Contrasting Cliffs at Ajantha

If one wants to see a contrast between two cliffs, one 'intervened' by men and the other as shaped by nature, Ajantha is the place to see them.

Some 200 to 300 years BC, Buddhist monks required secluded places for them to pray and meditate, and they chose a cliff in a horseshoe shape at Ajantha.  Between the 3 BC and 8 AD, 26 caves were carved inside a cliff, one next to the other.

I have heard of these caves when I was a teenager, but did not have a mental picture of what they could look like.  In one of the Tamil movies I watched as a teenager, the hero was 'caved' when he was kid, and when he grew up, he had a bent back and could not stand straight (It was in Adimaipenn, and the actor was MGR).  

My first exposure to caves in natural state was at Carlsbad caverns in New Mexico in 1980. Since then I have been to a cave at Nepal-China border, where Vyasar dictated Bharatham to Lord Ganesha, and another in Oman, where a large pristine lake exist inside.  But for a man-made cave, Ajantha was my first.

Each of the 26 caves had a large rectangular verandah with an entrance to a rectangular hall about 35 m by 27 m.  The roof must be at least 5 m from the floor.  So, no need to bend.  At the far-end of the hall is a sanctum-sanctorum, where a large Buddha statue is placed.  His fingers touch each other in different forms in different caves, indicating different lessons.  Walls of the hall had sculptures or paintings.  Paintings were not made with paints, instead different color stones/gems were ground into powder, and pasted.

The total length of caves is about 3 km, and to reach them require a small climb.  I found it a bit difficult at the start - steps were too steep, then was able to climb and walk all the way.  The weather was kind.  For those who could not cover the site on foot, there are human-lifts (we called it Pallaku in Tamil) available.

As I walked through, I could not help wonder how it was possible, and what happened to all these skills that were available almost 2500 years ago.  I had been to Varanasi, Moenjadaro and Harappa, where civilization existed some 5000 years ago, but, it was an urban context.  There were houses, roads and even drains.  Ajantha caves are completely remote from any traces of human settlement.  People, the Buddhists, must have just come here to be away from everything else.  I keep wondering why 26 caves.  They could easily accommodate several thousands of worshipers.  Were they in that many numbers?  If so what happened to all of them (the Buddhists)?  Did Hinduism absorb them back into their fold, I wonder.  Is that why Buddhism has survived in many countries - China, Japan, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos and of course Sri Lanka, but not in India?

I could not resist the thought of stone throwing, war mongering, power seeking monks in Sri Lanka, as I admired the monks who made Ajantha caves.  May be these violent monks should be sent Ajantha to learn what their religion has offered to world.  Just a thought.

I must also mention my visit to Ellora temples.  These are about 100 km from Ajantha, belong to 7 to 9 AD.  Again, a total of 36 temples along the foot-hills of a huge mountain.  They are Hindu, Jain and Buddhist temples, all next to each other.  Instead of being carved inside, these temples are chiseled inside and outside.  We are all familiar with rock sculptures, but a whole temple is something to see to believe.  The temples had towers too.  Again along the walls, many mythical storys of Hinduism.  One was about Ravana, and how Lord Ganesha tricked him to establish the Shiva Lingam at Koneswaram (Trincomalee).  Here again, why 36 temples, how many people were coming to worship, what happened to the technology?  Lots of questions in mind.

I have always admired the forts the Mughals built in India, that was about 400 to 500 years ago.  Fortunately, most of them are well cared for in India and Pakistan.  Its a pity Ajantha and Ellora were neglected at some stage, but thanks to a British hunter, now they are a treat to thousands of tourists every day.  Having known about them for many years, I can now say, been there and seen them!  

Life's good.

Rivalry across Indo-Pak border

I am probably one of the very few who had the privilege to live in Independent Pakistan and India, and I like them both.  I first went to Pakistan in 1996 as a consultant for a month.  Since then I lived there for four years, visited at least 8 times, and have traveled all over Pakistan.  My first travel to India was in 1984, and after another ten years I went there again.  Since then I had been to different parts of India every two years, and then lived in Delhi for a two year period.  Both are BEAUTIFUL countries, with warm and hospitable people.  Among the few countries I have had the opportunity to work; I think both have the best soils, water, and sunshine. They can produce any crop. 

I also think that the Indians have the ability to appreciate anything and everything that's GOOD!  For example, Patna and Hyderabad are predominantly Hindu and Muslim cities respectively, but HUGE Buddha statues are the centre of attraction, welcoming people from all walks of life.  I am sure that there are many more of Buddha statues in India, but what makes the ones in Patna and Hyderabad great is that neither city has any Buddhists!  One can appreciate the 'appreciation' of Indians, only when you compare this to other countries.  Remember what happened to Bamian Buddha statues?  An hour of driving around New Delhi will show the recognition Indians have given to World Leaders.  The streets are named after Indians, Westerners, Turks, and South Africans.  I think Indians at large, appreciate anything that's GOOD.

There’s an underlying thread of HATE that prevails across Pakistan.  I think it started the day when Pakistan was created on the basis of hate.  Hindus hated Muslims and Muslims hated Hindus, so, they divided British India to create Pakistan.  What made it a bad idea was that, since partition, Pakistan was ruled by non-Pakistanis for long, first by a Kashmiri (Jinnah), then by a Bihari (Liaqat Ali Khan) and so on.  These rulers did not care for Pakistan; they just wanted to harass India.  Anytime they could not 'rule' native Pakistanis, they sought military's help.  Later, Military started helping themselves.  Big mistakes.  Now it is entrenched in almost every Pakistanis mind that they have to hate someone else.  Kashmir and India are bigger problems to them than their levels of literacy, child mortality, and poverty.  They produce controversies and regularly kill themselves. Shite Vs Sunni, PML Vs PPP and the list will go on.  I wish that they get on with their lives!

Often I reflected on the rivalry between India and Pakistan.  Is the rivalry real?  My experiences are not supportive of this perception.

During late 1990s, I was staying at a guesthouse in a Pakistani village near Indian border.  Late in the evening I wanted to have drink, and I asked the caretaker if I could get some whiskey.  He said, oh yes, for sure.  He told me what it would cost, I gave him the money, and in about an hour I had a bottle of whiskey, and the bottle was embossed to state that the whiskey for specially made for Indian Army.  The Indian Army was happily selling whiskey to Pakistanis, where alcohol is forbidden.  Indians and Pakistanis were in it together, both made money, taking advantage of the official prohibition in Pakistan.

Another time, I was a guest of the Commanding Officer on Pakistani side at flag-down at Wagha border.  This is a daily event, soldiers from both side march towards the gate between the two countries, shout at each other on their ways, bring respective flags down, then slam the gates and shut it.  Later, both commanders take a back road to meet, hug, express pleasantries, exchange pouches, and return.  I wondered what goodies were in the pouches exchanged.

While living in Delhi, I spent a week in Pakistan (Lahore and Islamabad).  Both are very nice cities.  Both are cleaner than Delhi, and both have better roads than those in Delhi.  Despite the on-going war, shopping centers were bustling, hardly any police on the streets, Army posted only at key points of entry.  It’s hard to imagine there are terrorists around.  But I am sure they are there.  Delhi on the other hand is always under tight security.  One may reason that Pakistani terrorists have left for India, so, less security in Lahore.  Pardon my weird sense of humor.

I think People are the same in both countries.  I think educated Pakistanis are a bit more sophisticated than the educated Indians.  In Pakistan the educated come from rich-feudal background, and in India, more likely they come up due to hard-work and sacrifices.  Once at the top, they assume that they have earned the right to be arrogant. 

I just love Pakistani colors and music.  Although India too is very colorful, its colors fade in its colorless background.  Both have very similar socio-economic constraints to overcome.  I feel India is lurching forward, while bulk of Pakistan is slipping backwards.  Pakistan has become hostages to the sins of their own past, I think.  Although, there are some signs that things may be changing.  The last time I was in Islamabad, I was very impressed with the professionalism of many, and their commitment to improve equity.

Nowadays, I like going to both countries, but, can't imagine living in either one of them.  India in particular is excellent for tourists but daily life - especially in big cities - is a struggle.

Finally in Vietnam

When I was young, two countries captured my imagination for their struggle and winning freedom.  One was Bangladesh and the other was Vietnam.

Last week I arrived in Hanoi with a lot of excitement.  The airport is small but orderly.  Visa was on arrival for a fee - of course my visit had to be cleared by the home office prior to landing.  There was order at the airport, I have seen chaos at Jeddah, Teheran, Cairo and Lagos. Even Tashkent a city in a former communist state of Uzbekistan is chaotic.  You could feel the presence of police, and people take instruction and line up as told.  Visa issuance was all electronic.  I applied and was told to wait.  In another 10 minutes or so, my passport page was on TV screen a text to voice translator announced my name - I realized that it was my name that was called from my photo.  I collected the passport, waited at another queue to clear immigration and was out.  My luggage did not join - the connecting time at Bangkok was too short.  Again another queue, fill forms, and was assured that the bags will be delivered to my hotel at 3:30 pm.  I got it at 7:30 pm.  Not bad.  I am used to waiting.

Outside the airport my driver asked me to wait at a spot and went to collect the car.  As I looked up, there was an electronic ticker board showing exchange rates for different currencies, and various stock prices.  I wondered what was defeated in 1975?  Imperialism or Capitalism?  It was a contrast to images I remembered - a girl running without clothes and her body burning with napalm; a colonel executing a Vietcong in cold blood; a helicopter struggling to take off due to overloaded refugees - and many more.

Hanoi (It is Ha Noi actually) is a well laid city of 10 million people.  French architecture mingles with modern buildings.  There's a stink in the air as you walk around, but the city looks beautiful at nights.  I stayed at the French Quarters of Hanoi, good feel, very busy, thousands of motorbikes and scooters - all travel at a constant speed of 20 kmph!  Road pavements are for people to sit, talk, eat or socialize.  If not, scooters are parked neatly like stacked sardines.  I was told that when people meet in an accident, they fix each others vehicles.  Roads are so crowded, so, the damage can't be more than a dent anyway.  No work for insurance companies.

Next morning a tour guide picked me and I was on my way to Ha Long for acruise.  It was prearranged.  The Ha Long bay is heritage listed collection of over 1600 islands - the diameter of these islands are less than their heights.  Met an New York - couple Tom & Marlene, with an adult daughter - Alexandra.  We were a group for the cruise - we enjoyed each others company.  As we cruised lunch was served - sumptuous sea food.

The boat anchored at one of the islands - we had choice of hayaking or pedal boating.  I chose the second one.  Too old for any risky business.  Back to the boat,then to another island for hiking to the top.  Excellent views of sunset, back to the boat for dinner, and to retire for the day.  I sat on the balcony and watched the full moon making its round in a clear sky.  Sales woman on boats came and went trying to sell cigarettes, chips,and alcohol.  They had a hook like the one used to pluck mangoes in Jaffna to exchange goods for cash.  All well arranged and was picturesque.

I was lucky to get a corner room with windows on both sides on the boat - so I was feted with moon light all night.  Next morning started with Taichi, breakfast, cruising to a cave,and back to the boat for cooking demonstration.  Not much to get excited here - we were shown how to make rolls with rice paper and slivers of vegetables, noodles, omelette and sausage.  Interesting and healthy snack.  Enough to keep kids busy for an hour or so.  Followed by lunch and back to the shores.  Ha Long is a must for anyone visiting Hanoi.  A two day one night excursion costs 175 USD.  Not bad at all.

Back in  Hanoi, I tried to make a conversation with young Vietnamese about the war.  I was met with silence and smile.  Almost like the way it was in Jaffna these days.  Finally a Canadian married to a local gave me an explanation - these people are Buddhists, yesterday is gone, tomorrow is not here, let's live the day -that;s the attitude! What an attitude to have!

I wondered why could not we be in SL be like that.  The 'War' makes news everyday in SL.  There are even columnists trying to find who to blame for all what we went through, tracing issues hundreds of years ago.  I think these columnists are old bitter people - hope they die soon - and I can only hope that the younger generation of SL behave like the Vietnam youngsters.  Only time will tell.

I did not have the same excitement when I went to Bangladesh in 2012.  May be it is just another part of the Indian sub-continent I am very much used to.  Although I was a bit disappointed for not getting any reflection on the war, I am glad that I had the opportunity to come.  Not sure if I want to return though.

Jaffna Update

Last Sunday evening when I left Jaffna by a 'Luxury' bus for Colombo, I could not help thinking the last time I did so.  It was in Aug 1980, and my journey from Jaffna to College Station, Texas started with a bus ride.  It was one of the two luxury buses, the one operated by KG Industries, departed from Wellington Theater.   I still remember, many of my friends came to see me off.  I was embarking on a long journey then, but I just did not realize so.  This time, the theater do not exist, no one to see me off, and there were 20 to 30 buses ready to leave Jaffna for Colombo.  Roads are better, driving is still wild, and the music at times was soothing to the ear.  At one stretch it was a collection of remix songs originally sung by PBS.  It was lovely listening to it at mid-night travelling through archaeological sites in Anuradhapura

In Jaffna, temples are full of people, all dressed in new clothes celebrating Deepawali and then Gowri Kaapu in traditional manner.  The second one did not exist during my younger days - at least i did not know about it.  It must have 'migrated' from Tamilnadu recently.  Lot's of money spent at temples rehabilitating or expanding or whatever.

I went to Naga Vihara for the first time in my life.  I have cycled past it many times though.  I was told that it was razed to the floor, but was rebuilt in 1997.  Now an accommodation center is being built.  I am beginning to wonder why I never visited the Vihara when I was young, although I had been to Churches in Jaffna many times?  Something not right in the way my relationship was with God then, I guess.

Living and travelling in Jaffna is easy if one has money.  There's a limited choice of three star hotels, service is adequate, and it costs about 35 USD per night.  A few very good vegetarian restaurants - just in front of Naga Vihara on Stanley road.  Jaffna styled rice and curry will cost 170 LKR, or 1.25 USD.  There are plenty of options for local transport, cabs and three wheelers are around and they come and pick you up when called.  All have meters, but none works.  So, agree on a fare before you get in.  The minimum fare is about 200 LKR for three wheelers, and the cabs are on kilo-meterage.  50 LKR or (40 US Cents) per km.  All is well.

The town is alive and well.  All roads originating from the city center - KKS Rd, Kasthuriar Road, Palaly Road, have new buildings everywhere.  Many of them are four storey buildings.  Mostly occupied, except for the near completion ones.  Sign-posting of all buildings are modern, electricity is available, so at dusk, the city does look very modern.  A few old buildings still remain, possibly the owners do not want to invest.  The road from the Clock-tower to Hospital road is where new police station is.  It remains in 1980s.  I think there are only two theaters still remain, Rajah and Manohara, Rajah is split into one and two.  It is celebrating its 51st anniversary.  I am sure Manohara is older than Rajah.  The road between Muniyappar temple and Hospital road is full of hawkers selling anything and everything.  They do leave a large solid waste behind.  The Municipality need to take this seriously.  Pizza is delivered in style.  I even saw a few stop signs and a set of new traffic lights.  Yes, Jaffna is getting busy, so, some regulation is necessary.

Uniformed police are everywhere, usually checking traffic, just the way you see them in Colombo.  When the sun goes down, its time for the Army.  They stay within their camps during the day times, I think.

So, how do people in Jaffna feel these days.  My sources are a friend during my childhood days, and the Taxi driver I hired for half a day.  Both were censoring themselves when they speak.  I could easily recognize that.  Overall people enjoy the calm that prevails.  The concept of neighborhood is not there.  No one seems to know his neighbor, just like the way we now live in the west.  Is there something wrong with it?  I do not know.  The compound I lived as a kid had four houses.  We lived in one of them and my aunts lived in other three.  Our neighbors did not move in or out.  Now one of the four is sold, others have tenants from Velanai, Kilinochi and somewhere else.  A few of my neighbors remain.

The young are into alcohol.  Liquor shops are everywhere and 'Western Styled' bars in residential areas - not far from temples.  Boys and girls mix more than what my friend would like, exchanging phone numbers, and then get into troubles.  Girls are in scooters, boys are in motor-bikes.  Crime is showing its ugly face.  The culprits display knives and swords in the absence of guns!  Just like the Tamil movies of today - alcohol, mobile phones, scooters, motor-bikes, crime, boys and girls.

Unemployment remains an issue, although there seems to be a lot of money in circulation.  Remittances from overseas must be a big contributor.  I am told that graduates are working in retail shops, or, engaged in private tuition.  It still remains a BIG business.

What is now required is some investment to create employment.  This is one area the diaspora need to work with the provincial and central governments.  Jaffna was never the center for manufacturing.  It did have the cement factory, which is now in ruins.  I wonder what is stopping it re-opened.  Indian cement companies - which are the suppliers of cement now - could be asked to invest with their capital and technology, create employment for locals, and profiteer.  Marine industries can also developed, but, now there's constant conflict with Tamilnadu fishermen.  Demand for cottage industries is very low, but there's scope.

I like to see this aspect - employment - improved when I go there next.  Overall, it was good feeling to be there again, albeit only for 36 hours.

My Faith

I am a Hindu, because my parents were Hindus.  It was not a choice I made.  I know most people in the world did not choose their religions.

I was brought up as a God fearing child by my parents, I was made aware that if I do something wrong, then I will be sent to hell.  I learnt the religion by watching my grand parents and parents, and doing what they did or wanted me to do.  My grand parents and parents prayed and fasted a lot, and my grandfather did chores at temples.  So, I too believed in fasting, praying and doing chores at temples.

My formal education in Hinduism started at Grade 1, with a Q&A book on Saivam (Saiva Vinaa Vidai).  I remember the definition of God in that book: 'He is omniscient, omnipresent and omnipotent'.  I accepted it, and I do so even today.  If one person can know everything everyone knows, can do everything everyone could do and can be everywhere people are present, then He has to be God.  The book did not refer to other religions.

As a teenager I went to a nearby temple almost everyday, and at least once.  Later as a University Student, I put in a lot of time to get things done at a Hindu temple.  Whenever I came back to my home town, Jaffna, again I went to temples everyday.

I was also influenced by Mahatma Gandhi's teachings, that religions are different paths to the only God.  I prayed at Churches and Buddhist temples.  As a teenager, I went to a Catholic church every Tuesday, and when I was in the University, I spent time hanging around a Buddhist temple on full moon days. I liked the breeze, moon light and light from all oil lamps lit.

In Sri Lanka all religions are respected.  I often notice in three wheelers in Colombo, there's always a series of Gods and Goddesses from all faiths.  Even at home, I have never heard my elders talking down of another religion.  Recent days, as I travel through rural parts of Sri Lanka, I see a Ganesha sitting under huge trees.  He is not replacing Lord Buddha, but Ganesha is now giving Buddha company.  So are Vishnu, Lakshmi and Murugan.  Almost all Hindu temples in Colombo are flooded with Buddhists, and the Hindu priests are now fluent in Sinhalese to communicate with them.

Once I left Sri Lanka, I had been to many  historic places of worship for Muslims and Christians in Egypt, India, Nepal, Pakistan, Oman, Turkey, Italy, France and Germany. This is on top almost all ancient  Hindu Shrines in Tamilnadu and a few in North India.  Having lived in Muslim countries for nearly 15 years, I find many common beliefs with them as well.

Why am  I like this?  What is it that I want from God?  Am I getting insurance from all religions, so that if one path is blocked, the other could remain open.  I am not sure.

I met Roberto, a Brazilian graduate student in Texas in 1980.  Very helpful person, who wanted to know which Church I belong to? In Texas there are all sorts of Churches.  I told him that I belong to Church of Prathapar.  It was meant to be a silly joke.  But, may be it is what is true.  I seem to have my own opinion and ways of relating to God and practicing religions.  Although I am a Hindu, I do not believe in reincarnation.  I think if I do some thing good I will be rewarded in this birth, and for doing wrong, I will be punished now in this birth.  Although, I could never understand why children are born into poverty, disabled or handicapped.  They have not done anything wrong yet, have they?

It now looks like to that what I told Roberto is not a silly joke, its a state of my mind about God and Religion.

Sardars of Delhi

If I am correct, male adult members of the Sikh community are commonly known as Sardars, although the term Sardar means a person of authority.  They are in all walks of life in Delhi, and my experience with them is very positive.  My favorite Sardar is Kushwant Singh, I enjoyed his books, and there's no one who has made fun of Sardars and made a lot of money than him.  I did not think that his books are revolutionary, but he is a good story teller.  Through his writings I could imagine what he will be like, and I liked the way he could be.  Funny, smart and occasionally obnoxious.

Here's my experience with two Sardars whom I met almost accidentally.

Delhi undergoes power-cut frequently, and once I thought I should stock some candles.  I went to a super market, could not find them, and thought I should ask a shop assistant, but did not know the Hindi word for it.  I saw a Sardar, approached him and asked him how can I ask for candles from the shop assistant.  He asked me about my origins, he has not met a Sri Lankan, and was happy to be of help.  We exchanged names, he was Lucky Singh.  He was friendly, wanted to say something in Tamil, but I could not figure out what he wanted to say.  I smiled, and he understood that he was not making any sense. He apologized.

He wondered why I will be looking for candles, when rechargeable lamps are available.  He decided that I should get one of them, told me not to buy candles, took me on his Vespa/Bajaj scooter to an electric shop which was about 500 m away, told the shop keeper that I am looking for a rechargeable lamp, got one, I paid.  Then he went on to say that I should invest on an inverter as power cuts are frequent, again, told the shop keeper to install one at my flat, I paid, and I thanked him.  Inverter was installed the following day.  He gave me his phone number and told me that I could call him anytime if I needed help, left.

I did run into him occasionally at the same super market, he will say hello, I will ask about his business, and we part.  Once he was with his wife and introduced her to me.  He was always friendly.

The second Sardar I met was on my way to a bus stop.  It was a freezing morning, and I was on my way to work, and was at the Bus stop.  A three wheeler, stopped, and there was an elderly Sardar.  He asked me where I wanted to go, I told him my destination.  He said it was on his way, and would drop me.  I got in.  He then asked me if I am Dr. Prathapar, and I was flabbergasted!  How could someone know me in Delhi?  I said yes, and asked how could he know my name.  He said he read it from the name tag of my brief case, and smiled.  Pretty clever, wasn't it.  We reached my office and I offered to share the costs, he refused, and he said he was glad that he met me!

I met many more of them when I worked in Punjab, had been to the Golden temple at Amritsar, and had langar (lunch) in a village Gurudwara in Karnal.  All my interactions with them are positive.  Often Sri Lankans are referred as 'Happy-go-lucky jolly good fellows', and I think the Sardars I met too are also 'happy-go-lucky jolly good fellows'. 

Delhi Living

When I was interviewed for the position I hold now, the choices were Colombo, Sri Lanka or Hyderabad, India.  But just before I was to assume the position, I was asked if I would accept the posting in Delhi, and I gladly accepted it.  I had been to Delhi a few times before, stayed in posh hotels, and did all the touristic tasks.

When I had to LIVE in Delhi,  I made some inquiries from my Indian friends in Oman, and most suggested that I should live in Inderpuri, Patel Nagar or Rajendra Nagar, suburbs bordering central and western Delhi. Initially, I stayed in a hotel in Rajendra Place for a few days and met a young Sikh man.  He has never met a Sri Lankan, and was wondering what would attract a Sri Lankan to take up a job in Delhi.  Then he characterized Delhiites:  We are very educated and civilized when we wake up in the morning, but as time goes, we get aggressive, and by the end of the day, we are just animals trying to survive.  It was funny, and it took me some time to understand what he was trying to say.  Living in a city of 21 m is not easy.  Everything has to be fought for, driving, shortages of water and power, parking spaces, you name it, that's the way the life goes on.

I have expressed my frustrations over the lack of civic sense among Delhiites previously, so, I will move on to my life, at Inderpuri for the past two years.  The suburb where I was able to rent a flat within walking distance to my office, and convenient access to all other amenities.

The name Inderpuri sounded religious, historic and royal.  It's a relatively new suburb, established after the partition to house refugees from Pakistan.  It was away from the 'Center' and 'Old' Delhis, and apparently one of the better suburbs of Delhi, because (1) it was new, and (2) it was just across Pusa Institute, the premiere Agricultural Research Station in India.  Even now the district where Inderpuri is within is considered the second best of the five districts for infrastructure.  Pressure on housing forced the Govt to allow four story flats, and developers convinced the landholders to destroy houses and build flats, and make money together.  Almost all have succumbed, and now the population of Inderpuri is four times it was designed for. But for many Delhiites, it is still a middle class suburb, some would even claim it an upper middle class one.

I moved from a University Housing in Oman of about 550 houses, all almost designed and constructed the same, and where parking rules were strictly enforced.  Moving from there to Inderpuri was like moving from order to chaos.  Each flat was designed differently, painted differently, and are of different ages.  So, you have mixed bag of architecture.  Yet, it is functional.

I have a habit of getting up when the sun comes up, and as I come to the balcony, I see a group of men washing cars.  They actually do a sponge bath, and I am sure they are just relocating the dust from one part of the car to another.  With a 15 liter bucket of water, they will wash 15 cars!  Tell them about water conservation!

Then comes the news paper men.  These guys should try sharp shooting.  They will be riding their bikes, hand on left handle, the right hand will pick up a rolled news paper, swing gently and the paper will fall in one of the four balconies the thrower intended to.  The speed of the bike and the swing of the arm are so synchronized they never miss their targets.

Now its the turn for the garbage collector on a three wheeled cycle.  Right behind the seat is a compartment 1 m wide 1.5 m long and 0.75 m high.  On one side of the compartment a big sack is kept.  The collector tips the garbage into the compartment and picks all recyclables - into the sack.  Cans, bottles, plastics and news papers, all tossed into the sack.  Probably the most efficient domestic waste recycling program I have seen.  He beats the Municipality's garbage truck by an hour at least.

As the cars getting washed, news papers distributed and garbage recycled,  I can now feel Inderpuri waking up.  Its turn for the fathers and grand fathers to go for their walks, buy milk and bread and so on.  Ladies are not yet out, their turn comes later when vegetable carts come on.  Gradually you can see an array of hawkers take charge of the streets.  Everything is on sale in front of your flat.  Vegetables, Fruits, Coconuts, Knife sharpeners, Monkey charmers, cleaning aid salesmen, all out there.  Cows and the dogs too parade the streets.  Once a dog was chasing a cow, and I was on its flight-path.  Thanks to a guardian angel's yell - a local maid - I got out if its way and saved my vertebrae.

Despite being a 'small' locality all services were provided.  There were 'laundries' every 50 m or so.  Plenty of washing and ironing to do, I am sure.  So were hair-dressers and beauty parlors.  The family which had my 'laundry' was on call.  I call, they collect my washed clothes, iron and return in a few hours.  So, was the tailor when I had to do alterations, and water seller, when I run out of drinking water.  Mobile phones are for sure boosting their trade, and make our life comfortable.  The main street has one of everything.  One textile store, one hardware store, and so on.  All within five minutes walking distance.  

As the afternoon sets in, young-and-rich kids are now on their two-wheeler, often with two or three pillion, streaking the roads.  It reminds me of the days I was learning to ride on my father's scooter.  I was about 14 at that time, and he rarely let me on the street.  We will go to an open area. often we played cricket there, to practice scootering.  I do have a complain against these teenagers, they just toot the horn for no reason, loud and long.  It's a turn-off I must say.

Inderpuri had temples, street bajans, wedding processions and of course funeral processions.  Just like any other suburbs anywhere!

I think the least two years in Inderpuri had brought me closer to myself and my roots.  Extremely different to my life in US, Australia or Oman.  In fact it was different to my life in Pakistan too.  I often thought, had I stayed in Jaffna all my life, it would have been like my life in Inderpuri.   

Bol - Speak(up)

Below is the story of a movie I watched recently. It was an Urdu movie made in Pakistan. Filmography, music, almost everything was perfect. It was a treat to see a big part of the movie being filmed in a suburb called 'Heera Mandhi' or the diamond market of Lahore. The courtesans are the diamonds. Most buildings were built by Mughals. The movie is full of obscurantism which prevail in South Asian societies. I have numbered them as I identified them. I will let you make your own inferences, but, please share them with me. Here I go.

A Homeopathy doctor (Doc) in Lahore, Pakistan is obsessed with having a male child (1). Every other year his wife gives birth to a female child, many die, four survive.

Finally a child, which turned out to be a eunuch. The midwife advises the Doc to hand-over the child to a group of Eunuchs, but he doctor declines. Instead, he wanted to kill the child to avoid embarrassment in future (2). His wife stops him from doing so, assuring that she would raise the child indoors as a boy.

One day, he was out of town,the first daughter takes the mother for contraception (3). With days the doc finds out that the wife is not getting pregnant, figures out what has happened and beat up the wife and the daughter (4).

For other girls he was a strict father who did not believe in education of girls(5). All were stopped schooling after year 5.

His first daughter gets married, the marriage did not work out, so, she is 'returned' to the father(6).

The women at home were not allowed to question anything. If he does not have an answer, he will beat them up (7).

His second daughter falls in love with a neighbor, belonging to Shia community. He refuses the proposal made by the boy's parents on the grounds that they were not Sunnis. A pimp, belonging to Shia community requests him to teach Quran to children in the red light area, which he rejects (8).

The local community however respects him as a religious scholar, and entrusts him with the appointment as a treasurer of the committee wanting to build a new mosque. Two lacs rupees was in his possession, which belonged to the committee.

As days pass, his income goes down. The second daughter's boy friend arranges a painting job for the Eunuch with a group which paints trucks. (S)he was paid 100 Rs per day, but the Doc was unwilling to accept (9).

One day, the eunuch was tied up and raped by fellow painters and left in the fields. Another eunuch unties the younger one takes him home, cleans him and dresses him as a girl. The younger eunuch, with make up and dresses return home late at night, the Doc gets angry, afraid of embarrassment suffocates and kills (10) the eunuch, as the first daughter watches.

The eunuch who helped the younger one gets suspicious, and report it as a murder to the local Police inspector. The inspector asks the Doc to swear on the holy book (11), that the death was not a murder. The doctor declines to swear - fear of God - and accepts the charge that he killed the younger Eunuch. The inspector agrees to cover it up, if the doctor paid him 2 lacs (12). The doctor gives the two lacs which belonged to the committee to the inspector (13) in the hope that he could earn and collect two lacs before it was required by the committee.

To earn more money, he agrees to teach Quran to the Children in the red light area (14). He was paid with money thrown at the courtesans, which he will bring home, wash, and the wife will iron, before they use (15).

The Doc has now collected 25,000 Rs, but the committee wanted the 2 lacs back. He requests the pimp to lend him the money. The pimp, knowing that the Doc fathers only female children, makes a deal with him. The Doc should father a female child to his daughter. If the grand kid of the pimp is a girl, the doctor need not return the money. Just leave the child and go. If the grand child is a boy, then again, the doctor need not return the money, but must take the male child with him. After all, the doctor wanted a son anyway. The doctor agrees provided the pimp's daughter would marry him. He did not want to father a child out of wedlock (16). All is well, he marries the courtesan, and lo and be hold, its a girl!

Now the doctor did not want his child to become a courtesan, he begs the pimp to let him have the baby. The pimp beats him up and chases him away. The doctor returns home with guilt. In a few hours, the second wife brings the baby girl, leave it in front of the doctor's house and disappears. Now the courtesan do not want her daughter to become a prostitute. The first wife questions the husband who now reveals that he has a second wife. Arguments - violence pursue and the doctor throws the baby down hoping it would die. But, one of the daughters saves the baby. The doctor continues assault of his first wife with rage, the first daughter takes a baton, hits the father, the father dies.

Now the pimp is at the door looking for his grand child, but one of the daughters had taken the baby and went hiding at their neighbors. The pimp was told that the doctor killed the baby and threw her away, and when he attacked the others in the family, he was killed by the first daughter. Pimp leaves grudgingly, the first daughter admits murder, but refuses to defend herself, and was sent to gallows! Rest of the women are now free, start a new life.

A Day at Galle Face Green

For those of who do not know Galle Face Green (GFG), its a coastal strip of about 2 km, just opposite the old Parliament of Sri Lanka in Colombo.

I recall going to GFG as a kid with my parents, it will be the evening outing with my siblings.  Waves continue to hit the strip as hard as they can, and without the reinforcement available, the strip would have disppeared by now.  There will be kites, gram vendors, and of course a few ships waiting to get into Colombo harbor.  I will try and spot them and count, but my father always spotted one or two before I could.  It was fun.

Its a place I always visit when I am in Colombo.  I can sit and gaze the vast horizon, changing colors at sun set, and enjoy all types of snacks vended.  The competition is always between a half ripe mango or pineapple salted and peppered, and tapioca chips.

The day at GFG starts with middle aged and obese men trying shakeout a few grams they gained previous day.  They are sweaty, walking briskly and panting as if they are about to lose their breath.  I could be easily be one of them.  Then a crew of kids enter the green with their cricket bats, balls and stumps.  They will run across each others' pitches to save a run, and call each other from their bottom of their stomachs.  I wonder whether they ever tire themselves.  

Now it is almost 11 AM, time for the couples and coupling.  The coast will be swamped with umbrellas covering faces and upper half of the bodies of young men and women.  I will leave it to your imagination to figure out what happens underneath the umbrella. Policemen patrol around and warn that umbrellas should not cover the faces, but couples continue coupling underneath.  Occasionally you will also see couples having picnic lunch, often feeding each other.  Not a bad sight.

Then its the turn for the families - like the way we were - when we were kids.  Kites, gram vendors and so on.  There are semi-permanent stalls and restaurants, and diners hang around as late as ten pm.  Yummy street food at cheap.
 
But, there's a part of the strip not patrolled by Police at any time. This is where pimps prosper.  There are a swarm of them, and they prey on tourists.  Once I recall reading in a glossy airplane magazine that Colombo.  is a city of persistent pimps.  He must have been walking on this part of the GFG.  Recently, within a km of walking distance four of them approached me, one at a time of course.  I too have got into brief discussions with them, but now I know the way out.  Invariably all of them start the conversation by asking whether I am from India.  Of course I look like one.  I reply them in Tamil with a strong Jaffna accent that I am from Jaffna. They then walk away.

GFG has never disappointed me.  There's always the breeze and the noise of relentless waves.  They will always be there, and I will keep going there.

Where is Everybody?

After living in New Delhi for the past 18 months, wherever I go, I feel I am in a place less crowded.  Delhi is crowded, and initially it was bothering me.  There are times people literally bumped into me as I walked on the streets, and did not even acknowledge being brushed.  With time, I got used to it, and I probably do the same now.

I boarded Air France flight from Paris to Montpellier a few days ago, and a tall man welcomed me – and just one man.  He had a tag on his shirt which said ‘Securite’ in French, and I assumed that he must be an Air Marshal.  I did wonder why would an Air Marshall advertise himself, but did not follow that route of thinking.  He then, closed the door, made announcements on the PABX.  The plane took off.  Lo and behold, he started to push the refreshment cart, offering passengers drinks and snacks.  Then he went down the aisle again, collecting rubbish, made announcements, sat on his seat, the plane landed, he then opened the door to let us out.  One man is doubling for security and hosting of 200 passengers or so. 

I arrived at Novotel where I was to stay.  It turned out that the bar was also the reception and the bar tender was doubling for receptionist.  Went for breakfast in the morning, there was no one around, plenty of pastries and croissants, packed food – you name it, there it was.  Made myself a coffee, collected whatever I wanted to eat, ate, returned the used plates and put the rubbish in bin and walked out.  Noone was there!

I am not sure if this is the way productivity is increased or this is because there’s a shortage of people in these countries. 

Is it Technology or Attitude?

Everyone loves German Cars, and everyone who had been to Germany knows that everything works there, on time and as planned.  How come, I often wondered?

I almost lost 50 Euros yesterday at a ticket vending machine at Bonn railway station.  I needed a ticket to Frankfurt, went through the menu, ordered the ticket and inserted a 50 Euro bill, which got stuck in the feeder.  I just could not walk away – its 50 Euros.  I could not see anyone from Railways hanging around, and was not sure that I should walk and find one, leaving 50 Euros on the feeder.  I could not retrieve it, but what if the next guy could before I return, and how will I convince whoever that it was my money ?!

I saw a policeman walking among the crowd.  He was well built, his head was above the crowd, and he walked like a gentle giant.  I waved at him, and he came to the machine and raised his eye-brows, asking what I wanted.  I explained what happened.

He asked, ‘Are you in a hurry?’.  I said no.  My train is about 50 minutes from then.  He said, 'Just wait here, and I will bring someone to help you'.  In five minutes he came with a railway officer.  This officer was about half the height as the Policeman, must have had some Chinese genes in him.  He looked more of well-fed Chinese person than a German.  I thanked the policemen, he had a firm handshake.  He then left.

The Railway officer took his smart phone, took a photo to record the vending machine ID, and asked me to go with him.  I said that my money is stuck.  It was only then he understood what the problem was.  He said, just wait, ran in typical Chinese short steps, back to his office, and returned with a forceps in no time, grabbed the note and pulled it out gently.  I got my money back.

Then he went through the menu again, and got me the ticket I needed, I thanked, he bowed and left.

Train came about six minutes late and arrived at Frankfurt three minutes late.  In a two and half hour journey, the train driver apologized for the delay at least four times.  It had been raining a lot, the reasons for the delay. 

I reflected on the whole episode.  What would have happened if my money was stuck in a vending machine in another country?  I will be busy filling too many claim forms, and would have left with a faint hope that one day I will get my money back.  The chances of a policeman helping me will be 50:50 at best.  The railway officer helped me, as if his money was stuck, and the train driver kept on apologizing for 3 to 6 minutes delay for reasons beyond her control? 

The whole episode was too civilized for me, and I concluded it’s their attitude, not their technology, which makes everything works in Germany.

Railway Friendships

While I waited for the shuttle bus to Terminal 1 at Frankfurt airport, my eyes locked into another pair.  They belonged to an old man, scruffy, hair not combed, unshaven beard, clothes un-ironed.  He too was a passenger, and I felt he did not like me staring at him.  I shifted my eyes away.  He walked passed me, returned, walked passed me, then got into the bus, we both waiting for.  I lost track of him.

I found my way to the train station at Terminal 1, figured out the difference between a long distance train and a regional train, bought my ticket and found a seat.  I had to transfer to another train at Mainz, and the travel time from Frankfurt to Mainz is only 20 minutes.  I had five minutes for this transfer.  Needless to say I was a bit nervous, concerned if I could make it.

I heard a passenger arguing with the TTR, not sure what it was about, but wanted the TTR to clear me so that I could get down when the train stop at Mainz any minute.  I could not see the arguing passenger.  When the train stopped I moved my luggage towards the door, the man I saw at the bus stop was in front of me.  He pointed a bag, I said it’s not mine, he said that was his.  My bag was in front of his one, blocking his access to the bag.  I pulled my bag back; he took his one, and asked where I was coming from.  I said, India.

‘Key se hai’, he said in poor Hindi accent, I smiled and said ‘it’s Key se ho - meaning how are you’?  He said, ‘Oh, whatever’.  We both got out, and the platform I had to find was just on the other side, and he too waited for the same train to come. He sat on the bench, and said that the TTR fined him for getting into an express train.  His ticket was for a normal train.  Then he said, ’oh, it was only money – just a piece of paper; ever since the Americans put ‘In God We Trust’, on the dollar, the money has become cheap. I smiled, and said now money is not even paper, its plastic or electronic digits.  It’s another story he said, and went quiet.

The train to Bonn via Koblenz came; we sat next to each other.  I was not sure if he was curious, or just wanted to talk.  I was not in any hurry, and I obliged as a listener.  He covered a range of topics from sex to international politics.

'You know, my wife and I like sex, but we are old, so, we bought a sex engine BMW'. In German sex is six, I figured.  'The only problem is that I am not allowed to drive faster than 210 km/h', he lamented.  

‘What’s the hurry?’, I was sarcastic.  ‘You are right, I am seventy five years old, my wife died eight months ago, and I have a lot of time in my hand’.  'Oh by the way, how old are you?’.  

‘Fifty nine’, and expected him to say that I am still young.  This is what I hear from elders I meet. ‘I thought you are near one-hundred’, and winked.  He has settled the score.  We both laughed.

It’s about an hour so we had been talking, and I asked for his name.  He said it’s Heiko Hodson.  He did not bother asking for mine.  

Our conversation continued.  He talked about his job in a nuclear plant in Germany which got shut down later; the five day war in the Middle East, at a time when he was based in Kuwait as a Radio Technician; training Zambians in radio-technology in Zambia, and how he convinced a donor that training in Zambia is cheaper than in Germany (and got himself posted Livingston, Zambia as the training coordinator); the Russian student he hosted in Germany without a rent; and the holiday he just had at St Petersburg with her.  On Chinese, he said, ‘they will colonize the moon, and rip all its resources, and leave a mess.  Then you have to see Moon only on old photos.  Mark these words of Heiko Hodson’.  He was categorical, convinced that Chinese will be a force to accept, not just to reconcile with.

As train whizzed along the Rhine, he commented that he has not seen the river levels so high; then expressed relief that flood will not enter his city because the levies are built high; then expressed dismay that the same levies will cause high velocity discharges troubling those downstream.  'No one cares about others,you know'he bemoaned.

Koblenz neared, he was ready to get down, he looked at me and said, ‘you have another forty minutes to Bonn, and I hope you can find some Chappati there’. I said, I will be looking for sauerkraut, sausages and beer.  He wanted to have the last word, and said for me it will be Cognac.    

Here’s my latest railway friendship.  We meet strangers for brief periods, engage in conversations, and then walk away.  These friendships are meaningless, but conversations could be otherwise.  I could see a man with a good sense of humor, information and satisfied with his past.  He wants to talk and I was glad to listen. 

I recalled something I read a while ago, ‘Marry a woman with whom you can converse.  At the end that matters more’.  In his wife’s absence, I was his conversation partner, just for an hour or so of our lives.   

Peradeniya Continues to Charm

"It's a beautiful day", a passer-by greeted me.  I nodded in agreement but started to wonder what was so special about this day.  It was Fall 1980, College Station, Texas.  I was new in town, just have come from Peradeniya, which was home to me for about six years prior to it.

I have spent 21 years at five Universities in four countries, as a student, Assistant Lecturer, research-associate, Professor, Head of the Department, Director and Dean.  I think my life as a student at Peradeniya was the best, it was full of life in the most beautiful environment.  I was naive,young, but equally wanted to be someone important.  Must be the age.  Being a residential campus, Peradeniya helped forming bonds and relationships - not just with fellow students and Professors, but also with the place itself.  This University is modeled after University of Cambridge, and I agree, Cambridge is beautiful (in Summer) and its buildings are far more majestic than what Peradeniya has.

But the hills of Peradeniya are more beautiful, and River Cam is no match to River Mahaweli, which dissects Peradeniya Campus.  Galaha Road is the main artery.  Most of the residential Halls are on both sides of this road, placed at the valley bottom, or the gentle slopes of the hill.  So, are Colleges (we called them Faculty) of Medicine, Agriculture, Science and Arts, the Senate and the Library.  Not to be missed are the Arts Theater, where 'art' movies are filmed periodically, and the open air theater.  I have seen amphitheaters , mostly ruins of them, in Italy and Jordan.  The one at Peradeniya is much smaller but natural.  Existing hill-slope is made into tiers of seats in an arc formation, and the stage is at the lowest but center-point of the arc.  Shade is provided by those huge trees with flowering wines crawling on them.  When the breeze comes, these trees and wines shed flowers, mesmerizing those around.

As you walk through Galaha Road, in addition to Residential Halls, Faculties and Administration buildings, you will sight places for worship, for Buddhists, Muslims and Hindus.  If you are game enough to climb up the hill then there are churches of different denominations.  Along the hill slopes, there's always a man or a woman cutting grass for fodder, they swing the cutting blade in a rhythm, that cuts the grass at a constant height from ground.  Human Mowers, I guess.  They are from the villages around, do not get in the way of University students and their lives, but add color to the landscape.

Combination of residences with Colleges on Galaha Road, ensured steady traffic of young - boys and girls - at day light and twilight hours.  Almost everyone walked everywhere.  The slopes are not suited for bicycles, and motorcycles and scooters were beyond reach of almost everyone.These parading groups of girls, full of colors - skirts and blouses, and saris (only the Tamil ones at the Faculty of Arts had to wear it - not sure why such a requirement - although I have no complaints), were a treat to the eyes.  Yeah, there were boys too - but invisible to me most of the time, except of course, they were joined with their girlfriends, strolling along the lovers lane.  When it rains, both get into a small umbrella, cover their heads, and bodies touch-and-go, and their backs soaked in water.  Well, if this is not romantic, I wonder what else could be.

I returned to Peradeniya in 2010, the place still remains absolutely wonderful.  Very few new buildings along Galaha Road, but boys and girls, trees and shades all remain the same.  Although I have heard of difficult times and horrible stories at Peradeniya during JVP times, I did not see any evidences of it.  I suspect that the Hindu student population must have gone down since the seventies, but, the Hindu temple looks new, well taken care of by the generous Indian business men in Kandy.   I visited some of my friends who are Professors there now, living on University Houses within the campus.  All I could think of was that these houses are built within gardens - not a garden in front of the house.  It's just green everywhere.  For some reason I felt that there are more monkeys than what I could remember, and those grass cutters must have found better sources of income - hill slopes are now full of bushes.

I understood why it was a beautiful day in College Station, as I lived there for six years, that means six summers.  Winters are livable, Fall and Spring are OK.   But at Peradeniya, everyday remains beautiful, and it keeps on charming me!

Graduation from BPL to LMC

Just in case if you wonder what these are, BPL, Below Poverty Line, LMC, Lower Middle Class.

Yesterday I was in a village in Bihar, named Mukundpur.  For historians Bihar is Magatha, the State where Maurya Dynasty flourished - Chandra Maurya and Asoka came from here.  For the political strategists  this is the land of Chanakya.  For Hindus, it is the state where Varanasi and Gaya are (where Rama did final rites for his father on his way to exile), for 300 million Buddhists around the world, Budh Gaya, where Lord Buddha attained Nirvana and for educationists this is the home of Nalanda, the first University town in the world.

Bihar is one of the poorest Indian states, despite the presence of mighty Ganga, abundant but seasonal rainfall and vast alluvial plains.  It is home for 104 million people - some of the best and brightest IAS officers come from here, but there are villages,one after the other, where 100% of the population is below poverty line.  Some suspect the statistics - people under report their income to receive some benefit from the Government, but it is largely poor.  During the recent 7 years a new CM is making a difference, but, it will take time.  Previous ones largely plundered the state coffers and thrived in chaos.

I was in the house of a Village Group Leader which reminded me of our home in Jaffna when I was a kid.  I sat on a broken, old, but, a strong chair in a veranda.  Must have been a very good wooden chair some years ago.  The veranda floor was polished with cow dung, roof was supported by wooden pillars about three meters apart.  Roof was not high enough, so, one need to bend to get in.  The way I remember things at our ancestral home in Jaffna.

This village head lives under BPL, that will make my family living under BPL some 50 years ago.

As I grew up, we graduated from BPL to LMC.  The mud floor was cemented, roof was lifted, and half walls were built around the veranda.  Still, we did not have a lot of clothes, food was often very basic, fish once a week, chicken once a month, and on festival days, mutton once or twice a year.  My elders were better disciplined as Hindus, and vegetarian food was the norm for about three to four days a week.  When fish,chicken or mutton was not on, we as kids could expect half of a omelette for one of the three meals.   Still family debt grew, I frequented pawn shops and banks to pawn family jewelry, and for most part of my young life, our family home was mortgaged.  To me this was LMC.

The experience as a LMC kid has permanent marks in me.  Despite making a good income, I am comfortable when I do things the way I did many years ago.  Walking, biking and busing are fine, and being in a sarong without a shirt at home is pretty cool for me.  I enjoy a one dollar dinner often, and occasionally, I have had two hundred dollar dinners.  One exception is whiskey, I prefer a deluxe one over  ordinaries, may be because, I never had alcohol when I was LMC.

I am  very natural when I deal with LMC in India or elsewhere, often to the surprise of my hosts.  They expect an expat to be somewhat different.  The BPL/LMC attitude is still within me and I feel very good about it.

Mathura & Brindavan - A Tourist's Recollection

These two cities are halfway between Delhi and Agra.

Mathura, where Krishna was born and prisoned, and Brindavan is where he danced with Gopikas, 1008 of them.

There is a shrine in Mathura - a flat rock - which was supposedly Krishna's bed in prison. It is incredibly flat and smooth for a rock, as if someone consciously smoothened it.  This bed is inside a cave, so, it could have been easily be a room or a prison cell.  Worshipers go through one 'large opening' and come out through the 'other'.  Next to this shrine are two places for worship, one a mosque, built by the Mughals.  Not sure who it was, so you see a lot of Muslims.  The second is a very modern Krishna temple, built recently by Birlas.  Well maintained, noone asks you for money or anything, there is a lot of Prashad, very spacious  bright and roomy.  Because these two shrines are next to each other, the whole street leading to the temples are under high security.  Almost nothing other than the person is allowed.  Police will take responsibility for your belongings, and return when you return.

Brindavan is an area of about 2 ha, 1008 trees of same kind are found.  Very interesting type of trees, more like wines, no clear trunk, and these 'trunks' go around each other, like a man and a woman embracing, strong enough to support the canopy.  These trees are said to be the Gopikas - embracing Krishna and dancing.  The belief is that the trees become Gopikas at nights, and dance with Krishna.  No one goes there after 8 pm.  Those who attempted were blinded by the lights from the garden, so we were told. Well that's the belief, but next to the garden are flats, so not sure what the residents of the flat would tell.  All trees are drip irrigated now, but wonder who were irrigating them before and how.  In addition to the trees, there are two shrines, one is (was) the bedroom.  Now they are cemented buildings, not big, just enough to keep idols and photos of Krishna and Radha.

Outside the garden, there are all sorts of small temples and hundreds of 'priests' who swindle money from you in the name of God, Annathanam and so on, and we too got sucked in.     

Brindavan is not in a clean surroundings.  Real shame for garden of worship.  The garden itself is kept clean, the roads leading to them are not.  I even saw a pig, pissing in the drain - good pig!  A lot of Indians piss on the streets.  

I took my daughter there, 10 at that time.  She is almost twelve now.  I asked her this morning what she remembers about these two places.  She said 'lot's of Cow pooh', and 'smelly'.  This is what my daughter remembers first.  Then she went on why these places are significant to Hindus.

Not sure why Indians do not pay attention to cleanliness.  As a kid I was taught cleanliness is godliness.  Not around Brindavan though.  

Jaffna Returns

I was born in Jaffna, and except for two years of primary education, I did all my primary and secondary education in Jaffna.  My grand parents, parents, uncles, aunts, teachers, school mates and neighbors shaped my ways as I grew from a kid to an adult.  Although my life in Jaffna is only 15 years, about 25% of my life, I proudly claim that inside of me there is a boy from Jaffna.

Except for two weeks in August 1984, I was absent from Jaffna from 1980 till 2010, for many reasons.

My first return to Jaffna in 2010 was arranged by my close friends from Bibila!  During the 30 years, I have pretty much lost all contacts in Jaffna.  The trip was brief, just four days.  We, my friends and I stayed in a hotel, drove anywhere and everywhere I could think and remember.  My family home, our neighborhood temples, my school, and of course the land marks like Keerimalai and Nallur temple.  Only the priest at our family temple recognized me from my voice.  Few others have heard about me or remembered my mother or grand father.  I was a stranger in my own land (Sometimes I wonder how dare I make this claim!)

I felt that Jaffna was frozen for the 30 years I was away.  Nothing has changed, except some remnants of the war such as the bullet ridden railway station.  There was no trace of the railway track, it has now become a dirt road.  Steel and timber have disappeared.  Bicycles are being replaced with motor bikes.  Temples, Tuition Centers and Schools looked healthy.  Army check posts all over.  Most damaged government buildings - post office, high court, library, Municipal Council etc. had been rebuilt.  Bus stand was busy, so were the street hawkers.

My second return was in 2011, again for four days.  This time I went alone, but my Bibila friends' friends provided accommodation on Wyman Road.  The host was very warm, showed me the room.  I set my bags, and went for a walk, looking for a bicycle.  I walked into a corner shop, and asked the manageress where I could rent a bike.  She looked at me quizzically, and asked if I had come from overseas (Must have thought I am from a different planet).  I said, yes, and waited.  She then said that there are no such things as bicycle renters in Jaffna anymore, but she would not mind lending her bicycle for two to three hours.  I was happy, went to Nallur, which was nearby, and then to Kalladdy, my neighborhood, and cycled around for three hours through the streets and lanes, I thought I knew well.  Well almost.  At one intersection, I could not remember if I should turn left or right, a good Samaritan walked to me and offered direction.

I returned the bike and went to my accommodation.   The host was worried that I have disappeared.  I told him what I was up to, he wondered why I did not take his vehicle.  I said Jaffna is better on a bike.  I then asked if he could arrange a bike for me for the next three days.  He did not have one, but someone who worked for him was able to lend one.  I was happy as if I was a boy, I went around two to three hours in the mornings and two to three hours in the afternoons.  Always returned before sunset, there were still some Army check posts.  It was then I realized, that my Jaffna was a circle with two km radius with my home as the center.  Kalviankadu to the South, Manipay to the north. Pannai to the west, and Kokuvil to the east.  Is this all, I knew?

Jaffna still looked like an orphan, there was no signs of reconstruction.

I have just returned from my third trip to Jaffna.  It was the first trip for my daughters, and a trip after 23 years for my wife.  I am now bold enough, got a friend in Colombo to arrange a guest house and a car for us, and we were on our way. The car was a new Prius, Toyota's new Hybrid car.  Very comfortable.  The driver spoke a bit of English, polite and helpful.  The roads from Colombo to Jaffna is second to none in the world, but there was hardly any traffic, once you are out of Colombo.  Having lived in Delhi, I started to wonder where people have gone.  There were still a few check posts, but, largely the Army is invisible.  If you pay close attention, then you will recognize a few camps.

Met a childhood friend who too have returned to Jaffna after living in Colombo and Vavuniya.  Had dinner at her place, typical Jaffna dosai with chutney powder, and curry leaf sambol after many years.  Very good.  Drove around Jaffna, to temples, to Casuarina beach and so on, mostly for my satisfaction and my wife's.  I also took my family to an islet -Nagadeepa - their grandmother's roots.  My girls were amused at the way we lived as kids.  They were polite and cooperative, but not hugely excited.  They were in a foreign land.

This time Jaffna showed some life.  Houses inhabited were done up, had a new coat of paint - multi-colored I must say.  Very typical Jaffna walls.  Most streets in Jaffna are done up too.  Many bottle necks for traffic have been removed, and many roads have been widened.  Some land marks are GONE.  Subhas Cafe and Damodara Villas are no more.  There are guest houses in every street.  Mostly empty homes owned by Tamil Diaspora are now converted into Guesthouses.  The guesthouse we stayed was almost new, just 40 USD per night, clean room, clean bed and clean bath room.  Served Jaffna cuisine and western.  They even had a wood-burn pizza oven, just the way they are in Italy or elsewhere.

Uninhabited houses were falling apart, in most cases fenced well.  Well we are talking about Jaffna, we are particular about our fences here.  A mixture of well renovated houses and dilapidated houses, dotted with well maintained temples and schools now define Jaffna landscape.  The bazzar shows life too, shops filled with goods, mostly cheap Chinese and Indian products.

Overall, Jaffna is returning as a hub of economic activity, but there are casualties.  In particular, Vavuniya, the frontier town for thirty years, is now losing its importance.  With very good roads and public transport, no-one even stops there for a drink.  The population is about 25% of what it was during the war.  People have returned to wherever they were from.  So, are Colombo suburbs like Wellawatte.  Pressure on housing is less here.  There is virtually nobody in the islets around Jaffna - Velanai, Pungudutivu, Karaitivu are all EMPTY.

I have now returned to Jaffna thrice, and I can see Jaffna too is returning.  Over all, I felt some connection, but not a strong one.  Affection to land is there, but, without friends and family around, it is not home.  I will keep going to Jaffna, the temples in Kaladdy are draw cards.  Else....