riding behind me as I drove my first Buell Blast 600 cc bike which I eventually passed my motorcycle license with.  I loved that motorcycle and rode all over British Columbia on it.  Sometimes Laura rode on the back and I decided I really did need a bigger bike. I graduated to the Harley Davidson 1200 cc Roadster.  It was great for the city and now with Laura on the back we did the most amazing camping trips around the province.  

Planning to ride to Sturges, a 5000 KM round trip journey, from the Pacific Coast to South Dakota,  I graduated to the motorcycle I have and love, the Harley Davidson 1600 cc Electroglide, Harley greatest American freeway machine.  I did the ride of a life time  to Sturges South Dakota seeing the Doobie Brothers, Kid Rock and Zee Top along with thousands of other HOGs.  I still love and ride that bike but have now another enduro, the KTM 690. It was preceded for off road use with the amazing Honda 230 and the on road off road, Honda 250.  I ride the enduro’s year round while putting my big Harley to rest for winter months when the sleet and snow make the Canadians roads too trecherous.  )

The lovely girl at the Harley shop told me that they’ve launched the Electric Harley in India and that the Harley Street 750 is very popular. 

I love motorcycling. My friend Dave who rides a red Harley Heritage Classic calls motorcycling “wind therapy’.  It certainly clears my mind riding in the country on the highway. Here I expect driving motorized two wheel bikes raises the IQ with all the quick life saving decisions the drivers make constantly. When I return from a ride I always feel that God loves me since I’ve survived the fools on the road. The drivers here like in Rome are all generally better drivers than we have in Vancouver where traffick simply doesn’t flow either because of the drugs or the insurance fraud, or the number of elderly drivers with alzheimers or the young drivers overdosing on fentanyl.  What’s amazing is the distracted drivers riding their motorcycle with one hand while answering their cell phones. Given the need to clutch and brake this is not an easy task.  

There are cows that lie down in the middle of the road.Monkeys run across the street or hang from signs.   Dogs walk right through the traffic with uncanny skill.  I’ve crossed the roads a couple of times, realizing that if I stop moving I’m squished.  Traffic is an amazing world of it’s own here.  Given the difficulty I had walking across the road I’ve resisted renting a motorcycle or scooter. This alone is evidence maturity is possible for anyone, even old Harley drivers.

India - leaving Delhi

We’ve been in India for a week now. We’ve stayed at the Pullman Aerocity and done two tours. One was to the Taj Muhal and the Agra Fort, then the next was a tour of Delhi with the highlight for me being the Iron Pillar, lunch at Laseez Affairs, the Delhi well, and finally the rickshaw ride through Old Delhi Bazaar.
 I’ve spent the last five days at a most remarkable International Society of Addiction Medicine conference with the greatest speakers from around the world. I learned so much and was present for the celebration of the founder, Dr. Nady el Guebaly.  I had the pleasure of meeting him in youth and hearing his wisdom. Everything he told me then was true though it would take years to fully appreciate the genius of his early insights.  I look back now and have had the benefit of two mentors who received and well deserved, the Order of Canada, Dr. Nady el Guebaly in Psychiatry and Dr. Jack Hildes in Community Medicine.
In the late 1980’s, I was in Bombay for a couple of months, rewarding myself with a trip there after I’d completed my psychiatry residency.I’d begun a dual speciality in Community Medicine and Psychiatry and only completed 2 years of Community Medicine and Public Health. The irony is I did a year of Surgical residency before doing family practice, rural medicine and returning to specialize in Psychiatry. My life path wasn’t a straight line.  Being here after 30 plus years of life and medicalpractice I’ve found myself reflecting on this particularjourney I’ve taken.
Were I to do it again I’d be more respectful of my parents whose love and wisdom have only become known with time and comparison. When we are young we think others are experiencing what we are and now I know the depth of my mother’s love and concern and the genius , love and discipline of my father. My brother was such a good man, so dutiful, fun and willing to sacrifice so much for the love of family.  I took family for granted too much.  I was so young when I thought I was so old.
I wished I’d been more kind to my former partners. I now know that I thought others should change but nothing like 25 days sailing solo through winter storms in the north Pacific brings home the problem was me and not them. I wish I’d been more loving but mostly more kind, less harsh with my words, less judgemental and more forgiving. They are and were such beautiful people and I was so immature.
I laughed sharing with someone here how proud I was to be an ‘intellectual’ as a young academic.  Apparently I had a very high IQ but while that aided me in getting A’s in almost all my examinations it was in the area of emotional IQ I needed development. India is a motherland.  I grew up in a patriarchal culture. Feminism is in Canada just an abortive strain of patriarchy with tails wanting to be heads, a tom boy mockery. My Buddhist professor friend, Aim, now a mother, loves International Feminism and knows it to be a movement of mothers and women and family and not just angry adolescents imitating men.
The low testosterone in the west reflects the decline of real patriarchy in the same way for playboy adolescent men rather than the mature men my father and brother were. India is a land of family and all the men I speak to include their wives and children and mothers and father’s in their discussion.
In the west, the east was viewed as a spiritual monastic destination. The Buddha with eyes turned inward appealled to the increasing alienation of youth whereas the eyes of the Hindu statues always were open and looking out to family and society.  Trungpa, the great Buddhist leader said the west had trouble with spirituality because of their ‘monkey minds’ only being able to experience ‘spiritual consumerism’.
At a 12 step meeting here I heard again the message that ‘god works through people’. Addiction is alienation and recovery is participation.  Creativity and positivity join us with our friends and family, destruction and negativity separate us. In my work I’m so commonly with young adults experiencing nihilism , young men living in the basements of their parents home addicted to screens, and unable to move out to caring for others. The journey Anna Freud described from Narcissism to Altruism is stymied in our society.
I’m always feeling like I’m a much younger person looking out of the eyes of this older person with thinning hair, wrinkles, back and joint aches.
I see less ageism here. I love the veneration of the elders in the east, the essence of spirituality, the humility and service. I loved watching the brilliant young doctors I met here deferring to old farts like me and being gentle with the aging leaders from their universities and communities.
I love the cows. A taxi driver confirmed that in the cycle of reincarnation that any cow could be a grandparents choosing this as the last step before enlightenment. The Chinese have long said they’d like to be reincarnated as a privileged american pet. Here the cow is venerated as the elder and our tour guide, a Jain, told us that increasingly they are finding new medicines to improve immunology from, of all things, cow piss.  Personally I love the Lassie yoghurt drinks here and the yoghurt itself is the best I’ve ever tasted.
In the Bible in John, it says ‘in the beginning was the word’. String Theory says that the world is an vibrating musical reality. It’s a symphony and I’ve always thought I was the Kazoo.  There’s a need for every instrument and with the greatest of conductors we’ve heard chainsaw and Harley motor sounds incorporated into magical symphonies of sound.  Metal and flute and violin have all coupled with the rhythm section. Here the tabla and sitar sound so beautiful together. I listened to the Sharma’s, a protege boy and girl,  that played for the ISAM gala and was reminded of all the years I listened to Yehudi Menuhin and Ravi Shankar. Last night we listened to uptown Jazz at our hotel, this girl singing a favourite Nora Jones tune with a great jazz quartet backing her up. I remember too sitting with joy in my heart listenng to Ravi Shankar and his other daughter, the sitar protege.
When I was in Bombay before, I loved that so much music was spiritual. This is such a contrast to modern western music which has a recurring theme of getting drunk or drugged and having strange sex.  I am thankful for classical music channels where I can find the glory of Bach and Handel and the profundity of Mozart.  I remember loving flying into Tel Aviv and hearing Leonard Cohen in the taxi. His Hallelujah song now compete with the brashness of addiction propaganda.  It’s uplifting to me and here there’s the Ballywood love songs reminiscent of the Amercian 50’s big cast musicals and this other deeper more quiet spiritual theme.
I read the edicts of Ashoka at the National Museum of India calling for mutual respect of others, their beliefs and ideas. Mutual respect doesn’t mean we agree but it’s so at contrast to the western university mob thugs like Antifida, the Brownshirts of our day, shouting down any opposing view. I loved Spearker’s Corner in London where anyone could get a soap box. There’s a need for that today. Get these intellectual and spiritual bullies and put them in one place where they can shout and push but lets the rest of us live and let live.
Facebook may yet teach us manners.  Here the manners are overall still in tact. However that day to day, person and person appreciation of space and tolerance of others may explain why there are these huge break outs of demonstrations with everyone joining in. The well behaved unconsciously see this as a chance to let the wild out. I saw that years back in Bombay where a group suddenly was ignited and it was a bit of time before things settled again.  It is also a land of constant festival.
I’m enjoying meditation. I most enjoyed talking about reality and neurotransmitters, dopamine and yoga with Dr. Raju Hajela.  He and his wife were hiking in the mountains and he shared over dinner their wondrous experiences of meditating in old caves where hermits had gone five thousand years ago.  Throughout history there are those who go to the mountain and return. The Bodhi tree is such a symbol too. I enjoyed visiting monasteries in Turkey and Israel and Greece, the old desert father places, feeling the gentleness that permeates the space.
We are now off to Ranchi where the Yagoda Satsanga Sakha Math Ranchi Ashram is. This is where Paramahansa Yogananda first taught meditation and heard his call to come to America.  He felt that Jesus Christ was leading him. St. Augustine taught mantra or affirmation meditation and breathing and mindfulness.
Dr. Hamelin and discussed Dr. Herbert Benson’s research on Mahareshi’s mantra and how the words could be any, Benson choosing ‘one’ for his research on the physiological benefits of meditation.  I associate meditation throughout my university and medical school years with the godliness I knew then and the academic achievement. When I proceeded to study psychoanlytic psychiatry I unfortunately met atheists who told me I couldn’t do both.  Indeed my psychiatrist teacher at the time told me meditayion damaged the mind!
Thankfuly I met better and wiser psychiatrists in later years but at the time I was encouraged By my teachers to see marijuana , alcohol and sex as superior. It wasn’t like I was one to argue but the detour in my life took a while to sort out and cost a lot for myself and those around me. It’s actually considered in ‘tantric yoga’ discussion. To Australians it might be called a spiritual walkabout.
 Thanks to my Christian mentors like Dr. Willi and Dr. Philip And the orthodox jewish psychologist Dr. Sam I moved beyond Sex and drugs and rock and roll to a new path that was in so many ways like my former trajectory.  The spirituality of imperfection comes to mind.
Now here I am ready to pay homage to another great source of the best in my life. I’ve so enjoyed going to the Israel and Rome and Athens and Capadoecia and Istanbul/Constantinople, and St. Patrick’s Ireland and the Coptic churches and monasteries of Ethiopia. I’ve loved the Catholic Cathedrals and Orthodox cathedrals of St. Petersburg and Moscow.
India brings all this spiritual travel to mind and helps me remember we are all just passing through. So be kind.