Uncivil War

I had been dismayed over the language spoken on the US Cable channels, especially at Fox in recent years.  The language is often rowdy, sarcasm was everywhere, facts were twisted, and used selectively.  The hosts never had intellectuals on their shows.  Probably they are not smart enough to handle them.

I could never think of the best way to describe it, till, I heard President Biden called it, what it is.  It's an uncivil war.  

Sadly, the FNC's hosts (Hannity, Ingraham, Hilton, and Carlson), have huge followings.  I wonder why these people can't be charged for hate speech?  

They even throw doubt on the hard work the scientists do or have done.  They have seeded doubts on the merits of vaccinations.  This is what the Taliban did in Afghanistan against polio vaccinations.  I wonder how Fox hosts differed from the Taliban.  I like to see the companies producing the vaccines take them to court - just the way the Voting Machine manufacturers did to them to shut them up.

Now the race is on to take credit.  The Trumpians want to take credit for vaccines being available in less than a year in the USA.  Wonder how long it took for the Chinese, British, Indians, and Russians to produce the vaccines, and distribute them around the world?  Will the Trumpians take credit for all of that too?  It is the hard work of scientists, and the investments various governments made resulted in the vaccines being available within a year.  The USA, just like many other governments made the investment.  Good on them.

Australians invested in four projects and brought one to a close because the results were poor.  That's what science is all about.  Discovery through educated trials (expect errors too)!  Our space programs failed - Appolo 13 crashed miserably.  The whole world mourned.  No one criticized the scientists,  Thank god, there was no Fox those days.

I hope the Americans wake up on their own.  The trouble instigator in chief has been isolated, at least for now.  Hope he stays that way and the uncivil war ends soon.  The world can do away with the nastiness of the past four years.

An Extraordinary evening with Ordinary People

Although I left Sri Lanka in Aug 1980, I am privileged to live or travel to South Asian countries frequently since then.  When I meet people from ordinary walks of life in such countries, I feel good.  This is not to say that there are no ordinary people in Australia or the USA, where I lived a considerable number of years.  But, in my heart, they are different types of ordinary people, and they do not warm my heart as those I meet in South Asian countries.

Galle face from Shangri La, Colombo

Recently, I was in Colombo, and I wanted to go to a temple around 6 pm.  I came out of the hotel and waved at an auto-rickshaw for transport.  Autorickshaws (autos) in Colombo are metered, and mostly, the drivers turn the meter on, as the passenger gets in.  This is not the case in India, where I have used autos regularly.  Instead, the fare needs to be agreed before the journey starts. 

The Lake View from Shangri La, Colombo

The driver, recognizing that I have come from overseas, asked me if I wanted to buy gems.  I declined.  After a brief silence, he told me that for every potential customer he takes to the jeweller, he gets a voucher for 2 litres of petrol worthy of 2 USD, irrespective of whether the customer purchases anything or not.  He said that all that I needed to do was to spend 5 to 10 minutes, pretend to purchase something. 

A failed attempt of the Lotus Tower and clouds to mask the Sun

After a few minutes of contemplation, I agreed.  I did want to buy small jewellery for my wife and wanted to get a feel for the prices and selections.  As I entered the jeweller, I was warmly welcomed by a salesman.  There were several of them, but I was the only customer at that time.  The shop was VERY brightly lit.  The salesman greeted me in English, gave me his business card, and asked where I had come from.  I said that I am a native of Jaffna, but now Australia is home.  The salesman said that he spoke Tamil, my mother tongue.  Since then the conversation took place in Tamil.

Minute by minute, the number of people who wanted to help the salesman increased, and the price of the jewellery I showed interest in dropped by a few dollars.  I was offered a cup of tea, which I declined as I was feeling guilty for wasting their time.  I did not want to continue the charade, so, I politely told them I am only looking to get the feel for prices and selection and left the shop.

The auto driver was happily waiting for me.  He asked me if I bought anything, and I said no.  Had I purchased something he may have received an additional commission.  He then took me to the temple, where I wanted to go.  At the temple, he showed me the voucher and offered a discount to the fare.  I guess he wanted to do the right thing by me.  I declined his offer and paid him in full.  He was willing to wait until I have finished my prayers and take me back to the hotel.  That too I declined.  I had something else in my mind.

Kathiresan Temple, Bambalapitiya, Colombo

I have been to this temple many times.  My first memory of the temple is in the late 50’s as a little boy, going there with my parents.  The temple has gone through several rounds of refurbishment since then, it looked very clean and well lit.  I was at the temple after the scheduled hours of pooja, so, hardly anyone there.  I wanted to make a special offering to Lord Shiva in memory of my deceased family members.  As I waited in front of the Shrine, a young priest, approached me and waited till I opened my eyes (I have a habit of saying prayers with my eyes closed).  He took details of my deceased ancestors from me, and did the prayer, and gave me the offering.  The offering was a collection of few betel leaves, two bananas, flowers, and a small quantity of holy ashes.  I gave him a thatchanai (an appreciation for his services) thanked him and left the temple.

Sri Lankan Beaches, Second to None

My plan then was to get some alcohol, snacks, street food, and return to the hotel, watch darkening skies of Colombo as it went to sleep (my room was on the 32^nd floor of the hotel) as I enjoy my acquisitions of the evening.  

Within ten minutes of walking, I found a supermarket, but that store was not licensed to sell alcohol.  I took a packet of peanuts and walked to the checkout.  The cashier was a young Tamil girl, she recognized me as a Hindu (I was holding the offerings from the temple in one hand, and had holy ash on my forehead), and wanted to be friendly.  She teasingly asked me in Tamil if I would give her the bananas, and she did so as a conversation opener.  I immediately offered, but she felt a bit shy, so, I insisted that she takes them.  She smiled, and called the security guard standing nearby, and asked if he would like to have the beetle leaves.  The man did not have any teeth to chew, and he said so and declined.  Then the girl asked him if he would like to take it for someone in his family, and he said he would.  The girl took the offerings from me, took some holy ash with piety, applied on her forehead and handed over the beetle leaves, bananas and flowers to the security guard.  I paid for the peanuts, and as I exited the shop, I saw the security guard eating the bananas I gave.  I felt good and started looking for an auto to return to the Hotel. 

Galle face taking on a new face under SWRD's supervision

I woke up an auto driver from his slumber, and he agreed to take me back to the hotel.  I told him that I would like to get some alcohol and some street food.  He took me to a liquor shop, which is a small version of Dan Murphy's in Australia.  A variety of alcohol, mostly beyond the reach of an average Sri Lankan was on display.  I bought the local rum (Arack) and some ice.   As I got back to the auto, the driver was concerned if the prices were unfair.  I reassured him that the prices are fair.  Then I asked him to take me to the Galle-face green, my favourite place for street food, before dropping me at the hotel.  Got a good portion of squid and local bread (paratha) for dinner, and returned to the auto driver for dropping me at the hotel.  I paid his dues and extra 80 LKR (50 US Cents), and he was very happy.

Within a few hours, I met two auto drivers, a bunch of jewellery salesmen, a priest, a salesgirl, and a security guard.  The first auto driver wanted to share his commission, the priest was willing to wait for me, the sales girl was friendly, pious and generous, and the second auto driver was concerned if I had paid more than necessary for the booze.  They are the ordinary people missing in my daily routine.  I think I made a small difference to their evening, and so did they to mine.

2020 version of Jaffna Hindu Funeral Rites in Sydney

On the 8^th of February 2020, my world became less generous, less gentle and less gracious, because my Mother in Law (MIL) passed away in Sydney.  She is one of the most generous, gentle and gracious people, I have known.  She was unwell for nearly three years and taught us how to suffer gracefully during the last two years.  This blog is about the funeral rites that followed her death, and how it differed from Hindu funeral rites in Jaffna, Sri Lanka, where I was born. 

My MIL passed away at the Westmead Hospital in Sydney.  The hospital staff wanted to take over the body within four hours, to clean and store in the mortuary.  The immediate family who were present, obliged.  She died on a Saturday early morning, and the funeral directors could not access her till the Monday morning.  Furthermore, the funeral directors had other commitments, and hence the funeral was scheduled for the 12^th.

In Jaffna, the family will mourn in the presence of the deceased for nearly 12 hours, while the arrangements for the funeral will be taking place.  Typically, the body will be cremated within 24 hours of death, following the funeral rites at home.

On the 12^th morning, the immediate family ‘viewed’ the deceased at 8:30 AM and the rest of the family and friends did so till 10 AM.  Funeral rites followed that in the presence of mourners. 

In Jaffna, there was a group of priests who were ordained to administer the funeral rites.  In Sydney, it was done by volunteers, attached to the Hindu Society (popularly known as the Sydney Saiva Manram) for a modest fee to pay for various consumables for administering the rites.  The chief volunteer was supported by two additional volunteers from the Sri Lankan Hindu community in Sydney. 

The rites started with the invocation of Lord Ganesha, a Hindu God.  Lord Ganesha is the God of Beginnings.  A cone of ground-turmeric paste mounted with grass is formed to depict Ganesha, and a prayer is offered to him.  He is asked to oversee and ensure the proceedings are completed properly. 

The second rite is the invocation of Lord Shiva, the supreme God.  A metal pot with a narrow neck (Kudam in Tamil), is filled with water, and a coconut is kept up-side-down to cover the opening of the pot.  This formation depicts Lord Shiva, also known as the destroyer.  Prayers are offered to Lord Shiva, and he is requested to accept the deceased soul.

The third rite is the invocation of the departed soul.  Instead of a metal pot, a mud-pot is used to create another formation for the soul and prayers are offered to invite the wandering soul to come and settle in the water within the mud-pot.

The fourth rite is to physically purify the body.  In Jaffna, herbal shampoo and oil are applied liberally to the body, and the body will be washed and dressed.  In Sydney, the washing of the body is done at the hospital soon after the death and dressing of the body is done by the funeral directors a day before the funeral.  Hence, the fourth rite in Sydney is only ceremonial to symbolize what was done in Jaffna.  Friends and family were invited to apply a drop each of herbal shampoo, oil, and water.  It is then assumed that the body is cleansed and dressed.

The fifth rite is to prepare a blend of fragrances and perfumes for the deceased.  The mixing is done in a pestle with mortar when a close relative pounds the substances as the volunteers recite prayers.  Subsequently, the fragrant concoction is applied to the deceased.

The sixth rite is to offer the deceased vakkarisi a mixture of rice and other grains.  This is an offering reluctantly and sorrowfully made by the immediate family, reflecting the good things the deceased had done to them over the years.  A handful of rice is placed at the mouth of the deceased by each, often bring tears to those involved.  Rice, instead of paddy-which can germinate, symbolize, the prayer seeking no rebirth for the deceased. 

At this stage, in Jaffna, the coffin is closed, and the body is taken to the cemetery in a procession where the body is to be cremated.  In Sydney, where the cremation takes place at the parlour itself, remaining rituals continue, as if it is only now the deceased has arrived at the parlour. 

In Jaffna, the pot in which the deceased soul is invoked is carried on the left shoulder by a male member of the immediate family.  He will walk around the deceased on the funeral pyre, three times.  The family barber will walk behind the pot-carrier and pierce the pot at the end of each round and let the water drain.  At the end of the three rounds, the pot-carrier will drop the pot behind him, crashing the pot, and releasing the water.

In Sydney, the key volunteer replaces the barber, and instead of piercing the pot, he will only tap the pot.  Once the three rounds are over, the pot-carrier walks outside the parlour and drops the pot releasing the water.  This is done so to prevent the parlour floor from getting wet.

Recall that the pot is where the soul is invoked.  During the leakage of water, the soul is released to find its way to meet the greater soul, the Paramatma.  In Sydney, then the coffin is sealed, placed on a stage, a piece of camphor is alight, and the curtain is drawn.  Later, the funeral directors will transfer the body to a crematorium to cremate the body.  In Jaffna, the pyre will be set on fire, to cremate the body, after the pot is crashed.

The Jaffna-migrant community in Sydney does its best to cling on to the traditions of Jaffna.  The manner in which my Mother in Law’s funeral was held shows the extent to which the community tried to stick to its traditions, but also flexible enough to adapt to the new environment, and Sydney-living!. 

I believe there will be more adaptations with time, largely due to the apathy and (in)convenience among the next generation of Jaffna-origin Hindus in Sydney.  But I also think some of the practices of Hindus from other parts of the world, as well as the practices of other religions and communities, will blend with the traditions from Jaffna.  An example is the delivery of tributes and vote of thanks at my Mother in Law’s funeral, which is a common practice at Christian Funerals, that never happens in Jaffna. 

The merger of respectful practices, irrespective of their origins are always welcome.

Ayutthaya is not Ayodhya

Until very recently, I often wondered what could be common between Ayutthaya in Thailand, and Ayodhya in Uttar Pradesh, India. I was confused between the two, because, both names sounded the same, many Hindu fables are very much in conversation in Thailand, and Thais and the Indians consider Rama, as God.  Rama was born in Ayodhya, but he had nothing to do with Ayutthaya.  Ayutthaya was founded in circa 1350 and was destroyed by an invading Burmese army in the 18th Century.  It was the second largest city of Siam and was a centre for Buddhist culture, as long as it thrived.

Panoramic View of the History Park, Ayutthaya

Thanks to an email from Thai Airways, informing that some of my frequent flyer points are about to expire, I took a three-day trip to Bangkok recently.  I went there for the first time in 1993, had been there for work, representing CSIRO, IWMI, SQU Oman, and ADB, the institutions I worked for.  I have also transited Bangkok many times, travelling between Sydney and Lahore/Muscat/Colombo.  But I was never a serious tourist, except until now.

The Ministry of Defence, Thailand.  Note the new King's portrait

I wanted to go to Ayutthaya from Bangkok by train.  I did my homework, figured out that I need to take the Airport Rail Link from Lat Krabang to a Railway Junction, Hua Lamphong, and then get the train to Ayutthaya.  I took a Taxi from the hotel around 6 AM and told the driver to take me to Lat Krabang.  I showed him the Airport Rail Map, and we interrogated Google Maps in Thai and English, and we were on our way.  Except, instead of the Airport Rail Link Station, he dropped me at an intersection in Lat Krabang, and I realized that I need to try another mode of transport.

The Grand Palace - as it welcomes you

I saw four men sitting around a small coffee table and drinking beer and a Thai alcohol concoction around 6 AM.  I asked them for directions to the Airport Link station, but the communication was not going well.  Finally, one of them, who spoke a bit of English, asked me what I wanted to do.  I said that I wanted to go to Ayutthaya.  He offered to arrange a taxi for the day for 70USD.  I agreed.  He called one of his friends, who was a Taxi driver.  When the taxi arrived, the broker took a commission of 5 USD from the driver and introduced me to the driver.  The Driver spoke less English than the guy who arranged the trip, but, on his smartphone, he had an App, which translated Thai to English and vice versa.  What a blessing!  I gave him a list of ten sites I wanted to visit in Ayutthaya, and we were on our way!

Alms Giving at a Buddhist Temple - Actually, there's no giving.  You help yourself!

The first stop was Wat Yai Chaimongkorn, a monastery built in the 14th Century to house Scholars exchanged between Thailand, and Sri Lanka.  I was very proud to read that.  It was the same feeling I had when I went to Sarnath and Bodh Gaya, both were ‘rediscovered’ by Anagarika Dharmapala, a Sri Lankan Buddhist Scholar, who led the rehabilitation of both sacred sites.  I then wondered how such Sri Lankan Scholars permitted the growth of a ‘fundamentalist’ stream of Buddhism in Sri Lanka.  I hope they assert the values of Buddha and remove the politicians, and fundamentalists bringing disrepute to the Lord.  It’s never too late.

Wat Yai Chai Mongkorn - Where Scholars trained in Sri Lanka Stayed

Wat Chaiwatthanaram - In memory of the Queen Mother

One after the other, I went to the sites I wanted to see.  All looked grand, ruined and similar.  Where ever I went, the Lord was sleeping, meditating or blessing.  He wasn’t angry as some of the Hindu deities are, or in pain, as Jesus is.

Sleeping Buddha at Wat Lokaya Sutha, Ayuthaya

At Wat Mahathat the roots of the tree had embraced the Lord.  

At another, a massive Buddha, 19 m tall, was called, Golden Buddha.  Not sure if it is made of gold, but it is possible that a smaller one, just in front of the BIG one is made of gold.

Golden Buddha

At two sites in Ayutthaya, I saw several yellow t-shirt groups being lectured on how to prevent the spread of the Corona Virus, which is menacing China, Thailand, the Philippines, and the others.  I assumed that the speakers were from the health department or an NGO.  The volunteers, once well-informed, were to go on spreading the message.  I sensed a community spirit among them.

One of the organizers explained what was going on to me, and was happy to tell me that he had been to the Temple of Tooth, in Sri Lanka.  I recalled a Nepali, I met a few years ago, who told me about his pilgrimage to Nagadeepa, another Buddhist shrine in Sri Lanka.  I have not heard of Sri Lanka, promoted as a religious-tourist location.  I think the Government needs to consider promoting Sri Lanka, at least in the Far-East as a Religious tourist destination.

Wishing 'Well' at Wat Yai Chai Mongkhorn - 

People make a wish and drop a coin from the top of the Stupa

The next day, I visited the Grand Palace, the Emerald Buddha Chappel, and Wat Pho. 

Having got used to the driver, and I asked him if he would like to show me around the sites of Bangkok, for a similar fee.  He declined and advised me to take public transport, the Airport Link and the Metropolitan Rapid Transit.  He said it will be more efficient and would cost me a fraction.  And, he was right.  There are three rail links in Bangkok, the Airport Rail Link, Metropolitan Rapid Transit, and the State Railway of Thailand.  Unfortunately, they are not seamlessly woven together, but it is not difficult to go from one to another, where they intersect.  I used the MRT and the ARL, very inexpensive and well connected.

At the Wat Pho, where the reclining Buddha is, I witnessed something very sweet.  Along the walls, there are wishing bowls, in which people drop a coin and make a wish.  I saw a young man with European appearance, must be British, because, he made his wish in English, followed by his wife/girlfriend.  The man wished that he should have a baby soon, and the women followed him said, 'I wish the same'.  I too wish the same for both of them.

The Reclining Buddha at Wat Pho

The Grand Palace -  You must see to appreciate the grandeur

The Emerald Buddha Chappel at the Grand Palace

And finally, it will be remiss of me, if I do not comment on the sex industry in Bangkok.  In 1993, when I went, I was stalked by prostitutes and harassed by pimps.  It is no longer the case.  Maybe I look old enough so that I attract neither of them.  But, I think the city has developed, citizens are better educated, and the industry is better regulated.  Yes, it is all there, but, only for those looking for them, not, for others.

The Tadpole Island – Corregidor, the Philippines

At the entrance to the Manila Bay, a tadpole-shaped island stands guard to the Manila harbor.  For well over 1000 years, the island had been an invaluable real estate for those excelled in piracy as well as trade in the South China Sea, or as Filipinos call it, the North-Western Philippines Sea.  The island is a major tourist attraction for visitors to Manila and managed by a monopoly, a Filipino Company, with access to the ruling elite.  The company, Sun Rises, runs the ferry between Manila and Corregidor, owns the only hotel on the island, and conducts guided tours for visitors.  I have not seen such an arrangement elsewhere.  Without them, no one can enter the island.  The cost of the trip is relatively high (about 60 USD for the ferry, lunch and the guided tour of four hours).  A return trip to another port nearby, Bataan, by ferry will cost 12 USD.  The lunch is very ordinary, and the artifacts/exhibits are very few.

Tadpole Island. Corregidor

The ferry can take up to 285 passengers comfortably, the ride takes about 2 hours each way, and the ambiance gives a feeling of being in a small cruise ship – clean, well maintained, and the crew dressed as naval officers.  They looked smart.  The day I traveled, there were about 200 passengers, most of them were a delegation from a Mormon Church based in California.  As we arrived at Corregidor, Trams were waiting for us to be taken to the exhibits.  Each Tram could take up to 35 passengers, and there were seven of them waiting for us.

Trams with Guides, Ready for Showtime 

So, what is special about Corregidor?  It was the theatre where Japan demonstrated its might, and where it was soundly defeated during WW II.  It was the base for Douglas McArthur, who commanded the Allied Forces in the Pacific and Australasia.

Douglas McArthur, Promises to his troops:  I Shall Return

The Island was second only to Malta, in terms of the number of bombs fell during the WW-II.   The Allied forces lost the island to the Japanese in 1942 and regained in 1945.  We were told, that the island was almost burnt by the end of the war, but, now the Island looks luscious, just like any tropical forests.  This gave me the hope, that, if we stop messing up the world, it may recover, and the earth may forgive us.

Luscious Corregidor

Major exhibits at the island were some mortars used to bomb ships, a few cannons, a lighthouse, a cemetery for the Japanese, a memorial for the Allied forces, a mile-long barrack, and the Malinta Tunnel.

Pacific War Memorial

We were told, that the technology to bomb ships entering the Manila Bay was very primitive.  Along the coasts were ‘spotters’, who will send a telex to a ‘command center’ of mortars, who will calculate the angle to fire, and then fire the mortars.  Some of them could shoot a 1000 lbs bomb to a distance of 7-8 miles.  Many of them missed the targets, but, obviously, enough hit the targets for the island to be lost and won in four years.

A mortar, almost ready to fire

The lighthouse had been re-furbished, the mile-long barrack (its actually three miles long barrack) is in ruins, and the Malinta Tunnels offers a sound and lights show, telling how the war was lost and won by the Allied forces.

The Mile Long Barrack

Each Tram had a guide, our guy put on a good show, often repeating the same old jokes.  His narration was pro Americans, and it suited the passengers well.  I paid a lot of attention to the narration provided by the Guide, not for the content though.  He depicted the Americans in good light, the Japanese as brutal conquerors, and the Filipinos as confused people.  He lamented the discrimination of the Filipinos by the Americans and complained that the Filipinos paid a very high price.  About 100,000 Americans and 1.2 million Filipinos died during the war.  He was reasonably funny, and every time he told a joke, I wondered how many times he would have told the same joke again and again.  He could sing a little bit – actually most Filipinos sing reasonably well, and they are not shy to sing in public.  I thought he earned his keeps.

Lord Buddha at the Japanese Cemetry

The passenger next to me in the Ferry, Mike, is a retired OB-GYN from California.  A tall 5’ 16” guy.  Yep, not 6’ and 4”, as others would see him.  He heads the Mormon Mission in Manila and has been living in Manila for about 18 months.  His name tag identified him (and several other men) as Elders.  All women in the group were identified as “sisters”.  I wondered why Mike was not a brother, and how come none of the women were ‘Elders’.  Mike was very proud to introduce himself as the father of seven children and grandfather of fourteen children.  We discussed my faith in God.  I told him that I belong to the Church of Prathapar, I have my own rules and beliefs.  I told him that I do not believe in Hell or Heaven after death, both are just around us.  I also said that I believe that, each one of us should be net-givers than net-takers, which will be the yardstick how we have lived our lives.  He talked about Mormon church briefly, wanted to know I like to have a copy of the Mormon’s Guide book.  I told him about one of my supervisors in the USA, who gave me a copy, which I still have in Sydney.  I was very comfortable talking to him, and I think he too was.  When we departed, he said that he felt enriched – I hope he meant it.

The Sun Rise Liner - Note it is only one at the Dockyard

Overall, it was a good day to be out, instead of sitting in my flat, watching TV.

The City of Joy

I grew up in Jaffna, and as a teenager, my sources of information were Tamil weeklies and monthlies from Tamil Nadu, India.  I was aware of developments in Tamil Cinema and Tamil Nadu Politics.  I probably knew more about Tamil Nadu than an average citizen of Tamil Nadu.  Tamil Nadu publications in the sixties were largely pro-Congress, praised Gandhi and Nehru, but the Cinema was tilting towards the Dravidian movement.  That too I followed closely, developed respect for EVR, CNA, MK, and MGR.

Beyond these leaders, I read about Bose, Tagore, Ray, Mother Teresa, Swami Vivekananda and Swami Ramakrishna Parama Hamsar.  They all had one thing in common – they called Calcutta – Kolkata, the City of Joy, Home!  Despite travelling across the Indian sub-continent, and having been to all states from Baluchistan, Pakistan to Kulna of Bangladesh, I haven’t had the opportunity to visit the State of West Bengal, home of Kolkata.  This changed last month when I managed to spend 36 hours in Kolkata.

Queen Victoria Building, Kolkatta

After checking in at a hotel near the airport, I decided to venture out around noon on a Friday afternoon.  I was looking for downtown, and Google said that the City Center is about 5 km away.  I Ubered my way there.  I assumed it would be the ‘downtown', and I was wrong.  It did not resemble India at all.  I have seen modern malls amid congested areas of Delhi, but this City Center was very different.  It is next to a very modern freeway on a service road, just the way you expect to see in the western world.  It is a mid-size mall, a five-story building, with all modern and fashionable boutiques, cinemas and restaurants.  It even had a cricket practice net on its rooftop.  Cricket Crazy Indians, I murmured.  A Khadi shop attracted my attention, bought a couple of Khadi shirts, thinking of Gandhi; treated myself to some Bengali sweets and a Masala Chai.  Then I had no more interest in the mall. 

A Cricket Practice Net on Top of a Mall

Hired a Taxi for the next stop and told the driver that I wanted to see Howrah bridge and go pass the Howrah Railway station – key landmarks of Kolkata.  As I neared Howrah, I witnessed the Indian Kolkata again.  Crowded & congested, traffic jam, trams, Ambassador-Taxis and the works.  This part of India must have been a posh area at one time.  For some reason, the streets reminded me of Paris, both sides with four to five-story apartments built at least 100 years ago.  Pedestrian walk areas were occupied by squatters or hawkers.  We finally reached Howrah station, but it was only about 5 pm, and the evening is still young.  The Taxi driver was not interested in leaving me, he offered to take me to other places, and we agreed that he will take me to Ramakrishna Mutt, which was on my list to do next day.

The Hoogly River from Ramakrishna Mutt  - Shri Dakshineswar Temple in the background

I was very glad that I went to the Mutt when the sun was about to set.  The Mutt is along the Hooghly River, a distributary of mighty Ganges.  There were libraries, museums and eateries.  The main shrine reminded me of Sultan Qaboos Mosque in Muscat.  Some exceptional architecture.  I spent time quietly, enjoying the breeze from the river and the tranquillity a shrine could offer.  An elderly western woman (probably my age) started conversations if I am an Indian.  When her friend, an Indian lady, probably in her eighties realized that I am from Sri Lanka, she started chatting about Sri Lankan politics and state of its cricket.  Neither were great at the moment, I must admit.  I returned to the Hotel and had a quiet evening.

Ramakrishna Mutt

The next day was India’s Republic Day.  The hotel I stayed was a part of a ‘Colony’, in the West known as a housing complex.  Well-dressed middle-aged and elderly residents gathered around an empty swimming pool with a flag mask.  I realized that they were about to celebrate Republic Day and wanted to be a part of it.  Quickly got dressed and went to the gathering.  Together, they sang the National Anthem, an elderly man hoisted the flag, then they sang more patriotic songs, and served sweets to all.  The National Pride was in everyone face.  I got back to my hotel room, and watched the celebrations in Delhi, the parade and of course the PM walking at the end to greet some of the visitors and giving them high-fives!

Republic Day Celebration at a Colony

It was time for me to check out and I still have about 10 hours for my flight.  Hired a Taxi and went to Mother Theresa’s home.  It was very simple, clean, and there were a shrine, museum and the tomb of the mother.  Mother's bed/office room is kept the way it was.  It's hardly more than 3 m by 3 m in space, a single bed with a thin mattress, wooden desk, meeting table and a wardrobe were arranged neatly within it.  A Crown of Thorn was hanging on the wall, said to be the one the mother was looking at as she passed away.  She lived in this room all her life, the room did not have air conditioning.  World leaders, including the Pope, met her in this room.  I realized the meagre materials we need for our living, yet our wants are unlimited, leading to enduring pain.  I became emotional and promised myself that I will treat every human being with due respect.  I think that was the lesson, the Mother was trying to preach. 

The Mother is IN!

Mother Theresa's Tomb

I continued to fulfil my tourist duties, stopping at the Queen Victoria Palace, the Eden Gardens, St Paul’s Cathedral, and Birla’s Planetarium.  The disappointing stop was the Kalighat Kali Temple.  It was crowded, full of hawkers and stray dogs within the shrine compound, and ‘thieves’, claiming to be Hindu Priests exploiting worshippers.  What a contrast to the cleanliness and tranquillity Ramakrishna Mutt?  Two Hindu shrines in the same city with contrasting settings.

Kalighat Kali Temple

My final stop was the Mother’s Wax Museum, modelled after Madame Tussaud’s Museum in London.  Most of the Figurines are of popular Bengalis, although there were a few other Indian and International Celebrities.  I was very happy to see the Figurine of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, who led Bangladesh to independence.  Except for the Religion, Pakistanis and Bangladeshis have nothing in common, I think.  As I walked through, I could not resist photographing with Einstein and Julia Roberts.

Sheikh Mujibur Rahman

Now, it’s time for me to depart Kolkatta, the City of Joy, so I headed to the airport!

If anything can wrong

On a Tuesday afternoon (15^th January 2019), I was asked to join on a Mission from Manila, the Philippines to Bihar, India.  I thought that I had the Indian visa because I had a double entry visa and had used only one entry in October 2018.  I also thought the second entry is valid for 6 months since the first entry.  I planned that I will leave on Manila on Friday (18-01-2019), stop at Allahabad to visit the Kumbha Mela, and then proceed to Patna to join the mission on Monday (21st Jan 2019).  Kumbha is a major congregation of Hindus, occurs once in 12 years (some would argue it happens once in 6 years), which attracts over 120 million pilgrims.  I wanted to be one of them in 2019.  I booked my tickets from Manila to Delhi, Delhi to Allahabad, then to Patna, then to Manila via Kolkatta, an Indian city I have never been to.  I was very excited.

On the Wednesday afternoon (16/01/2019), I was going through my passport and realized that my second entry to India was valid only for 60 days after initial entry, not, for six months.  I panicked but immediately applied for Indian eVisa through their portal.  The previous time, I received the eVisa within 24 hours.  So, I was hopeful that I will get the visa on time so that I could depart on Friday as planned. 

The portal was under maintenance, it came alive after a few hours, but still would not accept the payment from my Filipino debit card.  I tried six times and failed.  Then I contacted my wife in Sydney, who was able to make the payment at her second attempt.  I was still hopeful that I will get the visa on time for departure on Friday.

I did not receive the visa till Friday afternoon at 3 pm, so I thought of checking whether the payment from my wife’s credit card went through to the Indian Immigration.  My wife checked the credit card statement and found that the payment has not gone through.  I am now panicking.  I reapplied for the eVisa, at an additional cost of 80 USD, called the travel agent and asked her to cancel my plans to attend Kumbha, rebook the ticket to depart on Sunday, so that, I could get my visa and attend the official assignment on Monday.  I was disappointed, and in the process, I have lost another 250 USD.  No major loss except for disappointment that I could not go to Kumbha Mela.  Saturday came and went, and on Sunday (20/1/2019) at 11 AM I got the visa for my first application.

 

I was to arrive in Delhi at 3 AM on Monday morning, and through a hotel booking site, I booked a room for me to stay on Monday till 4 pm when my next flight from Delhi to Patna was due.  Then I sent an email to the Hotel, requesting them to pick me from Delhi Airport at 3 AM.  They immediately replied and informed that the website was incorrect to accept my booking as they were fully booked on Sunday night.  I contacted the booking website, after going through various options, I managed to ‘chat’ with a staff of the website.  She contacted the hotel, which informed her that the hotel is fully booked.  She agreed only to refund me in full but after two weeks.  I accepted the reality – I know we are now managed by computers! 

I have now decided not to push my luck anymore and decided to stay at Delhi Airport from 3 AM till 4 PM on Monday.

I left Manila Sunday evening and at 3 AM Indian time on Monday morning I arrived in Delhi.  Went through the immigration, had a ‘small’ friendly chat with the immigration officer who, from my application details, recognized my employer.  He wanted to join the Multi-Donor Development Bank I work for and asked how he could join.  For an Indian bureaucrat, he was friendly.
 

When I went to collect my luggage, it was not there.  The luggage belt staff said that I need to wait till 10 AM to talk to the Airline staff.  My frustrations continued.  At 10 AM, I went to the airline office, and after initial reluctance of the receptionist to entertain my request, and due to my persistence, the reception staff called a Senior Staff to talk to me.  The Senior Staff told me that another passenger has mistakenly taken my bag from the belt but has returned it.  That was better than not having my bag at all.  I had to go to another location within the airport to collect the bag.  I then reached Patna that evening.

Next morning, while checking my emails, I found that the eVisa officer has rejected my application.  S/He was unhappy that I had applied twice.  Instead of rejecting my second application, s/he has chosen to reject my first application, for which the visa was already granted, and I am inside the Country already.  This email gave me continuous stress for the next six days, while I was in India.  I did my best to concentrate on my assignment, but in the back of mind, I was very traumatized.  I briefed my situation to an Indian Colleague, who was previously an Indian Bureaucrat, who told me to have all documents ready, in case I was interrogated while exiting the country.

Finally, I reached Kolkata airport to exit, and a young immigration officer attended to me.  Before he asked anything, I confessed that there could be a problem with my visa.  He was a bit surprised, and told me that there was no problem, and then enquired about my employer and the assignment! 

I went to the lounge relieved, desperately looking for a drink, after a week of trauma.  But again, no luck – it was a dry day in India, being the Indian Republic day (26^th Jan 2019).  There too, things did not go my way!

When things can go wrong, they will!