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Day 2

Thursday, February 6, 2025

South India and Uttarakhand

Where are the people?

Despite attempts to cling to sleep, jetlag had me up in just a few short hours, so I took a warm bucket bath and ventured out into the lush garden of the compound.  There was not a soul to be found.  Oddly, I had come to a country of one billion people, and couldn’t find even one of them.  As I meandered across the garden, soft singing approached my ears; an early morning mass.   At once, I followed it to its source, quietly entered a small chapel and sat down, then quickly scooted to the other side of the room, having noticed I was on the ladies’ side.  

When the service ended, everyone rapidly began to disperse.  Desperate not to be alone again, I chased after the two men I had been sitting with.  They were both priests and after brief introductions, they invited me to breakfast, dosa with two lovely curries.  The natural, “where are you from” questions that came as the meal started led to a full-blown explanation of ARI. Servant leaders talking about servant leadership make for lively conversations!  I even pulled out the computer to show them the ARI documentary.  Let me take a moment to introduce them to you as well.  There was Fr. Dass who had just led the morning worship, Fr. Francis who helped me with further travel, Fr. Samuel, and Fr. Savari the friend of an ARI graduate who arranged my stay here.

Bengaluru by “auto”

Since my bus to Kerala wasn’t until late in the evening, I had a whole day to spend in Bengaluru, but wasn’t sure how to do it.  Kindly, Fr. Francis arranged a tuk tuk to take me around.  Only, they don’t call it a tuk tuk here.  They call it an auto rickshaw, or “auto” for short.  So, there I was in an “auto” with my driver, Robert Kennedy, weaving with hair-raising precision through the chaotic, yet strangely efficient flow of traffic.  Just so you know, 5 cm is acceptable spacing between you and every other vehicle zooming around you – trucks, bicycles, busses, a zillion motorbikes and other “autos,” to name a few.  At one point I was tempted to reach out and write my initials in the grime of a massive bus just inches away from me! Incidentally, the original rickshaw, that is, the one pulled by hand, has for the most part been banned in India.  I didn’t see any bicycle rickshaws either, though they might still be around in the villages.

Our first stop was the exchange bureau.  Ha ha!  I wasn’t so dumb as to change all my money at the airport; only enough to pay for my overpriced taxi.  Here in town, I got a good rate.  The landmark to find this office was a very old and very beautiful church called St. Patrick’s which was bustling with a happy wedding.  Then we were off to Lalbagh Park for a stroll in…wait…what is this?  Could it be?  Quiet?  No honking and revving engines?  A place I could hear myself think?  Yes, it was.  What a respite from the roar of Bangalore.  Massive tree boughs bending over gardens of roses and a myriad of tropical flowers in all their splendid clothing.  Peaceful enough for a dog to sleep undisturbed, which is what they did; lots of them.  I kept my distance, because, “let sleeping dogs lie,” but there was one lady sitting in the grass feeding them.  That must have been unusual because Robert Kennedy (my driver), called out to ask her why she was doing that.  Her answer was a small smile. 

Veg or non-veg?

Next, it was time for lunch, and we went all out vegetarian. India is heaven for vegetarians.  In fact, many restaurants that provide meat dishes advertise themselves as “non-veg” which tells me that “veg” might be the standard.  The Kamat Hotel restaurant served us up with chapatti, rice, and three curries, plus veggie sides and two sweet deserts.  Slowly I’ll need to learn the names of these foods, but I find local pronunciations hard to catch.  I’m still developing my “Indian ear.”

The last stop on the tour was meant to be the famous ISKCON Hindu Temple, but it was closed today, so we headed down the street to the monkey headed god, Anjaneya’s, temple.  Having deposited our shoes (and socks) with the shoe keeper, we climbed the stairs to get a good look at the dramatic black and orange statue of this fellow, circled around him once as per Hindu custom, and went back for our shoes.  He must be a shy one, because photos weren’t allowed.

A cultural jolt

There was still a good chunk of the afternoon left, so Robert Kennedy suggested we go see the Indian Parliament Building.   I thought he was just running out of ideas, but as it turns out, it is a popular spot.  People lined the sidewalk, taking group selfies in front of the grand edifice and the horse mounted statues of Indian heroes.  The words emblazoned just below the Indian flag certainly caught my attention, “GOVERNMENT WORK IS GOD’S WORK.”  I did a double take, and then another double take, (a quadruple-take) and my head filled with questions.  What about the separation of church and state, which I was so rigorously taught in school, a chief tenet of the founding fathers of my country? But India is not my country.  India is India and I can’t make assumptions based on my own upbringing.  This was one of those encounters, met by all astute travelers at some point, that jolt you, challenge you, and tempt you to hastily judge things through your own cultural lens.  For me, it provoked serious reflection.  What is truly meant to be conveyed by this phrase so boldly displayed for all the country to see?  And wait a minute, “In God We Trust” is imprinted on every single piece of American currency.  If an Indian asked why that was, what would I answer?   I’m going to have to give this all some thought, and you can be sure I will ask my Indian friends about it.  I need some local perspective! 

With a couple of my own selfies stored in my phone, Robert Kennedy and I headed back.  To wrap up the day’s tour, I’ll leave you with a few curious street observations

  • It was not uncommon for people on motorbikes to shout requests for directions to my driver, Robert Kennedy, as we sat in awkwardly close proximity at traffic lights.  He was always happy to oblige.
  • A small barricade beside a construction site was painted with a sign, “Don’t drink and stand.”  I was wondering if that meant you were supposed to drink so much that you became unable to stand up.
  • At one traffic light, a man with a helmet on his head was walking among the motor bikers asking if they were heading in the direction he wanted to go.  The first gave him a head shake, no.  The second the same.  But the third gave him the customary head bobble that indicates “yes” in this culture and he hopped on the back, just like that!
  • Related to the event above, please note that in this country the correct way to give a non-verbal affirmative is by side-to-side head bobble, not up and down nod.  Try it!

An Uber adventure

Back at the Indian Social Institute, Fr. Francis invited me to join him for tea, and a spicy biscuit called a wada.  He also arranged my dinner and taxi to the bus station for later in the evening.  All was going well … until 7:00 PM arrived.  This was when I needed to catch my ride, but Fr. Francis wasn’t around to call the Uber guy for me.  To make a long story short, picture a frazzled Steven in a late Uber panicking in the nearly immovable evening traffic, checking his driver’s dash mounted phone every minute to see our arrival time at the bus stand move between 8:45 and 8:50, and knowing the bus will leave at 8:45. Luckily, another person from the Institute had hopped in the Uber with me for a ride to the same place (his bus was later), and he was able to call the driver directly and tell him I was absolutely coming.  The driver was sympathetic to my plight, but said the bus couldn’t wait, if I wasn’t on time.  When we finally arrived, we jumped from the taxi and ran to find my big Hamsa Tours bus among dozens of busses parked along the road.  In the end, I was five minutes late, but the driver had graciously waited, despite his earlier warning.  Safely onboard and in my bed, I collapsed and exhaled a breath of thanks.  Ahhhhh. And yes, you did hear me right.  I was in a bed, fully able to stretch out and sleep.  This was a sleeper bus, a marvelous invention that I had never seen before, that allowed me to spend the next 12 hours in horizontal comfort.