Hello to all fellow travellers on the golden road to unlimited devotion:

Tomiyo and I landed in Bangkok last evening after nearly two months in India.  The current tourist advertisement slogan by the Indian government is 'INCREDIBLE INDIA'.  It is true, that India is incredible, however not in the way they think.  In this missive, I will give you a measly two examples of why this is not so.

This past week we travelled from New Delhi to Lucknow, the ancient stately capital of Uttar Pradesh and home to Nehru.  We went there primarily to visit SEWA, a ladies co-operative which in Lucknow produces 'chikan' stitchery - elaborate needle work.  Most of the women are poor Muslim women, and since the thrust of our store 'Social Studies' is in this direction, we decided to run down the voodoo.  We rode a first class chair car and the ride was tolerable by Indian standards.

Before arrival I had booked a hotel online and after a lot of misdirection and driving around town with an illiterate tuktuk 'taxi' driver, we finally arrived at our destination.  One cannot be too short-fused in these occasions because sometimes the drivers are flogging for other hotels and sometimes they are just plain illiterate.  Upon arrival, Madame Sasaki did her usual complaining about cleanliness (a useless venture in India!), and I jumped into the shower.  When I reached up for the shampoo on the window ledge, I felt a more than slight surge of electricity run thru my body.  Of course I was PERFECTLY grounded, standing in water, so the current ran right thru me and down the drain.  I jumped back and noticed that the electric exhaust fan above the window was touching the metal window frame. They say that Western seekers after truth and self realization come to India for enlightenment and 'grounding', however it is not my desire to end my brief time on this planet as a human lightbulb.  Of course I complained to the male and female at the front desk, who reacted in typical Indian fashion when confronted with something they don't want to deal with - they stared at me like stunned oxes (who had received an electrical jolt between the eyes!), and pretended not to comprehend the English language (or the Anguish language in this case).  This is an Indian game.  Their intelligence level rises meteorically if there is an extra rupee to be made.  I suggested to the hotel clerks, that if they really wanted to kill their customers, they should properly provide an electric iron or hair dryer with the shower, and do the job properly.

I cannot leave this topic without describing my previous encounter with an electrical utility in the shower.  Tomiyo and I were videotaping across India on various occasions on and off for 2 years during the '80's and 90's.  She wanted to videotape camels, so we went to the Indian government camel corps facility in Bikaner in Rajasthan.  When we arrived, we were chased off by the officials, who stated that the raising of camels was 'TOP SECRET'.  That was a new one on me!  Recently, we were at Dilli Haat, an outdoor crafts market in New Delhi and saw a booth which advertised 'recycled camel' hide items.  While we were standing there, I told Tomiyo that the camels had been 'reborn'.  An Indian woman next to us said to me: 'that is very interesting - you are a real wit'.  I said: 'no madam - camels in India have only one hump.  In China and other parts of southeast Asia, the Bactrian camels have TWO humps and they are twice reborn'.  She said: 'you are a real wit'.  I told her: 'no, I just have to entertain myself to keep myself from going mad from looking at mindless reality'.  She said: 'you aren't a wit, you are a philosopher'.  I told her: 'thank you madam - shall I kiss your feet now or later?'  In any event, we left the Bikaner camel farm and headed for the desert city of Jailsamer - which can only be described as a yellow sandstone Venice on the silk road.  We checked into a hotel.  I went into the shower.  I felt a jolt.  I looked up.  The grounding wire for the water heater (geyser in Hinglish) was hanging down exposed to the water from the shower.  Perhaps this is a perverse Indian game to keep tourists on their toes!

Now comes the train ride from HELL!  After our sojurn in Lucknow, we caught a train to the ancient city of Benares, where pilgrims from all over India come - some to die - if you die in Benares, you skip the endless cycle of rebirths which Hindus believe in.  I have seen people dying on the banks, propped up by their relatives.  I have seen people frozen in blocks of ice and flown in from Mumbai and elsewhere to be dipped in the Ganga before cremation.  But hey!  We have our own warped rituals in the West!  In any event, our train from Lucknow to Benares was 4 hours late.  Our experience with trains in India has always been quite good.  We have ridden trains all over India, and while the decor and cleanliness is not recommended, like Mussolini fascist Italy, the trains usually ran on time.  This time however, we were in for 'an Indian experience'.

Benares is not the same buccolic city we spent weeks videotaping in years ago.  The population explosion has made the city impossible.  The sheer number of rickshaws, scooters, cars, bicycles, cows, dogs, etc. on the streets makes for an endless traffic jam and gridlock.  Indian drivers are the best - their tolerance for clearance is about one paintjob!  We decided to get out of Benares (despite seeing a spectacular fire puja performance by 10 young priests at night under neon umbrellas 30 feet in the air on the banks of the Ganga at night).  Going to the train station, where there is a special office for foreign tourists with a set aside quota, we found out that all of the seats were booked for virtually every train for the next day or so.  The friendly clerk however informed us that there was a major switching station 17 kilometers away, and that he could get us a 'coupe' - a private sleeping compartment for just the two of us.  We jumped on it and made arrangements for a cab to take us there several hours early - just to make sure we got on board.  Our train was supposed to leave for New Delhi at 10:20 PM.  Upon arrival, we found that the train was delayed two hours.  The cab driver assisted us in getting a porter who took us to the correct track and the so-called 'first class waiting room for ladies and gents'.  The female announcer on the PA would loop thru all of the trains departing and arriving virtually constantly, so we had our ears perked up to make sure we didn't miss our flight.  I though I heard something about delay our our train number, so I went back to the main part of the station to information, where I fought thru 14,000 Indians (Indians can't keep a que - everyone is looking for an edge in a country of over 1 billion people).  The guys behind the cyclone fence screen took pity on me and actually looked up the train on the computer and informed me that it was now 4 hours late.  So, we arrive at 7:30, the train is supposed to leave at 10:30 and will now leave at 2:30 AM.  I went back to Tomiyo in the waiting room by Track #3.  She pointed out to me the cute little rat which was running back and forth between the male and female bathrooms all night (India respects all of God's creatures and believes even the most lowly creatures have the right to make a living).  Around 2 AM, after listening to the endless loop of the female PA updates (kinda like being in Dick Cheney's Guantanamo), I went to the chief engineer's office on our platform, who again took pity on the 'foreign tourist', and punched up his computer and informed me that the train would roll in at 6 AM.  That was really exciting news!  Now my concern become one of getting back to New Delhi in time to fly out to Bangkok!  After more mental water torture, rat watching, etc., another message came on about delay of our train.  By this time, Tomiyo had befriended a young Indian engineer who wanted to 'interact' with foreigners.  Vikram turned out to be a graduate of one of India's top 6 IT schools, works for a coal company, and was a welcome diversion from the endless coming and going of trains, people, and rats (oh!  I forgot all of the cows and dogs in the station living off garbage - the cans rotate, so the animals have it all figured out).  Vikram informed us that Indian trains are now ALWAYS late, and that he had a train that was 24 hours late.  That was comforting.  He assisted me on a trip to the station managers office, and after looking at him with some contempt, the station manager realized that he was fronting for a foreigner and told us that the train would arrive at 9 AM.  At this point, I was totally sleep deprived and Tomiyo was crashed out with her head on the luggage and the Lonely Planet Guide to India slipping out of her hands exactly like Michelangelo's Moses, with the stone tablets etched with the 10 commandments slipping outa his hands!  To make a short story long, our train arrived at 10:30 AM.  The coolie got us into 1st class AC (nobody else was in the car), and we arrived in New Delhi at 1 AM - 13 freaking hours late.  Vikram recommended flying in the future.  I believe he has a point!  The land of the magic carpet ride is looking a little frayed around the edges!

If you have never been to India, and have the desire to see a society in the state of rising collapse (or as Stalin might say: 'collapsing stabilization'), I would recommend a tour group (even though I would never consider joining a tour group myself!).  To see the real India, you have got to get down into the streets yourself without a guide - but it is not for the faint hearted.  As they say in India - 'if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere'.  Or maybe that was someone else said that?  It must be the heat addling my brain.

Your Humble Servant, the Electric Mule

'East is East, and West is West, and never the trains shall meet

copyright Ernest Gusella 2010'