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June 28, 2004
Wonderland of Kashmir
I always thought Kashmiri people were unobjectively boastful when describing their homeland as "heaven on earth", that is until I arrived here on the 1st of June.
The city of Srinagar centers itself around Dal Lake, a romantic world of decadent beauty that only seems possible within ones imagination. The lake is full of charming houseboats, small islands, floating vegetable gardens, wild birds, and lotus flower fields -- all bordered by beautiful yellow water lilies. These calm waters are connected by shady canals and traveled by row boat that are driven by men and women, young and old all pressing the water behind them with a single heart shaped paddle. Despite the many warnings I have heard about Kashmir and the violence ensuing between India and Pakistan over the political future of this paradise, I feel nothing but calm, serene and at peace inside the snow covered peaks and lush green mountains that seemingly protect the valley where the lake is situated.
I traveled here with Rahil, a brilliant young Kashmiri man who has an old soul, wise mind, and responsible and generous heart. We met in Bagsu, where Rahil is owner of a precious and semi-precious stone shop. Enchanted by the healing and energetic properties of the unique stones and their delicate settings, I decided to purchase a few to support me on my journey. I wear the ring and malas daily, and feel naked without them as they have quickly become a part of my inner and outer identity, as if they have adorned my body from birth.
Even after the purchase transaction for my jewelry was complete, I found myself frequenting Rahil's shop for cups of chai and long conversations about everything and nothing. Through these visits I came to realize that Rahilís friendship is even more precious and rare than the stones that he sells as he is one of the few men who are capable of cultivating a true friendship with a woman with no ulterior motives.
During one afternoon of chai, Rahil announced that his sister had just gotten engaged to be married. As the only son and main financial provider for his family, even at the young age of 29, he was excitedly obligated by tradition to travel home for the engagement party. Wanting to escape the monsoon of weather and emotions in Bagsu, I happily accepted his invitation to come along.
By the afternoon following our day of departure, I was sitting in the kitchen of Rahil's family home sipping tea and listening to the loud, warm and enthusiastic Kashmiri chatter of a family happily reunited. It did not require much time in the company of the Guroo family for the sources of Rahil's many great qualities to become evident. Ghulam, Rahil's father, a retired and formerly successful travel and tour operator, is a very quiet yet extremely confident man (much like the personality of my own father), who allows the vibrancy of his wife and daughters to color the energy of the household. Rahil's mother Hasina and two sisters Mahbooba and Rifat are all bold, bright and beautiful spirits who have clearly contributed to Rahil's profound understanding and respect for women.
Most activities center around the kitchen were food is always being cleaned, cooked or eaten. It seems a pot of Kashmiri tea -- characterized by green tea leaves and the saffron, cardamom, cinnamon and almonds that this part of India is famous for -- is also always in brew in expectation of the unannounced but always welcomed guests that are continually stopping by. Since tea is never consumed here without bread or biscuits, baskets full of diverse baked goods are also always being offered.
There house is a sweet two floor A-frame that is not quite finished but completely charming all the same. It is situated on a small island just along a canal that serves as a main artery of travel. All day and well into the evening colorful shikaras -- long colorful water taxis with bright, covered, cushioned and curtained sitting areas -- pass by leaving romantic Kashmiri love songs lingering as they move into the distance. It seems like everyone who lives here has done so for generations as the boat traffic is always accompanied by greetings and gossip being hollered from water to land and land to water.
I spend lots of time in my room, the only completed one on the second floor of the house, perched by the window where I observe the going-ons of the community. From this vantage point I have seen small children bounce out of their boats and into the lake as they play with one another. I have watched Hasina carefully select vegetables for the dayís meals from the veggie walla (seller). I have witnessed the shikara driver known to all as "old man" quietly slip from his boat to a quite and westward facing part of the lawn, to bow in evening prayer. I have observed Ghulam meticulously and lovingly attending to the flower garden that borders the front yard. Mostly I see shikara's filled with Indian tourists lazily passing the time of their holiday en route to nowhere in particular or Kashmiri men and boys parking their boats in the yet to blossom field of lotus plants just across from the house, where they sit and leisurely pass the day fishing.
I have noticed that I am not the only one who likes to perch in the windows of the second floor bedroom. On more than one occasion I have been visited by local birds that are less afraid of me than I am of them. My favorite visitors are a couple of nightingales who like to fly in my room to take a rest on my curtain rod. Other fluttering and soaring friends I have had the pleasure of watching include eagles, water hens, woodpeckers, and my favorite, the turquoise feathered kingfisher.
It is more than just the exotic and friendly birds of Kashmir that come right to the house for visits. There seems to be a mobile shop for every need one could imagine that always floats up to the house just when you need them to. From the shore of the island one can purchase bread, milk, fruit, vegetables, clothes, fabrics, plastic containers, ice-cream, flowers, saffron, carpets, jewelry, live chickens, and barbecued mutton. My favorite sales boat is the one I call the "bodega (a Span-glish term used in New York City to refer to the corner store) boat" offering everything from toilet paper and cigarettes to soda and choco-pies.
The values that govern the Guroo family as well as most people's lives here in Kashmir are conservative and defined by their Islamic religion. The women of the home pray five times a day, everyone visits the mosque on Friday for prayer, no one in the house consumes any liquor, and the woman ensure that their heads are always covered, especially when the calls from the mosques are heard announcing that it is prayer time. While dramatically different from my own belief system, I have found a great respect for their devoted commitment to their traditional ways.
The only practice they have that leaves me a bit uncomfortable is their constant annihilation of flies and mosquitoes. My Buddhist vows of not killing and serving all life forms in our common desire to exist in peace and happiness has left me with a greater appreciation for the life of insects and routinely saddened by their execution (for the record, even I am surprised that I have become an advocate for the humane treatment of bugs). Recognizing that these values are not part of the Guroo family moral code, I offer respect by biting my tongue and shoeing the flies towards an exit in hope that they will escape an encounter with the swatter. I am happily rewarded when I observe that the familyís lack of compassion for bugs is made up for by their regular consideration of the fish and birds around their island. Rifat often saves her mutton bones in order to feed the crows, and any leftover rice from someone's plate is routinely dropped in the water at the joyous pleasure of the fish.
The serentiy and lack of schedule I maintain here is a nice change for me and as such I expect to stay for a while.
Posted by Jyllt at 07:52 AM | Comments (1)
June 21, 2004
The Sufi Says. . .
It is fascinating to have been raised atheist and with no regard for religious or spiritual forces and then suddenly realize I have developed a strong faith in the realms beyond scientific proof or my own intellectual powers (please don't tell my parents).
Back when I first arrived in India my friend Tam invited me to visit an astrologer with her. Knowing little about astrology, but always agreeing with the books I have glanced at that described characteristics and tendencies of particular zodiac signs, I was curious to see what my astrological chart would reveal.
It is impossible for me to not have some confidence in the predictions offered about my future when aspects of my past were so accurately described. He mentioned events I have endured that I have never told another living soul about. He brought up very specific relationships in my life and characterized them to a tee. He knew I lived in Africa in the mid-1990's, and pointed out that I was an artist but not one whose livelihood depended on my creative pursuits. All of this was done based on my date, time and location of birth -- nothing more.
Not sure how much merit to give to these predictions, yet certain not to disregard them (just in case), I have been having fun living my life as if I know how events are going to unfold over the next 14 months. Whenever an opportunity poses itself for me to take action to support the direction I have been prophesized, I do it, as I would be quite thrilled if it all works out according to my astrological plan.
The family I have been living with in Kashmir puts enormous stock in the predictions offered by their Sufi (Muslim guru), and during one of his recent visits encouraged me to ask him about my future. Wanting to see if his visions confirmed or contradicted those of the astrologer, I posed a few questions to him. Despite the fact that the sources used to read ones future are completely different, his visions not only concurred with that of my astrological chart but offered some specifics that I had not known before. Actually these extra details have raised the stakes as they have put the course of events on a "real time" table.
The predictions seem to make perfect sense considering the direction that my life is heading in, and the future it describes is very much aligned with the desires of my heart. In short, I can see myself living this future. Yet how I get from here to there, especially in the specified timetable, is beyond the scope of my imagination. So much so that all I can do is allow life to take its course.
On one side it is very comforting to know how things are going to work out over the next year +, as I do not have to expend energy pursuing paths that will mislead me. At the same time it is bizarre to take the wonder out of ones future. It is particularly challenging for a strategic planner like me to already know the certain outcomes of my 14-month plan, especially when I have no concept of the actual course to get there. Nonetheless, my brain can not help but start to envision the reality and begin planning for its arrival. All of these perspectives are buzzing around my head while a small shadow of a doubt lingers in order to ensure I am not disappointed if it does not materialize. Once again, I find myself in strange and unfamiliar waters.
If these predictions are true, I can not help but question if it is unnatural to know them ahead of time. It seems one could put forth efforts to derail their future if it is one they are not looking forward to, or in my scenario, one could get fixated on the future so much so that they could lose their ability to allow the course to occur naturally. Perhaps knowing ones future is such an inherent part of life in places like India, that comprehending how things will turn out is the natural order. But for me it feels like I know about my own surprise party which certainly changes the nature of the party. Although, if I take this metaphor a bit further, I realize that knowing only removes the element of surprise. Actually, ensuring the guest of honor is in knowledge of the plan does make it easier to facilitate the event, and a party is still a party.
With that in mind and without knowledge of the protocol for sharing one's predicted future with others, I am going to keep the details to myself, just to be safe. Besides, my plans may involve one of you and I do not want to take away your element of surprise as well. When it is all said and done we can confer with the family I have been staying with to confirm the accuracy of the predictions. I will let you all know when to yell surprise!!!
Posted by Jyllt at 05:12 AM | Comments (2)
June 08, 2004
The Monsoon Has Arrived
One minute everything is bright, clear, beautiful and warm. And then, with almost no warning the peaceful hill station of Bagsu (a quiet village just 10 km north of Dharamsala, where I took up residence for three weeks) is engulfed in strong gusts of wind, thick gray clouds, lightning, thunder, dampness, and cold. If I am lucky I have the time to seek shelter or put on proper clothes and gear before the sky opens, pelting the earth forcefully with a torrential downpour of rain and gumball sized hailstones. Often I am caught unprepared and forced to endure the storm unprotected, leaving me cold and wet to the bone.
The approach of the monsoon is an exciting change from the monotony of bright sunshine and crystal clear blue skies that I see everyday here. At the same time the rapid, forceful and unpredictable approach of these storms also leave me feeling vulnerable, unsettled and scared.
* * * * *
These words describe the weather in Bagsu as well as my emotional and physical state since arrival here on May 6th. During my stay, I have engaged in a multitude of activities to purify my body and open my energy channels including daily private kundalini yoga instructions from an authentic Swami and yoga master; yogic cleanings of my internal body cavities; an ayurvedic diet course; and repeated massages and reflexology treatments. As a result of all of these processes my body and emotions are both releasing toxins. My face has been breaking out. My body has experienced extreme fatigue and lethargy as well as gasteral and respiratory sicknesses. I have lost my voice repeatedly, have been on the verge of tears at the slightest confrontation. My patient and stable mind finds itself being replaced by my short temper of old.
For the first time during this trip I have longed for the comforts of home. I find myself wishing for the familiar embrace of my last lover, wanting to hear the overprotective concern for my well being expressed by my parents, needing to hear the reassuring voice of friends, and questioning my physical and emotional resolve to endure this trip to its end. My experience of myself at this moment is one of being in a skin that is not my own. I question whether I have what it takes to live the life of honesty, virtue, clarity and transparency that I have committed myself to. At the same time, I have come too far to simply return to my old persona and way of life.
The hardest part of feeling this way while traveling alone, is that I have no one and no where to turn for comfort and understanding. While I have made many beautiful and kind friends along the way, none of these individuals know the distance or road I have traveled, nor do they have the capacity to understand it as they are all on their own journey and must focus on navigating their own course. While phone calls and e-mails from home brighten my day, these words are like postcards from a distant land, beautiful and interesting but not quite the same as being there in person.
For the first time in my life I have lost the desire to be trooper, always bearing my own burden with no need for the attention, affection and assistance of others. At this point in my life I simply long to be loved unconditionally. Unfortunately the sources of love that I generally count on, my friends and family, are simply not here. Thus, I am naked, alone, and exposed and it seems no one near by is concerned about my vulnerability except me.
My state of being, combined with the many physical temptations and temporary escapes from reality offered here in Bagsu, have weakened my will to resist a diverted path from the one I am on. I have been tempted by the beautiful smile of a charming man, offers of hash, and overly sweet foods, and shamefully admit indulging these desires -- anything to make me feel good, even if just for a fleeting moment or two. While these short periods of pleasure were a welcomed escape from my reality, the resulting experiences were ones of regret and disappointment and certainty that I was moving further from the direction in which I really want and need to go.
* * * * *
When I sit quietly and just observe the irrational movement of the storm and witness how fresh, calm and nourished the earth is after the clouds have moved beyond the valley, I am learning to love the monsoons and accept them as an important contribution towards the course of nature. However, these insightful moments are few and far between as, once again, my habitual inclination is to do something, go somewhere, or seek protection in order to avoid the discomfort and unfamiliarity of my circumstances and surroundings. But slowly, slowly, the wisdom and peace of acceptance emerges. I look forward to seeing the resulting lush that blossom in the months to come.
Posted by Jyllt at 12:03 PM | Comments (6)