Reflections of India

I am back now, from another world. I discovered that the journey you plan to go on is not always the trip you end up taking.

We left Chicago in fine fall and arrived after more than 20 hours in a Mumbai "winter" night: nearly 80 degrees with smoke. Summer like I never had before.

Yes, it was real smoke, since thousands and maybe millions in that teeming Maximum City still cook by small real fire. The balmy air, the crowd, the smell. You aren't in Kansas anymore, Toto, that is for certain. And the smoke mixes with the smog and the thick air of 20 million hopes and dreams.

And so began our adventure. The plan was to get there, recover from the 11.5 hour time difference, check out some sights, get daughter situated in a Mumbai flat, hosted by my college buddy, and then I was to skeedadle to a hill station for a weeklong yoga and ayurvedic detox while she began her experiential study of Bollywood.

Maybe someday I will take THAT trip, but the universe intervened, and shortly after our arrival, my old friend got the call we all would dread. Sister in law was in hospice--after 9 years she had lost the battle with cancer.

Get on a plane and be with your family, said I--what else could my host do but leave us?

I was not about to leave my teenager alone in a flat in Mumbai, so cancel that detox--its time to immerse ourselves in the bustling big city and instead of a native, my child will have me as a guide--scratch that, will have me as a fellow explorer.

So here we are in an artist's garret in the heart of Kolaba, across the street from the much bombed Taj Mahal hotel--an architectural fantasy of scrolls and stone overlooking the harbor and the Gateway to India. Location, location.

Mumbai is seeped in its Raj Heritage and we were in the heart of it.  Mumbai is Los Angeles Movie Stars and New York Moxie, with a pinch of Chi Town brawn, and a lot of Rio de Janiero favela thrown in and mixed in a very Indian masala. More than once I found myself thinking India is SOOOOOO Indian. It's just not like anything else.

Learning to navigate a large metropolis is always an improvisation in problem solving. I like to walk a city to get to know it.  This will prove quite interesting--with a bit of Risk thrown in, since I gather most natives don't walk if they can help it....

Our inventory of tools: We had a centrally located tree top lair, airconditioned,  with a fantastic view --stocked with an excellent library of books and DVD's, as well as food. We had 800 channels of cable. We had daily English language newspaper delivery--a life saver when the internet was not working. We had some support: a driver (when the car was not kaput or his family not sick), a personal assistant wizard magical person with perfect English who I never met but who could be called to translate-- BTW they do not speak English as much as we have been led to believe: a crash course in Hindi would have been a good investment for this trip, as would have been a personal stock of toilet tissue, a rare mystery I never got to the bottom of.....

We had a housekeeper coming in daily, and she  sure could cook. And I could watch, so I picked up a number of recipes. The internet didn't work, but we were given a local phone. And so we set about to learn to get along in a new culture.  That was a mixed bag, and the learning curve was steep.


There was a lot of seeing sights. We visited the caves on Elephanta Island. Out of Indiana Jones or Lara Croft, for sure. The "deluxe" ferry that got us there could never have passed my old harbor master's inspection.

India is a lesson in Functional Chaos. We Americans get a lot more done with far fewer people, but we don't need to keep so many people busy. I would be happy if a few less people were haranguing me to buy things or give them money--but I suppose I look like a big fat meal ticket walking down the street.

And we have sooooo much. If nothing else, I came away with a deep appreciation for how very rich this country I was lucky enough to be born in is by comparison. The concept of homelessness is irrelevant in Mumbai. Probably several million people would be classified as homeless by our standards. There was a family of 5 living in the street outside our flat--no box, no tarp, just right on the cobbles, outside the western union office where we went to pick up email on a computer from the 1980's.  And the slums are like a human collage stacked up in every open space. 

The food is amazing. I became a vegetarian. The people aren't doing so well, and the animals never do better, well with the possible exception of cows.  So I couldn't bring myself to eat them. And the street dogs and cats broke my heart. There were thousands of them. At 4 in the afternoon, you had to be careful not to step on them as you traversed your path because they would stretch out for a nap on the cobbles. Oh, and the perfume of the city rising from the sunwarmed cobbles-- a city with few public toilets....you can imagine. It is a sensory overload.

But this is the land of Ghandi, and of art traditions thousands of years old, and some of the best stories ever told.
I made my pilgrimage to Mani Bhavan, yes I did. Highlight of the trip. See photo above. Birthplace of modern peaceful resistance. There would be no Martin Luther King without Ghandi. It was moving.

I took Kundalini yoga and chanted for change.  I walked. and walked.  Used up a pair of shoes and lost 5 lbs.  I sweated. I absorbed.

I discovered a contemporary dance festival and a theater festival of new works. The National Center for the Performing Arts became my daily "work". I filled my head with new ideas, and the chai in the lobby for about 60 US cents wasnt bad either. I will miss those samosas they serve instead of chocolate bars at the concession stand. We saw some street theater too-- a tradition alive and well in India.

And all too soon, I leave my child, our host to return just after I fly away home to oversee the second part of her journey.   I return to the American Thanksgiving table and to Black Friday and the culture shock coupled with Jet lag puts me in a surreal place.  This will take quite a while to process.

Poem

Don't think I have posted this one before.

Samsara
A Chess Game
of souls.
Recombining
Lifetime after lifetime
A limited series of templates
recycled endlessly
a thousand year life.

or this one:


the Mind
A sharp one
Is not a gift.
Better
to be
A Dog.
With no past
or future
But a bed
And bone.
Kind words.

A good Mind
Sees the subtle shading
of injustice and the
tragic nature of our paltry lives.
There is no peace
for those with vision.

Page for a day

As a teacher, I believe in imparting lessons through complete immersion. And so I dragged my 8th grader, mandated to take the Illinois Constitution Test this year, and his outgoing little sister, to our state capitol yesterday to be Honorary Pages for the Day on the Senate Floor where they could get an up close look at how that document plays out "in real life". My son had begged for the opportunity--but that was before he learned he needed to wear dress pants, shirt and a tie for the gig. Whereas my girl was excited to wear a pantsuit a la Hilary Clinton, my son is most comfortable in his track suit. But off we schlepped on our first Amtrak adventure. Since it was cheaper on cash and Mom's energy than driving, I thought it was brilliant- but the journey got mixed reviews from my kids who might be a little too used to the Mom-mobile, also known as the "trailer" (for all the times we use it to get into wardrobe for shoots). We crashed in a Ho-Jo's (yes they still exist, and this one had a really comfortable bed) and were up and at 'em bright and early. Son got to borrow a spiffy jacket with a Page logo as pictured, and off they went to the Senate floor, to committee meetings, amidst the Charter School rally, and all the the fireman and paramedics in town to lobby. I got to poke around the historic Lincoln sites while they worked their running shoes off---LOVE the museum. Some highlights from die kinder: my daughter found out that politicians are funny--she thought they were all serious and dry, and is relieved to know that the folks making decisions have a sense of humor. My son discovered that the job of a Senator is really hard, and it's impossible to stay on schedule--tough lesson for someone with OCD, but he seemed to roll with it! Our senator is a warm hearted fellow, and Jewish too, which my kids loved--especially his story about the Obama Hanukkah party. He made the day fun, and his generous spirit is inspiring--my kids are fired up to work on his next campaign.  He has great back-up too--the hidden and most necessary angel of our day was his legislative aide. This woman, calm, organized, endlessly helpful, was put to the test with the Gluten free Problem, and she went the distance TWICE to assure that Alec got lunch. She took the kids on a tour of the capitol, and my son noted that many parts are as beautiful as an art museum. This aidde, after a very long day--it looked like a 12 hour stint from the printed sheet---she goes home to sit and watch tv---NO--to serve on the schoolboard!!!! This lady has politics and helping her community in her DNA--and because of her, my kids got the life lesson that getting laws made is chaotic, messy, filled with meeting people and running up and down marble staircases and legislatures are made up of hard working good people. We were actually THERE when the piece of legislation that our family most cares about: the film tax credit extension, was debated and PASSED!!!! How cool is that? I was afraid that my kids were turned off to the legislative process after the ordeal getting the chicken ordinance passed in our town, but now they are much more interested in some of the laws that they saw passed, and one that did not pass. We had a thoughtful discussion on the way home about sometime the intent of a law is good, but it is not worded correctly or has unintended consequences that are bad.

 I scored high for that theme based immersion learning experience.

I have returned

I am back, dear Readers. I must admit reluctantly. As many of you may know, at the end of last summer, my husband was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Navigating the medical labyrinth and dealing with the adjustment to a new normal, well, it stunned me silent. It's not so much that I had nothing to say, it was just too painful to say it, and much too complicated to explain. Sometimes its just simpler to shut up. Silence was more comforting. But now we are on the down side of the hill, hurtling towards a future we never considered,and I am hanging on by my stubby fingernails, so its time to attempt to communicate with the outside world again.

It seems appropriate to post a poem, written by my son

The Roller Coaster of Life

Life is like a roller coaster
When you enter the line you are thinking of what is happening
Eye on the coaster
Mind racing

You get on the roller coaster

                     You're nervous
                          and scared

Fasten your seatbelt
and
                                  wait

The car JOLTS from the start
There's no getting off
You're along for the ride

You can see straight
But you never know what's coming

Or what is around the next turn

            and then
you get off just as fast as you got on

You think nothing more of it.
On to the next roller coaster
 
I am kind of hoping the next ride is a slower, easier one with nice water features.

On Why You Should Go to College

We are in the thick of looking at schools, and I post this for all who ask the question WHY????

You asked me why you have to go to college. I thought about it, and while some of these answers may not make sense for a while, here goes:




If we find the right place, a college or university is one of the few and last fertile soils in this busy world where the life of the mind still can thrive. With all the fast paced media, and utilitarian racing about being efficient, there is something rich and innately beautifully and uniquely human in contemplation, dissertation, discussion and research. The right college will help you stretch mental muscles and develop new ones. You will be appreciated for your mind. I joke about the lack of respects for geeks, but so much of popular culture makes one feel like being an intellectual is a bad thing, and yet intellectuals are always what has moved civilization forward, and they are treasures not often valued in a market driven world.

College is a good and right place to meet people who think like you (Or NOT) where you can debate for long hours. In what is commonly called the real world, its hard to find compatriots, and easy to find ninnies who filibuster your ideas.

College can be a fertile environment to continue growing and finding out who you are (or who you are NOT, which can be just as valuable) Hopefully we all help you pick the right school (though the choice is governed by so many external factors I wonder if its just luck of the draw) and you will find it a good place to grow yourself.

College can be a place to explore a discipline or topic you never thought of before, a place to explore your own alternative realities where it won’t cost too much in terms of reputation and aggravation. You are supposed to be experimenting.

Finally, and this is the reason most people give, a bachelors degree is an entry ticket, in our twisted economy, to self sufficiency over time. It is not however, a warranty or guarantee, and it’s the least important reason to go. If all you needed was the piece of paper, that can be done on line. What spending the time and steeping yourself in academia will do is so much more than just a ticket to the next stage.

So look carefully, and look with your heart.

Rant on Race

Recently some well meaning bureaucrat got some law passed that every student in my state has to literally fill out the race card.  But me, I am a bit befuddled. Here is what I say:
According to Merriam Webster, the definition of the word Race is as follows:


Definition of RACE

1chiefly Scottish : the act of running

2a : a strong or rapid current of water flowing through a narrow channel b : a watercourse used industrially c : the current flowing in such a course

3a : a set course or duration of time b : the course of life

4a : a contest of speed b plural : a meeting in which several races (as for horses) are run c : a contest or rivalry involving progress toward a goal

5: a track or channel in which something rolls or slides; specifically : a groove (as for the balls) in a bearing — see roller bearing illustration

Origin of RACE

Middle English ras, from Old Norse rās; akin to Old English rǣs rush

First Known Use: 14th century

Now perhaps they want a description of racial characteristics:
definition of the word racial
—adj

1. denoting or relating to the division of the human species into races on grounds of physical characteristics

2. characteristic of any such group

3. relating to or arising from differences between the races: racial harmony

4. of or relating to a subspecies
But the definitions on the form they keep sending me do not ask for physical characteristics so I am not sure how to answer.

Because I do not understand the questions this form addresses based on the above definitions of classifications I am unable to answer this form based on the answers available.

Genetically, my children are a mix of Oriental and northern European genotypes. Without expensive genetic testing, I cannot give you specific percentages.

Culturally, my children are a blend of urban Midwestern with heavy Ashkenazi influences.

Geneologically, much of the records were lost in World War 2 on 3/4's of the family. We have good information on the Celtic tribal aspect of the family, and there is some evidence that there may be some native American DNA.

If its Ethnicity they want, it is easier. Definition:

eth·nic·i·ty

–noun, plural -ties.

1. ethnic traits, background, allegiance, or association.

2. an ethnic group: Representatives of several ethnicities were present.

Origin: 1765–75, for earlier sense
We pledge allegiance and identify ourselves to the following ethnicities: American.

I am not sure what we gain as a culture from this kind of idiotic bean counting.  It might be helpful to know about student achievement in terms of income, or parental educational level--but then we would have to admit that yes, here in America, we have classes, and that maybe all folks are not created equal, but we have to do something to make them equal.

poem by Tess

Bubbles

Everyone is a bubble,
Born, realised and popped.
Some float up high, hit a branch on a tree....POP.
Some fall down to the ground....POP.
Some fall faster than others but every bubble pops sooner or later.
When I see bubbles being blown
I think of newborn babies and
when they pop I think of the sad death of
Everyone close to me.

As the leaves turn and fall and as we turn for Yom Kippur, that's probably the best metaphor for our lives I can think of. Thanks, Tess.