Michael Rosenkrantz

Downbound train

2011-12-18T21:16:00.000-08:00

December 11-12, 2011
Down bound Train

I’ve just woken up again on a train, listening to Bruce Springsteen sing, “Down bound Train”. My laptop is so dusty from years of living in India. Maybe it could be cleaned, maybe the dust is there for the life of the laptop, something to take with me wherever I am in the world. A little piece of India encrusted on my laptop, reminding me how this country is now so much a part of my internal life that I’m not sure how I will ever leave.

Yesterday morning at 6:30 I was supposed to be on the Puri Express to Bhubaneswar. Instead when I arrived at the New Delhi station around 5:30 AM I was told that the train would be delayed. I was driven to a government ticket office, in Connaught Place and was told that there were no other trains and that all flights were booked.

The metro took me home where I logged onto the Indian Railways website which told me that the train would be delayed for seven hours and 20 minutes. This would mean leaving around 2 PM. At 11 AM the same website indicated that the delay would be 14 hours and 20 minutes. This would mean that I would now leave around 9 PM. Was this still the same train?

Coaching basketball was now on my agenda, as I could leave directly from the YMCA at Patel Chowk and take the metro to New Delhi Station. I hadn’t been at the Y for some time due to Incredible India enabling me to continue to lead an extraordinary life. It was so wonderful to see the children and to find a few new guys that I could coach and bring my love of the game to their psyches. What I found though is that all of the children were so into the game and it was the usual inspiration that leaves me loving basketball even more.

I left the Y around 7:35 PM and made my way to the metro, walking and talking with one of the new children, Sam, who has been playing and has a good understanding for the game. I arrived at New Delhi station around 8 PM, looked at the “big board” but didn’t see the Puri Express. Fighting to get the enquiry window I was told that the train would leave at 8:50 PM from track 12.
8:50 PM came and went and finally around 9:10 the train pulled in. At 9:45 PM the train departed from New Delhi station, which leaves me with more than an entire day waiting to get to my final destination. I should have been in at 10:30 AM on Sunday, but now hope to get in by 2 AM on Monday.

Just spent my second night on the train and we hope to get in around 3 PM. Day one of the workshop is cancelled. We spent a lot of time sitting in one spot last night, I’m told because it was too dangerous to travel due to Naxelites. The train isn’t as gross as it could be, it seems to be getting cleaned regularly. There is and has to be a direct correlation between number of hours on the train and cleanliness. I, in my American way, need a shower badly, as well as some food. I tend not to eat on trains just because.

We are presently in W. Bengal and moving at a pretty good clip. We seem to be passing agricultural fields and it is beautiful with an early morning mist, just hovering. It’s pretty brown this time of year, but one can still see the remnants of harvested crops. Wait check all of that, we are stopped yet again! I finally arrived at 5 PM after spending 44 hours on the train!

November 2011, Part 5, Robyn and Michael, BK Flag in

2011-12-18T21:15:00.001-08:00

Robyn and Michael/Badthe Kadam Flag In
Back to Delhi on Tuesday for me, with Robyn and Michael coming in on Wednesday and the Badhte Kadam flag in on Friday. R&M had been in India since November 4 and on November 5 left for Ranchi, Lucknow and the mountains. They are in India to do some filming for YSS and to write some more music and get ready for their European tour. They are very busy, Michael doing a lot of editing for a variety of projects, with the main one being for my beloved friends and cousins Mark and Andrew.

I was happy that R&M were coming to Delhi to spend a bit of time before going off to do the rest of their India trip. Given our places in the world we haven’t been able to spend a lot of time together as adults and of course, the most likely place for us to be together would be India, which is a second home to R&M. I had the added surprise of Robyn cooking every night and both of them doing a really nice, thorough cleaning of my flat. It was also an opportunity for my Indian family, especially Anjilee and Bulbul, to continue to interact with Americans. ( I had gotten Aamir Khan to give an autograph to, as he wrote, Bobo. My American Hindi!)

Friday December 2 was the big day for the Badhte Kadam flag in at Delhi University. Thanks to AADI providing coordination, this year we did things a bit differently. It was smart on NT’s part to work with AADI rather than doing the same old thing, which I felt hadn’t been too successful last year. AADI is a very professionally run NGO and they implemented a huge list of very creative items during BK. We also counted on them to organize both the flag out and flag in.

The flag in was at Delhi University North and was a beautiful area with a large lawn, enabling students walking by to see what we were doing. D. Napoleon our Minister of State was supposed to come as well as Sheila Dixits the Chief Minister of Delhi. Unfortunately Napoleon was called away to parliament while Dixits did spend 15 or so minutes with us. The children highlighted in the flag in did lots of dancing and through their costumes showcased the diversity that makes India, incredible. The hearing impaired children again performed the sign national anthem and as they started I had tears in my eyes for my adopted homeland. There was also Baul, or folk singing, from West Bengal which was just beautiful. The Baul singers had also performed in Connaught Place during the week and I was able to follow them around. Doordarshan and CNN-IBN covered the event.

Previously, during the week, my pal Aditya had called and said that CNN-IBN wanted to do a follow-up, that Saturday, December 3-World Disability Day, to the wheelchair basketball. This time they were going to be doing a lot of filming. With the cooperation of Uma and Seema Thuli of Amar Jyoti, and the wheelchair basketball and able bodied children, we put together an event from 9:30-1 PM. It was fantastic and turned out to be part of the CNN-IBN citizen’s journalist show. A full 20 minutes with all Amar Jyoti children featured throughout. (I was able to be a citizen’s journalist and also introduced another story in my introduction!)

Earlier in the week I had also noticed that the Dalai Lama was in Delhi for a World Buddhist Congress but would also be doing one speaking engagement. (China told India not to allow the Dalai Lama to do this and they cut off border talks because India did). This was going to be at the Habitat Centre and one had to get tickets through members. I called upon my dear friend Shekhar as he seems to know everyone. Although Shekhar isn’t a member he was able to secure two tickets for us. By the time though that we got to the door nobody else was allowed inside. Two huge video screens had been set up in the courtyard and so we sat with a number of other people.

Since I wanted to see the Dalai Lama live I went to the driveway line where he would be entering Habitat Centre. Sure enough he rolled down his window as he entered the driveway and I was able to make a short video. As I sat watching the video screen I knew that I must make an attempt to get inside. I noticed, after the talk was over and the q and a was starting that some people were being let inside the auditorium. I told Shekhar that I was going to try and sure enough I did get in and sat in the back with the journalists, snapping lots of lots of photos. I came so close to shaking his hand as well as I went to the stage when the Q and A was over, but did shake the hand of the monk accompanying the Dalai Lama. I then waited in the line to take a video of him leaving.

The day however, was not through as now I was going to the metro to meet up with Robyn and Michael in order to attend the National Disability Awards Ceremony, hosted by the Indian President. It was great to again introduce Robyn and Michael to what I was doing in India. Merry Bawa from Action for Autism was getting one award and it was wonderful to see her on stage for the great work that she is doing. My friends Shekhar and Anil, board members of the National Trust were there. Anil’s company, IBM, was also getting an award. R&M and I sat with Anil’s wife, Rashmi and their daughter Davanshe, who is a role model for Persons with Disability. My friends from NT were also in attendance. They all make me feel so much a part of the disability movement and I feel no different from anyone else, except that I still can’t speak Hindi.

Unfortunately the President didn’t make it, but the Minister of Social Justice and Empowerment, Mr. Wasnik, who seems to be a great individual, conducted the awards ceremony. The same hearing impaired children who were at the Badhte Kadam Flag off and in to perform the national anthem in sign were also at the awards ceremony. They are just phenomenal.

As R&M and I went to get some food it was already gone. By that time it was too late and we decided to go home even though Poonam had offered to bring us to the Minister’s home for dinner. An incredible day to say the least. I was however so exhausted and didn’t wake up on Sunday morning until 11 AM!

On Sunday I introduced Robyn to one of my local markets and we had a blast. Robyn is slow and loves to really experience things and that is what we did. We stopped at a vendor selling all kinds of green vegetables or sagh and we had them grind them all up into a lovely mixture. Robyn made this for at least four dinners with a variety of spices. I’m certainly going to miss her cooking.

Tuesday was a day off and Robyn and I went to meet up with Shekhar, who is a member, at the Indian International Centre for breakfast. It was wonderful, especially the croissants and after this we all walked in Lodhi Gardens, herb garden, butterfly garden. Shekhar said that his friend a Member of Parliament, Mr. Dixits and his daughter were in the park exercising, and sure enough we were able to meet up with them. We ended our time with Shekhar having a scrumptious lunch. As always Shekhar was too gracious!

Robyn and I went off to Connaught Place where she exchanged some money, I took her to Janpath to see the great crafts and then went shopping at Fab India where Robyn bought some pants and I bought a beautiful blue with gold stitched highlights kurtha. This was the end of my gift certificates from Voice and Vision for a workshop that I facilitated with Len regarding their strategic plan. I feel good about how I used the certificates as I shared them with Len, Robyn and Michael.

Robyn’s cooking was very welcomed, as at times, I am just too tired to make anything other than my fruit mixture for dinner. Robyn is a good cook and made a number of Indian dishes, while Michael made the papads and cleaned up. My kitchen has never been cleaner, oh maybe once when Mark used to live with me.

On Friday, December 9, M&R were leaving for the Noida ashram, although I wanted to find a way for them to come to National Trust to play a few songs. Sure enough Poonam and her driver Kumar came through to pick M&R up at my home with their four suitcases, the harmonium and tablas they had purchased in Old Delhi and their three guitars, although one is a mini. They made it to the office in time for a BK celebratory lunch, played three songs which all of the staff was able to witness and then listened as some of the staff sang some songs. This is where I said goodbye to R&M until who knows where and when. But I’ll look forward to sharing stories the next time that we are able to meet up.

Whirlwind to say the least and now my assignment with National Trust is down to 2.5 months remaining. I sit on the train to Bhubaneswar as I type this, stopped yet again, hoping to arrive before my workshop starts, but as I know won’t. I continue to say that my experience has been incredible, that just being in India makes the possibilities and opportunities endless as long as one is willing to jump through doors and windows that are constantly presenting themselves. Maybe that is why I just can’t get enough. One’s life in their native countries becomes the same, while life abroad is always new. This is truly who I am, wanting and somewhat needing to experience the newness on a regular basis. I’m not in any sense bored wherever I am, but being abroad just makes life that much more special!

November 2011 Part 4, Wheelchair Basketball

2011-12-18T21:12:00.001-08:00

Wheelchair Basketball-Wheelchair Athletes Worldwide (WAW)
I arrived back in Delhi on Sunday the 20th and on Wednesday November 23, the wheelchair basketball event that I had been thinking about and planning for more than a year was to come to fruition. I had so much wanted this to happen in order to bring my love of basketball together with my passion for my job.

I wasn’t sure how it would work as I hadn’t really been able to locate many wheelchair basketball athletes but due to persistence, lots of e-mails, throughout the world to various wheelchair athletes groups and Poonam hooking me up with an event that was supposed to happen in Mumbai, I was able to work with a group called Wheelchair Athletes Worldwide based in San Diego.

Wheelchair Athletes Worldwide is a fairly new NGO consisting of some renowned wheelchair American athletes. An NGO in Mumbai was supposed to hold an event with WAW but it just wasn’t coming together.

When I visited the States in February 2011 I was able , accompanied by my son Daniel, to visit Dan Altan of WAW in San Diego. We met up at a coffee shop and Dan talked to me about WAW, showed me a sports wheelchair and we were on our way. (In January I had also met up with Vicki Sigworth and her husband in Dehli. Vicki and her son Jon have an NGO, ESCIP, helping people with spinal cord injury as Jon had suffered such when he was in India when he was 18. They were now putting this all to good use with motivating and getting more wheelchair sports in India. Vicki was also tied in with Dan. As the saying goes small world).

When I got back to India in March, I knew that I wanted the wheelchair basketball to happen during November, i.e. during Badhte Kadam to showcase the abilities of persons with disability. WAW was operating on a shoe string, and this was to be their first attempt at donating sports wheelchairs and doing clinics for providing instruction for wheelchair athletics.

The next task for me was to find NGOs with interest in and sports wheelchair programmes. It just so happened that an inclusionary school in Delhi, Amar Jyoti fit the bill. When I finally got around to visiting them I saw children in regular wheelchairs trying to play basketball with able bodied children. Needless to say the wheelchairs lacked mobility. Uma Thuli the Founder and Secretary of Amar Jyoti was all behind this and very excited about the prospect.

We also wanted to find another NGO to donate some of the wheelchairs and through a number of trials and tribulations, through Vicki, found the Ability People (TAP) in Vizag, Andhra Pradesh.

I was hoping to have the wheelchair basketball clinic and donation as part of a larger integrated sports day that Amar Jyoti was planning but due to schedules and ultimately our good fortune, Pete, Greg and Shelley couldn’t come to India until the following week.

Planning and working with skype is a real life saver when one is trying to do an international event. There were numerous ups and downs but finally it was all a go as Pete, Greg and Shelley made their reservations. I was so sorry that Dan Altan couldn’t come but he had injured himself and needed to have an operation. I tried to convince him to come to India for the operation, but the comforts of home were something that couldn’t be overcome.

Pete was the first to arrive on Wednesday night. Not known to me, he had changed flights and actually arrived early. He called me from the airport indicating that there were some issues with getting the 12 wheelchairs out of customs without paying taxes. Fortunately for all of us a Singaporean company was helping to build capacity for the baggage group at IGI airport and with their help and a letter from National Trust, we were able to get the chairs out of customs. There were a few tense moments, but it all ended well.

I was so happy to finally meet Pete, an accomplished athlete in his own right and the coach of the #3 in the US women’s wheelchair basketball team at University of Arizona. Pete is a jovial guy not much taller than me who has had a physical disability his entire life. He is able to walk on his own but does have to rely on crutches.

The NGO AADI, through their Director Syamala and her wonderful staff had agreed to do all transportation and stay arrangement in Delhi. We needed them and they came through perfectly. AADI has large buses and the staff is all about customer service. The rooms were great and there was no charge. I feel very blessed to have friends like the staff at AADI! As Syamalaji told me, “we have to be willing to help each other, those in the disability movement, out”.

The bus was at the airport, we loaded everything up and the adventure had started. When Pete and I arrived at AADI, their annual meeting had just ended and there was a veritable feast, in which Pete and I partook. The AADI staff with the usual Indian greeting had huge smiles on their faces! Pete, although very tired was so very happy. Although I had indicated to Pete that he should rest on Thursday we made arrangements, through AADI, for him to go to Agra!

After leaving Pete around 9 PM, I made my way to the airport on the express line for the second time that night, in order to pick up Shelley and Greg who were coming in around 2 AM on Thursday. No hitches and the pre-paid cab driver took us to AADI in about 20 minutes at that time of the morning. After I got Shelley and Greg situated and they greeted Pete, I left for my home with the same cab driver. Shelley and Greg, although without much sleep had decided to accompany Pete to Agra. Although I had said rest, these are the kind of people that I really love, willing to take advantage of opportunities!

I slept a good part of the day on Thursday, preparing for the first clinic on Friday morning at Amar Jyoti. Previously during the week, Uma Thuli had told me that there was a little bit of a hitch as a television production company was also going to be filming at the school. I was a bit upset as I didn’t want anything to get in the way of the wheelchair basketball given that WAW had flown to India and the planning that went into the event. Uma was patient with me and kept saying, although I can’t tell you who will be there, you will really appreciate this. Finally I just let it go and knew that somehow everything would work itself out.

On Friday morning I came by metro, knowing that Amar Jyoti would bring Pete and Greg, Shelley and the wheelchairs. When I arrived at Amar Jyoti I walked in and saw the children all ready to go and an assembly. At the head of the assembly was Aamir Khan! I was blown away especially since I had written a proposal asking him to be the BK ambassador. I then saw the AADI bus and all was well.

After the assembly I immediately started talking to Mr. Khan, gave him my card, etc. I kept telling Pete, Greg and Shelley how big of a star Khan is. I can’t at this point say much about what Mr. Khan was doing, but it was an incredible experience. This will come in a later blog, along with photos and video.

Pete, Shelley and Greg got right to it and the coaches and Amar Jyoti children were able to get some good training. Shelley did most of the camera work and the children just loved her. She is a physical therapist, a young beautiful woman, very quiet and quite kind. Shelley seems very supportive of the work that her husband Greg, a very accomplished athlete is doing. It was great for me to see a very complementary couple.

Amidst the craziness that a big star brings to any occasion the staff at Amar Jyoti did a great job of keeping things separate so that WAW could do their work. (Pete, Greg, Shelley and I were able to eat lunch with Mr. Khan). The children were so happy to get the sports wheelchairs as they are much mobile and easier to use. Pete and Greg, did a great job, along with Raj, a coach, who helped to translate. I was also able to participate through coaching some of the able bodied children and of course providing general encouragement.

The first day complete, Pete, Greg, Shelley and I went back to AADI where we rested a bit and then went out to Delhi Haat. The staff at AADI let us use their computers to check e-mail, again showing how much “service” is part of their daily work. We took the metro as I was curious to see how accessible this service truly was. As it turned out the metro was great and Delhi Haat was the same, both very accessible without any hitches, well maybe the foot high sidewalks, but we did find a curb cut. We had a wonderful dinner of south Indian and they all did some shopping.

I accompanied them back to AADI and then proceeded to home and preparation for Day 2. On Wednesday of that week, my friend Troy Justice of the NBA had said that he would reintroduce me to Kenny Natt, coach of the Indian Men’s National Basketball team and give him a personal invitation to wheelchair basketball. I thought why not. Kenny was very gracious and said that he would try to come. Kenny’s assistant Karan called me to say that Kenny was interested if it could fit into his schedule.

Sure enough Kenny did want to come and on Saturday morning, thanks to Karan, Kenny was there. Kenny is a big man, a former professional player and coach in the US. I had previously met him at some Asian preliminary qualifying games. He is very affable, but serious about the work that he is doing in India. I was so happy to see him and he was so happy to participate with the children. We put Kenny in a wheelchair and he seemed to really love it as indicated by the huge grin on his face. . Kenny was also very happy to meet Uma Thuli and he ended up staying for about 1.5 hours. My good friend Shekhar also came on Saturday which made things even more special. We got Shekhar into a wheelchair and I think that he came away with a greater appreciation for Persons with Disability. For me, this was all a dream come true, but as I’ve come to find out anything is possible in my India.

After Kenny and Karan left Greg, Pete and Shelley continued to do their clinics, along with the Indian coaches who came to learn more about wheelchair sports. Around 11 AM a formal presentation was made for donating the wheelchairs. It was a very happy moment. After this, CNN-IBN, thanks to the work of Epistle Solutions and my friends, Aditya, Jasdeep and Sumita, appeared to do a segment on wheelchair basketball. This was a highlight for me as World Disability Day was the following Saturday, Badhte Kadam was on-going and we were, thanks to the magic of television, spreading awareness about Persons with Disability and their capabilities. I got to be in my very first television interview in India but the highlights were on Greg and the children!

At around 12:30 Pete and I and the AADI bus were loaded for taking Pete to the airport to go to Vizag. I said my goodbyes to Pete and Shelley with the hope that I would see them next time I was in the States. It sounds as if they have a great house in Tucson with a hot tub, so I may need to make my way there.

Pete had a 2:30 flight and the challenge was to ensure that we were able to get the 6 wheelchairs to be donated to TAP, also on the flight. Although through Dilip Patro and the Ability People we had made prior arrangement on Spice Jet, there was still some anticipation on my part. We finally made it through the Delhi traffic to the terminal 3 which happened to be the wrong place. We very quickly shifted to the domestic terminal where lo and behold everything worked out. Pete got some special attention and he and the wheelchairs were shepherded onto the plane.

I went home for a bit of rest as thanks to National Trust, I was going to Vizag early Sunday morning. I was picked up without a hitch and taken right to the stadium where Pete was waiting. It was a stadium with an old wooden floor, very large. I wondered if we were going to fill this up and as it turned out we didn’t, but the children participating had a lot of fun. There was also a lot of press, both print and television. This was due to Dilip Patro, the founder of the Ability People.

Dilip had a spinal cord injury, due to a car accident, in the midst of his life and very promising career. Although Dilip is confined to a wheelchair he is a very capable man and is doing a lot. Besides continuing his work as a software engineer he is also trying to build the Ability People. Recently TAP became registered with National Trust.

The clinic not only consisted of wheelchair basketball, but Pete also introduced rugby. The audience consisted mainly of a number of hearing impaired children and as with the able bodied children in Amar Jyoti, we were able to get a number of them to sit in wheelchairs to experience what it was like. Although somewhat unorganized, Pete was able to do a lot with the children which I know that they appreciated.

Pete was a joy to watch as he is only about ability. I could tell that at one time he was quite a baller and he still has a nice outside touch. Pete has his own business in Tucson, but is also involved with innumerable other activities, involving Persons with Disability. Like Greg, Pete has not let his supposed disability stop him to lead a full rights based life, something which we are trying to get more people to understand with the implementation of the United Nations Convention on the Rights and Dignity of Persons with Disability (UNCRPD). Both Greg and Pete were wonderful role models and this was another thing that I was hoping to showcase.

After the clinic on Sunday I was too tired to leave my room, although Pete went out with Dilip and others that evening. (There was an Aamir Khan movie on television that evening and I couldn’t imagine this guy that I had met on Friday as a killer). On Monday morning I said good-bye to Pete and spent the day with Dilip and a Dr. Kiran who performs a number of operations for Person with Disability living in the villages surrounding Vizag. I went to Dilip’s home for dinner and met his family and saw a bit about the daily struggles that he faces as a permanent wheelchair user.

All in all the whirlwind three day basketball tour surpassed what I had thought. I had gotten to a point where I just wanted it to happen as the planning had seemed interminable. I’m so happy to have participated and helped to coordinate and it makes me want to do more of these types of activities no matter where I am in the world. Of course it takes a team, WAW, TAP, Amar Jyoti, AADI, NT. The team came through with lots of smiles and a willingness to make it all happen. I really can’t compliment everyone enough on their can-do attitudes. Even with technology, at times, this was so cumbersome and I thought forget it. But mostly we all came together to make the donation of 12 sports wheelchairs and three incredible days of clinics a reality.

I’ve brought people together which is something that I enjoy doing every day of my life. After all it is about how we network and weave our integrated webs. In every case we have to keep increasing the size of our webs and collaborate to make the world a much better place. It is through joint understanding and experience that we will continue to do this. I feel as if this did happen a bit by bringing the “Americans” to India to help develop more friendships.

November 2011 part 3, Tiger Safari

2011-12-18T21:10:00.002-08:00

Tiger Safari Bandhavgarh, MP
I arrived back in Delhi on Tuesday November 15, washed some clothes, rested up, did some work in preparation for my tiger safari with Bill Carr on November 16. Bill and I had been planning this for some time and he really wanted to see s tiger before he left India, and went back to his life in Scotland. Bill had spent one year in Cameroon prior to spending one year in India. I made train reservations in September but was hesitating as I knew that BK would be in full bloom and that a major integrated sports day was happening in Delhi through Amar Jyoti school, an event that I was helping to plan. The thought of seeing a tiger in the wild, and not knowing if I would have this opportunity again, won out in the end.

I met Bill, a VSO colleague and friend, at the Nizamuddin train station, with our train being delayed a bit. This was to be an over-night train arriving in Urmari around 5:30 AM on Thursday morning. We were picked up soon after arriving and began the 20+ km journey into the wild.

Bill had made reservations at Wildhaven resorts close to the reserve and had booked us on five safaris. The resort was quite nice amidst somewhat of a makeover with new management. The room was neat and clean, although power was always off between something like 8-11 AM. The service was very good and we had use of a computer with internet. Very quiet after the hectic life that I lead in Delhi. There wasn’t even a bank or ATM in “town”.

The first safari was at 3:30 on Thursday afternoon. There were three main areas or gates for viewing tigers, one of which was more expensive due to the number of tiger sightings. We were both quite excited as we boarded the open jeep with our driver for our first safari. We headed to the gate to wait in queue where we picked up a guide. We found that in many cases the guide was just an extra expenditure, but it did help to employ the locals, who it seemed really depended on the tigers, or the hope of seeing one, for their revenue.

There were a number of jeeps that went into the park all speeding out to find the tiger. As we later came to find out the best time to see tigers is in April or May during the hot season when many animals can be seen at the water holes. The guide and driver said that in order to find a tiger we had to listen to the monkeys, lots of langurs, and other animals giving warning signals. On the first safari we actually heard some growling and warning signals and we listened hoping to spot a tiger.

Unfortunately we didn’t see one on that first sojourn. We stopped and compared notes with some of the other tourists and did see some snaps from those lucky enough to spot a tiger. There aren’t actually that many in the park, around 60+ and so to spot a tiger does take some luck. Another couple had seen a sloth bear and her cub. We saw a number of spotted and other deer, wild boar, langurs and the forest was beautiful. It was quite cool as the sun went down and we headed out of the park.

One safari down and lots of optimism as we awoke on Friday for the 6:15 AM safari. We made our way to pick up another guide and went to a different entrance where we were first in line. One of the first things that we saw was a sloth bear and again many deer, langurs, but no tiger. Riding that early in the morning was cold, but it felt good as the sun came up and I stripped off some of my clothing. We went to a fire tower which we climbed and were able to see a large part of the park which was full of green trees. November was a time of greenery, after the monsoons and of course was very different, later in the year when the grasses had shrunk to almost nothing.

Our guides and drivers told us stories of tiger spotting, of cubs with their mom on the roads and we continued to feel optimistic. We also heard stories of people attacked by tigers and then the tigers being taken to zoos. One had to be smart and not just step into the forest at dusk, but still given the open jeeps, who knew if a tiger was hungry enough just to jump in and say hello.

The third safari would be Friday afternoon, into early evening with the same results. No tigers spotted by us, although again we could hear the roars, which fueled our optimism.

Saturday morning was the last tiger safari as the afternoon, around 2, would be a tour of the fort. For Bill this was something like his 9th safari without spotting a tiger. He had been to a place called the Jim Corbett Park but “only” saw wild elephants, which is enough of a reason to go.

On Saturday we had the best guide, he really was focused on helping us to find tigers. We drove like made to favorite tiger spotting locations and waited, but nothing. As the time came closer to leaving we noticed another jeep and a woman with a large smile telling us to be quiet and to come over next to their jeep. Sure enough there was our tiger! It was just resting, but proceeded to get up, and walk across the road in front of us. We were full of smiles and congratulations for our guide and driver who had driven with us on the three previous safaris.

The tiger was magnificent and although she came close to us, hardly paid us any heed. This was her domain and we were nothing. Tigers apparently stay on their own, but we were told that this one had some cubs which the guide had seen on previous safaris. This one sighting made everything worth the wait. The afternoon safari to the Fort was also great and one other tourist showed me his tiger photos which were just incredible. They had followed the tiger for some time, which we couldn’t do because our tiger went right across the road to disappear into the forest.

On Saturday evening we left somewhat tired, but happy. On the train ride Bill was in a lot of pain. As it turned out although he was supposed to leave for Scotland on Tuesday he had to have an operation for some gall stones. He did eventually make it back, with a much larger story to tell.

November Part 2, Momin's Wedding

2011-12-18T21:10:00.001-08:00

Momin’s Wedding
Momin, one of the few Muslims working in the office, is a dear young man and it so happened that he invited me to his wedding in Shamsabad, UP . I had never been to a Muslim wedding and knew that this would be an opportunity to learn more about the world. I arrived early Sunday morning November 13 and was greeted by one of Momin’s friends at the Farukhadbad train station. We hopped onto his cycle and drove the 20 km to Shamsabd. From the moment we got out of the train station to the more rural areas the scenery shifted to the India that I love.

The simplicity of rural India, as I imagine other rural areas, in other parts of the world, is just beautiful. It is the way that it has been for so many years, oxen pulled carts, hand work as opposed to mechanization, and although it is changing, it is, in the very technologically driven world, something that I treasure.

As we entered the town of Shamsabad, a decent sized city, we came to Momin’s family’s home which was quite large, as his dad is a very well known doctor. The more than extended family was staying at Momin’s for the wedding and his bride to be lived about a five minute walk. This was a love marriage, something still unusual in India, but it would take place in the very traditional way.

People in Shamsabad were generally not that acquainted with westerners. I noticed this in the many children who would run away from the site of me. There was also the other side where others would just glom onto me. At times this became a bit much as when I was awoken early Monday after going to sleep into early Monday morning. All part of the experience though and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Arriving on Sunday morning I asked to take a shower or bucket bath. Because the power was off, the water had to be heated manually. The toilets are at the end of an indoor courtyard or kind of living room of which many people were sitting around talking, waiting. This is the ultimate idea that comes to mind when I think of a joined family as not even bathroom habits are kept private. The sink was out in the courtyard and even brushing my teeth was a family affair. I met a number of “grandmothers”, brothers, aunties, uncles, children all of whom played some role in Momin’s life. Fortunately some of the folks did speak English.

Momin and his friends were quite over protective of me, but considering that people just gathered at the site of an American, it did make some sense. I met so many people as we walked through the town. I taught songs and danced with the many children and they tried to teach me. One young girl, who I nicknamed Sheila, was an incredible dancer who I captured on a short video.

Some of Momin’s friends and I went on a little site seeing tour. We stopped at a friend’s house where people were making the very detailed sari’s. This was very interesting to me, the patience that has to go into putting all of the beads in the right place. We sat outside his house and a crowd gathered just to look. We got back onto the scooters and the friends took me to a mosque and a little hill where one child was following us. I asked to take his picture and he looked at me as if I was from outer space. Finally a group of his friends came over and they all took a photo. One has to wonder how many photos these children have taken.

On Sunday night the ceremony began at Momin’s with him being given a number of outfits to try on. (Before this I went with Momin and another friend to a mosque across the street from his home where he prayed). Everyone on Momin’s side gathered around a small stage on the first floor at his house while relative after relative gave him new clothes, which he proceeded to try on in front of all. (I’m sure a similar ceremony was going on at the bride to be’s home). Finally a rather large flower thing, the length of Momin was placed on his head. This must have weighed at minimum 10 kg. As he sat, rupees were given to him and placed on the money necklaces.

At around 10 PM(?) Momin and his friends and me got into the wedding car where we were transported to the wedding venue. Momin was brought to the stage where a number of Imam were sitting. There were a tremendous number of, mostly men, sitting in the audience, waiting for the food “stalls” on the inside perimeter of the tent to open.

As the ceremony started, I noticed that the bride-to-be was nowhere to be seen and was told that she was in the tent behind the stage. I walked over and saw many women in front of the tent hanging, just waiting. I later came to find out that the bride would not leave the tent, but that someone from Momin’s family, as part of the ceremony, would go and ask her to marry Momin.

Many of Momin’s female family members did come and observe Momin and they were all dressed so beautifully. I really enjoy the women in India, dressed in the more traditional sari’s. Wedding sari’s are a step beyond and are just beautiful to observe. The jewelry that is worn, especially the nose rings, are also something that I love to see and take photos of. I took a snap with a number of the women surrounding me and was in a bit of heaven.

Finally we got to the end of the ceremony and I went up on the stage, sat next to Momin and watched him, his father-in-law, and others sign some legal documents. During the entire 2+ hour ceremony everyone was enjoying a variety of foods. Unfortunately dust bins were not provided, or at least I didn’t see any and so the grounds of the wedding ceremony tent, became littered, something I haven’t quite gotten used to.

One of Momin’s friends brought me back to the house on his scooter. The next day’s reception would take place across the narrow street from Momin’s home and I decided to go over. A group of five men were preparing the food, including the carcass of a cow with his entrails sprawled and his head and eyes in a fixed gaze.

I walked into the house where more ceremony was taking place. Someone had something like silly string and was spraying it. This had also been used at the wedding ceremony venue. Finally Momin’s wife was brought in with her face shrouded. She was just lovely in the very heavy wedding dress, although we couldn’t really look upon her face yet. She was placed on the ground and all gathered around her. Momin sat next to her, the silly string spewing. I can’t imagine what it must be like for the bride, wearing so much wedding paraphernalia, having to change, the wedding night.

The ceremonies seemed to go on and on and I decided to try to sleep. There were people sleeping everywhere and there was at least one other person in “my” room, but at least I had my own bed.

Momin’s father had painted one of the bedrooms for the first night, but earlier in the day I had sat on the bed with some other friends and eaten our lunch. I wondered what it would be like, how Momin’s wife would even get out of her wedding clothes which she also had to put on the next day, somehow everyone takes it in stride. There was one point where I asked the bride how she was doing and put my hand on her shoulder, but was told don’t touch her. A modern couple steeped in tradition.

On Monday I walked into town with a couple of Momin’s friends. There was a great market and people generally allowed me to take their photos. There was a great deal of curiosity, but part of the experience is to just “touch” others by being in the same vicinity. I must look rather odd with my topis, considering that the circumstance of a westerner being in town were very remote. Finally we had to go back to Momin’s home for the reception.

Momin and his wife were sitting on his bed greeting people, having photos taken. The bride looked uncomfortable and so very tired, but she took it in good spirit. This is the way that it is and will continue to be. Momin explained to me that there would be many more days of ceremonies and celebrations.

Around 6 PM I got onto a scooter with two of Momin’s friends as they drove me to the train station. The magic of rural India was everywhere as we drove around dusk, making it all even more mystical.

As I think back on it all, it adds to my understanding and knowledge of the world. It tells me that people are people, some do hate, but mostly we just want what is best for ourselves and our families. A Muslim person may have different beliefs but mostly there is allowance and tolerance for all. As I continue to find out though, one has to experience diversity to really know, to be part of the world and break down person made barriers.

I’m looking forward to meeting up with Momin and his wife in Delhi, ready to assume a modern relationship, where both are working and loving based on what they both wanted. I’m looking forward to sharing some of the happiness and hopefully becoming an uncle to their children. I’m thankful for having had the opportunity to be part of a very different culture enabling me to continue to learn about the world.

November 2011 part 1

2011-12-18T21:07:00.000-08:00

Last month was nothing short of a whirl wind, as time passed from late October to early December within a matter of minutes. Badhte Kadam, edition 3, kicked off on October 21 in Chandigarh, with the Delhi Flag Off on November 3 at Delhi Haat, soon followed by attending a wedding in Shamsabad, UP, a visit to a tiger reserve, Bandhavgarh, M.P., wheelchair basketball in Delhi and Visakhapatnam, A.P., a return to Delhi and the closing of Badhte Kadam, world disability day and more wheelchair basketball, attending a speaking engagement to see the Dalai Lama and the National Disability Awards. In between all of this my sister Robyn and her husband Michael arrived in Delhi, soon left, came back and took up residence, in what is now the spare bedroom, until December 9.

Badhte Kadam 2011
Badhte Kadam 2011 has turned out to be the best edition yet, mainly because of the cooperation of the press throughout India. We’ve had the partnership of the government channel, Doordarshan, and the local press seems to have totally come onto “our side”.

This year we enabled more flexibility on the local dates of BK, as well as how the local NGOs would run their melas, or information sessions. This seemed to have worked out to the best as indicated by the consistent posting of photos and video on the Badhte Kadam Facebook page. This was a new feature which we brought to BK 2011 and a number of our NGOs actually started their own FB pages, which was unintended capacity building. We’re going to follow up on this by helping all of our participating BK NGOs to establish their own FB pages.

The Flag out organized by the excellent NGO AADI was held at Dilla Haat, a very wise decision as the event was more out in the open. Unlike last year where we had to beg people to come to the Constitution Club in a somewhat staid environment, this year all of the seats were filled. The Minister of Social Justice and Empowerment, Mr. Wasnik, again graced us by flagging off. The AADI staff did a great job or organising with help from National Trust, mostly supplied by our Deputy Director of Administration, Mr. Tyagi. Of course, our super board member Shekhar Borker, who had participated in all editions of BK, was also there.

One of the highlights of the event for me came when hearing impaired children signed the National Anthem. This seems, at least in our circles to becoming more and more popular and it was incredibly moving. The amount of press was phenomenal, thanks to Epistle Solutions, which shows the growth in interest of the disability field. To me, Muthu from AADI, like Jerry West to the National Basketball Association, has become the poster of what BK is all about. A strong man even though confined to a wheelchair. A great photo of Muthu appeared in the Times of India representing what BK is all about.

This year I decided that I needed to get out of the office during BK, although I knew that I could be reached wherever I was in India. One has to let go and allow others to do the work. My job is about capacity building and this was the intention. Yes, I still need to help with some framework, but front line staff, Anita, Momin and others are understanding more and more the importance and potential of Badhte Kadam. Pieces are in place, on the staff side to continue this work, the question is who has the time and will take the leadership to lead BK 4.

Magic

2011-10-31T09:20:00.000-07:00

I think that I will most likely “process” India for the rest of my life. The daily frustrations, and “lack of proper etiquette” encourages me to continually babble cuss words, but the magic tempers and calms me to the point of being in the moment. How does one even begin to describe the “magic”, that I only remember glimpses of in the United States?

On the eve of the Chhath Puja, I see lights and walk across an intersection to a market that this morning was a vacant lot. This is my third Chhath and most likely my last as this festival falls exactly six days after Diwali every year. The familiar coconuts, pineapples and straw baskets lie on the floors of make-shift covered stalls with Indians of all shapes and sizes trying to sell them. The bananas and apple lie on push carts across from the stalls. I notice the long stalks of palm leaves accompanying many families, weaving their way across the busy streets, dodging cars, buses, jitneys and motorcycles. Never mind the traffic signal down the street which on occasion turns red with the drivers sometimes even stopping. (When giving directions in India everyone always talks about going to the “red” light as an identifying marker, as if the light is always red).

Right before the “red” light I take a left and there on my right, the park with a three foot deep, large “cesspool”, filled only by the monsoon rains, where people washed their clothes and children swam during the hot summer months and who knows what else, has been very recently drained, scraped and refilled. The park fence has recently been painted a shade of aqua and a large area apparently for drying rugs and other things has been painted white. I notice the area around the park has been cleaned up, when only this morning there was a huge pile of pooja materials.

There is a ring of pearl lights running around and reflected in the pool. As I scan the park I see lights placed in trees throughout, realizing once again that this magic is only seen once every year. I wrap around the park to the right and notice a gigantic white clothed entrance and a number of light strings placed on a fence behind the entrance. This morning when I left for work none of these props could be seen.

Things spring up out of the dust, which is swept every morning, on a regular basis for weddings, festivals, parties. One night the area around the park may be pitch black, but on the next there is a large tent with lots of people, the name of the tent renter and the words, “Shilpa weds Anil”. The next morning on my way to work the only remains are the tent skeletons. That evening an entire new tent may go up with statues of various “Gods”, loud music playing and male cooks stirring the contents of gigantic pots to make a variety of Indian dishes.

This is the India that I will miss as I visit the United States in March. There will be no sounds, except the television or me listening to the music on my laptop. There will be nothing happening in the streets except people spacing out in their cars. The “magic’ will be so pre-planned that it really isn’t. On those evenings when I’m in the US, I will sit and remember and play back the magic that I’ve found in India.

Kathmandu, Nepal

2011-09-19T23:54:00.000-07:00

As my visa is for Business, multi-entry with the stipulation that I leave every 180 days, VSO India paid for me to travel to Kathmandu. I was all too happy to go, as Nepal had been on my list of places that I wanted to visit. Taking advantage of every opportunity that presents itself, I had previously written to VSO Nepal to see if I might do a workshop. Through lots of persistence and mails, VSON indicated that they wanted a workshop on Fundraising Planning. This would mean training staff and volunteers. VSON also indicated that they wanted me to do a one day workshop for an NGO, TSDCBD . To my way of thinking, no problem.

I arrived on Friday September 9 around 4 PM, Kathmandu time, which is 15 minutes ahead of New Delhi. Strange given that India is also off by ½ hour to other world times. The Kathmandu airport is quite small and one has to deplane to a bus and then drive about 50 paces to the terminal. But from the air I could tell that Kathmandu was a very different city than Delhi, with lots of greenery and some hills surrounding the valley in which Kathmandu was nestled.

I went to get my visa and didn’t bring enough Indian rupees for both the visa, $25, and the passport photo, 230 Nepali rupees. I left my passport with the visa officials, causing a bit of anxiety, and had to go outside of the terminal to an ATM. The first ATM was not working but I found another one and proceeded to get 5000 Nepali Rupees, which at the exchange rate is about 3000 Indian Rupees. I returned, without any major issues to the visa area, gave the money to the exchange guy, who then converted the Nepali Rupees to dollars to pay the visa people. I also took my passport/visa photo and I had my visa.

I then looked for the VSON driver, Prem, who was going to pick me up. Instead of looking for a sign that said VSO, I looked for my name and of course, didn’t see anything. I went to a tourist counter and called VSON and the Pacific Guest House, where I would be staying. Finally around 5 PM, Prem came to the Tourist Counter and told me that he had been waiting for some time, with the VSO sign.

I felt immediately at ease as I made my way into the front seat next to Prem. Kathmandu is a much smaller city than Delhi and as we drove I noticed more cleanliness, less people and a different building style. (People’s perceptions are so interesting as they said Kathmandu is a very dirty city). It didn’t feel overwhelming as Delhi might to the first time visitor. We drove to the Guest House and I met up with Arlene, the VSON Director.

Arlene has been around the world working with VSO, being in this most recent job for about 1.5 years. As a VSO Country Director there is a lot of balancing, with volunteers, staff, donors, governments, partner NGOs, etc. A super challenge and even though Arlene was somewhat diminutive in stature she seemed very much up for the challenge. I think that the challenge is especially great in Nepal where the government is very new and the local press, during the week that I was there, posted a number of articles about the public’s wariness towards INGOs and NGO’s.

On Saturday I decided to walk a bit, having been given some tips from one of the VSO vols. I went to a place called Tamal, which is a large tourist focused area. Lots of stuff and the usual tourist, “come with me”. I spent only a little bit of time there as it was close to the Pacific and I wanted to get my bearings. I then made my way up a main street and had momos for lunch and then to the Shangri-La Hotel where I was going to meet some of the volunteers in order to go on a HASH walk.

I had never heard of the HASH House Harriers prior to coming to Kathmandu but apparently these walks/runs happen in communities around the world. I met up with a number of the volunteers, including Tiffany, Dorieke and John, as we crammed into a taxi. We went outside of Kathmandu to an area with a lot of green hills. There was a group of maybe 50 people, some walkers, some runners. We had an opening circle and then the runners took off, soon followed by the walkers.

I spent most of the time being in awe of the green hills and talking to a lovely, young Nepali woman. She told me about her family, obtaining her Master’s in English, etc. It’s these types of conversations that really make my work special. Connections occur even though we grew up in very different worlds. (I also ended up talking with a man who is doing, at least what seemed to me great development work. He has been involved in getting roads to rural areas, employing the rural folks, helping them to set up self help savings groups, planting more vegetables for a better diet, etc). We ended up walking through a village, which is something that I’ve come to want to see more of in India. Although I can’t communicate with the villagers, what might seem as simple lives seem so extraordinary to me. After the walk we all circled up again and people did their drinking, singing. All in all it was great fun.

Although my new friends T and J were going out to listen to some music I decided that I wanted to go back to the Guest House as I would be working on Sunday. I was rewarded as I saw a number of people gathering on the badminton court cum square outside of the Pacific. As I sat talking to a young man named Arun, a crowd of maybe 3-400 people lined the square on three sides. As two dancers with very large masks came out a band played Nepali music. It gave me a strong sense of community which in that moment I felt a part of.

Sunday was a good day, as eight staff and one Japanese volunteer joined me from TSDCBD to do a one day fundraising workshop. I truly appreciate the seriousness of people partially brought on, in this case, by a need to diversify the funding base. This NGO has a lot of opportunities and who knows, one day I might be able to help them further.

From Monday-Wednesday I spent time at VSO Nepal with 16 volunteers and staff. We had wonderful conversations and did really good work providing me with some opportunity to see another Programme Office. I always say that people are people no matter where they live in the world. I’m curious to see if this holds throughout my life and the places that I’m able to visit in the future. My connection with VSO Nepal will continue as I will help them with further developing their fundraising plan and integrating it into their strategic plan.

I have to say that I really enjoyed meeting the staff and volunteers. The volunteers are really exceptional, learning the Nepali and regional languages in their efforts to truly fit in. (Certainly, my one regret is that I haven’t truly put in the effort to learn Hindi). I spent some time talking to G, who to me, would be a great mentor. G and his wife are retired and working outside of Kathmandu. T is an American who has traveled quite a bit and has done incredible work throughout her life. J reminds me of my good friend Marky in that they are both musicians and real go getters. J is in a band and I saw a video of him playing lead guitar on the Cure song, “It’s Friday I’m in Love”. Who would have ever thought that I would be watching something like this in Nepal? A and D are wonderful volunteers from Holland and man oh man are they tall. Have to get them playing b-ball next time I see them. Of course I also did a little b-ball ice breaker and my lion, which I’m becoming known for throughout India! ( I also saw some Army guys getting ready to play wheelchair b-ball one morning on my way to VSON)

On Monday night I was looking at a menu in a restaurant when a woman inside said this is on the list of good restaurants. I walked in and asked to sit with and have dinner with the two friends from Peru who were living in the US. The pizza was fabulous! Openness is something that is serving me well, helping me to meet and share experiences with others from around the world. On Tuesday night I had a really good dinner of tofu and rice and share momos with a number of volunteers. Riding the local bus back to the Pacific with T and A was really good for me to understand how the volunteers typically made their way around Kathmandu.

On Wednesday I walked with E, another great volunteer from the US from the Pacific to the VSON office. E really knows Kathmandu and it was wonderful having her as my tour guide as we walked through numerous neighborhoods, markets, past shrines and greeted a number of her friends. E was in the PC in India in the mid-60’s and her depth of information had me listening in rapt attention. On Wednesday night E took me to hear some Nepali music which I truly appreciated as the musicians were working to raise money for education for their village children.

Thursday morning E. accompanied me back to the Durbar Square which is a World Heritage site. This multi-temple, shrine area is a place that I felt immediately enriched my life.

After this walk, I was able to rest up a bit and then had a Chinese lunch with Arlene after which I went to the airport.

As soon as I was on the plane I knew that I was back in Delhi and this proved to be correct. Once I landed I came to find that the metro wasn’t running, the airport pathways were slippery due to lots of water and the pre-paid taxis took a long time to arrive due to traffic jams caused by the rain!

I know that I want to see many of the people that I met up with again, hopefully will see T. in the US in March, and possibly do some work in Kathmandu if things align correctly. My experiences continue to tell me that the world is large and that it is very open to me if I remain open to the world. I feel my privilege everyday in my home but know that this very same luck of being born in the US makes it possible for me to continue to lead this extraordinary life.

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2447934403657.215017.1410846536&l=9cb993f195&type=1. Trainings
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2447771199577.215013.1410846536&l=a7fbe282c9&type=1. Kathmandu
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2447835881194.215014.1410846536&l=0f0203a37f&type=1 Durbar Square
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2447883322380.215016.1410846536&l=beedbbe33f&type=1 HASH Walk

A Bad Day?

2011-06-17T04:17:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I lost a blog that I had written when it wouldn’t copy into my blog on the internet, I had cut it from my Word document and then mistakenly saved the document without remembering to put the blog back. In the evening I received an e-mail from my realtor stating that the potential buyer’s home inspection said that my roof was bad and that I had lots of termites.

After a somewhat sleepless night I awoke to thinking what can I do, my funds are running low, I have to do some more work on my home to sell it, in other words a bit of a freak out. I arrived at work and talked to my friend Mark in China who calmed me down and I hoped to receive another e-mail from my realtor telling me further about the extent of the problem and whether the buyer has now given up.

Nothing came and I knew that the realtor was sleeping, probably having nightmares about this stupid little house that she thought might sell fairly quickly but due to market conditions has had only one serious offer in three months.

I next went to a meeting with a potential funder of a program that I’ve been working on and although we were funded last year they decided to fund a different piece this year, leaving us scrambling to find a funder. I remained positive thinking a blessing in disguise as now we will diversify our funding base a bit.

I went to a second meeting with a large television station, whose owner I had met in the airport when I traveled to Mumbai at the end of last month. The staff whom I met with said yes we’re interested but you have to find a sponsor. Another strike.

Now I sit in my house having hoped to correspond a bit with my realtor but having no internet connection. The woes of it all.

When I came home tonight I took my usual route, metro, bus, then walk. I passed numerous people, who probably live in a hovel or somewhere on the street, fanning their roasted corn and selling each ear for 5-7 rupees. I saw “my Indian family” members always greeting me with a smile, I came upstairs cooked food from my refrigerator, ate some sweet corn and now I sit in a lighted room, listening to the latest music, with a fan running overhead. Yes, I’m sweating, but I have lights and this fan and my a/c awaits me when I go to sleep.

What’s the rub? Well, of course, I worry in my western way of anxiety, my home, well maybe it needs a lot of work. Should I tell the bank that they can have it, get rid of the termites, fix the roof? What about those children, women and men selling that corn, how could I possibly explain this to them? Their worries, where do I sleep, how do I get a few rupees to feed myself and my family, can I find clean water?

Many times I just don’t get it and make myself sick thinking the sky is falling. I sit in India among a large portion of the world’s poor but I fall inside myself, seeing what is out there but never-the-less worry, legitimately, about what is happening with my home.

Tears for Fears is telling me “Change, you can change” and I suppose that is correct, thinking if only this, then it will be ok. But is it ever really ok, when the external world has such a major impact on me?

I know that I’m missing something when I see all of those children sitting next to their parents selling the roasted corn. Yes, it’s all relative to one’s experiences, and one day maybe I will change, as we say in India, “let’s see”.

Varanasi

2011-05-11T02:50:00.001-07:00

Sitting in the lobby of the Hotel Haifa, waiting for 6 PM, to leave for the train station. The lobby fan blows around hot, hot air and there is little relief from the summer. I stayed at this same hotel some five years earlier with Daniel and Sarah. I haven’t found much change in Varanasi since I was last here, maybe prices are higher, there are more people, more pollution, the Ganga still looks the same, the burning ghats, but it is different.

The train that Len and I took was rather eventful as we decided to board even though we were on a wait list, e-ticket, which clearly stated don’t get on the train if this is your circumstance. We didn’t read this until a rather nasty conductor said that you must pay the fare plus a 250 rupee penalty each, unless you go to sleeper class. We tried sleeper class, but there wasn’t even a place to stand, let alone a place to sit or sleep. I walked through trying to follow Len and was stuck numerous times, with my back pack. We walked past the kitchen which felt like hell and given the number of people and the circumstances I thought this must be it.

Finally, after much argument, we paid the fare plus the penalty, but given the number of people on the train this didn’t even entitle us to a berth. We could only sit in between the cars where one of the “peon’s” offered to give Len a blanket for 500 rupees, sheer corruption. One man seeing my plight said take my blanket and pillow, which I did and found myself a place under a seat, between cars on the floor. I was so tired that I laid down on one side but was woken up numerous times given that I was sleeping in front of a door. This went on throughout the night and needless to say I was quite tired when I finally awoke for good around 6 AM. There was also the matter of the air conditioner which kept our area quite cold. I was somewhat more fortunate than Len as she tried to sleep sitting up all night.

From the train we took a rickshaw and I recognized and as we approached the exterior of the Haifa Hotel I recognized it immediately. There is also quite a story leading up to making reservations this time as there was a false e-mail address attached to the hotel. In making our reservations I received one confirmation e-mail and one stating that I must send some money via Western Union to the Secretary of the Hotel residing in the UK. Fortunately I didn’t send any funds. However, when I wrote to the supposed Secretary and told him that he was a liar, he wrote back stating that, “this was an insult” and that he would cancel my reservation. He also told me that there was no Western Union at the Hotel which, of course, was all a lie. I’m trying to find out who this guy is, so let’s see if anything further comes.

Once we checked in, we went directly to sleep which was not difficult given the previous evening on the train. When we awoke we went directly to the Vaatika Café, which as I had remembered from 2006, served incredible apple pie and brick oven pizza. It was so very good and given the amount of Indian food that I eat, was a welcomed reprieve. I had remembered one of the waiters, and of course, Anil was still there. Many westerners, as well as Indians, frequent the Café, none-the-less, it was just as wonderful as I had remembered.

Varanasi is one of the seven holy cities in India, that all Hindus want to visit. The Ganges is filled with boats, people bathing, washing their clothes, brushing their teeth, fishing, cremated bodies, etc. From the ghats one can see a time of true grandeur, when really wealthy individuals spent the money to build these. Now they are somewhat crumbling as, like many things in India, maintenance is not part of the equation. One of the truely amazing sites are the burning ghats, where people bring the bodies of their loved ones and place them upon funeral pyres. One can watch this from an observation area. The bodies are wrapped in shrouds, washed in the Ganges, placed on the pyre and then lit. Last time that I was here I watched with my daughter and remember asking her if this was strange? Her reply was no. This time I could clearly see the bodies but the flames were so consuming that I couldn’t tell the difference between the wood, the fire and the body.

The one body that I could truly make out because the shroud was taken off, was very lifeless, nothing more than a very wiry doll. The men of the family lifted this “doll” onto the wood and then covered it with more wood. We left before the flame was lit, but later on during the evening saw the flames of this particular pyre.

I didn’t see many tears among the people, mainly men, watching their loved ones turning into powder. Indians must be sad when a loved one dies, but I’m not sure that they show the same kind of grief that I’ve seen from Americans. Indians want to be cremated in Varanasi and maybe if a loved one makes it here things are more accepted. I’m not entirely sure but as the owner of Vaatika told us, if you die in Varanasi you don’t have to be reincarnated, and many people don’t want this, due to the suffering of life.

Our first day completed and totally exhausted we had some falafel at the restaurant next to our hotel, watched some television and immediately fell asleep.

On Tuesday morning I awoke to stomach issues. They have never been quite far away since living in India, it’s just part of what we all deal with. Regardless I had a good bagel at the Brown Bread Bakery and we went off to Sarnath which is a community where the Buddha gave his first sermon. It was way too hot and we shouldn’t have been out in the sun, but we braved the 10 KM through roads that needed to be totally remade. Due to the traffic it took quite a bit of time. We had to pay 100 rupees each to get into what was once a monastery. Typically I argue for Indian prices, which in this case was 5 rupees, but the heat and my stomach just left me with little energy. Fortunately there was a beautiful a/c museum, with really, nice clean bathrooms that provided some relief. (Let me just state here that the bathrooms do make a difference). The symbol of India, the original three lions statue, was in this museum as it had been near the monastery. This was one of the best museums that I’ve been in India, very clean, well captioned and clean. One would expect this kind of thing in a large city, but in India one needs to expect the unexpected.

The rickshaw driver, who had now become our personal driver, got us back to the Haifa where we had some more middle eastern food and then went to sleep. The heat can really knock one out and this is exactly what happened as we awoke more than 3+ hours later as it was getting dark. I slept in that middle state between sleeping and waking, not quite being able to awake but knowing that I was dreaming. Maybe it was just being in Varanasi.

We finally awoke and took a bicycle rickshaw to the main ghat where there was a huge pooja taking place. Varanasi in many ways reminds me of old Delhi, narrow streets, way too many people, too much traffic, no rules. We had to walk part of the way to the ghat as the rickshaw left us off in a very congested area. Once we made it to the ghat it was covered with people. The Ganges was also filled with boats. There were six or so priests, performing a ceremony with some fire.

It is always a site for me to witness these religious events which are so very plentiful in India. We stayed and watched for a time and then walked to see the next ceremony, the multitude of people. Since it was too far to walk we took a boat to Tulsi Ghat where Vaatika Café is. This must have taken a good half an hour to 45 minutes and fortunately the boat was placed next to the banks so that we didn’t have to touch the water when we boarded. Yes, it is holy but I look only at the fecal coliform counts which are at 1.5 million fecal coliform bacteria per 100 ml of water. Water safe for bathing should be 500 or less. Yes, people were swimming and dunking themselves and fishing. I must say that it didn’t seem to bother anyone.

I laid down on the boat and actually saw some stars, which are something that I don’t see very often in Delhi. The night air was warm but this proved to be quite a treat. We ate again at Vaatika, Len had ravioli and I had a banana honey pancake, again a treat, as my stomach was now cooperating.

Our final day in Varanasi, as I slept Len went to Vaatika for breakfast. I decided to have corn flakes and fresh fruit, which is my typical breakfast, in the Haifa restaurant. After this we went shopping at the Agrawal Toy Emporium, a place that I had purchased a carved mirror from in 2006. We talked with the owner who showed us an article noting that his grandfather had started the store some 85 years ago. I saw the mirror that I had purchased and bought some more as well as some other items. It was a treat as the store is air conditioned.

After this we went to the Vaatika for lunch and enjoyed spaghetti with tomato sauce and a mushroom pizza and of course apple pie for dessert. I gave my card to Anil and the owner Gopil came and talked to us for some time. He started the restaurant in 1993 and has always lived in Varanassi. He has six brothers, one of whom is a priest. It was a nice conversation and I hope to meet up with Gopil and Anil, the waiter that I remembered again before I leave India.

It is 5:30 PM almost time to leave for the train station. Our personal rickshaw driver has been waiting all day for this. His little helper Rakesh, who accompanied us yesterday had also been waiting for us, trying to sell us postcards. I ended up buying him some cookies as he found us today when we were walking around.

The rickshaw driver wanted to charge us way too much so we found another guy for about half the price. The train back to Delhi was wonderful as Len and I each had our own berth. There were a number of children sitting across from us kind of loud and I asked them to quiet down and then started talking to them. We ended up playing cards with them, taught them War and Go Fish. They were all just lovely ranging in age from about 6 to 13. Very well mannered, with beautiful smiles. In the morning when we woke up they were waiting to play again. We made it back successfully to the Delhi oven.

Varanasi certainly didn’t have the same feeling for me as when I first visited India in February 2006, when everything was so new and I was a wide eyed tourist. The weather was also much cooler at that time. Living in India for two plus years has given me a very different perspective. I see the congestion, pollution, the mass of humanity with not much to do to occupy their days, the poverty. India continues to be a country on the verge of progressing but also staying the way that it has been. The advances continue, more people have money, but I really wonder how far this country will move forward. It is just the mass of humanity that makes me state this.

Varanasi is a treasure and like most places I just come to love the people and how I’m generally treated by those willing to talk. One still gets the typical tourist stuff, the over charging, the continual buy this, just come and look, it sometimes gets on my nerves, but most of the time I can just say no thanks. It all continues to be part of Incredible India, the land of everything.

How do I know that I'm back in India

2011-03-20T05:51:00.001-07:00

I've been back for eight days and besides the obvious, cows, monkeys and dogs, the dust, the heat, the language, our flat, the children, skyping across the world, I know that I'm back in Mother India, another planet.

Today being holi, people are outside in a festive mood, splattering each other with various colours through water, smearing, balloons, and other means. It is a joy to play holi with the children in the neighborhood as they really seem to enjoy getting the westerner.

Last night in the park next to our flat, there was a burning of wood, an effigy as part of the celebration. People burned some wheat stalks and then brought this to their homes to hang onto until next year. Of course, there was music.

During the week, children seeing me would throw water balloons and I would avoid them and then stick out my tongue, causing a more concerted effort on their part to hit me.

I recently had to have some x-rays, the cost for one was 160 rupees or about $3.80 and the second was much more expensive at 240 rupees. The cost for the doctor was 1,000 rupees, about $22. As part of getting a root canal, cost 7,000 rupees about $170, I also have to get a crown, at 6500 rupees. Yes the two combined are quite expensive.

The rat in my bedroom has been quite mobile and though he continues to eat the poison that I've fed him, he still shits in all of my bed drawers. I saw him recently climbing up the electrical cord to get into the a/c.

My parents

2011-02-16T23:45:00.001-08:00

During the last two and a half weeks I’ve stayed with my parents in Mission Viejo, California as I’ve taken a five week leave from my beloved India. My parents were married in November 1953 three years before I was born. Some simple multiplication means that they’ve spent almost 21,000 days together or 504,000 hours or 31,000,000 minutes, give or take a little. These are remarkable numbers, especially for the US where on average, about 40-50% of first marriages end in divorce. One might say that my parents are of a different generation but never-the-less through “thick and thin” they have remained companions.

I’ve seen them at their worse, when their arguments are so irrational, that I wonder what has kept them together for this many years. But I’ve also seen them at their best and now that they are almost 82 and 78, their love and caring for one another is something that carries them through life on a daily basis. I still see many of the same things that I did when I was younger, maybe those things never change. Now that I’m older and hadn’t seen them for two years, these things are viewed from a much different perspective.

My mother has not weathered the years well and although she maintains a zest for life her body is not in the best of shape. She might say that a lifetime of hardship has caused this. My mother uses a walker, has diabetes and eats too much junk. She has trouble getting in and out of the car but she does try to exercise in the pool and keeps her mind active through her gardening, book club and bridge interests.

My father, on the other hand, remains slimmer and also involves himself with numerous activities including an annual chalk festival to raise funds for school arts programs, fundraising for Mission Viejo Chabad House, book club and bridge. He also exercises in the pool.

The thing that I notice now is that my father takes more care of my mother. He walks with her, helps more with preparing meals, drives her to certain events and generally is available. My mother does what she can, but seems to be much more dependent on my father.

This companionship lasting more than 57 years seems to be complete. It has weathered the ups and downs that life brings, more so, than many relationships. Even as we’ve all changed, we’ve remained somewhat the same, somewhere lost in time. No matter how far way I might be, when I come back I am their son and I get to see the best and worst of my parents. No matter which world I’m in, I see this incredible companionship lasting more than 57 years, a lifetime. This is one thing that will always be part of me, my heritage.

My parents are truly amazing and I love them more than ever. It is difficult to see one’s once vibrant parents turn to older age. They are slower and their physical appearance is different. But even with all of those changes they remain my parents and this picture of them being together, helping each other will always remain a positive in my life.

A dream?

2011-02-16T23:33:00.000-08:00

I’ve been in the US for a little over two weeks, mainly in beautiful southern California. I also spent a weekend in Boulder, Colorado, a paradise surrounded by beautiful snow covered mountains. At times, it all feels like a dream. I know that I will be out of Mother India for five weeks. At times, given that I’m on vacation I really don’t know what day it is. The sunny skies of California and the ocean lure one into a dreamlike state. The Rocky Mountains really makes me appreciate the beauty of the States. It is such a different world from Mother India.

I’ve been going shopping in grocery and retail stores and the abundance and choices are mind boggling. I think that I’ve noticed this in my life BI (Before India), but coming back after two years really puts the abundance and choices directly in my face. The clothing which most of us don’t need is always on sale with an extra 30% off and how do we resist even though our closets are bulging? The clothing of course is where I just came from, i.e. the developing world, so why buy it in America. Because it is on sale.

Sometimes I feel as if I’m caught between two worlds. Maybe this is what happens when one works in the developing world or just after being in a place like India for two years without coming to the west. I know where I am, but I also don’t know where I am. I’m stuck somewhere in the middle, wanting to be back while enjoying the west. It truly can be quite confusing as I continue to keep up with my friends in India.

After all there are no noises and no smells. The streets are clean and the cows are somewhere penned up, most likely on some farm and not roaming in the middle of the streets, where they feast on garbage or roti. Everyone stay in line and cars don’t constantly honk. The skies are perfectly blue and the weather is around 60 F. It is a well manicured lawn with the sprinklers coming on every night at 6 PM, just as the sun sets. Of course the sunsets are beautiful and can be seen for miles. Everyone seems to be Caucasian and they all speak English. The malls consist of beautifully maintained buildings and there is Chinese food and bagels on every corner. The gas stations have no employees except for the guy behind the booth and the prices keep going up. We pump our own gas here and I only leave my car for that reason.

This does seem like a dream and I wonder which world I’m really in.

Between Two Worlds

2011-02-03T16:01:00.001-08:00

Note: I knew that once I visited the US, after two years in India I would look at things differently. I haven’t felt any real culture shock yet, but I do see many differences. These are some of my observations which I will continue throughout my stay for five weeks.

I’ve been back in the US for about 48 hours now. There are so many differences between my life in my beloved India and my life in the US. After a wonderful walk today, seeing no garbage or cows, hardly any people, only a few cars, blue sky and little noise, I went straight for the hose in my parent’s front yard. I didn’t give the purity of the water a second thought, just drank. I would never do this in India. Before making a lunch of veggies I didn’t even think about washing them, although I probably should. In India I wash my veggies and fruit with some purple stuff, can’t think of the substance right now, to ensure that they are ready to be eaten. (A friend in India told me to do this).

The contrasts abound for me and I am super sensitive to the differences. As I showed my parents some videos of India they immediately heard the traffic noise. On some level I’ve become used to the noise of New Delhi and when I don’t hear it, I find this highly unusual. As my parents live in a retirement community in a somewhat middle to upper middle class area it is very quiet. For people who like blue sky, fewer cars, quiet, lots of trees and flowers, it is not a bad life. Although, it may also be the same from one day to the next. My life in New Delhi is never the same and I never know what I will see or who I will speak with or what opportunities will be present. My camera is a constant companion.

Everything seems to be neat and tidy in the world that I’m in at the moment. It is a different way of living. It’s not that I don’t like the fact that there is no garbage on the streets as I’m constantly telling New Delhites to pick up their garbage, but it is different, another way of living life. There are hardly any smells here, so very different from the streets of New Delhi. It is difficult for me to see men peeing everywhere in New Delhi or children defecating on the streets because they have no toilets, but it is how people have to live. I try not to step in the rivers of pee and hold my nose but it is part of my life.

The line at the Department of Motor Vehicles in Mission Viejo was so orderly and the “bureaucrats” incredibly efficient. The bathrooms were even neat and clean. Supermarkets are full of items and the shelves are full. It’s hard to understand if one hasn’t traveled in the so called developing parts of the world. It’s so very different.

From Los Angeles to Delhi: A conversation about Matzoh, is it like Roti?

2011-02-02T23:34:00.000-08:00

Ah, Skype does make things much easier to discuss like matzoh:

MJR: eating matzoh with butter,
[11:22:57 PM] LYM: what is matzoh?
[11:24:04 PM] MJR: matzoh is what we eat on passover but my parents have some, it is unleavened bread, kind of like a cracker
[11:24:19 PM] MJR: the jews ate this when they were escaping Egypt with Moses I love it
[11:24:21 PM] LYM: so like roti but crispy?
[11:24:52 PM] MJR: kind of, square Maybe I can bring a small box back if Ican find it
[11:25:24 PM] LYM: i read about matzoh then, it's unleavened because the people were in a hurry to escape,
[11:26:02 PM]LYM: oh right, i didn't notice
[11:26:29 PM] MJR: good stuff, you can put water on it and put it over a pot of boiling water, yummy with butter
[11:26:33 PM] MJR: I love egg matzoh
[[11:26:39 PM] MJR: there is also chocolate covered matzoh
[11:26:56 PM] LYM: oh, like golgapa
[11:27:04 PM] lenymanikan: can you make it here?
[11:28:03 PM] LYM: No I don't think so

Into the West-

2011-02-01T20:53:00.000-08:00

I’m in the Zurich airport waiting for my flight to Los Angeles. It is a gray day and there is a bit of frost on the ground. I’ve explored downtown Zurich, took a train, very efficient, from the airport to downtown. Ticket was about $14 and it is an all day pass, which I only used to go to and from the airport.

I left mother India this morning around 2 AM. I am wearing my multi-colored hat that I purchased in Pushkar in October 2009. The Indian woman at the Swiss Air counter in New Delhi asked me about the hat and really liked it. She smiled, that smile that I typically get from India.
My flight was uneventful, the usual turbulence and I tried to sleep the entire way, ignored the food at 2:30 AM as I pulled my Pushkar hat over my eyes. Sleeping was not sound, although there was nobody sitting next to me. Had an early breakfast around 5 AM Zurich time and watched a bit of Avatar.

The flight was efficient, clean, a different language came over the speakers from the captain and crew. A guttural kind of utterance, a European mixture. The New Delhi airport has changed mostly due to the October 2010 Commonwealth Games. It has a very western feel, lots of shopping, clean, efficient. The Zurich airport is the same clean, no noise from the outside, a world unto itself.

The people don’t seem friendly, like you’re bothering them by asking a question. It is not the smile that I’m used from India. It feels rather stand offish. One guy was helpful, but many of the Swiss that I encountered, didn’t really seem to want to take the time.

Zurich, in which the sky didn’t start to lighten until around 8:30 AM, was full of no sound, people in cars, a few on bicycles, no ethnic diversity, people riding the various types of public transportation, light rail, electrified bus, trains, a market that was neither hustle nor bustle, no garbage on the streets except for some cigarette butts, two dogs with chains around their necks and no cows. . Granted it is winter, cold around 0 Centigrade, but I wonder I anybody really “lives” here.

I went into a grocery store, Coop, full of western products, with shelves well stocked and everything in its place. The orange that I ate had no seeds, the apple was perfectly crisp, nothing like what I eat in mother India.

The only sound in the Zurich airport Gate E-26 waiting area is from what looks to be an Indian family. The only color that I see, beautiful pinkish sari, is from this same family. My reintroduction to the west seems to be about conformity, few smiles, lots of cigarette smoking, efficiency and “whiteness”. I did see a guy wearing a Green Bay Packers shirt and when he stood up, due to his size his butt was staring me in the face.

It certainly is what I remember but I haven’t seen it through my “Indian eyes” before. The white frost on the runway and the gray background seems to capture it all. I’m sure that the summer is beautiful with the Alps and the blueness of Lake Zurich, but now it is only the same.

Basketball

2011-01-17T03:09:00.000-08:00

I love basketball! I think about the game, the NBA with a passion that approaches other things that I love in life. My life would be less colorful without my daily morning watching of the live NBA games companion and highlights. India just wouldn’t be the same if I couldn’t bring my love, through coaching, to the many Indian children that I’ve met during my travels and through my weekly Saturday night sojourns to the YMCA-New Delhi and playing at the American Embassy School.

Basketball is about my Lakers who I’ve loved, due to my father, ever since growing up in Los Angeles. They were the team that always came in second during the 1960’s when nobody could defeat the Celtics, they were the team that won 33 in a row with Wilt, Baylor, West, and Goodrich and finally broke through to win a championship. The 80’s were ruled by the Lakers with Magic, Worthy and Kareem and like many others I was heartbroken over Magic’s announcement of having to retire due to HIV. The 90’s mediocrity due to the dominance of the Bulls, led to a rebuilding for the new century with Kobe, Shaq, Fisher and now Pau, Ron-Ron, Brown and Lamar.

I love to think about the players and the player movements: Lebron and Bosh to Miami resulting in the the abysmal performance of the Cavaliers and Raptors; that Lakers-Cleveland game is fresh in my mind; Allan, Garnett and now Shaq teaming up with Pierce in Boston; the emergence of Rondo as a great point-guard; San Antonio’s revival thanks to their big three Duncan, Parker and Ginobili; the up- start Thunder with Westbrook and Durant; the Magic coming alive once again by getting back Turkoglu and trading for Richardson and Arenas; Amare’s proof that he is one of the greats through the turn- around season for the Knicks; the consistency of the Hawks and the Jazz who will never be quite good enough to win it all; the young Chicago Bulls; seemingly one or two players away from being the best; the fading Dallas Mavericks without Nowitzki; Kevin Love of the Timberwolves and his dominance on the boards; the potential re-emergence of the Nets with Anthony, Billups, Hamilton and two former Lakers Farmar and Vujacic; all of these examples showing that the game can change at any time. Last year the Nets were the worst team in the game and in 2011-12, they will be in the playoffs. I know that Steve Nash, one of the greatest point guards ever, is slowing down, but he is still a magician with the basketball.
I also have been blessed by having been able to see so many of the greats and not so greats, including players from the ABA. The list goes on and the thoughts and possibilities are endless.

I love to coach basketball, to bring the game to Indian children so willing to learn and whenever I see a basketball court, which is quite frequently, I try to do this. This is about capacity building, becoming fundamentally sound, to really enjoy the game, something that I also do in my job for NGOs throughout India. There is so much, incredible potential in India for making basketball the number one game, especially with the great collaborative work that the NBA is doing through its India Director of Operations, Troy Justice. Although, due to work, I missed the great excitement of meeting Dwight Howard and Pau Gasol, and the championship trophy, I know that these two professionals brought their love of the game to share with the future of this great nation. (I hope that I have another chance of seeing and touching the championship trophy which will mean that the Lakers are 3-Peaters). I follow all of the happenings and discoveries of potential Indian professional players and the various Mahindra leagues on Facebook.

But basketball is more than a game as it requires, as does life, being part of a team, sharing experiences, joy, sorrow, anger, tears with others, communication, tolerance, discipline and being in good health and eating right. Basketball is a chosen life-style by those who proactively choose to truly take part. Like life, basketball has its ups and downs. The Lakers went through a horrible stretch this season when nothing was clicking followed by internal/external bickering. But now they are back in form and have won seven in a row. I’ve gone through many ups and downs in life, the things that we all go through, because we are human beings. We have all been gifted with different skills and as in basketball it is about what we do with those skills and talents that makes life worth living.

I’m not sure which sport I would truly love if there was no basketball. I do like baseball and American football, but somehow they just don’t measure up to the excitement of life brought about by basketball. One day, as my body ages, I may have to retire from playing. I will continue though to live life as being part of basketball, eating well, exercising, living in community, coaching, etc. Maybe, I’ll turn to that sport that many people retire to, golf, but I cannot imagine playing golf after a life of basketball. Most likely, however, I will continue to live basketball until I take my last breath, until I’m again on the court in a younger person’s body. My love for the game will never cease.

.

The Challenge of Living with Integrity

2010-10-23T05:26:00.000-07:00

"Adherence to moral and ethical principles; soundness of moral character; honesty" http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/integrity

"A concept of consistency of actions, values, methods, measures, principles, expectations and outcomes. In western ethics, integrity is regarded as the quality of having an intuitive sense of honesty and truthfulness in regard to the motivations for one's action. Integrity can be regarded as the opposite of hypocrisy in that it regards internal consistency as a virtue, and suggests that parties holding apparently conflicting values should account for the discrepancy or alter their beliefs." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Integrity

Living in India has caused me to think a lot about integrity and what it means. I have to say that I don’t see a lot of integrity in the world, I get a lot of empty words, which leads me to have a lack of confidence in others. Promises are made but typically they are not followed through. It seems that there is a great deal of short term memory loss, selective forgetting or just saying whatever comes to mind without feeling truly responsible for following through. Self-accountability seems to be non-existent in our world with people hardly admitting and taking responsibility when they may have done something wrong.

Integrity is a core value in my life. It has always been this way but has become even more so as I’ve matured. If I say something, if someone sends me an e-mail, if I say that I will do something, I follow through. I don’t make empty promises, say that I will do something, if I cannot. But all too often I find that others say things or ignore an e-mail and don’t think anymore about this.

I have many examples from India, the most recent being a colleague saying that they would visit me, while I was sick in the hospital. I talked to the person about one hour before they said that they would come. They never showed up, never called to just say “sorry”, nothing. (One other person who said that they would come, didn’t, but did call late the next day to apologize). During the work day things are said but action is not taken and if I don’t remind people of what they are supposed to do nothing happens. Just look at the recently concluded Commonwealth Games and the utter lack of integrity on the part of those involved with planning and implementation. It is really so very sad to witness. Consistently empty words.

Examples also come from the U.S. and other countries as I send e-mails looking for information, with sometimes there being no response, and other times people promising to get back to me. This comes not only from acquaintances but also family and friends. (Is it just a discomfort and so instead of responding people just ignore? Or is it by ignoring that it just goes away or is it just a general lack of respect for others?) Yes, life happens and I’ve observed that people become so inwardly focused on their own worlds that they just can’t see anything else. It saddens me to see what I perceive as a basic selfishness, but possibly it is more about being unaware or just feeling so overwhelmed that it is impossible to deal with a bigger picture.

My birth country is so full of people lacking any kind of integrity and honesty. One can see this in the current election campaigns, in the selfishness to do anything, including lying, to get oneself elected. Forget ethics and values, forget any real core beliefs except that one has to believe in “God” and live under Judeo-Christian values. Unfortunately most of the people espousing how religious they are, have little understanding of what this really means. It translates to an intolerance of others, leads to divisiveness and ultimately ends in more lies, dishonesty and cheating others.

Even though I’ve become more of a talker in life, as I feel that there is much to say and I’m not shy, I’ve listened, observed and seen integrity in some others. There are some relatives and friends who seem to possess integrity as one of their core values, some colleagues, but there are not a lot of people who really practice the consistency that it takes. The people who possess integrity, who tend to see the bigger pictures are the ones that I would trust with my life.

We seem as a global society to be so far past ever really being able to get back to any kind of real integrity to save ourselves from ultimate destruction. Our relationships lack integrity and one really has to wonder if there are any world leaders possessing this as a core value. http://www.guardian.co.uk/news/datablog/2009/nov/17/corruption-index-transparency-international

I will not waver in practicing integrity as it is too important. I will continue to look for those who are aware and also practice this value. India continues to challenge and teach me what I want and what I don’t want in life.

October A few thoughts

2010-10-02T05:16:00.000-07:00

Let me write about a few things, things I’ve been thinking about. For the past three weeks I’ve had chikungunya. I’ve had four blood tests to finally identify this rather painful viral thing brought on by a mosquito bite. For me it started early the morning of September 11, when I tried to make my way to my bathroom, about five steps from my bed. I could hardly drag my aching lower body into the bathroom. My head was spinning and I had a fever. After being tested three times for dengue and malaria and more than two weeks of foot, right thumb and left wrist pain, I tested positive for chikungunya. At least I know what to call it and for now, my thinking of having to deal with arthritis for the rest of my left has been alleviated.

The Tyagi family whom I live with has been so very helpful, feeding me at times, taking me for my blood tests and to my doctor. I think, like most Indians, they just feet it is what they do and they don’t easily acknowledge my “thank you;s”. But I don’t really know what I would have done without them.

The worst part of painful feet is the inability to exercise which has meant no basketball. I can’t imagine my world without the sport, i.e. coaching and playing, but for now it is enough to know that I will eventually recover and hopefully play with President Obama when he comes for a visit in November. (I’ll definitely have to clean my flat prior to that).

I’ve been dragging myself into work, but after I sit for a spell, my putting any weight on my feet to walk is quite painful. So I lean on something for a minute and walk through the office. I’m sure that my colleagues think that I’m a bit crazy and should just stay at home, but…..

I’ve been thinking and reading a lot about the Commonwealth Games, that bright, shining moment for India to take its rightful, leadership place in the world. Unfortunately, this just won’t happen, based on so many things, e.g. corruption, ineptitude on the part of officials, waiting until quite a long time to actually build the stadiums, the Delhi rain, the unwillingness of anyone to take responsibility for the issues that have arisen. One can read about the filthy conditions at the Games Village, the collapse of an overpass leading to one of the stadiums, the number of volunteer that picked up their 12,000 rupees games package and then decided they didn’t really want to volunteer.

Yes, I’m going to a semi-finals boxing match with Binesh as I want to see what this is all about. VSO had indicated that they don’t want us anywhere near the games and I understand this based on potential terrorist attacks. But as Binesh has indicated, they (terrorists) like boxing so there is no problem. Anyway soon to become part of my India experience.

I am saddened though by the Commonwealth Games. Delhi has been cleaned up as there are police and soldiers, with real serious looking guns, everywhere. There are new plants, flowers and the area near Parliament and through to India Gate, do, in fact look quite lovely. The ultimate issue though is once all of the glitter is gone, will anything be maintained?

This is a major issue in India. People’s memories are very short and things tend to fall apart. (We may never know how much was actually spent on the Games, but an article in the Times of India on August 9 states that 28,054 Crore was spent. But this is from August and the final tally will most likely be much higher. How much of this went into the pockets of people connected with the Games, we will probably never know this). The police and soldiers will disappear and go back to their regular assignments, the plants will die, the stadiums may or may not be kept up. Are there funds for maintenance, given what I’ve seen, most likely not. What then is left?

The poverty that is inescapable, people just wanting a few rupees to feed their families. Don’t get me wrong, there is a lot of hope, but in reality what percentage of the population is this? Poverty runs rampant in India, there is no doubt about this in my mind from what I’ve experienced. But what is the actual percentage of the population that struggles to have enough food? We may soon find out from the 2011 census.

Finally, my little pal Golu, who will be four soon has lost her favorite friend and playmate as Momo has gone to England to be with her parents. This means that Golu has been spending a lot of time in my flat. The usual thing is that I get home from work, she follows me upstairs, asks for bread and/or biscuits with peanut butter and jelly. Golu sits on the counter next to the toaster as we get the bread ready for her. We then proceed to either do paint on the computer or watch Mr. Bean animated cartoons.

Before this I had never watched Mr. Bean. What a horrible “role model” for children to see. He is selfish, uncaring and very unconscious of his actions. Comedy, possibly, but he is only out for his own fulfillment, talking to his teddy bear and treating it as if it was alive.

Where does this leave me? Sitting on the couch listening to and downloading music waiting for my feet to stop hurting so that I can play and coach basketball. I’m looking forward to that day.

Pain

2010-10-02T05:14:00.000-07:00

I've been working in the Disability Sector since I arrived in India in March 2009. I've conducted numerous workshops throughout India, doing my best to build individual and organaisational capacities. Although, I've met numerous people who are living with disabilities and working in this Sector I have only recently started to feel what it might be like to be living with a disability.

On September 10, I went to bed with no problems after a typically hectic week. Before I fell asleep, I thought about playing and coaching b-ball on Saturday. I awoke during the early morning of September 11, and I could hardly get from my bed to my bathroom, about 5 steps. My legs, feet and part of my back were in total pain and I felt as if all of my former basketball injuries had somehow decided to hit me at the same time. I had no appetite and my head was spinning. I called Dr Hazuria and he recommended a blood test. Fortunately I live with a family that has adopted me and they gave me food and took me for what turned out to be three blood tests over the course of one week. They also brought me to see Dr. H. As it turned out I did not have malaria or dengue but some type of viral infection. However, two weeks later I still am having pain in my feet and right thumb.

I missed six days of work, which is totally unheard of for me and basically laid around from September 11-20.

As I try to search out the positive, the lessons, I've found that I can't resist what is happening in my body and need to just go with it, but more importantly I've developed an appreciation for what it might be like not to be able to walk, be in constant pain and having to depend on others. I realize that it takes quite a bit of courage and persistence to get around Delhi if one has trouble walking. As I've gone back to work, I've changed my regimen a bit, not walking as much, but still taking the bus and metro. Just getting on the buses is so very difficult, due to the steps being very high and the drivers typically not waiting for people to board. Getting to the metro platform can also be quite difficult, although there are some lifts.

The major point is that although I hope to get back to basketball, normal walking for me and moving around without any pain, I now have more empathy for those living with disabilities. I don't think that it is easy for anyone to live in Delhi, but add to that, having crutches or being in a wheelchair and it must be overwhelming. There are very few barrier free anythings. I'm glad to be able to do my small piece in the Disability Sector and can now say this with some further understanding of the population that I'm working with.

Capacity Building

2010-07-24T10:44:00.000-07:00

“You’re living in a place you left behind, going around in circles all the time, can see the way your head, it’s like your blind, so open your eyes and…time realigned just what you got, you fall asleep and then the moment’s gone, so open your eyes….You’re always looking over your shoulder.. Keane, Looking Back

Listening to my new favorite song by Keane and K’Naan, sitting in 1-A, my own private compartment with nobody else here, on yet, another delayed train, this time from Patna to Delhi. It’s 2:30 PM and I should have been in Delhi hours ago, but now hope to get in by 7 PM. The train was delayed to start with, should have left Patna at 7:10 PM, it finally got to the station at 9:30 PM on Platform two, instead of three, and we sat on the train until 10:35 PM when it finally left the station. Once the train left, the conductor looked at, what I thought was my 2A ticket, and said you’ve been upgraded. What joy, a big compartment, with only one other person, this is the way to travel.

I contrast all of this with poor Len, who left Patna around 8 PM, on a train that was due to take at least 40 hours, with no a/c, no fans, a sauna, and with no confirmed berth to herself. The train will most likely take more than two days. I can’t talk to Len because my phone has no rupees left. In retrospect she should have come to Delhi with me and then taken a train from there.

But, it’s India, expect the unexpected and be prepared for adventure, no matter where you are in this remarkable country. (We’re riding through very rural areas and I just spotted a dirt b-ball court).

Len and I have just spent a number of days together, co-facilitating workshops in Ranchi, Jarkhand and Patna, Bihar, two very poor states, somewhat politically unstable, with lots of poverty, and with Naxalites having a stronghold in many areas. Three other VSO pals-Efren, Manny and Mabel also attended the workshop in Ranchi and were actively involved. I have to say after doing so many solo workshops, it was great fun to have my VSO friends involved and adding to the workshop experience. I picked up a few exercise in Ranchi which I added to the Patna workshop, some more hands on activities that really helped to drive some points home regarding strategic planning.

I continue to love this work, and although I use power points, which I’m always revising, I’m constantly having to think on my feet, revising what I do based on the level of the participants, who might be co-facilitating with me and the necessity of translating what I’m saying into Hindi. (Now passing some mud huts, lots of green fields).

I keep thinking how there is so much more of India to see and experience, especially through the work that I’m doing, capacity building. I think about the moments of total happiness that I’ve experienced from the most seemingly mundane things and about living in “foreign” countries for the rest of my life and what this might mean for my relationships.

But, in reality, what is capacity building? I think about this a lot as it is at the core of what VSO volunteers do. I haven’t come to any final conclusions about this, but it is in some sense helping to build confidence in individuals so that they can take risks and think about how to expand their horizons. I not only encourage and motivate people to build their capacities, but in fact, I’m building my own capacities.

I do this through the openness that comes from the joy, sorrow, anger, grief, bliss of having lived 53+ years on this planet. As with anybody who has lived this long, my wounds run deep and I do, at times, experience this depth. But the fact of the matter is that the wounds have also helped me to come out of a “shell” that we all tend to build around ourselves, based on our life experiences.

In the capacity building workshops throughout India, more than 15 to date, I squirt just about anybody with my “holi” Nemo fish water gun, encourage people to do Bollywood dancing, ask people to stand and stretch and do the “lion”, all of the time watching others come out of their shells and engage in the work that we’re doing. Of course there are still those who don’t turn off their cell phones and have conversations while we’re working, totally ignoring everybody else in the workshop and I’ve actually taken some of those phones but haven’t had the guts to keep one yet.

All of this though is about building relationships, about laughing together, about sharing different ways of doing things. While in Ranchi and Patna, Len and I had conversations with at least four people, three of them women, about arranged marriages vs. love marriages. This goes so far below the surface of our skins and has helped me to see the complications and depth of this institution in India. (As I tend to do when I feel close to someone I hug many of the workshop participants when we part ways, because I feel a connection and I also know that I may never see these people again. Recently one woman sent me a text stating that this was the first time that a man had hugged and kissed her goodbye. She said that it was joy for her. How can we not part ways by showing our affections towards one another if this is the result?)

Helping others to develop, providing opportunities for others to build their capacities is something that we all do, and VSO has helped me to become more conscious of this. In many ways though I’ve always been doing this whether in my professional or personal life.

The Package that May be Bomb

2010-06-29T01:10:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I started the morning off by again going to my favorite dentist, Teena. The last time that I had seen Teena was the morning when my wallet was stolen. I was on my way to see Teena when I discovered that the wallet was gone. As I paid her back the 60 rupees that I had borrowed, in order reimburse the cost of my auto rickshaw ride on that fateful day, she told me about how “bad” things happen in three’s. (I had also just told her about getting bit for the second time by a dog on the previous Saturday. Does this mean that I’ll get bit one more time by another dog?) So another filling refilled, pain, but ok at least another dental visit was complete.

When I arrived at my office I was told that a package was waiting for me at the post office and that I had to get it. But once I told the office staff that there might be chocolate, mysteriously the package soon appeared. I shared some of the peanut butter pretzels which people loved. The package was from my friend Cindy in the US and she had sent some Trader Joe’s stuff and presents for the children in my home. The cost for mailing, I think, was probably more than Cindy had spent on the package contents, but that is Cindy, a dear, dear friend.

In the evening I was committed to going to a wedding, somewhere in East Oshkosh, as we say in the US when a place is out of the way, and my office colleagues and I had to take four metros which took 1.25 hours and then we walked for some time after getting off of the metro. One of my colleagues carried the precious package the entire time. We got to the wedding around 8, and I was ready to eat. The invitation called for dinner to be served at 8 but this is India. As I waited, with the food not being served, I finally decided to leave at 9:45 PM, as the groom had just arrived. Some of my office friends took me out to the street where they said I could take a bus to my metro stop, but of course, there was no such bus. We tried to enlist the help of an auto rickshaw but again no luck. Finally I said I'll take the metro, just get me a bicycle rickshaw.

With my two work bags and Cindy’s package I set out and finally got on the first metro around 10:15 PM. Two hours and three metros later, green, red, orange and blue lines, I was at my stop. (I don’t think that there are any other metro lines at this point. The green line has the best cars!) I had sat on the package some of the way on the metro to be comfortable as there were no seats. I thought ok it's only about midnight and I'll get home and go to sleep. But before I got off of the metro, I received a text saying that my phone account had automatically been charged 30 rupees for placing some Hindi songs on my phone. I was tired, pissed about the charge and the inevitable pushing and shoving that goes on in the metro and tried to write back but the text wouldn't go through. (Of course in my own American fashion the body of my text included the fact that I would sue for this charge of 30 rupees/month, about 60 cents, which I had never confirmed). I was also already feeling a bit upset by the fact that I had no dinner and the metro ride seemed endless.

I got off of the metro at my stop and as I got downstairs I realized that I had left the package on the metro! I immediately started cussing, thinking about my lost wallet, and where this package had been to, from the US to India to a wedding. I went over to the Metro customer care and said you must get my package. I was brought upstairs to the Station Manager who called the train and fortunately, after a lot of heavy breathing on my part, they said that they had found the box three stops away. (You must also realize that everyday the English recording on the metro says, “Stay away from packages as they may be bomb”). The Station Manager said get on the train, but since it is the last train you won't be able to come back and you will have to take an auto in order to get home.

I made it to the station, Dwarka Mor, and sure enough after two officers and three staff came up to meet me they had the package. After thanking them all profusely, I offered some pretzels but there were no takers. I was so relieved, because after carrying that box everywhere I did not want to lose it.

I went downstairs to try to get an auto rickshaw at 12:30 AM or so. The first guy said sure I'll use the new meter rates. He brought me to his rickshaw and pulled out the wires of the meter and said not working. I proceeded to cuss even more and left his rickshaw. Two rickshaws passed quoting outrageous prices. I finally got into another rickshaw and after .3 kilometers, his rickshaw died. I again got out cussing the world. (Somehow my cussing has come alive here, hmm….) Another guy came by and quoted me a high price and then another. Finally I settled for 70 rupees after a great deal of haggling. Once we got to my house though the guy said 80 and I said fine. I went to bed around 1 AM.

This morning the package was still in my apartment and I had a wonderful breakfast of granola, dried blueberries, almonds and fresh fruit. What a fantastic treat.

When I got to work I asked for help in removing the 30 rupee/month Hindi song charge. One of my office mates called Air-tel and they cancelled this charge, but said that it had been authorized on June 17. What can I say?

I have such a love-hate-love relationship with this amazing country. I’m trying to decide whether or not I should stay past February. I guess that it really depends on the day or the moment. But, what would I blog about if I went back and lived in the US?

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Dalhousie-Final Part 4

2010-06-20T00:34:00.001-07:00

June 20, 2010
I’m back in Delhi, with all of its glorious humidity, sweating after showers, while cooking, while walking. But a few, final words on Dalhousie.

I left early the morning of June 14, taking two buses to get to Amritsar my departure point for getting back to Delhi. On the train to Delhi, about six hours I sat next to this family with screaming monsters, climbing all over the seats, not too much fun, but I made the best of it. The last few days in Dalhousie were spent coaching, attending a wonderful party for Myna and Onky’s 25th wedding anniversary, staying with some friends of Mohan’s, who I just love, attending a prayer service for the Dalai Lama at the Tibetan crafts center and making photo prints for the many people who let me photograph them. I also befriended a number of children at a nearby teashop and gave them a number of pictures of themselves. One of the children was a one year old boy who only smiled and easily let me pick him up.

The prayer service at the Tibetan Center was something that I stumbled upon and I just went and sat down, was given tea and was greeted with all of the friendliness of me being part of instead of an external person. The prayer flag man was serving some food and he came up to me and shook my hand and was so very friendly. I was offered lunch but Onky and Myna were hosting a lunch for their anniversary.

I was so very happy to be able to attend Onky and Myna’s 25th anniversary celebration. I wasn’t able to attend their wedding, but the fact that Onky and I have been friends for almost 30 years made this very special for me. Additionally, I’m treated as one of the family. The party was sheer celebration and happiness and Myna’s parents came from Amritsar and her brother and family came in from Dubai. Myna, like me, lost a sibling and although we didn’t talk about this, I’m sure that she was missing her brother at this celebration.

Since the house was full with relatives, I shifted to some friends of Mohan’s for two evenings. They live right next to the Tibetan Center and they don’t use servants. (I’ve become somewhat comfortable with servants and although I would never have any, I am able to engage with those who I come into contact with. I gave Monhan’s personal assistant and his family so many pictures and played with their children). I felt so very comfortable with them and they were both full of so much love. They told me about their children, one of whom resides in Milwaukee, and their grandchildren. I was able to help them load pictures onto their laptop and also taught them how to clean up their hard drive. We watched together as a huge monkey sat in their yard and ate the one ripe apple from their tree. We also walked up the hill together to go to Onky’s. They live in Delhi and I’m hoping that they contact me when they come back here in October.

I love Dalhousie and I’m so grateful to Onky, Myna, Mohan, Anant and Zorby for allowing me to share in their joy when they go into the scrumptious mountains. There weren’t as many daisies this year, but I did see rainbows, snow and lots of monkeys. I walked and walked and found love from Tibetans, coaching school boys, Indians and even those monkeys, which I still treasure seeing. Will I ever go back to Dalhousie? I’m not entirely sure, but I will always have incredibly fond memories of my times with my Indian family in this very cool hill station.

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Dalhousie Part 3

2010-06-19T23:48:00.000-07:00

June 8, 2010
Coaching in Dalhousie. What an opportunity. The Kakar family is friends with Guru Dylan who is the owner/principal of the Dalhousie Public School, a fairly prestigious institution. At a number of parties I had mentioned to him that I would be happy to coach basketball if he liked. At papa’s party yesterday he again said, “yes” and I said that I would come on Tuesday.

I walked to the b-ball courts around 3 PM and it was about a 20 minute downhill walk to the school. I talked to a guard who didn’t speak English, but a teacher happened along and I was able to tell him that I was there to coach. I saw a b-ball on the court and went down and started shooting. After a number of minutes the students started arriving and watched from their hostel balconies. They cheered when I made a shot, and then many of them flooded onto the courts. I thought that I would try to organize them into some drills but there were just too many children, very excited, to see a westerner, especially one who they mistakenly thought might be a former professional.

Around 4 PM a few of the physical education staff came to the courts and lined up the approximately 400 boys. There are six houses at DPH and they each have a b-ball team and these were the boys that I worked with. I took them through a number of drills so that I could see the quality of play. They were surprisingly good.

I taught them the “lion” defense drill and they were very loud, no embarrassment at all. Incredible energy! After we finished, I told the children that I would come back tomorrow. As I was leaving many asked for my autograph on paper, on their hands and on basketballs. So very funny!

This little activity again reminds me to always ask. People can always say no or do nothing about the request, but if I don’t ask then I won’t find so many opportunities. I need to remember this in my basketball school of life.

June 10, 2010

The issue of class has come up more than once for me in India. It’s especially noticeable in Dalhousie where you have the more affluent both younger and older crowd, military officials, but also the servants, laborers, tea shop owners, etc. The two crowds mix but in a very “know thy place way”. Fortunately I can mix with both, although I’m not sure that I’m very well accepted by some of the older, more traditional affluent Indians, who focus quite a bit on the fortunes of their children and how much money they have. This isn’t that different from any other country, but for me it does stand out given the number of people living in poverty, the work that I’m trying to do and my somewhat naïve idealism.

I have difficulty with the “formality” that I’ve come across. Again, maybe this is not that different from anywhere in the world, but to see it firsthand, in so many cases, causes me discomfort, i.e. people are treated differently depending on their perceived societal rank. There is fussing over some and the talking down to others. I wonder if some of this is a holdover from colonial times, where some Indians moved to fill in the gap left by the British?

I know that the reality is that this is not only India, that this type of “class” based society is found everywhere in the world, even in the so-called socialist or communist countries. There are always some that are much better off than others, no matter what type of system is in place.

Dalhousie Part 2

2010-06-19T23:41:00.001-07:00

June 6, 2010
I ate so much food yesterday! The parties continue, the people, the socializing, the formalities. We had lunch at Guru’s. He runs the Dalhousie Public School, a very prestigious boarding school and his lunches and dinners are populated by the upper crust of the area. Yesterday, the guest of honor was an Air Force General or something equivalent. There were also a number of other military officials, Guru being an ex-military officer. Guru and his wife own three Mercedes benze’s. I found the lunch, which was held on his very green front lawn, to be scrumptious. He had this kind of a French bread, so fresh, and as soon as I ate it, I identified the loaf as something that I missed in the US. The rest of the food was equally tasty, capped off by a trifle, ice cream and cream dessert which I mixed together. Once the chief guest left everyone else vacated the premises.

While doing some work at “home”, a number of guests came over to visit the Kakars and therefore, although unplanned, more food. We followed this up by going out to the home of the principal of another school in Dalhousie. All meals begin with starters, which is more than enough food for a meal, but this is followed by the entrees and finally dessert. Needless to say, I am not eating much today as I totally gorged myself yesterday. Enough! Bas!

June 7, 2010
I watched the Lakers lose game of the finals today and boy did that bring me down. At least there are more games to play!

Today is Mohan’s 78th birthday and every year he holds a huge luncheon for his friends, gives away blankets to many and also holds a luncheon for others on the grass of the rental cottage. My role is that of barman and photographer. I get to interact with everyone so really look forward to both roles. I feel in my own small way that I’m serving. The thing that I like the best though is serving the people on the rental cottage grass.

This year there were upwards of 75 people who I served, took pictures of and somehow helped people to laugh. There is a pillar of the “Fish Philosophy” about “making their day” and I think that I do this a lot just by being me, by wearing a courta, an Indian hat, the way that I serve food or water. I heard people laughing when I sat down on the ground with my pot of food and served it. I watched another guy serving and he held the pot in one hand and served the food with a spoon in the other, never quite stopping.

I make people laugh by showing them pictures that I took of them. One little girl who didn’t look quite right, brightened up after I showed her a picture of herself. Something awakened in her and she was immediately happy pointing at the picture, showing it to her mother. People laugh because children make funny faces when they see that I’m taking a picture of them. It is quite remarkable what a camera can do, it somehow enlivens people and brings them out of their shells.

But it’s also about my vain attempts at speaking a few words of Hindi, and my asking if others speak English. I’m finding that many people do speak English, but one has to ask about this. I spoke with two young women on the lawn and they, in very good English, told me about their computer schooling in Dalhousie. I told them that they must tell their husbands, after they eventually get married, that they want to continue working. This, of course, brought a smile to their faces.

The people on the lower lawn seemed to have few “airs”, they were happy to be together with one another, they didn’t interact, i.e. walk around, like the people in the upper area, but seemed to enjoy the meal just as much. It is something that I look forward to, and feel good about helping to make someone’s day, even if I’m only being me.

Dalhousie Part 1

2010-06-19T23:18:00.000-07:00

June 4, 2010

In Dalhousie again. The road has come from Amritsar and the Golden Temple, magnificent, to Jallianwala Bagh where upwards of 1000 unarmed people were massacred by the British in 1919 on the command of a General Dyer, many jumping to their deaths in what is now known as the Martyr’s well. (You can see this episode recreated in the movie Gandhi).

My memories of Dalhousie are great from 2009, the paths hiked, the people that I met and the Great Gatsby parties, the feeling of comfort in my body in moving from the “Delhi oven” to this very comfortable hill station, my Indian papa’s birthday celebration.
This year is proving to be no less memorable as Indian religion becomes both more illuminated and confusing to me, the parties become even greater, the rain comes in downpours with massive thunder claps and lightening, lighting up the night sky, the temperatures in some places hovering around freezing.

I feel comfort in knowing that I can go off by myself and get back to “my home”. On our first day in Dalhousie, I went off by myself to the market with a definite mission in mind. I wanted to make some photo enlargements for my dear friends and also buy some toys for some of the “servant’s”. Upon arriving in Dalhousie I noticed that one of the servant’s children was playing with a battery. This indicated to me a need for toys and in between the freezing raindrops I meandered through the GPO (General Post Office), or town center and found a wonderful toy store. I went through many toys and finally found a set of plastic, kind of legos and an array of rattles for the new two month old. After bargaining I felt that I had the perfect toys.

Does it make sense for me to introduce these types of toys into a household, that includes two adults and two children living in one room? (The servant’s quarters are essentially a number of one room living spaces, a cowshed, and I think a kitchen area. An older couple, with the husband managing the rental, and two of his sons, their wives, and now three children all occupy these homes). Is it my arrogance that needs to feel that these children should have educational play toys or can it just be my fatherly instinct to give to those with less? But less only on the material side, because from what I can tell there is a great deal of love for these children. The father who is a personal assistant to my Indian papa, is a lovely man and his wife, has one of the loveliest smiles that I’ve ever seen. Recently when I was playing with two of the children, this woman was holding her new baby and humming and every time that I looked up at her she had that sweet smile on her face.

Last year I had tried to purchase prayer flags, but unfortunately there were none to be had and this year I wanted to make it a point to find these. On my second Dalhousie day I went back to the Tibetan crafts village and after watching a number of people weave incredibly intricate, colorful rugs I walked to the second floor of one of the buildings where I knew the prayer flags were made. There were a couple of dogs that I needed to get past and was able to call out to a man finishing a rug who called the dogs off and brought me into the prayer flag room.

The Prayer Flag Man spoke very good English and he had one very long prayer flag that I could purchase. I also asked him to make me a short prayer flag which he very willingly obliged, but prior to this he showed and told me exactly how prayer flags are made, how the mold is cut and the black dye is placed and then stamped onto the material. After paying he walked me through a short cut, the Tibetan School, and brought me to an area where I could easily walk home. (When I arrived home one of the servants who had taken me last year to find prayer flags, pointed me to the umbrella basket in the front hall of the house, where after pulling everything out, gave me a gigantic prayer flag). (All of the prayers flags are now hanging in my apartment as I’ve recreated a mini-Dalhousie, but unfortunately, without, the cooler temps).

There are about 800-900 Tibetans living in Dalhousie in a number of housing complexes. They always smiled warmly when they saw me and I printed many of the pictures that I took of them which brought even more joy to their faces. The Tibetans operate a store at the GPO, where the products made at the crafts village are sold, but there doesn’t seem to be much future for the younger generation. (I have a picture from my 2006 visit to India in the Tibetan Refugee Centre in Darjeeling in which an artist is working and in the dusty window, above her, there is a hand written message, “Save Tibet, Tibet is not part of China, U.N.O. we want justice”. Being in this village reminded me of this picture).

On Friday we drove to a path that led us to a walk to this incredible temple. We did this last year on a beautiful day and I have a video of a herd of goats on the path, with so many daisies populating the mountainsides, like the poppies in the Wizard of Oz. However, the weather was not that great this year as we walked up the path and by the time that we made it to the temple, the sky was dark and the clouds had rolled in so that the snow capped peaks, visible during the ascent, were now gone. We all pulled out our umbrellas on the descent and it must have been around 7 C or so. The Delhi oven may have been baking, but in Dalhousie there was only talk of the cold.

As in New England in the State, in Dalhousie the weather changes quickly and by 1:30 we were able to go onto a picnic with a number of friends. This picnic was no different than any that I’ve been to in the States. Of course, the food was different, but everything else seemed to be comparable. Once we arrived home I spent part of the time playing with two children and the legos. Although the two women watching us play, spoke no English, they seemed approving and one of them gave me a cup of chai and some crackers. The children seem to really like playing and understanding how to use the blocks. By 7 PM Friday night the wind was whipping and it started pouring, lightening and thundering. The storm was a wonder to watch and soon the power went out and all we could see were the lightening bolts.

I’ve had very vivid dreams since being here, I’ve dreamt about paper shopping bags, my mother shopping and monkeys taking over the kitchen, bats flying around and then biting my hand, with an inability to wake up until Anant woke me, and President Obama being asked to played basketball and appearing at a meeting in the Groton Town Hall, knowing me, but not knowing me.

The walks continue on a daily basis, strenuous, really getting my heart pumping. I like the walk back from GPO which is at about a 45 degree angle, as I pass a number of Tibetans who must live in the area. The area is somewhat urbanized, based on the people who summer here, but also maintains its rural feel, with cows kept in cow barns, fresh milk, butter and cream, herders leading their flocks to graze, Tibetan women dressed in traditional garb. It is and is not India, providing a glimpse of possibly what life used to be, but also a glimpse of what India has become.

Letter to President Obama

2010-06-16T09:26:00.001-07:00

President Barack Obama
White House
Washington, DC

Dear President Obama:

I’m an American citizen, a native Los Angeleno and life-long Lakers fan, living and working in New Delhi, India since March 2009. I’m hoping that when you make your visit to India in November I have the opportunity to meet you and your family and also would like to invite you to play basketball at the American Embassy School.

My name is Mike Rosenkrantz and I am a Voluntary Service Overseas (VSO) volunteer working for the National Trust, which is part of the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment-Government of India. We work specifically in the field of disability and have over 900 partner citizen’s organizations (NGOs) throughout the country. We provide funding for a number of programs and schemes designed to help those with disability to be empowered and live a full life.

This assignment has been perfect for me as I’ve worked my entire 25+ year career in local government, with citizen’s organizations and in farmers’ markets, which I know that you and your wife are very interested in, and which I thoroughly love. My job is that of capacity builder for our partners, providing workshops throughout India on subjects such as fundraising, strategic planning, grant writing, sustainability, communications and human resources. I’ve also been involved in developing and coordinating a disability awareness raising campaign throughout India called Badhte Kadam, or stepping forward. Mid-November 2010 will be the start of Badhte Kadam II. I am also a fundraising advisor to National Trust and have been successful in obtaining funds for Badhte Kadam, as well as working on a number of other proposals.

While in India my love for the game of basketball, which I’ve played for over 40 years has grown. I coach (volunteer) every Saturday night at the Delhi YMCA for young Indians between the ages of 8-30. I also play with an international group of people every Wednesday and Saturday at the American Embassy School. Since being in India I’ve made contact with the NBA and have met Troy Justice, who became the NBA Operations Manager for India this past March. As you might know the NBA is really going all out in promoting basketball in India and I’m doing my little part by teaching the game of basketball to about 30 people every week.

I live with an Indian family in West Delhi and have become integrated into Indian life, although I haven’t really been able to learn Hindi. While in India I’ve also, again as a volunteer, helped student community service programs at the American Embassy School, with planning. I do love India and would enjoy providing you with my perspectives, and of course, running a bit on the court with you.

I know that you will be incredibly busy while in India, but I would welcome the opportunity to meet you. I also want to let you know that you are doing an incredibly great job with the United States and I was so overjoyed when you were elected President!

Sincerely,

Michael J. Rosenkrantz,
Organizational Capacity Builder/Fundraising Advisor
National Trust-Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment
Government of India

The art of simple

2010-05-29T23:52:00.000-07:00

This morning as I took a cold shower for the second day in a row, I thought, “a small thing, but something that makes me really happy”. As many of my VSO friends can attest, after baking in the heat all day, the water tanks on the top of many Indian roofs ensure that all house water is heated. This is not very positive during the summer. (Of course, during the winter the opposite is true). Typically when I take multiple showers in the evening, the first two seconds are cold and after that, it’s fairly hot. But for the past two days, although it is still hot, it has been somewhat cloudy in Delhi, leading to a more positive shower condition, i.e. PSC.

I’m reminded of this as a relative of mine was recently complaining on their FB page that they didn’t have hot water in their house. I’ve realized through my own Indian experience and reading about those of other vols, how much we’ve all adapted to existing conditions, i.e. AEC.

Other simple things that I’ve come to appreciate are:

• Electricity, especially when it is a hot Delhi evening and I can’t run my a/c, power outages are numerous even though the Delhi government said that there would be no black outs this summer;
• Indoor toilet/plumbing, when I literally see so many who don’t have any indoor plumbing;
• A great apartment, when I see so many who sleep in a one room, windowless hovels or in very makeshift tents, (I often see people in a space one day and then someone else the next) never escaping the heat;
• Being able to download as much music as I want, when so many don’t have any access to internet and when they do don’t really know how to use it;
• Litter free environment in my home, when it is common practice to just throw garbage any and everywhere. I’ve been on a kick to remind people not to litter and last night I made my basketball “children” take an oath not to litter. I’ve also started doing this in my capacity building workshops. (I do however, throw my organic waste out my balcony every day, hoping to compost and grow something, although I think the stray dogs eat the waste every night).
• A few raindrops and a breeze, which are often non-existent in Delhi;
• Smiles from most people that I see and a request to take a picture of them, when so many, including my “tailor”, are constantly working and never seem to stop;
• A good job with lots of work, when so many, seemingly having jobs, but are doing nothing more than sitting all day and doing mindless, waiting, maybe selling fruit/veggies, or having to work construction in the Delhi heat for a few rupees a day;
• Skyping and Facebooking to keep me in touch with loved ones, when so many leave their villages and homes for work and see their family once a year, even though they are married and have children, but have to do this in order to survive;
• Being able to blog about sports, when so many don’t have the free time to do anything more than survive;
• Having clothing, even though most of my underwear is full of holes, when so many have one maybe two, if that many, sets of clothing;
• Being able to wash my clothes in a tub in my bathroom, even though many have to wash their clothes in the street and hang it wherever they can to dry;
• Having, food every day, when so many are begging for a few rupees to have some roti, some dal;
• Sweet children in my home, who treat me as a playmate, when so many have only dirt and garbage to play in.

India is an amazing country and I’m constantly reminding Indians about this, which may be somewhat arrogant of me. India is also a country in constant struggle, at times, making me wonder how it could really ever be a superpower. Health and safety, e.g. five people riding a motorcycle, only with the driver wearing a helmet, driving however and wherever a person would like, men urinating every and anywhere. India has, however, made me realize that living on 18,000 rupees/month. Less than $400, in a fairly comfortable lifestyle is not so impossible. This country has made me realize how to do more with less.

I remember my former spouse reading some book about living a simpler, more with less, life. I think that I can say that I’m starting to understand this. When I do eventually make my back to the US for a visit, please have lots of patience with me as I expect that I might be somewhat less than empathetic when I hear that one is without hot water for a day or a week. At times like this I do understand what it is like to live in another culture, LiAC.

“Beware of Pickpockets in the train and station areas.”

2010-05-25T22:15:00.000-07:00

“Beware of Pickpockets in the train and station areas.” How many times have I heard this woman’s voice with an English accent while taking the metro? Well at least enough times to be aware, but not really.

Another Monday (May 24, 2010) going to the dentist. It seems that my US fillings are all starting to have cracks in India, part of that may be the heavy diet leaning towards sugar and my craving for sweets. I don’t eat a lot of candy, but the chai, and everything else has enough sugar to make one’s teeth ache.

This morning after my walk, I took the bus and paid my five rupees out of a ten rupee note and put my wallet back into my cargo pants, in the lower pocket. I thought I should button this up, but since I usually don’t I didn’t.

I got onto the metro, took my usual 12 stops and went to the office, dropped off my laptop, saw that the Dodgers and Lakers had lost, and went back to the metro to go the dentist in Hauz Kaus. The metro was very crowded when I got on, given that it was 10 AM, prime rush hour. I didn’t take much notice, squeezed on and got off at Central Secretariat. I then boarded a rickshaw. The excitement began when we got to the dentist and as I reached for my wallet it wasn’t there! I’m sure that the rickshaw driver thought that I was crazy as I started feeling and looking around everywhere.
OK, so I had 5 rupees in my pocket and no wallet. I walked into the dentist and asked to borrow 60 rupees, which she gladly gave me and proceeded to make some calls, to my office, can I get an advance, please cancel my bank card, to VSO, they offered to give me an advance.

People were very helpful and then I walked into the dental lair where she proceeded to take out two fillings, one with novocaine and one without. (My teeth on the left side of my mouth have been filling the extreme coldness that a popsicle brings) As the drilling commenced I thought about the movie the Marathon Man and how Dustin Hoffman fared without any anesthesia. I felt a bit feint in the dental seat, so we stopped for a moment and then we cemented the relationship. I’ll be back on June 21 to put in the final bit of silver.

The day went on, I felt pretty down, plus there were the usual things that happen in any office, but they were made more difficult by how I was feeling.

After work I went and reported the loss to the Metro Manager at Karol Bagh who told me to see the Metro Police at Raja Garden. I was told that they were in back of the metro station behind a parking lot. There is a large sign indicating the Metro Police but as I walked straight all that I saw were a group of young men and a large mess area. They told me to go to my left. I walked into the metro police, a room with a number of men, none in any kind of uniforms. I told them my story and they said you must write it down.

They gave me two pieces of paper, inserted a carbon in between and stuck it all together with some pins, so that it wouldn’t all blow away due to the fans. There was no pen in sight and they went to find one. I wrote one page, then we flipped over the paper and carbon and I wrote the second page. After reading my statement the officer told me that I should rewrite this. They went off to find some more paper and I abbreviated my thoughts. They gave me some chai and told me to come back tomorrow, to pick up a typed copy, which I have done. There was only one typo, not bad.

Yes, I lost money, rupees, dollars, credit and bank cards, rupees that I had saved from 2006 the last time that I was in India, pictures.

It’s very disheartening, when I think about the reasons as to why I came to India and what I’m doing. I know that there are people who are desperate, less well off, and this is framed for me every day that I’m here. I also know that I stand out on some level maybe I’m targeted by people in both positive and negative ways.

The phrase “what to do” comes into play at times like this. Things can be very frustrating and this is one of those times when I’m feeling this. Often I’m able to shrug things off, but right now, I’m not able to. The cultural differences stand out for me and that becomes difficult. I know that I’ll get over it, but for now, it’s not that easy.

National Trust Capacity Building Workshop-Gwalior or “Make sure that you have a large enough bed sheet so that your feet don’t stick out”

2010-05-16T06:42:00.000-07:00

As I talked about strategic planning goals in my Gwalior capacity building workshop, I said to the “audience”, there is an expression in English about not “biting off more than you can chew”, have you heard of this? As this expression was translated into Hindi and then back to me in English I was told, “Make sure that you have a large enough bed sheet so that your feet don’t stick out”.

From May 10-12, Gwalior, MP is the site of my most recent workshop. A community of one million people, I’m told, about 350 km south of Delhi. I arrived on Sunday to scorching heat. From the train station, I was whisked off to a guest house at a sports university and of course one of the first things that I noticed were the basketball courts! .I saw the incredible Gwalior Fort which I would go on to see again on Tuesday evening for a more thorough investigation, including a sound, in Hindi, and light show with a group of people from the strategic planning workshop that I was conducting. Simply amazing the things that one can see in India! I recommend touring this 1400 year old Fort, carved out of a mountain, that has, like anything this old, quite a unique history. (The Mansingh Palace built much later, is over 500 years old and included a “telephone” system, a swimming pool in the basement, later turned into a jail and torture chamber, and a system for cooling off rooms).

I’m loving facilitating workshops as I become so engrossed in the art of presentation. My family includes many fine performers-sister Robyn, daughter Sarah, brother-in-law Michael, who are musicians, movie makers, dancers, singers, actors, etc. My “stage” however is built on in presenting information about strategic or fundraising planning , writing a grant proposal and staff development and retention. One doesn’t hear much about these types of “performances” on the stage, but in fact, giving a presentation, which relies keenly on “audience” participation, is my way of being an artist.

I sing some and also dance a little, but I’m more of a dramatic comedian, in which, I use very silly humor, and perfect Indian soap opera drama, always making strange faces. For instance, I can take out a “holi” fish “gun” and squirt the “audience” when they aren’t listening to the speaker, and they actually smile and want more. (Of course, when you’re “performing” in a room which is 95 F or 42 C, people always do want more). I can try to say Hindi words in which everyone cracks up, because no matter how much I think that I’m repeating what people tell me, I’m apparently not, and I can lead Bollywood dancing, which I know very little about, while standing on a chair. All the while, the “audience” is laughing.

I can also talk basketball, my love for the game and how it come to represent my life. About how there is no benefit in being a point guard and looking down while dribbling, because if I do I can’t see the entire court and am not “performing” my job. Just like if people in organizations don’t have their heads up in order to see the entire playing field they’re bound to miss out on opportunities. I can teach yoga, the lion, which is actually how I teach people at the YMCA how to play defense, while everyone is laughing, but also staying awake after lunch.

The main thing is that people do understand the components of a strategic plan while drawing silly looking people, using a head to represent a goal, the body to represent an objective and the appendages to represent the strategies and activities. They are understanding how a vision and mission and that silly looking person that they’ve just drawn, all fits together and they are able to develop a “roadmap” for their organisation, including all of their stakeholders in this process. They also are now able to facilitate a strategic planning process.

I can talk about how important it is to develop relationships in successful fundraising and point out resources galore. I can also talk about how in India, people generally just throw their garbage on the ground, even in historic forts, and after pointing this out, get everyone to make a commitment not to liter and remind others that they shouldn’t be littering either.

On many levels “performing” is not being afraid to put oneself out in public and to also truly be in one’s body, knowing full well what you’re doing. I find that I can think very clearly as I take my time, choose my words and make my points. I’ve been fortunate in having very good translators to help me with this, for without them, my words would be empty shells, with the “audience” just glazing over. I also feel fortunate in being able to just be silly, while at the same time building capacity in individuals so that they can build capacity in their organizations. I know that I’m building capacity as I start to become part of the “audience” because they are now becoming the “performers”.

On some level, as volunteers or “foreigners”, we are treated as “celebrities” as “stars”. After all, we might be the only non-Indians for many, many kilometers. I am called “sir” a lot and people open car doors for me, want to ensure that I’ve had plenty of water to drink, make sure that I’ve had a good dinner, etc. Today, at the end of the strategic planning session, a few people asked me for my autograph!

I know that on many levels, I’ve found a niche in life that I truly enjoy. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher and am getting to do this, at the Delhi YMCA teaching basketball, through capacity building workshops and through just being a “foreigner”. Today, I know that I’m helping to make a difference in some lives, as a few people in the “audience” told me that they’ve learned strategic planning in school, but didn’t really know how to apply the theory to practice until now. Ultimately this is the type of “performer” that I want to be, helping to “touch” other lives and having them “touch” my life.

At the end of the day today while I was still in the Central Park hotel, the venue for the workshop, I ate a piece of good, old apple pie and it tasted just like something that I could get from “home”. Because, at least for today I was “home”, and although I was full that apple pie tasted damn good!

Check out pics on FB!

Death and Life

2010-04-25T20:58:00.000-07:00

I’ve been thinking about my sister Deanne who was born on February 22, 1959 and died on April 15, 1984. I see her quite a bit in the young Indian women that I notice throughout Delhi, as Deanne’s skin was dark, something like my Uncle Alan. I remember her through my son Daniel, named after Deanne, and who, like her, is a very kind person. (In the Jewish religion we only name people after those who are deceased).

I guess that we all go through this thinking or feeling about those that we’ve known and who are no longer here, at least physically. Still 26 years later, I can still feel the pain, and a sense of loss, when I let myself feel it, when I delve deeply into my inner life. It’s not something that is with me all of the time which is fine and would tend to make me unable to live my life, but it lies there. A choice on my part? Maybe, but a part of my life.

Daniel, my dear son, will be turning 25 on May 15 and will be entering the postulate at Self-Realization Fellowship in July. This means that he will be on the road to becoming a monk. http://www.yogananda-srf.org/tmp/about.aspx?id=64&ekmensel=568fab5c_115_117_btnlink. This is an amazing thing to me. Recently my parents visited Daniel at the Hidden Valley Ashram and they planted a tree for Deanne, a very touching action.

What does it mean that Daniel will become a spiritual figure in my family? Well, of course in my family, one thinks of rabbi’s, but no that’s not what is happening here. SRF is more about the larger world, i.e. the spiritual world and takes its teachings from a number of religions. I’m reading a book about the founder, Yogananda, perspectives from his brother, in order to try to understand further. I try not to be overly dogmatic in my spiritual practices, see the rationale in most religious practices, realistically view the contradictions when one tries to practice what is in religious books.

Daniel’s training will require that he is cut off from the outside world for a period of time. A two year training, with the first six months consisting of no outside contact. My sister Robyn was recently trying her best to explain this to me-one must go deep to really get in touch with one’s inner life and great artists all do this kind of thing. Yes, I can understand this on some level. Daniel is happy and hopefully will only become happier in life. What more can a parent ask for?

With feelings though there are always so many levels. As a parent with a really good relationship with Daniel, I want to maintain our contact, even though it may only be once/week, which is about what is happening now due to Daniel having limited e-mail access at the Hidden Valley Ashram. I’m told that this is not possible.

Yes, I suppose that a large part of this is about letting go. I’ve thought quite a bit about saying “my” when it comes to one’s children, because there is no “my”. I don’t want to possess another human being and I do want “my” children to be independent and find their own paths and both seemingly have at a very young age. (It’s funny for me to contrast this with the conversations that I’ve had with young adults in India and how involved parents tend to be). (I think that part of this is also letting go of how I was treated as a young adult and the inability, on some level, for my parents to let go resulting in me forcing the issue, but ultimately changing the way that I interacted with my parents, which has been positive). But, yet it is still difficult and I feel this deeply.

Ultimately, this will all work out, I have no doubts about that, because there is no other way. I feel as if I have given both Daniel and Sarah a good value base, that I’ve shown by example what it means to live in the world. I think in large part due to my divorce, both Dan and Sarah have been able to find themselves. I think that on some level they were forced to take paths that they wouldn’t have chosen otherwise, this being self-explanatory.

In the moment then, I can continue to have e-mail conversations with Daniel through July when he starts his “work”. In six months, in January, we will again hopefully be able to resume some contact, and we will both be different, certainly Daniel will be. But, maybe that’s part of the issue as well. It is indeed something to look forward to.

The NBA come to India (and the YMCA)

2010-03-27T21:38:00.000-07:00

Last night, right before I started coaching, Troy Justice, the new Director of Basketball Operations in India, came up and said hello. (Troy is a former athletic director as well as the former coach for Athletes in Action) As you can imagine when I saw him approaching me, I knew that it was Troy, as we had become Facebook friends. Troy, with a huge smile, shook my hand and gave me an official NBA cap. We talked for a few minutes and then I started coaching, a bit nervous with Troy there. Troy stayed until 7 PM, talking with a local coach, the person that I coach Saturday nights with and the father of one of the children who at 11 years old is 5'11", a young girl. Before Troy left he came out onto the court and said hello to all of the children and told them that he would come back to do some drills. Troy is off to Mumbai as the NBA is starting a new league http://www.nba.com/india/mahindra/index.html, in a select number of cities.

After Troy left and I was talking to the children, I told them how excited I was and how excited they might be, on the ground floor of the NBA coming to India. Last week I had told the children that the NBA is coming and this week they actually saw it. The magic of India continue for me and I feel chills throughout my body as I write this.

What I saw/heard this morning

2010-03-22T22:25:00.000-07:00

7 AM-Alarm goes off
7:03-Call from Anil, we have a new baby boy in the house born at 3:30 AM
7:30-On balcony, lots of children running around on the street, apparently girl children are treated as goddesses and get presents and money today.
8:10-During my usual walk to the bus see lots of piglets in the totally dirty stream area.
8:11-See some holy men dressed in orange with a number of large monkeys sitting next to them, all eating together.
8:40-On metro-see one woman twirling a finger in her nose, not so unusual, a man with a big butt, jamming it next to some passengers so that he can get a seat.

Just Thinking

2010-03-21T04:04:00.000-07:00

Sitting on the train to Delhi from Kolkata. It’s still in Howrah Station and we have at least a 25 minute wait. I was in Kolkata visiting Onkar, who is continuing to have a rough time at work and therefore his life. When the time comes and he can get out of what he is doing, he may once again be the lovely person who I befriended 28 years ago. But for now, times are tough. Myna, Onky’s wife, has been a beacon of strength. She stands pat, not wavering.

I’ve been spending the past two weeks in somewhat luxurious style, first in Puri and then in Kolkata. (The army just walked by in force with a bomb sniffing dog).

In Puri VSO held its annual Program Area Review (PAR). The hotel was lovely and I shared a room with Len, which, of course was very good. There was a pool, a work out room, a beach, good food, a shower with hot water.

A fishing village, close by, where people used the sea as a toilet, was where I got nipped by a dog. I’m not entirely certain why this dog nipped me, but it did break the skin on my left leg. As the children and one adult informed me through sign language, I needed to get a shot. I proceeded to the local hospital, l with Len by my side, and received both a tetanus and a rabies shot. The cost to enter the hospital was 1 rupee and the medicine, including the syringe, etc., was about 350 rupees. Not expensive for me, even on a volunteer’s wages, but expensive for those living on the street. (I ended up getting one more shot three days later as part of the rabies regimen).

I’m very much enamored by the fishing villages in India, but as I approached this one I noticed men squatting and pooping. There seemed to be little regard for people looking on or for polluting the ocean. It was just the way that it was. Fresh fish coming to shore and fresh excrement leaving the shore a perfect ebb and flow.

Upon leaving Puri, Len and I jumped on a train to Kolkata. My ticket was RAC which meant that I had to share my space with another person. We bought Len’s ticket at the station, a general admission, kind of thing, and I told her just to come and stay with me. Sure enough others showed up and we convinced the conducted to let us both sleep together on the lower berth. We went to sleep around 11:30 PM and were awoken by the conductor at 3 AM asking for the remainder of the fare, which we gladly paid and returned back to sleep. (I’m sitting facing another person at the moment and there is not enough space. He is scratching his foot, dreadfully close to my laptop and hopefully no flakes will fly off. Of course, who knows what kinds of things are already brewing inside of my laptop).

Arrival in Kolkata took place on-time around 8 AM and there Len, Jim, another vol and I stood waiting to be picked up. The driver was close, very close, but it took us almost an hour to finally find him.

Onkar’s home is very beautiful, full of art, due to Myna’s business, and servants due to the Kakar status. There is a cook and his wife, another servant, a sweeper, quite hunched over, a driver, other people who open the gate, a shared expense, a gardener. One person made our bed, brought us water in the evenings, nimboo pani, tea, served us dinner. At the meals table, a bell is rung to call the servants. It’s nice, and one can become quite accustomed to this.

People waiting on others, serves many purposes, economic mainly I would guess. While staying at Onky’s I went to a few people’s homes and they all had servants, just goes with this class of people. It’s expected, it’s part of the fabric and probably many earn some kind of living from this type of work. I don’t really know anybody in the States, or for that matter, elsewhere, who have servants.

I know that I really love being in a foreign environment, probably has to do with my curiosity, my wanting to see things. In the movie Avatar, there was this thing about really seeing the others and things in the world. Maybe it’s the same kind of thing, but I’m always looking, maybe to the point of appearing somewhat disconnected or spacey. I know this about myself, I like to see, those little things that are there, but not always apparent. I suppose that I could look for these kinds of things in the US, but, on some level I know what they are. I don’t know that I’ve looked for the surprises though, at least on a regular basis.

Take for instance my parent’s “retirement community”. It’s the same thing, everyday, the weather, the pool, the what shall we have for dinner. Maybe it’s the same whenever one is in the same environment for a period of time. I don’t know, when I was staying with my parents, if I truly looked at things. Don’t get me wrong, because in India there is somewhat of a sameness, I mean there’s dirt almost everywhere, I don’t know that communities all look that different, there is that kind of Indian look to things. But there still remain surprises, but it may just be my state of mind, wanting to see more.

I think that I could make a career of this, i.e. living overseas, as a volunteer. I could also get an overseas job, however I do enjoy the freedom. Even though I’m working for the Indian government I do feel as if I have a lot of freedom to somewhat decide how I do my job. One doesn’t need that much money to live on, but there are the trade offs, not seeing friends and family as often, having people come and go like we’re in Oz. I do miss those connections and it’s not the same through Skype, but I wonder if I can go back.

But maybe it’s not going back because I haven’t been there yet. There would be some type of newness as to how I approach things just because of this experience, but there would be the sameness of just being with Americans. Yes, the US is a diverse country and I suppose that I could live in a large city, but then I would need more money to live on. What to do?

In reality I need to keep feeling what is right for me and then channel my energy towards that. Sitting with this can be somewhat uncomfortable. I could settle for the sameness, but that makes me grimace. I just don’t think so.

Southern India/Back in Delhi

2010-02-20T19:59:00.000-08:00

It has been so long since my last post. I continue to enjoy the magical moments which happen quite frequently for me in India. I wouldn’t trade this past year for anything.

I spent December 31-Feb. 8 in southern India in the cities of Chennai, Bangalore, Thrissur, Cochin and Pondicherry. I did four capacity building workshops and was able to go to a number of organisations to view first hand the great work that is occurring throughout India. Very memorable for me will be the two nights that I spent at Baby Sarah’s Home in Pondicherry, an orphanage for 107 children, some disabled. This was pure magic with the children showing so much love towards one another. My hosts for all of the workshops were just wonderful treating me with so much kindness. There was the stay at Indian Social Institute in Bangalore, the visits to the Spastics Society of Karnataka and KPAMRC, the stop off in Combiotore to look at a potential ARUNIM project, the incredible hotels in Thrissur and Pondicherry, the elephant Park, the joy of spending time with Len in Ft. Cochi, the one evening where I got sick when we came back from Mamallapurm and the incredible markets in Chennai. The surprise of being the Guest of Honor at a swim meet in Chennai, the fun of hooking up some people to build a basketball court, seeing a court paid for by the NBA and meeting with the Commissioner of Agriculture Marketing in Tamil Nadu to discuss farmers markets, all added to the fun. All that I love, including dosas I found in the south.

I have found love in India with another volunteer, Len, who is from the Philippines and lives in Chennai. Len and I first met in July at a restaurant, with other newly arrived volunteers. I thought that she was shy and we really didn’t get to speak, although we were sitting across from one another. A few weeks later there was another get together of volunteers and I talked to Len for some time, but thought not too much about this until she sent her phone number to me through an SMS. Being one to take advantage of opportunities, I called and we started talking. In mid-August before Len left for Chennai we spent a good amount of time together, flying kites on Independence Day, and through the magic of Skype and cell phones we grew closer and realized that there was love between us. The time that I spent in the south was a time to realize love and to grow closer to one another. That initial excitement is maturing into something more which feels good.

My friend David recently visited from the UK and this provided me with another opportunity to show “my” world to a good friend. David hopes to come back and I certainly will welcome him with open arms.

My work continues to intrigue and interest me. There is always so much to do and at times things seem so very scattered. A new Deputy Director of Administration began his job this past week. I was asked to sit through an interview for a volunteer fundraiser position. The entire interviewing process is so very different then what I’ve experienced. I would definitely change the process if I was asked to do so, but given that I haven’t been, I can only provide my observations, which I’ve done. I do provide many observations and ideas to my bosses, but ultimately it is up to them as to which things I follow through with. At this point, they want me to focus on fundraising for Badhte Kadam II, and a new building, develop Badhte Kadam II which starts next week with a presentation to our State Nodal Agency Centres (SNACs), continue working with ARUNIM to develop their Strategic Plan, continue to help facilitate an India wide fundraising network and numerous other projects that I’m sure will develop. My colleague from Scotland, Allan, will be leaving March 19, so I may very well pick up some of his work. As I say quite a bit recently, “Let’s see”.

India continues to be a place of great contrasts for me. I see the dire poverty everyday as I go to work, but also the wealth. By poverty I mean the children that are half clothed, living in a room with countless brothers and sisters and other relatives, with no sanitary facilities. Tents everywhere which are people’s only piece of shelter, but which don’t provide shelter from the biting cold or oven like heat. It’s very difficult for me to see on a daily basis and I haven’t come to the point where I just ignore this part of the landscape.

When David visited we spent some time with Onkar’s relatives, people who I will always treasure. They definitely have some wealth, a few servants and such. It is always a pleasure for me to go there and this time they treated me immediately, without even asking, with a glass of fresh lime-sweet. But it is also a very different kind of experience for me as my life is based on 17,000 rupees/month. I’m not complaining in any sense because this amount is enough for me. I can even do some travelling and I live in a very middle class home. It is just a different feeling, which I have to admit that I’m quite comfortable with.

I’ll never truly know what it is like to be financially poor-I own a house, have some retirement, a bit of a savings account and “stuff”. You can see it in people’s faces when they’re “poor”, but one can also, unexpectedly see many smiles. It is even as simple as the children, half clothed, see me and just want their pictures taken. “Uncle, uncle, photo, photo” they say to me as the little ones are carrying even smaller ones. All of their mothers look beautiful in their brightly colored saris. In some sense it’s not about wealth in my sense, it’s more about a happiness of just being.

I keep needing to have more, downloading music and movies, wanting to ensure that I’m making a difference. It’s a world away from the just being. I’ve been feeling that I cannot do enough here, as I continue to see so much need, things that maybe could change from the visa office to my job, to how people treat one another. Len has said to me that at times I sound quite arrogant. As I witness this in others I can identify with what she says. I certainly don’t know what is “right”, at times I’m not sure what is “right” for me. (It’s a little thing such as when I saw some young men littering and I told them to stop. They laughed at me and continued to litter. It was the way that I “told” them, instead of talking to them).

Today on the b-ball court, first time playing after two months which my body is now feeling, I witnessed an altercation. Stupid stuff, but I understood, as I can also get caught up in the heat of the moment. I turned to another player and said no wonder the world is so messed up. For me this is so very true, this thing about how “my world” is the way that it should be. Yes, it’s more complicated than that, but it most likely does come down to this simple statement. I want to be more aware of this, because the words and how we say things does matter. It’s also open to other’s interpretation of what we say from their own world perspective.

I do continue to learn, everyday, from the people who I come into contact with. It is a blessing for me and sometimes I learn and sometimes I don’t. But, thank goodness that I now have someone who cares enough about my character to tell me that I am, at times, arrogant.

I wonder what will happen over the next year. It remains very much an open book and I will do my best to just go with it!

Globalization?

2009-12-14T23:06:00.000-08:00

I’m in Ludhiana after being in Chandigarh for a number of days. I’m doing more workshops, refining, doing my best to help others, to build capacity in their organisations. It’s slow work and people get it, but will they carry it through or just learn and then leave behind their learnings? What more can I do to help? I give it my all everyday, until I’m exhausted. I can do it for them, but what good is that as it won’t last if there is no buy-in and people don’t make the ideas their own.

I realize more and more how important “fish” (http://www.charthouse.com/content.aspx?name=home2) is and want to keep teaching it and also realize that I must treat others the way in which I want to be treated. I was a little put off tonight, only my ego, as my host excused me to the Parker House, where I’m staying and said that I could eat dinner there. (I realized after later conversation that the degree of interaction may be something that was not expected. I ended up eating breakfast and lunch at my host’s and became friends with my host’s children. It was all wonderful and is more about building relationships than anything else, as we all have our own ways of doing this). But this place wasn’t really for me. On a college campus PAU and the room has a big water splotch on one of the walls. I walked in the canteen today, but it didn’t look that appetizing either.

As I walked in downtown Ludhiana I came upon a pretty good Indian restaurant, and after eating I decided to walk a bit to see more of this town. I’ve been told that there is nothing to see in Ludhiana and it appears that this may be the truth.

I walked to a mall and there I saw a McD’s, a KFC and a Baskin Robbins. I walked into the mall and it was like any other mall, anywhere, nothing Indian about it. To some extent this is depressing to me, as India loses its identity in becoming modern. It’s about globalization and the ability to turn people into consumers of products that have no special value, except that they are enjoyed in the “west”. I have to say that I did go into a McDonalds’s with my hosts in Chandigarh, Capt. Kohli and his wife Dr. Kohli, but they were the ones who wanted to eat there for a light snack. I had a veggie burger, fries and a soda for 85 rupees, ok so I can’t get this in the US and it was tasty.

The point and sadness for me is seeing the Golden Arches and Col. Saunders in a place where they should never have been invited, where they should have been stopped at the border. It takes away from the magic of India. It’s anywhere USA, the middle of nowhere, but yet it’s in Ludhiana and Chandigarh. It’s globalization at its worse, no exceptions. Young and middle class Indians “enjoying” the “best” (worst) of what I grew up with.

I’m not really sure how to deal with this part of globalization. Yes it creates some jobs and hopefully teaches something about customer service, which is something that is important in India, but it also somehow makes the landscape much uglier than it might be.

One might argue that the location of these restaurants, mainly in malls, brightens things up and that these areas are neat and clean, something that one doesn’t find much of, except in the most plush places. (Chandigarh was quite an exception to this, a clean, somewhat green city. It was a welcome contrast to Delhi and most of the other cities that I’ve visited. People even seemed to drive with some civility). But it also creates plasticity, the homogeneity, which makes the west, less alive and uninteresting, with some exceptions.

Like the dire poverty that is so omnipresent, and one really can’t do much about, the further coming of globalization and it’s sameness is something that most likely can’t be stopped unless developing countries governments put a stop sign up. But is any government going to stop a McD’s or KFC from coming to their country? I haven’t seen a Wal*Mart yet, but who will stop them from coming once they start digging in adn finding markets for their products. As the superstore occurs in developing countries and people’s ways of shopping change this will continue to destroy the magic that is so prevalent.

I do suppose that even the cows will be moved out of Delhi at some point. But then again maybe not.

Badhte Kadam

2009-12-13T01:10:00.001-08:00

Badhte Kadam

“The winds dance in their own path,
Clouds give rain wherever they want
We will also choose our own path
We will take steps forward all together

We have been born on earth
And we are not less than anyone
We agree we have a disability
But we are still a part of this society

Everyone only sees our disability
They have to understand our likes and dislikes
Make plans for us
Only when you understand what we have on our mind

To stay alive we need food, clothes and a house
To really live we need Rights, Trust and Dignity

We need your help to increase our strength
We want the friendship of friends to take our journey forward.”

Badhte Kadam Theme Song as translated from the Hindi by NT Chairperson Poonam Natarajan

As I sat in my apartment on November 14, 2009 listening to the beautiful theme song of Badhte Kadam, my eyes filled with tears and I sobbed as I felt throughout my entire body all of the work and effort that had gone into the process of coordinating/facilitating this major awareness raising campaign throughout India.

The four teams of six volunteers, two drivers and two cars, loaded with so many pounds of awareness materials that they made the 12 seat Tempo Travelers tilt backwards, had just left hours earlier from the Youth Hostel in Delhi. I spent the evening of November 13 at the Youth Hostel with our volunteers waiting for the morning when all of our months of planning would come to fruition and the teams would leave on their journeys to each visit 15 National Trust partners for a total of 60 throughout the states of Haryana, Himachal Pradesh, Uttarakhand, Madhya Pradesh, Chattisgarh, Bihar, Jharkhand, Orissa, UP, Rajasthan, Gujarat, Maharashtra, Punjab. Given the fact that there were two cars on each route this would translate into well over 20,000 km covered throughout India.

But let’s back up to how this all started. It has been very interesting for me to read articles in the VSO India newsletter, to reflect and to know what other volunteers are going through, as my story is somewhat similar.

As I arrived in mid-April at my job with the National Trust (NT), I was eager to help out in any way that I could. I felt that due to the fact that NT had previously not had any international volunteers, that it was important to make a great impression. I would be willing to take on a number of tasks to show how volunteers could truly make an impact as well as a difference.

In discussing possible assignments with my bosses, Poonam Natarajan and Atul Prasad, Badhte Kadam was brought to my attention. With my usual enthusiasm (and some naïveté) I said, “of course I’ll work on this”. Never mind the fact that this project had been thought of over a year ago, but had stalled due to numerous reasons and the fact that I didn’t speak Hindi, I was going to do it. I thought, collaboration no matter where one does it, is possible because people do want to work together towards common goals and be part of something that would have such a large reach.

I met with a couple of people to find out about the background of Badhte Kadam and from this we developed a committee consisting of other volunteers, professionals working in the disability area, and some staff to implement the project. I knew going in that we had a very short planning timeframe as the programme was to be implemented in mid-November in time for completion by World Disability Day on December 3. This gave us less than six months to plan an event that involved coordinating with 60 partners throughout India, some with e-mail, and some that didn’t open their e-mails, some that didn’t speak English and some that didn’t answer their phones, finding 24 volunteers through a national search, having a project budget adopted by the NT board, designing and ordering a myriad of materials, reaching consensus on the part of a number of people, all of whom were extremely busy and doing a project outside of the proverbial “box”.

My initial reaction was to “start small”, do two routes and have some success that we could build on. But, we needed to head north, south, east and west and so four routes were planned. “No problem.” These are words that I’ve become used to and probably even dreamt about on occasion. Of course, no problem, as nothing was considered to be too large or unreachable.

As the coordinator/facilitator I was given the responsibility of bringing people together and chairing meetings. I thought how funny, the guy who says “Mei thodi Hindi bolta hoo, lekin mei sikraha hoo, (I speak a little Hindi, but I’m learning) is chairing meetings. Indians who speak English don’t even understand what I’m saying because of my California accent, which I thought never existed, and when I said Badhte Kadam, people would say what, and then say oh, Badhte Kadam. I would of course reply with isn’t that what I said and they would just smile. Unofficially I started calling this event BK, which everyone understood, and seemed to catch on with those connected with this project.

I would do my usual thing, build relationships, send out lots of e-mails and constantly communicate, hold regularly scheduled, well-timed meetings, be persistent and this would all come together. At times during meetings, I was able to get people to turn off their cell phones, which is not an easy task, and had only one person talking at a time, as I banged my fists on the table with the approval of my bosses, who would laughingly smile.

We got off to a great start-set our mission: To raise awareness of the disability sector and National Trust and established goals: (1) provide information on the UNCRPD-Human Rights Model, (2) provide understanding of NT focused disabilities, and (3) celebrating diversity. We established committees: press, budget, NGO, volunteer recruitment, materials and programme.

Things were moving forward and I felt, “yes, we don’t have a lot of time, but we’ll do it”. But, I’d set a meeting at a certain start time, and less people started coming and when they did arrive, they were typically late. I countered with I’m going to start on time, but would at times find myself in the conference room by myself, saying ok 10 more minutes and then I’m leaving. I had to constantly cajole the staff to come to meetings and even they wouldn’t necessarily arrive on time. Additionally, only a few committees were meeting on a regular basis.

OK, ok so we still had this huge task and it was going to happen. A super professional, a volunteer named Chitra Vasudevan, really stepped up her efforts and things were moving. Atul directed staff to make things happen and again we were moving. We were able to choose the 24 volunteers from about 100 applicants, we did a bit of training for some of our partners at our Annual General Meeting (AGM) in August and things looked better.

But again fewer people were attending meetings and the staff were busy doing their regular jobs. Chitra came in with Gantt Charts and Mind Maps laying out specifically what each committee needed to do and somehow we kept things flowing and Poonam focused on the mobile exhibition, which was her brainchild. This exhibit, featured 25 posters, including some pictures that I had taken at some of our partner NGOs, told about the UNCRPD and how we needed to change the way in which we viewed the “disabled” population.

We worked with Epistle Solutions, a group of three men focused on media and design. We had previously worked with them in designing our “corporate branding” which was voted on by staff and which is now featured on all NT publications. This small group is very talented and creative and they designed the BK logo, bags and mobile exhibition posters. They worked, what seemed to me like, 24 hours a day for eternity on our project. I would call Aditya, the Epistle owner, at many different times and while I waited to talk to him, what sounded to me like a country song would play. I thought, who is this guy listening to. As it turned out it was Elvis Presley as Aditya is a huge Elvis fan.

I continued to send out e-mails in hopes that people would attend our meetings. Shekhar Borker, one of our board members, was someone who came to our rescue with numerous ideas, always in attendance, always on time, always with a smile.

Of course, there was also Chitra working day and night. Chitra, a very bright woman with a corporate background, full of so much talent, really kept things on track. I was at a disadvantage as I tried to cajole our NGOs and volunteers to respond to my e-mails, some did, but many didn’t understand what I was trying to say. As an example I used ASAP in one of my e-mails to our volunteers. Chitra told me that people had no idea what I was talking about. Assumptions, hmmm.. Chitra would make so many calls from her cell getting the NGOs and volunteers to commit. We had some help from Alok and Rohit, who screened the potential volunteers by phone.

But even this was difficult as people would commit to being volunteers and then drop out. We went through so many permutations of volunteers with Chitra and I now talking daily on Skype in the evenings. At the very last minute, the day before the orientation training was to start; we came up with our 24th volunteer, a young man from Delhi named Vikram, who had never been out of the City. One of the staff also joined as a volunteer and we were up to 25.

The NGOs were all supposed to provide me with a “mela” or programme plan by October 1. We used the carrot of providing 10000 rupees once we heard from the NGOs. October 1 came and went with only a few of the NGOs telling me what they were going to do. It seemed that everyday I was trying to obtain these plans, but planning is not something that is well integrated into citizen’s organisation (NGO) culture, with last minute doing being the modus operandi. This is not always negative, but being a type A Californian who wants to know in advance, it did make me a bit pagl or crazy.

Chitra and I, in our lower moments, would prop each other up. Fortunately, neither of us hit a low moment at the same time. Some of the organisations came and went as well and we had to find substitutes. It was always though, “no problem”, a very positive attitude.

I was able to get an intern, who I had met, at the South Asian Fundraising Group annual conference in Jaipur, in August, to help me. But after helping a bit, she disappeared. Some of the staff helped, but again the draw of their paperwork kept them from helping out full-time. But there was Chitra, always dependable, typically with a smile and I knew that it could be done.

Once Atul, told staff they had to do certain things they responded and it was happening, but many things were still so last minute. We had so many materials to order, booklets, which Chitra had put together, the mobile exhibition posters, key chains, toffees, bags, t-shirts, hats, jackets and supplies. We didn’t leave ourselves enough time to really see samples and so the t-shirts didn’t come out exactly the way that they should have to match the caps, but we were all hustling. Ruby, who takes care of the materials ordering seemed to be somewhat in her glory, but was also very stressed out by it all. The mobile exhibition posters came in, 100 sets of 25 but there were no numbers on them and then we started numbering them incorrectly. On the evening before our flag off and volunteer orientation, November 12, the conference room was filled with posters as we started putting the sets together. People were singing and I was wondering what was happening.

The night before our flag out ceremony featuring the Minister of Social Justice and Empowerment Shri Wasnik, we still didn’t have all of the materials. We had to pack the vehicles so that we could do a mock flag off and I thought how are we going to do this.
The volunteers had all arrived in Delhi on November 12 and on November 13 we conducted an orientation where the volunteers chose their teams and team leaders. I was able to facilitate this part and the teams were chosen and the leaders picked. There was so much positive energy in the room and as the volunteers practiced singing the BK theme song I was filled with so much pride, as it was all so contagious.

As we finished the volunteer orientation and the crowds started filling the speaker’s hall at the Constitution Club it all felt as if we had succeeded. We held a great press conference, the lamp was lit, the volunteers were so enthusiastic and once again sang the theme song. The Going Solo NGO, which works with street kids and is led by Manisha, did a play about debunking disability myths. The volunteers jumped into the now fully loaded vehicles, as the Minister flagged them off and they went to spend the evening at the International Youth Hostel.

The morning of November 14 everyone was up bright and early. I wanted the teams to leave by 8 AM, but we needed to do a pooja or prayer service and by the time pictures were taken and Alok finished with the service, the teams were ready to leave closer to 9 AM. Poonam, Atul, Shekhar, Chitra and I were there to wish the teams a good journey and after went out to breakfast at the Indian International Centre.

The teams called Chitra and me everyday to update us on their progress, and pictures and reports started flowing in. There were many newspaper articles written in the local press creating the awareness that we so desired. The melas sounded wonderful, full of dancing, singing, and the usual fun associated with Indian celebrations. Yes, there were issues that came up as well, the one NGO that had made reservations at a very expensive hotel and then didn’t want to pay for it, squabbles among some of the team members, but all in all things remained on the positive side.

The volunteers made their way back to Delhi on November 30, with a flag in with the State Minister of Social Justice and Empowerment, Shri Napoleon, a south Indian film star with a wonderful singing voice. (I was later told that in his day he was a basketball player, as he is quite tall). At the flag in, besides celebrating the accomplishments of our volunteers, we also saluted a number of special Olympians, the first time that this had occurred by an Indian governmental body. We sang our theme song and enjoyed the camaraderie that had been formed since November 13.

On December 1, we held a debriefing with our volunteers to find out what they thought and to share lunch between them and our staff. We gained a lot of valuable information which will be used in planning for the 2010 Bk.

On December 3, we displayed many of the items from BK-posters, mobile exhibition, the pieces of cloth with messages written from the melas-at the World Disability Day (WDD) rally at India Gate. This was something that I had really wanted to do as a kind of wrap up to the campaign and it was amazing to be at India Gate at 7:45 AM with some of the BK volunteers, putting up this exhibition. This was the first time that NT had a display like this at the WDD rally. (We spent a good deal of time trying to decide the best way to display the items and met with Javit who is a well known disability advocate in India- there was recently a story about him in Business Outlook in an article about social entrepreneurs and also a chapter about him in the book, “How to Change the World” as he is the organizer of the WDD rally. On December 2 we went to the office of Pringle Art, down some alleys and looked at these pots being painted that would be filled with sand with a bamboo pole in the middle for hanging our materials. The pots were still being painted at 8 PM, only a few were done and again I thought, how is this all going to happen. Of course the pots were at India Gate when I arrived at 7:45 AM, which meant that I was on the metro at 6 AM)

That evening I attended the National Disability awards and besides again seeing the two Ministers I also was able to see the Indian President. When I greeted Shri Wasnik wearing my BK t-shirt and hat he recognized me from the flag out. This was such a wonderful feeling to know that this Minister, same as a cabinet position in the US, was recognizing the awareness work that we were doing.

I have been given accolades from others in helping to make BK a reality, where the words, “no problem” have taken on a new meaning. But I also know that none of this was possible without VSO enabling me to come to India, without the strong leadership of both Poonam and Atul, without super Chitra and the always smiling and full of ideas Shekhar, without Deepika, Ruby, Subhash, Rajnish and the many other staff, who even at the last minute pitched in and helped with loading the vehicles, with the Flag Out and Flag In, getting money out to the NGOs to conduct their melas, having fun and listening to my rantings, without the NGO partners and the BK volunteers and the people who attended the melas, without the Epistle Solutions team or Pringle Art, without the group of volunteers that initially started helping us.

Yes, a few of us did an inordinate amount of work on this project, but it does take a team, no matter how this is defined to make an event like this happen. It takes every one of us, no matter how much or how little planning is done, to join hands and continue the fight, no matter what that fight is. This is the only way and it truly is “no problem”.

Stranger Than Fiction the NBA

2009-12-05T11:04:00.000-08:00

As some of you know given my passion for basketball, I had contacted the NBA, earlier this year. I've been e-mailing a number of times with a guy named Brooks Meek, Senior Director, Basketball Operations - International, and found out that the NBA is going to be doing more in India. I most recently e-mailed Brooks last week.

Tonight as i usually do on Saturdays I was coaching b-ball with a group of 28 Indian children at the Delhi YMCA. About the last 15 minutes or so I noticed that there were two light skinned guys watching the action on the far end of the court. One guy was particularly tall.

I ended my coaching session and walked over to the guys to introduce myself. Lo and behold one of the guys was Brooks! Imagine how astonished I was. Brook told me that he hadn't had time to write to me, but was in Delhi with the tall dude, to meet with the India Basketball Federation (IBF) about ramping things up here. He told me that Heidi Uberroth, who is President of NBA International, and the daughter of Peter Uberroth was going to be in Delhi on Monday to meet with the IBF. (I am going to Chandigarh on Sunday, so won't have any time to further meet with anyone, but nobody asked anyway). Brooks is going to Chennai on Thursday with Dikembe Mutombo to do some NBA things in that city. He will also be meeting with my contact at the Y, Rajiv Singh on Monday.

Is there a future for me with the NBA? Who really knows, but I do know that magic happens in India. (Brooks told me that once they hire someone, a 20 year coach, that this person will contact me). One just has to open their heart and mind to the possibilities.

On Weddings and Popcorn and Peanuts

2009-11-18T08:34:00.001-08:00

As I walked home at the end of my journey from playing basketball tonight, I came upon a marching band. There must have been at least 10 members and in front of them was a man standing with a well-dressed horse. Next to the band were a number of decorative chandeliers powered by a motor. I had put myself in the middle of another wedding, 9:15 PM, a Wednesday, the astrological charts were at the right point for the young couple standing in the midst of this, matter of fact kind of thing for India. As I took a few movies, just to let the folks back home know that I was telling the truth, people smiled knowingly at me.

The band started moving and so did I to my next usual stop on Wednesday nights, my man who provides me with fresh popcorn and hot roasted nuts. The man clasps his hands together and says Namaste and say this back. He always seems happy to see me, like somehow by spending 20 rupees, 10 on the nuts and 10 on the popcorn I might bring him some kind of good fortune. I watch as the man throws popcorn kernels into the bottom of his wok which is filled with sand. The kernels start to pop and by using a screen none escape to the street beside me. He finishes popping, strains the sand out of the popcorn and puts it into a bag. He always gives me more than any other of these popcorn/nut guys. I walk away satisfied once again to have this delicacy.

A young man is walking besides me and asks the obligatory question, “where are you from?” I say, “America” and he says, “Canada”, I say, “no United States” and he says, “USA”. I turn left to walk to my house and as I approach the entrance I hear my little three year old Galoo crying, yet again at the top of her lungs.

The Camel Festival

2009-11-03T23:58:00.000-08:00

October 24, 2009

Can’t believe that it’s been a month since I’ve last written. Another month in India and I’ve been here for seven now. My first visitors from the US, Cindy and Melissa are here and they brought me quite a stash of items from home, lots of home baked goodies from friends, a video message from Daniel, candy bars and even some art work from my cousins to hang in my apartment. Of course my dad sent me a Lakers World Championship t-shirt which now is part of the fabric of my bedroom. India continues to feel more like home everday.

My work is going so very well and I’m so very busy, hopefully contributing to making the world a better place. I’m also very involved with VSO, serving on a number of committees, always working to make the volunteer experience better. There of course is also the piece about building capacity at the Programme Office. During the past month I conducted my first four day capacity building/organizational development workshop. It went very well and thanks to a translator, a young Indian woman, with a lovely smile, I was able to, I think get across the messages that I was trying to convey. I’m will be in Southern India for the entire month of January with my lovely girlfriend Len, conducting three different workshops in three different states and I just can’t wait.

I’ve also spent so much time on Badhte Kadam, moving forward, an awareness raising campaign across India that is due for flag off on November 14. This has been a major effort and thanks to especially one NT volunteer, Chitra, this effort is proceeding, 24 volunteers, 4 routes-north, south, east and west, 8 vehicles, 22,000 kilometers of driving distance, 60 Citizen’s Organisations, and I don’t know how many e-mails and phone calls. It is truly amazing and I can’t wait for the flag off and the return of the volunteers.

Overall, after seven months, I feel very good about India. Today I walked out of my apartment and there was a Bihari holiday taking place, a temporary market, beautiful saris, the continue amazing magic that is India. The more I see the more I love.

I continue to have my moments of wanting to train everyone in “proper” manners, but of course it is all just a temporary thing.

November 4, 2009

On the train to Agra. I was last there in February 2006, but now I’m with my friends Cindy and Melissa. We’ve had a wonderful visit and it is so much fun to show my friends the world in which I live.

We spent this past weekend in Pushkar at the Camel Fair. It was very unworldly to me as I stood in the middle of many camels last Friday during twilight. As I said to Melissa, “which planet are we on?” and she responded with “Camelot”. Oh my!

Pushkar is a lovely town, everything that I would have imagined India to be. Markets galore, women dressed in so many colorful saris, men with turbans and everywhere shopkeepers asking me to come in. I was surprised to see so many signs in Hebrew as apparently many Israelis come to Pushkar for a vacation. I even found a Chabad house which I went into and wrapped the Tefelin around myself and read Hebrew. I remember even after all of these years. It was very special for me to connect with some of my roots.

The food was wonderful and we had pancakes, the Indian kind, falafel, a great pizza which we all devoured. Other friends also accompanied us-Joe and Sophia and Mark who rode in on his motorcycle from an incredible tour of the mountains in India. It’s was so special to be not only with my friends, but also with my very good VSO mates.

We stayed at a place called Cha-cha’s Garden, which didn’t have much of a garden but did have a tortoise. The Garden was operated by a young English woman named Rani and her husband, Cha-Cha (uncle). Rani is the daughter of some of Mark’s friends and he had never met her before, so this connection was quite interesting. The Garden wasn’t much to speak of, but it provide a near-by place to walk through the town of Pushkar to the camels.

In getting into the town one had to walk for about five minutes down some narrow streets and when one arose from this it opened up into this splash of colors, sites, sounds, smells and so many people. I couldn’t wait to get to this place which took me back, I felt in history. It’s difficult to describe the scene but I took many pictures to allow me to retrace this for years to come.

The colors are so amazing to me, mostly in women’s saris and everyone was dressed in their best for doing praying in the mostly dried up lake. The Indian culture offers so many examples of religion and how it is celebrated. That is mostly what it is about, the celebrations, with young children and adults also looking like Krishna and Hunaman.

The markets continue to offer me the kind of thing that doesn’t happen in the developed world, i.e. a way of shopping that is in no way contrived. It is just the way in which fruits and vegetables are purchased, that is it, very simple, but in fact woven with relationships, the fabric of which makes the so called developing world so wonderful to be a part of. It started for me with the woman who didn’t want me to take her picture while she sold her veggies and even picked up a weight as if she would throw it at me. As the days went on she smiled at me, but didn’t allow me to take her picture.

The camels were just beautiful. I’ve never been so close to so many camels and they are beautiful creatures, definitely reminding me of the, I think second Star Wars movie with those big white things that the Empire guys operated. The camels are important to the many herders in and around Pushkar, but unfortunately many of the camel owners can no longer afford these “beasts of burden” and so they are just abandoned. This is the vicious cycle that farmers get into and can never get out, except through in many cases, suicide.

There were also the gypsies who grabbed our hands and wanted to put henna on them and would not let go until we gave them rupies. We all caught onto this very quickly and refused to give our hands. The gypsy women were just beautiful and their dancing was full of lots of writhing about, but they were dangerous like some of the baskets which held cobras.

I feel so very blessed to have made it to Pushkar to see India. I know that it is all changing, there are many shops that appeal to westerners, but the city maintained much of its more traditional charm. Incredible India.

Festivals

2009-09-28T01:13:00.000-07:00

I’ve discovered a whole new world of music through Samy’s indie rock playlist Autumn 2009. Groups such as +/-, Paper Route, Former Child Stars, Seamus and I realize how much I continue love music, especially new music, and could never live without it. A continuing passion to add to basketball, farmers markets and living an extraordinary life.

This past weekend has been loads of fun as we are now into the festival season in India. I started out Friday evening by going to the American Embassy School, to see a performance of my most very favorite play in the world, “Our Town”. Yes, I’ve seen this play performed numerous times, watched videos of performances and read the play so many times, that I do know a lot of the script. (I once performed one of the monologues in an acting class). However to see this performed in India, with a diverse cast of children from all over the world, made it quite special. For example, George Gibbs was played by an Indian student, the milk man was instead a milk woman named Rosie and the Stage Manager, instead of being one person was performed by three people, two female students and an Indian student with a British accent. At first I thought what is this, but as I got used to it, I thought how brilliant.

I love this play because although it is about a “simpler” time in the United States, the early 1900’s, it still maintains relevance today. The fact that we’re always rushing around and don’t truly look “hard” enough at life and really see one another, the fact that much of the time we suffer and don’t truly enjoy what we’ve been given. I most love one of the last monologues by the stage manager about how there’s something eternal in our bones, but we don’t take it out and look at it very often and don’t even realize it. The young woman who performed this was just great, very comfortable in her body and with being on stage.

My Saturday was not a typical basketball Saturday as there was a tournament going on at both the American Embassy School, where I play and at the YMCA where I coach. I ended up going to the New Delhi Railway Station to buy some tickets for my friends Cindy, Melissa and I so that we can go to the Pushkar Camel Festival at the end of October. It’s always an adventure to go the train station and fortunately they have a special section for International people to buy tickets. Although I was told that I couldn’t buy the tickets for all of us, because I didn’t have everyone’s passport, the man at the greeting desk said I’ll do you a special favor and let you buy the tickets and then present your passports on the train. The person that I actually purchased the tickets from didn’t seem at all bothered by this, so I really wonder, but that is India.

The train stations in India are just a mass of people and at some point I need to take pictures. People everywhere, sleeping, talking, eating, seems unorganized but like other things in India it all seems to work.

In the evening I went to Chitra’s, a National Trust volunteer, for some song, company and food. It’s so lovely to be invited to the home of an Indian, perfect hosts. I spoke with the children of another guest and recruited them to come to the YMCA for basketball. It’s so special when I can mix my b-ball passion in with interest in just learning and absorbing Indian culture. Chitra’s husband is a phenomenal origami maker and he had made an elephant, dog, etc. which I thought were made of clay-unbelievable. My colleagues Allan and Margaret from the UK were also in attendance and Allan sang a song and Margaret played a keyboard.

On Sunday I went to Dellihut which is one of the treasures of New Delhi. It is owned by the Indian government and every few weeks a new group of crafters come in to display and sell their wares. This next few weeks many of the crafters are from NGOs that fall under the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment who I work for. The products are just outstanding, beautiful and although some of it is repetitive the majority consist of items that one wants to take home. It’s so difficult for me because I do own many of the things that I would buy again, but those things are in storage at my friend’s house in Connecticut.

The evening consisted of cultural performances from mainly children who have a number of disabilities. At National Trust we talk about “discoverabilities” and these children certainly showed that through music, dance and theatre. There was one little boy with, maybe club feet, not entirely sure, but he just stole the show with his dancing, couldn’t stand still, another young man, who has an intellectual disability, donned sunglasses and was dancing like Michael Jackson. I was smiling the entire time and at the end joined them all on stage to jump around. This all helped me to be connected with the population that I’m ultimately working with, but don’t get to regularly see because of the actual work that I’m doing. So important for me to be connected though with the reality, which in this particular night was so very joyous.

Tonight is the end of a nine day holiday with the blowing up of these effigies. I can’t wait to see this as I’ve seen the actual effigies in a number of locations around Delhi. Big faces with gigantic moustaches made out of paper mache. India is so much full of celebration.

Finally, there is the love that is developing in my personal life. It’s so very sweet and loving. It’s what I’ve wanted and longed for, for a very long time. It’s growing on a daily basis and it is so very mutual. This love makes me smile and very comfortable and I’ll continue to write more about this for a long time to come.

Challeges

2009-09-21T00:51:00.000-07:00

As I’ve noted in numerous writings, I am very much enjoying living my life in India, but there are, of course, challenges. I mean my ego wouldn’t get any pleasure if I didn’t complain a bit.

But let me just start this writing with noting that I was awakened in the middle of the night with a gecko on my back. Now, was it a dream? I don’t think so as I felt something, small, cool and lizard like on my back. How would the gecko even get into my bed is a question that I have. I think that after I realized that it was on my back it moved to another part of my bed. Anyway, not sure how much sleep I got after that. I do like geckos because they eat mosquitoes and there might have possibly been one or many on my back. But in the middle of the night, please let me sleep. And then the question of whether in fact this was a gecko or some other lizard like being in my bed….Ah, India.

A bit about my challenges-there is the metro/bus, vehicles/pedestrians, internet, maybe the same kinds of frustrations that I might encounter in the western world, but besides the internet I don’t think so.

The metro/bus, vehicles/pedestrians is tied into my notion about “manners”. I am constantly being bumped, pushed aside, with not so much of a mention of “excuse me” or “sorry”. On the bus, at times, people crowded next to each other on the seats, with someone standing, deciding to squeeze in to the seats. Not at all unusual, where someone, typically a man will end up sitting on your lap.

There is something about personal space and it has become somewhat exaggerated for me by being in India. I’m very aware of it in a western sense, wanting people at times, to just back off and not squeeze so very close to my body. But Delhi, is after all one of the most populous cities in the world and I need to deal with this. But I do have my moments. I never really understood this idea of people squeezing in like sardines in a can. I now know exactly what this means when I ride the metro during rush hour.

Typically I wait for people to get off of the metro before I get on. This is not generally the case for Indians. Even though a couple of people may be getting off at a stop and the fact that the metro is incredibly crowded already, 10 more people will get on. The “sardine” concept has become based in reality.

I do my thing though in getting off at the most crowded stop, that being Rajiv Chowk, just by putting my arms straight in front of me when I get off of the metro and politely saying excuse me, excuse me, excuse me. This seems to work as people are a bit “freaked out” by this “western” guy looking rather strange anyway, typically wearing shorts and a t-shirt. It become even more of a strange scene when I’m wearing my Lakers jersey after coming back from playing b-ball. Don’t see any men wearing a “tank top” here.

There is no pedestrian right of way in India and so even if you cross in front of a car or bus, or rickshaw, which is highly unadvisable, the driver will not stop for you, unless you’re a cow. But even then, I wouldn’t want to be a cow crossing the street. I tend to be a bit more aggressive in trying to cross the road, as there are no crosswalks, but caution is advisable. As I was crossing at the major intersection in my area, known to me as Dabri crossing, I almost got smushed between and bus and a truck.

I have started using the word “Dude” quite a lot in India. You can ask my work friend Rohit about this, it’s “dude” this and “dude” that. Every time I get pushed out of the way or almost run over, I say “Dude”. I don’t know that anybody understands me, but it all seems appropriate given that my roots are based in the San Fernando Valley and I am after all a “Valley Boy” but without the blond locks or surfboard.

I’m so used to using what I consider to be “manners” but this is in a western sense. I get somewhat annoyed when I don’t find “manners” used, but am pleasantly surprised when I do hear that “excuse me” on the metro in order to move around as opposed to being bumped by generally a man with a rather rotund belly and orange hair. The orange hair is supposed to keep the heat down, with the belly most generally used for clearing space for one’s self. I don’t think that I’ll ever get to the point of wanting either for myself, but stuffing pillows under my shirt, might make some sense, especially when I’m feeling somewhat sardine like.

I don’t really like the fact that men seated on metro or the bus won’t get up for women, either with or without children, when they are standing. There is something inherently wrong with this. I don’t think that it is chauvinism on my part, but I was brought up to give up my seat and I constantly do this, hoping that the Indian men will see this and do the same. I was recently on one of the smaller buses and three men were sitting and a number of women got on. I asked the men to get up and they wouldn’t. However, this was balanced by this last week when riding the metro I noted to a man to get up and there was no problem. In fact, a very nice conversation ensued in which he told me how much respect he has for the elderly and of course he always gets up, because that woman who is standing could be his mother. This was what I thought India would be more about.

But there also is a certain sense of that insanely needing to rush around, like in the west. I try to always take my time and not rush especially when getting on and off the metro, but I find all around me people rushing. In getting on the metro one has to go through a security check, one for men and one for women. Often men will just cut in front of me, like it really is going to make a difference in how quickly one gets onto the metro. For some reason this bothers me, and I say “dude” and then it is gone.

Not having grown up with so many people all around me, I somewhat lack this “what do I need to do to get ahead”, no matter how miniscule it might be. Maybe that cutting in front of me, or just ignoring the fact that there is another human being in front of you doesn’t matter in this case. It’s not that I’m not assertive, because I’ve certainly become more assertive since coming to India, but I don’t see the point from my western way of thinking of pushing or cutting to get one’s way. (One time though a man cut in front of me in the metro line and I told him that there was a line where he proceeded to laugh. I then cut directly in front of him without looking back. Yes, I do have my moments).

I’m certainly looking forward to being in other parts of India. Maybe it will be different, maybe not. It all is a major learning experience for me, in that “my way” is certainly not the only way. But I knew this coming to India and knew that I wanted to learn more about other ways of looking at the world.

I still love India and always will. The aliveness is just something that I don’t think I’ll see in the west. The things that I’m seeing and experiencing here are truly remarkable, just the everyday kinds of things, which I can see in my pictures. Galoo and Namu, the two little girls in the house where I’m living, talking to me in Hindi, and thinking that I’m understanding, and now in some English will be something that I will always treasure. I’ve come to “love” this children, their way of saying “Mike”, juice, their laugh. To think that this “world” never would have happened for me if I hadn’t dreamed about and really wanted it.

Experiencing the Indian culture is a wonderful thing for me. It is so very foreign from what I knew as a boy growing up in the San Fernando Valley. When I moved to the east coast of the US as a 22 year old, this had a foreign feel for me, but nothing like living in a place such as India. My life is so much more rich now that I’ve been here for six months and I look forward to the next 18 months with so much awe and especially love for the country, the people, the dust, the cows and smells.

I also look forward to a growing love in my personal life, but that will have to wait for the next blog!

Almost 6 months in India

2009-09-06T03:15:00.000-07:00

September 6, 2009
I truly can’t believe that mid-September will mark six months for me living in New Delhi. Time just seems to pass so rapidly, although I’m living every day the fullest and maybe that is exactly the reason. The magic continues to occur, as I’m now growing a watermelon out of my Ashoka tree. How this happened I’m not really sure, but one day a vine appeared and soon there was a watermelon. I know that I do spit out my watermelon seeds all over my deck and so a few must have landed in the Ashoka tree pot. Regardless, I just can’t wait to taste this baby melon. (This takes me back to Lancaster, PA when I worked in the fields of Ruth and Wilmer, Mennonite farmers, Ruth being about 59 and Wilmer 70. As I worked out in the, what at that time I thought was really hot sun, they taught me how to spot a ripened watermelon). With the growth of my melon, I’ve thrown some potatoes, okra and peas into the pot, so let’s see what else grows.

I recently met with an Indian filmmaker, who is making a film about ex-pats. I’m not sure whether she’ll want me to be in the film, but one of the questions that she asked was, “Why do you love India?” To me, this question is rhetorical, like when someone asks me about my love for basketball, it’s just very obvious and doesn’t really need an answer.
To someone who lives in the same country for most of their life, thought, maybe it’s not so obvious. After all, the amount of traffic and people and pollution, etc., in Delhi is so oppressive, one might ask why would anyone want to live in India, much less love India.

I walked out my front door to get some medications at my local chemist, but it’s not the same type of walk that one might make in the States, and the prices are certainly not nearly the same as in the States. Yes, people do recognize me now and so there are many hello’s, but it’s nothing like one sees in the “sanitary” streets at “home”. (I’m truly not quite sure where home acutally is anymore but in the present it is definitely New Delhi). It’s difficult to actually describe, unless you’re here. You can see pictures, but until you are in the midst of it, seeing so many people, doing so many different things, most with huge smiles on their faces at the site of a foreigner, you can’t truly appreciate this.

After purchasing my medications and waving hello to the local shoe repair dude, I walked towards my local Reliance “supermarket”. I decided today to walk down a side street, as I saw lots of signs, indicating shops and people. As I walked down the street, or alley, my camera immediately came out to take pics of the people. The sites are still remarkable to me, but it’s the people that I’m so enthralled with. As I walked down one street and started snapping, people came out of their houses and indicated that they wanted to be photographed as well. I can’t imagine a foreigner in the US asking people to pose for pics. I just can’t imagine so many people being outside of their homes in the US. Well, maybe in smaller towns, but I can’t imagine it being anything like India.

It’s definitely the people from the very young, who sometimes seems to be a bit afraid of me, to the, what appears to be very old men, in their turbans, to the young women, on their 50 year old sewing machines to the women in their multi-colored saris. I’m not quite sure what they make of me, because many just don’t speak English and I only, Mei todhi Hindi bolte hu. (I only speak a little Hindi). I guess though that it doesn’t quite matter as there is a communication that is done through so much smiling.

But there is also the basketball stuff. Yeah, I could be playing wherever I live and of course I would be, but where would I be able to play with Indians, French and Congolese dudes, a 6’8” Australian gus, Eastern Europeans who are constantly speaking to each other in Serbian, an American named Moosa who has the deepest voice in the world and works for the World Bank and an American doctor who spends time in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Maybe I’m exaggerating and could find this kind of game on a playground in Orange County, CA, possibly as it is fairly diverse, but I don’t think so. And where could I be teaching Indian children how to meditate?

Ok, so that maybe is going a bit too far, but last night at the YMCA this is exactly what I was doing. It was a small group, 15 children and I asked how many of them had ever meditated. None raised their hands and I said, in order to be present, to just focus on basketball, we are going to meditate. This is exactly what we did, after stretching and talking about how basketball is about life, a short meditation. I even told the kids about Phil Jackson and how he uses meditation. I have to say that this was a magical moment for me as I walked around looking at the children in a very peaceful state. I was amazed. I get chills now just writing about last night.

We have so much fun and the children are always laughing with me. They are continuing to “get” what I’m trying to teach, there was actually a “give and go” last night run so perfectly that it could have been a highlight on ESPN. I stopped the game and was jumping up and down and cheering as the children just cracked up. But I can so much be “me” in India.

A silly concept, “me”. I’m reading about this in Eckhart’s Tolle’s most recent book “A New Earth”. Yes, it’s this “silly new age” stuff, which makes so much sense to me. But yes, this me is feeling so, at home in India. Here is the picture though-I’m getting off the metro, in that famous Rajiv Chowk place where nobody will let you off. I wink at the Indian guys next to me waiting to get off. The doors open, I put my arms out in front of me and just say excuse me in rapid fire statements until I’m totally clear and not one person has touched me. The “guards” dressed in orange vests, who are supposed to be helping people get off, just smile as I wave good-bye, mission accomplished.

It doesn’t take much for me to be in “love” because I’m constantly working on being present. I know I shouldn’t be working but…this is India and I say why not, what else will grow?

Building partnerwebs from oceans and trees

2009-07-26T06:51:00.001-07:00

The new batch of volunteers has arrived. It makes me wonder what I was like when I first arrived. I met them last night for dinner in a place called Defense Colony. Had a wonderful Thai meal with tofu!

My work colleagues have really warmed up to me and I seem to be one of the group as I’m working with a number of them on numerous projects. We all seem to be able to laugh together, overcoming any cultural differences. I eat lunch as often as possible with a group of 5 or 6 people, mainly women, all of us sharing the food that we brought from home. This makes it possible for me to continue to eat a variety of home cooked Indian food, which I do truly treasure. Onky was visiting this past weekend and so I had a number of home cooked meals at his Aunt and Uncle’s house, which is always awesome!

I know that I’ve become much more assertive in India and I think that this will be beneficial to me wherever I end up next. This is not in any sense a mean assertiveness, but more of a, “I’m not going to be pushed around”. You just have to whether it’s dealing with the drivers or getting out of the metro at Rajiv Chowk, getting onto a bus, walking home from Dabri crossing. You just do it or else you get pushed aside. Now, of course there are times, such as when I get on the metro, when I just wait for the mass of people to come out before I get on. This makes sense to me, as opposed to trying to push my way onto to the metro when masses of people are getting off.

Let me say a few words about the auto rickshaw drivers. Because I don’t look Indian, my general assumption is that the price that I will be quoted will always be at least double. Yes, one can ask to use the meter, but often the meter “is not working”. This, of course, is illegal, but with the number of autos in India, this cannot readily be enforced. I use the autos all of the time because the metro is not as extensive as it will be by the end of 2010. I typically take the metro to a stop called “Central Secretariat” and then find an auto. Now if one is in a tourist location, such as Dellihut, one can be prepared for the price to be even more exorbitant.

I used to bargain very “nicely” and this often worked. But now if I am quoted a very high price I very forcefully look the auto driver in the eye and tell him that I do live here and that his price is way out of line. I also tell them that it is not nice to charge so much. Do they understand what I’m saying? Most likely not, but I think that they get the fact that I am somewhat angry about this. Of course, this is very temporary, maybe a show, because I always laugh to myself after this. Never-the-less, I’m done taking nonsense from these guys. But, of course last night the auto driver told me that he was charging the night fee, because it was 10:30 or. I paid 50% above the meter price and he still wanted more. I’m also coming just to pay the guys and walk away even if they want more.

I continually have to remind myself that I’ve only been here since mid-March in the sense that I expect things to be further developed for me in terms of new friends. It is happening, as I become more assertive. One of my new friends Monique recently brought me to dinner at some of her embassy friends. I literally thought that I wasn’t in India given the house and the dinner menu-lasagna, cheesecake, salad, French bread. Of course one can get all of these things in India but as a volunteer I don’t generally look for or see this stuff. It is a very different life, but we are all doing development work from different perspectives.

It will be quite interesting for me to see more of this as I stay here longer, i.e. the differences between VSO or my own type of development work, and as an example, the American government. I can be very creative in my job, have no real script to attune to as I’m building capacity. There is no real party line except that of helping out the NGOs that we partner with. For example I can ask the people that I will be teaching to “create a universe” in thinking about a case statement for a fundraising plan or ask them to draw “monsters” for the threats to their agency as part of a S(trengths) W(eaknesses) O(pportunities) T(hreats) analysis. It will be fun and hopefully they will learn, building organizational capacity.

I’m guided by a humanness, a wanting to connect to others through work fun. There is also the entire other side, of me learning so much from these people who have opened up their hearts and their head to what I might offer. It is so much fun for me, just to be in this environment and I’m loving each day, as they seem to pass so very quickly, no matter what I’m doing.

Last week I was able to do a workshop for the National Trust staff and they were laughing and really enjoying themselves as they drew rock and fishes and birds and trees. While they were having fun and they were also able to talk about what was going on their work lives, which is what I was trying to get to. I now have a better understanding of what individual employees are doing and some of their concerns.

This next week I’m leading a workshop called, “Building partnerwebs from the ocean and trees”. Oh and don’t forget the “Networking Jungle”, down at the waterhole, of course. What does this all mean-it mean taking dust, rain, cows, swimming pigs, kites, mangoes, lot of flies, more dust, mud, smiling faces, lots of sweat and lots of water, basketballs and lots of fun and creating an entirely different world. It’s not fantasy, it’s India. .

Love for the Game/Love for Life

2009-07-11T22:16:00.001-07:00

Is it possible to "love" something other than a person so much, that one just cannot wait to be doing it? It is and it has happened for me with basketball in every aspect of the game. It just so happens that this "love affair" with basketball has blossomed, in of all places, New Delhi, India. It started with a connection to the American Embassy and the YMCA, both in New Delhi, and has grown by leaps and bounds into a full fledged "love affair". The feeling that I get from b-ball is pure joy, at all times, nothing less, total focus on the beauty of the game, and therefore there is nothing else, when I'm involved with it.

Strange? No, not really. It is all about the dance, the team work, the knowledge of the five people on the court and those on the bench being so connected that they could close their eyes and make a perfect pass to a teammate for a layup. It is about the joy of understanding how this is more than a game, how this is a lifestyle. Do we live as individuals? Yes, at times, but more often we live as part of a team, as part of a community. A well executed fast-break or a pass in the triangle offense that leads to two points, shows how we all can cooperate with one another, in fact, it is the only way to truly get along. Yes, egos play a large part in the professional sport, but as recently demonstrated, even with the skills of a Kobe Bryant, one has to play as a team to "win", to be at the very apex.

But basketball is more than winning a championship, it is about the smiles that readily appear on the faces of the Indian children that I've been coaching at the YMCA for the past three months. When they see me, prior to starting playing, they appear with a large smile and slap me a high 5, knowing that yes, this will be tough, as I make sure that we run a bit, but also knowing that for the next 1.5 hours we are going to have some great fun. The game at the Y is about children coming out of their shells and starting to find love for a lifestyle. I actually am seeing the 7-18 year old boys and girls starting to understand the rhythym and heartbeat of the game. I spend a lot of time talking to the children, espousing my love and what they can do to stay in shape for their entire lives, about the exercise and eating right that is needed to continue to live a healthy life. They respond with "yes, sir" and I constantly remind them to call me "Mike" which some are actually starting to do.

The Indian game has a tendency towards a "one on one" type of play with the best players gettting the rebound and sizzling downcourt, with no regard to teammates. However, this past Saturday, one of the boys, who really does have the skills, was slowing it down, setting up his offense, understanding the fact that he was part of a team. I "force" the boys and girls to be on teams together, always considering gender issues. It is slowly starting to work. I "force" the children to develop leadership skills by having them form their own teams. It is not something that comes too easily, but it is happening.

I've found that I do care, that if we are to play, to love, there are so many methods to consider. All that I can do is bring my love, my passion for this sport, way of life, to a few children in New Delhi. What else can I really do as the love is just bursting forth from me and has to get out.

2009-07-04T00:13:00.000-07:00

July 4, 2009
American independence day and I’m in New Delhi. There will be a celebration at the US Embassy and if I’m up to it, I’ll go. I’ve gotten my first real cold in India so I’m just not sure at this point. Regardless,

I’m in love with India! Why might you ask would this be the case, after all, it’s hot and humid, dusty, there is little regard to sanitation, the pollution can be overwhelming, the number of people, especially on the buses and metro, at times, is much too crowded.

These things though are all part of the magic of India. As one looks beyond the things that might be seen as negatives, one can see so much to be in love with. It can be as simple as the walk on my way home where I stop at any number of roasted corn sellers, where for the equivalent of 10 cents I can get a freshly roasted corn, smothered in salt and fresh lime. Children are the main sellers of the roasted corn, over a small, jerry rigged stove, with a few coals. The constant fanning keeps the coals hot, while the corn roaster turns the corn to make it just so.

How about the multitude of doors and windows that keep opening through my job. Every meeting that I have, every person that I meet presents another opportunity for me. I never felt this way in the States, but maybe I wasn’t as conscious of this. I constantly talk about partnerships and others shake their head yes. Maybe there is some caution, but through my persistent nature, I’m getting people to sit down together and dialogue. I wanted a challenge, a job where I could help to make an impact, something on an international level. This job is proving to be all that I had hoped. It is so much helped by my two bosses, who have been so incredibly supported, so open to seeing the possibilities. I love my colleagues and their willingness to share their lunch with me, their willingness to help me to succeed, even though they might not totally understand what I’m doing. I’m so in love with my job, it is so much fun, so much work, but it is so worth it.

I’m so in love with coaching basketball at the YMCA-New Delhi. The children have totally opened up to me, laugh at my silliness, seek me out for guidance and totally ignore what I’m saying. They tell me this is the India way to play b-ball and they are not afraid to give their opinions. I’m working on trying to create leadership and getting boys and girls to be on a comparable level. I’m making some progress on both fronts, but it is slow. I’m learning more about basketball, one of my great loves in life, as I teach the children the basics. I so love when the children get something, a good bounce pass, keeping their heads up when they dribble, moving their feet on defense. I know that one day a week for me for this exercise is not enough but it will do as I feel the connections.

I love my flat and the family that owns it. They have opened up their house and their hearts to me, except for the Great Dane, Great, who refused to get to know me. The flat is so lovely and the owners just keep doing more to improve it, to make it more comfortable. I adore the children that live here, they are so incredibly fun and sweet and have gotten used to me, are no longer shy with me. In fact they will come up and hang out. Last night I was watching a download of the 2nd half of the Lakers-Magic game 5 and one of the brothers came up and just started watching with me. Whenever else could I say that I watched an NBA game on the third floor veranda of a New Delhi flat with an Indian? I love the fact that when I wash my clothes I do it in a bucket and then hang the clothes out to dry. How much less energy am I using now that I live in India? I don’t drive a car, I do use an a/c at times in the evening, but that’s about it. I’ve somehow become much more responsible in my energy consumption.

I’m in love with the little things, with the metro and the many people that I’ve met while traveling on this at times sardine like public transportation mode, with the rickshaw drivers who always try to say that their meters are not working, that they are giving me a good deal, with the cows and dogs who are omni-present, no matter where I go in Delhi, with the buildings that are always covered in dust, with the weather, which makes me sweat like I’ve never sweated before in my life, with the fresh fruits and veggies that I eat on a regular basis, keeping my body healthy. I’m in love with it all.

The Mountains and More!

2009-06-14T01:34:00.000-07:00

So much to write about since last time. Let’s see, well there was this two week trip, first to Amritsar, site of the Golden Temple, then to Dalhousie, to Dharamshala and then back to Dalhousie. There was the coming back to the Delhi oven and the fact that the job is really becoming incredibly potent with opportunities galore. There are also the everyday things that one just doesn’t expect, stepping out of the bus from the metro into pure dust, which you can taste in your mouth, the farmers markets, at least that’s how I think of them, where I purchased three ears of “sweet corn” for 20 cents, only to find that the kernels are so damned hard that I really don’t know how to cook them, the monkeys which seem to turn up everywhere, the incredible traffic jams where everyone just goes into the intersection because the lights aren’t working and nobody moves. (I’m not kidding about this, just something you’d never see in the States).

There are also the very beautiful, helpful people, such as the Director of the Times of India Foundation, my friends Onky and Myna, their son Anant and “Big Daddy” Mohan, whose 77th birthday I was able to participate in. (Onkar’s Chacha and Chachi and cousin Karan, in Delhi have also been so very helpful to me).

Delhi is just remarkable to all of my senses. I can’t seem to get enough, except for the heat and the dust. Some of the smells and sites I could do without, but this is India, this is not the US or Europe. I am wondering more and more what other developing countries may be like. This may lead to other adventures, but I’ll take India for now.

I haven’t really mentioned my VSO friend, my in-country family members who just all keep me going, when it does get challenging. My colleague Allan, from Scotland, kept me informed while I was away and he always has a good yarn to tell, about him and his wife Margaret’s travels all over the world. This is their third VSO experience, having spent time in both Gambia and Cambodia, as well as I think everywhere else in the world. I could sit and listen for years. I so admire the two of them. My mate Mary, from the UK, who recently told me how happy she is to be in India, which made me think, “Why in the hell am I complaining about the heat?” My dear, dear friend Mark, who is living in Barmar where it is at least 50 C everyday, who just goes about his business without any complaints. A great male friend. My compatriot from the US, Judith, who is in Kolkata, an incredibly bright woman who I’ve started having lots of e-mail conversations with. There is also Verona from the Philippines who I’ve been chatting with on Facebook. Of course, there is also Joe, the 20 year old musician from the UK, who is in Jaipur, who everyone just adores. There is Louise from Scotland, who is in Surat, who I talk to on a very regular basis, either on the phone, or more often through SKYPE, and who is coming for a visit very soon.

There are also other VSO friends who have not gone on their assignments yet, but who I can converse with-Lisa, Lynley and Nathalie. There’s also my Indian VSO friend Jora who is in Guyana. My world has been so expanded by all of these amazing people, who so very recently, I didn’t know even exited. They, of course, each have their own stories, their own motivations for being in India or in other places, but they are all remarkable in their own right. The doors and possibilities just keep appearing and opening up and all that I had to do was put a lot of intent out into the universe. It does actually work!

Of course, because of SKYPE and Facebook, I can talk to all of my good friends and family, on a regular basis. This also sustains me. I talk to my dad about sports almost everyday and of course, because the Lakers are about to become champs we can share this without any problems. I also talk to my son Daniel on a regular basis. and my dear friends Michael, Mark, who is my cousin, but also a dear friend, Cindy, Terrie and others almost everyday. Through e-mails I know what is happening and am in connection, which is so very helpful to me. Last night I was in four or so conversations on Facebook and it was truly wonderful. I

I’m doing what I can to make connections in India, to provide a support network for myself. I’m trying to start a Men’s Group, looking forward to starting b-ball again in August, will look at going to a July 4th celebration at the Embassy. I try to be as open as possible and meet people.

I have this wonderful family who has taken me in. I just cannot believe how fortunate I’ve been to land in the Tyagi home. They are all so incredibly sweet and I feel quite loved. There are 13 of them living on the first two floors, three generations of people. I also have a roommate, Joel, another American who is a bright, young journalist. An intrepid explorer who is doing amazing work.

Here is an example of how wonderful this is becoming. There are five family members in my apartment right now from 9 year old Bol-bol to 40 something year old Aneal, the oldest brother. All three of the brothers are here and there is one cousin and one friend. Joel, my roommate is here as well. We are all gathered around a carom’s table, which they play with their fingers and there is quite a lively game happening with a wager for dinner. Suresh, also know as Sam, the man who helped me to get into this apartment, made fresh pakoras-potato, paneer with almonds, onions, something like tempura, except a bit heavier. We’re all just sitting around having one nice time. I even drank a little bit of beer. Will wonders never cease?

I’ve been watching the house across from me being built and it is just remarkable to see the structure going up. I’m feeling more part of this all with the family helping out a great deal, even though they may not be aware of this.

Yesterday, Aneal, Bol-bol, her sister known as Dede and their aunt and I drove to the YMCA where I went swimming, Aneal and Dede are taking swimming lessons, and I coached some b-ball. After 15 minutes of coaching however, the skies opened up and that was the end of it, my first pre-monsoon rainstorm. On the way back the aunt drove, she is 25 and just learning, and did remarkably well. I’m kind of getting up the courage to try myself, although it is driving on the right and there seem to be no rules. Hmmm… let’s see.

Ah yes, the mountains. My friends Onky and Myna have this amazing family home in Dalhousie. Mohan built this in the early 70’s and it is known as a cottage. More recently Onky and Myna built a cottage which they rent out, which is adjacent and below the main cottage. (Yes, I didn’t mention the Golden Temple in Amritsar, because my train was late and I was so tired, that I just fell asleep after visiting some family members. Yes, I will go back as Myna’s parents live in Amritsar).

Dalhousie was so very cool, temperature wise as it is quite high, full of forests, trekking paths, many, many good people, on some level reminding me of The Great Gatsby, with parties every night. We hiked to this amazing Temple the second weekend that I was in Dalhousie and I really just could not believe the beauty, wild daisies literally growing everywhere, dotting the mountainsides, looking like snow, with puffs of yellow sticking out. Of course there was actual snow on the distant, quite majestic peaks. One of the most exciting things for me was walking down the path into a goatherd. I just stood in the middle of the herd as they rolled past me. I made a movie of this event and will not ever forget this. We walked to the top of a mountainside and ate a luscious breakfast. It was so very peaceful and just full of what I want life to be.

The food in Dalhousie was the very best as the Kakar’s cook is one incredible man. To be waited on once in a while, is also just so very nice, although I wonder if I could get used to this. Ok, we all get the picture, one wonderful experience.

Mohan’s birthday was a special affair. In the morning we all went to the smaller cottage where some family friends were staying and where a puja was conducted. This is a prayer service conducted in Hindi, with so very much meaning. In India, because of the culture, these types of ceremonies happen all of the time. This is another thing that I will never forget and became the official family photographer and movie maker of the entire event. At the end of the ceremony we all threw flower petals at Mohan and he reveled in the moment. Magical!

In the afternoon we had a huge party for all of those “Great Gatsbyites” in Dalhousie and I was a bartender! Surprising because I don’t drink but the Dalhousieites do, so I learned about mixed drinks. It was all in good fun. But the somewhat surprising thing is that Mohan purchased so many blankets for the poor and in front of the lower cottage we fed the poor and servants. It was just so great and of course I went down and helped to feed those with less and just sat. One of the upper party members said to me upon leaving, “We should have done that.” Hopefully he will remember for next year, but I will make a point of reminding people next year.

The other great part about being in the State of Himachel Pradesh was that I was able to go to Dharamshala and spend a week with one of the National Trust partner NGO’s Chinmaya Organization for Rural Development (CORD), http://www.rural-development.ca/. . I was able to go to some very rural villages, as CORD is involved in over 550 throughout Kangra District. They are doing remarkable integrated rural development work, teaching people about empowerment, getting people into health care, teaching others how to supplement their incomes. I saw an all female group talking about the issue of female infanticide and then went to two schools, where disabled children are mainstreamed. If you want to volunteer in India, this is an NGO that is so worthwhile. Besides, the accommodations and food were great and the setting beyond amazing. I would walk about 10 minutes into an agricultural field and just watch, with these enormous snow covered mountain peaks in the background and people tending their fields, in the very traditional way in the foreground. If you want peace, this is it.

Yes, I’m continuing to enjoy India, even with the power ‘black-outs”, the intense heat, the dust, the over crowded conditions and extreme poverty. The fact remains though that the connections that I’m starting to make will ultimately sustain me to do good work and to learn so much about a culture that is so very different from anything that I’ve ever known.

Train to Amritsar

2009-05-27T21:16:00.000-07:00

I feel that I’m by far one of the most fortunate people on this planet. I’m entirely not sure which planet that might be, because I feel as if I’m on a different planet than where I’ve been living, but never-the-less. I sit on a train bound for Amritsar, on my way to Dalhousie and Dharamsala for about 11 days, looking out at the Indian countryside, green, thatched huts. Earlier leaving Delhi, I saw lots of garbage, pigs, people squatting, but now farmland and a breath of fresh air.

During the past week I was feeling quite anxious and it was very difficult, but after a talk with my son and a friend, things started falling into place again. (I’m seeing mounds of cow dung, water buffalo, a few buildings, some still being constructed, others that will just sit and become ghosts) I co-facilitated a workshop for VSO India staff with my mate Mary from the UK. It was quite fun and we even put in a basketball exercise. It’s so incredibly enjoyable to be as creative as possible, so much more fun than the usual. (We’re stopping at a station and people are walking all over the tracks, waiting to get onto their train. An Indian man sat down next to me, he had just travelled to Iran for business. Oh the people you will meet and the things that you will see).

I was in Bhopal and Ujaan recently to do my first co-facilitated workshop. Went with my mates Allan and Margaret from the UK. We stayed in a place called the SOS Village which are actually set up around the world. The concept is that abandoned/orphaned children with disability are brought to the Village to live in a family environment. There are groupings of houses with six children and a “mother” and “auntie” living in the homes with the children. Of course, I found a b-ball court and played a bit of b-ball with a number of the boys, as the girls have a separate play area. Given the mix of disability though I ended up doing great circle games, holding hands, with the boys. There was lots of laughing. One boy was in a wheelchair and he participated in everything which was so good for my heart.

I made my first cultural faux-paux at the Village, by putting on my bathing suit and walking through some sprinklers shirtless. (I’m seeing these brick huts and a number of brick making factories). I was told by one of the administrators that the females were quite uncomfortable. I apologized profusely to this administrator and the director and they said don’t worry about it. I need to remember to be a bit more cautious when I’m out in the “countryside”.

Ujaan was magical as we stayed at an ashram, where abandoned people are brought. Upon arriving at Ujaan we went to hospital to visit a client who was pregnant. Apparently she also had a mental disorder. This was at about 7 PM and by 11 AM the next morning the client was back at the Ashram with a baby girl. She wasn’t allowed to stay at the hospital because of her apparent mental condition. The ashram was really in a very rural environment and we ate on a rooftop, a scrumptious meal and slept outside. Absolutely the magic of India at its very best. The next morning we toured the facility and one could see the happiness from having a place to live but also the sadness of living with a mental disorder.

How does one actually put into words the magic that is all around us? We try but there is also something unworldly, at least through my filters, in it all. Something well beyond words, when one’s world is totally turned upside down and what one thought was the “way” of doing things is absolutely not. (I’m also watching the Lakers-Nuggets score on MSN.com, 76-76 after three quarters).

Delhi is a place where one can ride an incredibly modern metro, but when one comes out at the New Delhi stop to go to the train, one sees a mass of people crouched, sitting on the ground, sleeping at the station, not necessarily modern trains. It makes me pause and wonder how did this all get built? Is it really possible given the construction methods? (The metro of course) A house is being built across the street from me and it is just so surprising to see it go up. There is a work crew consisting of both men and women in saris and it is just remarkable, but it is, in fact going up.

I love the fact though that I can see, smell and feel all of this. I don’t really like the heat and the dust, but I share this with so many others. (I’m seeing these large mounds of straw with large mounds of dung next to them and people are actually using tractors, women in saris picking something, the thatched huts where the workers most likely live).

I’m doing my very best to connect with others, trying to start a Men’s Group, and yes there are commonalities, we’re all human, but we are also so very different. The diversity that I’m finding is in some ways similar to what I’ve experienced with others in the US, but here I am the foreigner, a lot of the time not understanding what is being said to me, especially by the young girls who live downstairs from me. They know my name now, call me Mike, but then I don’t necessarily know what they are saying, although they do make themselves clear about what they want to eat out of my refrigerator.

I feel that India is really just whetting my appetite for seeing more of the world, but not just seeing, truly experiencing. I think that India will open up so many more opportunities for me. In a way it’s too bad that I didn’t start this when I was younger, but I was doing other things that seemed very important. I have no regrets about what I’ve done in my past, although I know that I’ve hurt others, which was never my intention. But now I have this entirely new world opening up. (Lakers won and I’m seeing fields and fields of sunflowers-the unexpected).

What will this new world bring? So hard to say and know, but everyday seems to create a new opportunity, a new way of seeing things , of just being. (The sunflowers are just spectacular). Nothing is done by rote, it’s all about creativity, shedding the past and making the future, but truly being right in the moment.

India, sweet India.

Some rantings

2009-05-09T23:28:00.001-07:00

May 10, 2009
It’s Mother’s Day in India, I guess, at least I saw some commercials on the television indicating that this was the case. Maybe it is, maybe not.

There is a lot of action in the house that I’m living in. A baby naming will take place today, so lot’s of commotion, people in my apartment who I don’t really know. Privacy seems to have very different meanings in India, than what I’m used to. Not that I shut my door and that is it for the rest of the world, because I have left my door open and my neighbors walk in and out, especially the children who grab my basketball and dribble. But this seems to be a bit much.

There is a great deal of curiosity about foreigners, no doubt about this. I still get my fair share of stares when I’m out in public. The tut-tut, three wheel drivers, some at least, laugh at me when I tell them that it is illegal not to use their meters. But, I’ll keep trying and threatening. There are those who laugh when I say, “stop pushing and let me out of the metro”. On some level, I’m becoming part of the fabric, but on another level I keep my very western ways to myself and try to tell others about them, through, what I consider to be my “polite” way of dealing with others. But as I know not everyone shares this and why should they?

Privacy is another matter in India. With extended families living with one another, there appears to be little of the western privacy. It’s not unusual at this point, for people just to come into my apartment. On some level, I’m just part of the family, but on another level, I want people to respect my privacy.

My music, loaded on my laptop, has kept me sane. I’m so glad that I can hear these sounds that remind me of the United States. Yes, I suppose that I’m coming to appreciate the comfort of my home country. But that is what part of this exploration is about. Of course, I’ve met some wonderful people in India and have found a great b-ball game, and am making a life for myself, but it still seems quite foreign. I don’t really understand Hindi and certainly don’t speak it well enough to communicate with many people. The heat is definitely exhausting and I am a stranger.

I see the same moon that we all see, but somehow it’s different. I realize that all of this takes time to become used to. When I think about how we all share the same planet, it is certainly quite mind boggling. I can still listen to a Lakers-Rockets game, but it is the morning instead of the evening and I have a gas stove to cook on and people just don’t look like me.

But then I think about the tremendous opportunity that I have in my work life, something, I don’t necessarily feel that I would have received in the U.S. Yes, I’ve made impacts throughout my life, but nothing like I feel that I can make here and that feels pretty good. I’ll be travelling a lot in my job, starting with one week in Bhopal on Monday. I’ll be going with some colleagues and we’ll be giving a capacity building, fundraising workshop.

Of course, it all remains a challenge especially the heat. At times, I’m not gravely impacted by it, but at other times I can really feel it. I also know that I’ve lost a bit of weight, but am hungry quite a bit, so am confident that I’ll gain this back, most likely during the winter, which I’m looking forward to. Of course I don’t want to wish away any of the time that I’m here, want to enjoy it all no matter how challenging it may be.

I do like the surprise of it all though, because I never do quite know what I’ll be seeing. Walking home from the bus, I’ll see some weddings with great celebration, lots of noise, live music, fireworks, just walking down the side of the road. I really can’t ever walk home without there being lots of people, noise, animals, dust. Yes, the surprise of it all truly keeps one alive and that is what India is about, staying alive.

I’m wondering if this is also possibly the case in other “developing” countries. Life and death for that matter are so prevalent that one can’t help but live a full life with many celebrations no matter what socio-economic level one is at. Something to ponder and find out more about.

Life is just a gigantic classroom and there are teachers everywhere one looks and even if one doesn’t look. It’s a matter of keeping one’s mind open and to always be aware of the doors that keep turning up. It is something like Alice in Wonderland, with things appearing, but why not slide down the rabbit hole? Why not walk through the fences that we put up around us? It’s all there. So why not?

Some notes about Democrats and Basketball

2009-05-02T23:56:00.001-07:00

On Friday night I went to a foreign democrats meeting held at a beautiful hotel in New Delhi. The occasion was an analysis of the first 100 days of the big “O” conducted by a panel consisting of a UK NPR reporter, a BBC correspondent, a Time magazine writer and a reporter from the Hindustani Times. The food was quite good, top quality, 5 star hotel kind of stuff.

It was a very stimulating evening. I met a number of Americans, including one young lady from New York. Clara is here doing an internship with dalits/women’s rights and will be returning to the States in June in order to attend law school at Fordham, University of Michigan or Columbia.

I started talking about my love of markets and Clara smiled and asked me if I knew of a farm called Cato Corners in southeastern CT. Of course given my work in southeastern CT I did know of Cato Corners. Clara had been working summers at one of their farm stands in Brooklyn and was hoping to go back this summer and do the same.

This points up the smallness of the world. How I can be literally half way around the world from my home state of California, or Connecticut for that matter, and talk about someone that we both know, even though I had never met Clara before.

Would I have ever met Clara in the States, most likely not, but I met her in New Delhi. Will I ever see Clara again in my life, most likely not, although given the magic of the universe, maybe. But, that is not the point. The rather strangeness of it all, but yet naturalness, is something that certainly warrants some thinking about.

Another person at the democratic affair told me about how he recently read an article in a local newspaper describing how a three year old in India insisted on going to a village and talking to his “wife”. He then proceeded to talk all about his life with her. The individual that I was talking to told me that he now believed in this kind of stuff, i.e. I assume some type of reincarnation.

Are we meant to connect with specific people on our life journey, and have we seen these “souls” before? It brings up an interesting question, whether life is somehow “programmed” or whether we are all just free spirits making things happen as they will.

I’m not really sure about this, as I would hope to have a lot of free will, to determine what happens, but of course, we all have certain doors that we can choose to see and knock on, enter or keep closed. We can place ourselves in situations that seem far beyond any fences that we’ve posted for ourselves. We can seek to go well beyond our fears and truly live extraordinary lives and meet someone like “Clara”, who we may not meet in our home countries, although she is from our home country.

Here’s the entirely other piece as basketball, and my passion for this sport, continues to be prevalent no matter where I go. (And why wouldn't there be a connection given the big "O's" playing of b-ball) It turns out that the Delhi Democrats Chair is the Boys Basketball Coach at the American Embassy School (AES). Once we got onto this he told me that he might possibly have an opening for an Assistant Coach. Sam introduced me to JD Walsh http://jdbasketball.com/, a 6’8”, former University of Maryland basketball player, who now runs coaching camps for children all over the world, including Palestinian and Israeli children.

On Saturday I went to the AES for my noon basketball game. Upon arriving there was JD doing a basketball camp. He actually ended up playing with us for a few minutes and I was able to try to guard him on once occasion. After leaving the AES, I went to the YMCA, where I was able to swim and then coach.

This was the third Saturday that I’ve been able to coach around 40 children in basketball. The head coach is a wonderful man and is allowing me to really help the children. Typically I run a few drills and then get to spend some focused time with the girls and younger boys.

Being aware of gender issues I was able to divide the children up into five groups in order to do some stretching. I left it to each group to decide who to put in the middle to lead the stretching. I noticed that there were only boys leading. I then asked the groups to change leaders and stated clearly that they must be led by girls. After some hesitation all girls were leading the stretching. A small thing, but nonetheless a way to start breaking down gender barriers. I’m very sensitive to this entire issue, thanks to my life experience and a VSO focus, but I feel that I can subtlety, though very concretely, do something about this through basketball.

There is also the guy on the Delhi list-serve Yuni-net, who recently sent out an e-mail about wanting to watch some of the playoff games with others! He is a Boston Celtics fan, no matter, it would be fun to connect with other NBA types.

I’m intent on making basketball more a part of how I live my life, a team approach, a teaching and learning experience, a dance that brings people together to not only like one another, but to also respect and love one another. It is all amazing stuff and can happen by walking through doors at posh hotels in New Delhi in order to realize how great the big “O” really is.

On Sweeping Dust and Just is it that is Growing in My Nose?

2009-04-24T21:23:00.000-07:00

One of the things that is most notable in New Delhi is the dust. It’s everywhere as no road seems truly finished, as there is a lot of building taking place for not only the 2010 Commonwealth games, but for completion of the Metro, flyovers and various other building projects. Roads are covered in dust, buildings are covered in dust, mangy dogs and cows are covered in dust. When I take an evening shower I can feel the layer of dust rolling off of me. I think that my feet will never again be truly clean.

Some people wear masks over their faces, most don’t. As I walk to the bus that will bring me to the Metro station, I notice many people sweeping the dust to get rid of the garbage that accumulates along the side of the road. So why would someone sweep dust which fly’s into the air and then lands back on the side of the road? I’m not really clear about this, except it does seem to get rid of the garbage. The dust is still there and doesn’t seem to go away as there isn’t much rain. But yet, people keep sweeping the dust.

All of this of course leads to quite strange things growing in my nose. Hopefully my nose hairs are filtering out all of the dust and whatever else I’m breathing in these days. It does make for very interesting people watching. I must say that I’ve gotten into it myself, that is trying to determine what exactly is growing in my nose. As you can imagine the mornings are particularly interesting, never knowing quite what will turn up in my tissues after blowing my nose. Use your imagination or better yet, just come for a visit.

As I’m learning from my two weeks in my job, the amount of need in India is huge. I think on some level I will be able to help, to make a small contribution, a dent, to help build some capacity, to teach some fundraising skills, to develop some strategic plans, to maybe help with some exporting opportunities. Then, of course is the other side.

Yes, we have poverty in the U.S. and it is horrible. In India, poverty stares one in the face whenever one is out walking about. As I was walking home tonight after the metro bus dropped me off, I noticed for the second time in a couple of days a man sitting in the dust. His legs seemed to be fairly mangled and he seemed to be very small. He wasn’t begging but I couldn’t just walk by without giving him a rupee. I haven’t made a practice of this because I have a small salary and I just don’t have enough to give out a rupee or two to every person that I see in this predicament. This entire act of giving this man even one rupee made me think about how I could really help, is anything actually possible?

Children ask me for money all of the time, bringing their hands to their mouths, indicating that they need food. If this doesn’t work they bring their 5 month old sibling to show me this as well. Mothers are not shy about this type of begging either. Am I helping by making a donation of a rupee or two?

It’s not that I can’t help out, but in the long run is it doing any good or causing a dependence and do those people need this money to live on? I don’t really know the answer to this.

If I can rationalize I am actually helping out by being in India and working for the National Trust as I have the opportunity to touch many lives through the 800+ partner NGO’s. Can I really help to develop sustainable infrastructure for some of those partner organizations and to the National Trust? Of course I have to believe that I can, otherwise it might be much too overwhelming. In fact it is overwhelming and is very difficult to imagine. I haven’t seen the full impact of poverty, pollution, too many people and not enough resources, but I may get the opportunity as I will be traveling in my job in order to help build capacity.

Maintaining a great deal of positive attitude is always helpful, no matter what one is doing in life. Letting negativity slip in, even for an instant, can have very detrimental effects upon how one approaches their job and their life. Is it naïve to think that one can really make a difference? I wonder why this question keeps popping up?

Let’s see how it all works out from a very pro-active perspective. This morning as I was hanging my sheets out to dry, I noticed a person with a broom sweeping the garbage from the dust which went into the air and settled back down to its home in the alleys of New Delhi.

Home?

2009-04-17T23:38:00.000-07:00

4/18/09-Home?
I must be at home as I had my usual breakfast of oatmeal (Quaker) and fresh fruit. The only difference was that I had boiled the fruit, ok so I am somewhat paranoid. Nothing else much different, except that I had to manually turn on the gas and light one of the two burners on the stove. OK, maybe there is a difference. Let’s see I also washed clothes, put them into a bucket in the bathroom, threw in some soap powder and then wrung them out and hung them on my back porch. Just trying to be more environmentally conscious and not use too much water. I had a Hindi lesson at 10 AM with Bolbol, the nine year old who lives in the house. Went up to the roof top and watered a bunch of plants. It does feel like home, but yet it is different, I think.

Yes, there was the riding home on the metro last night after work finished and seeing one other person with a lighter skin color, although I’m darkening. There was the bicycle rickshaw from the metro station, with the “driver” huffing and puffing, so much dust, buses, motorcycles, cows, saw a mother pig on the side of the road with her piglets in a large culvert that had this incredible smell. OK a bit different. Then there were the ten boys that I befriended when I went outside my house with my basketball. All of the boys talking at once asking me questions, telling me things, trying to get me to cuss in Hindi, telling me that they would teach me how to play cricket.

I’m listening to very familiar music on my laptop, I’ve hung up “my stuff” throughout my house-a poster of the big “O”, some Napolean Dynamite things, of course farmers’ market posters, my spiritual corner, familiar pictures, but also some posters in Hindi discussing women and Dalits.

I’ll grant you that I’m in India and it still seems a bit off the map to me, but it is also becoming home. The other light skinned person that I saw yesterday surprised me in that when I asked her where she was from, she stated the U.S., in fact, born in Pasadena, but has lived in India for 40 years, her home.

I’ve been here a bit more than five weeks and I suppose that I am starting to settle in, although there is still quite a bit of Delhi, and of course India to explore. Every neighborhood and there are a multitude, seems to have its own character. I hope to get off at various metro stops and just walk, to see the markets, to see the people, to try to get a handle on what it is that makes India, India. This will all take time depending upon the outside temperatures.

My roommate has left, but I do have a gecko, maybe more hanging around and eating the mosquitoes, at least I haven’t been bitten recently. My refrigerator, although not full at the moment, could contain many of the same things that I eat in the States. My stomach at the moment feels fairly normal. I’m going to the YMCA this afternoon to talk about possibly doing some b-ball coaching. Then there is the fact that I brought my clothes around the corner yesterday to be ironed, outside, by a woman with an iron heated with coal. OK, so maybe a bit different. I also understood maybe one or two words that woman said to me, like the cost/piece of 2 rupees or about $.04. Seems to be different, but then I bought some peanut butter and the cost was 99 rupees.

What is home? I suppose that this is being redefined for me. Is it just a state of mind, a feeling of comfort, even if one feels that one is not on the same planet that one was born on. Look, I sat in a meeting yesterday and talked about some structural issues with my employer and some other NGO Executive Directors. Could I have been in southeastern Connecticut talking with other United Way Agency Executives about a program? Sure, except for the fact that the acronyms were different, that the women were dressed in saris, but the facilitator sure seemed as if he could have been any where in the world. The discussion was the same as many that I’ve had in the States or in my training in Canada prior to coming to India.

So back to home, yes it is where one makes it, where one can eat oatmeal with fruit or have peanut butter and jelly, where I can play b-ball with some Americans or eastern Europeans or Filipinos, the rules seem the same. A place where I can hang a picture of Barrack or Napolean Dynamite, the walls are the same walls, although they don’t seem to be made of wallboard. All right so there’s no segregated shower area and the washer and dryer do seem a bit different, but maybe it’s all a continuum, what the so called “developed” countries used to look like, no matter it is home.

This is important to me on a number of levels, I want to appreciate what I’ve been given in life, but I also want to appreciate how others live. I want to understand other languages and why things are done certain ways. Yes, it would be difficult if I didn’t have my music to listen to, but I also get to expand the music that I listen to, the films that I will come to appreciate, the people who maybe were once strangers but are now friends. Why stay in one place for one’s entire life, when there is so much diversity, so much to see, to experience. Why not be that intrepid explorer?

I do understand that feeling of comfort, of knowing, of “security”, but I think that a lot of it is false. Home is where the “heart” is. Ok, I can go with that or maybe it’s only where the oatmeal is.

The Process of washing and drying clothes in India

2009-04-14T02:42:00.000-07:00

Imagine how great I felt when I found out that there was a washer and dryer in my apartment. Of course, this was from a western perspective. We all know how it goes, you put the clothes in the washer, add a little soap then 50 or so minutes later we transfer the clean clothes to the dryer, fold, maybe iron them and away we go.

How silly of me to think that it would be this way in India. Here's the deal to washing clothes in India with a washer and "dryer". First of all one fills up the washer with water, manually because the tube won't connect to the sink, maybe three large buckets or so and then you add the soap, some clothes, set the timer to 15 minutes. Not so difficult right? Well ok, then you put the cycle on drain and add three more buckets of water to get the soap out and then put the washer on a cycle to spin. OK, not too bad so far right, unless you're used to the western way of things. The dryer is very small, interesting I thought. The dryer is actually a spinner to get the water out and then the reality is that the clothes have to be hung up in order to dry them.

Maybe this has to do with why things move slowly, the heat of course is another reason. Can it all be brought back to the wasteful technology that we’ve used in the west of washing drying clothes. Of course using the sun and regulating the amount of water used makes a huge environmental difference. I do know however that the soap that I use seems to take a lot of color out of my clothes, so maybe not so good for the environment.

Contradictions abound, but the process of India is something that I’m now confronting regularly! Maybe when you visit you won’t think that it is a process, but in fact it is.

Goodbyes and hellos

2009-04-13T23:27:00.000-07:00

4/13/09

"Serving the world with love and cooperation,you will find your own true Self.As you help those in need, selfishness will fall away,and without even noticingyou will find your own fulfillment."
-- Amma

Goodbyes and hellos
Yesterday I said goodbye to many of my VSO friends as they went off to their respective placements. I know now that my “family” continues to grow and that I will have many places to stay in India and will see all of the diversity that this country has to offer. On one level I was sad to say goodbye, but when I look at all of the talent that the volunteers have to offer and what they will be doing, it is very inspiring.

I brought my dear friend Louise to the train to go to Gujarat. The driver who brought us to the station could not park and so he let us off and we made it to the correct car and seat. I’m looking forward to also taking the train to see the country. When I was in India three years ago it was a wonderful experience to get on a train and know where it was taking me, but not really knowing.

I started my job today and spent a good deal of the time with the Chairperson of the National Trust, Poonam. It all sounds so very exciting, lots of possibilities, lots of new connections, so much to learn, so much to teach. We had a staff meeting and was able to meet most of the staff. My friend Alan, another VSO volunteer from Scotland is also working at the National Trust. We are the first two VSO volunteers in the organization and the first foreigners. It will be so very interesting for me to fit in, develop relationships, become part of this and our partner organizations, to do many of the things that I’ve done in my work life in the States, although in a very different environment.

The opportunities really do seem endless, only limited by my own filters. It will be very positive for me to be able to see things form another cultural perspective. I really hope to take this in and integrate it into my thinking, my feelings, my very being. It is such a growth opportunity for me and to truly be open. I’m really looking forward to making this new life, but being open to the curves that will no doubt come my way.

I went to an Indian wedding in the evening at the Garden of 5 senses. Things do seem to take much longer in India, in Delhi, as the city is quite spread out and full of traffic. The driver was supposed to pick me up at 7:45, but due to traffic wasn’t able to get me until 9:15. We were able to get to the wedding by about 10:15. As I walked in I heard a muzak version of “Light My Fire”. The wedding was for a female disability activist. Although we missed the ceremony there was plenty of food and plenty of people to meet. Since I had eaten something at my landlord’s while waiting for the driver I wasn’t overly hungry, but did manage some ice cream and some Indian treats.

I’ve been thinking more about how in many cases I’m the only non-Indian. This is the case whether riding on the metro, walking in my neighborhood. I actually like this, kind of yes, I am the foreigner, looking to be part of your culture. I’m reminded of a quote/poem from Marianne Williamson:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

For some reason the above is brought out in my being different but also wanting/knowing how much I desire to share with others, to bring others up to another level, to show other ways of doing things, but also to learn, to find the light in others and become part of that, to add to my light.

I will therefore share with others, my privilege in being born to a middle class family in Los Angeles, to share what I’ve learned and the skills that I’ve acquired along the way. My journey is so far from over, when others talk and think about retirement, not that I don’t, I truly feel like it is all just starting, that there really isn’t any room for ever stopping the work and the joy that I’m finding in being in India and who knows where else in the future. Maybe I will stay in India, maybe I will work and make some more money and then do a VSO assignment again, I’m not really sure at this point in my life. I know though that this is only the tip of things to come, as long as I do stay healthy, and can find a basketball court where I’m living, where I can find others who have similar interests in serving. It’s all such an adventure, the spice of life as someone once said to me and I am just fortunate and blessed to be living it.

Magic

2009-04-08T23:27:00.000-07:00

4/4/09
Taking a bicycle rickshaw is an amazing experience in Delhi. Typically two people fit on the back of the rickshaw and let’s say that’s a total of 300 or so pounds. Add that to the weight of the bike and the weight of the driver and maybe we have about 500 pounds. Now, the driver is usually small and is driving in traffic with other bicycle rickshaws, auto rickshaws, cars, motorcycles, buses, cows, dogs and the occasional monkeys. It’s not the same thing that one sees in New York with their own kind of bicycle rickshaw.

The roads have numerous bumps and are dusty, the buses are spewing pure pollutants into the environment, the smells at times somewhat overpowering. Due to the constant traffic stoppages, the drivers often get off of the bikes and have to push them to build up momentum to move forward. Maybe you get the picture, but perhaps you don’t. Maybe the Indian traffic patterns, which can be disputed work.

The fact that millions of people live here and more continually move to the urban centers gives me pause about how the spreading megalopolis will ever stop, will truly provide a decent living for all. Going back to the bicycle rickshaw driver I wonder how he can make a living by providing Rp$30 drives. Obviously he has no medical insurance and if he gets hurt, which must happen frequently does he resort to begging, something that one becomes immune to rather quickly?

The bottom line is that it is not fair and will never be. The so called developing world, from my perspective will never be able to totally get out of poverty. People resort to whatever they need to do to earn a few rupees, the kindness of others, the so-called overpaying the auto rickshaw drivers 20 more rupees (40 cents) because one is a Westerner. But yet we argue about this as we become part of the game.

India again makes me realize how I would like a partner in life, someone to share this all with. A friend recently wrote to me and said that she felt lonely and didn’t want to die alone. I wrote back and stated that this was valid but that in fact she had friends and family and that she wouldn’t die alone. In the end is it really about that though?

I think that it is more about life and how we live it. Two of the volunteers are a couple who have been doing development work together for many years. Seeing them brought a lot of joy and happiness to me. It made me realize how possible it was to find another adventurous soul, who wouldn’t settle for the usual kind of thing. Not that this is negative in any sense, but maybe all it does is provide a false sense of security. I don’t think either that it’s about being bored easily, but it seems to be more about an unquenchable curiosity about life. Yes, it can be a hassle because it’s not the way that it is at home. But on the other side it is about a love of diversity, about making a home for oneself in what might seem to be a foreign place, about eating foods that upset your stomach. But it also is about becoming part of something that one didn’t know existed, that even though one moves half way around the world, one can still find a roommate from Los Angeles even though one wasn’t looking, it means finding people who also speak English but don’t really seem to be.

I read a quote from Gandhi in the Delhi Times today, “Immature love is saying to someone I love you because I need you and mature love is saying I need you because I love you.” Isn’t this so very true, subtle, but a difference and do we really think about this in our love relationships?

No matter where I look though we all seem to cherish and want similar things, although this does take on very different meanings. There are so many people that I see sleeping on the pavement with a dirty blanket over their heads, no place to have any privacy, nothing really to call their own in the western sense of things. Are they happy? I really don’t know.

The injustice of it all really makes one feel somewhat hopeless.

April 5, 2009
Today I clearly experienced both advantage and disadvantage. I went to a wonderful brunch with Onkar’s family who have really adopted me as one of their own. I feel so very comfortable with everyone and was invited to a cousin’s 5th birthday on April 26. I can’t wait to attend as there will be over 30 children. We went to a 5 star hotel for brunch and had southern Indian food, dosas. I didn’t see the bill but there were at least 16 or so of us. Mohan, Onky’s dad was there with his two brothers and their families.

On the other side of the coin, I made a mala or garland with the women outside of the Indian Social Institute. I get so much joy from just hanging out with all of these people. I’m not sure of their caste, but they appear to be as happy as can be, no matter what their conditions seem to me as a Westerner. I held a three month old baby, which I had referred to previously and she peed all over me. I joked, later in the day with the Indian women, saying that I would one day attend the baby’s wedding and remind her that she had peed on me.

I gave the mala to Onky’s Chachi and she loved it. I hadn’t really thought about it, but I was connecting two very different worlds. Do they ever see each other? I’m not entirely sure of this, but I certainly do. I’m so aware of the differences in just about everything and I can somehow straddle both which I will need to do to be successful in my position with the National Trust. It’s not just about empathy but it’s truly experiencing the life of others, which I am so fortunate to be able to do.

If I had my choice which world would I want to be in? Could I actually always be in a very public place, take bucket showers, work seven days/week and all hours in order just to survive? India has made me wonder, to start to question, which I was hoping that it would do. Again, when someone tells me that they’ve made Rs$100 for the day, about $2 US and then asks me what my camera costs, about $300 US it makes me question, how can it not. Whenever I’m stopped in an auto rickshaw people come up asking for money, especially women with young children. How can this not make one question? Wherever I go I see people living and sleeping on the sidewalk. What really can be done to help all of these people?

April 9, 2009
There are so many vignettes from my fellow volunteers-
Two of my friends, Joe and Mark are just incredible musicians. They wrote a song about our Hindi teacher and then we all performed it for our teacher and at a VSO party. I played the drums and added the Hindi lines. I’ve captured it on video and can show you when you come to India.

My good friend Noel from the Philipines bought a pair of shoes at Jamma Masjid. They were very inexpensive and were “knock-offs”. The next day when he tried them on he discovered that the left shoe was larger than the right. Interestingly enough these shoes fit Noel perfectly as his left foot is larger than his right.

Naomi, a woman from the UK was telling me about how she is “anal” when it comes to cutting boards, yes back home she has one for every different kind of food and would never mix them.

There was the trip to Jamma Masjid, a Muslim area in Old Delhi where we were supposed to meet up with an organization that works with homeless, but somehow we didn’t connect. We ended up driving to an area and all of these children were suddenly around us. I picked up and held a little blind girl, who I felt seemed to be so happy at just the touch, letting other children just hold my hand and spinning them around. I then walked over to this gigantic tent and found many men preparing a huge feast for a wedding. Gigantic copper pots, earthen stoves for preparing rotti, mounds of chicken.

Everywhere one looks, there is magic. You don’t have to look very hard, just have to be open-all of your senses and you have to possess an attitude of wonder. It’s about a curiosity, a wanting to see others for who they are. It’s about connection with others and appreciating the similarities and differences. But, most of all it is about appreciating all of the gifts that everyone has to offer, no matter who they are, no matter what caste they might be in. It is about listening and hearing. It is about being aware that we are all very complicated and if one takes the time one can hear the life stories that we all have.

Magic is everywhere, it is however up to each of us to sense it in our lives.

An Indian Haircut

2009-04-03T05:45:00.000-07:00

An Indian Haircut
I asked some India VSO staff if they thought that my hair was too long for the job and they replied no. However after eating dinner again at Ghulab’s, since Joe was going for a haircut I decided to get one as well. As I was watching another person get a haircut, I saw the barber giving the patron a very interesting massage and this helped me to decide to also get a haircut.

The barber that I wanted to get my haircut from had just finished with another customer, but another barber jumped in and must have said it is my turn. Not wanting there to be an altercation I went with the second barber.

The scissors were sharp and clean and after cutting my hair, the barber took out a razor. I immediately said what is that for and he replied with, this is new and it is just for your sideburns and back of the neck. After this the massage started.

The barber would clap his hands, massage me and then clap again. At times it was a pounding to my head. It was not just my head, but also my shoulders and down my back. Since I haven’t had a massage for quite some time, it, at times, was quite ticklish. I’ve had haircuts where my scalp is massaged a little bit, during the wash, but never anything like this.

The cost was 25 rupees, but it would have been about 15 rupees, if I hadn’t gotten the extra massage.

India and Basketball-Some Thoughts

2009-04-02T00:32:00.000-07:00

April 2, 2009
Another day of Hindi classes. I so hope to learn this language and fortunately will have lots of time to practice in my new home in Dwarki. The family living on the first two floors consists of 14 people, the mother and father, the three brothers, who are in business together and their wives, with each of them having two children.

I’m excited about really becoming more rooted in New Delhi, but also somewhat sad about all of the volunteers disbursing. My VSO family continues to grow and it would be really great just to hang with all of them, but I know that we have our jobs to do. Of course we will all meet up during conferences and such, but still.

This experience is all about transitions and being extremely flexible to the environment. I truly feel that this is the only way to survive and thrive. But of course in being flexible the world opens up. Let me give you an example.

On Sunday I went along with five other volunteers to a sports complex. For Rs$100 one could play basketball outdoors, go swimming, play tennis, shoot, play badminton, squash, etc. I saw a bunch of basketball players sitting near the courts. They were dressed like guys in the States and I made this assumption and thought, “What are these African American guys doing in India”. Well, of course, when I asked them where they were from it became quite apparent that they weren’t from the States, but were in fact from Congo. I also met a guy from France who later in the week came to the American Embassy School.

The NBA has done such an incredible job of marketing basketball throughout the world. The guys from the Congo were amazing players with one guy able to dunk and actually do a goal tending on one play. I can’t wait to play with them and apparently they play year round even when it gets up to 45 degrees C, which is really hot.

I do spend an inordinate amount of time on basketball, following the Lakers, teaching the sport and of course playing. This sport is so much about life to me in the sense of it is a way of living. It not only keeps me physically fit, but also keeps me mentally fit. When I play basketball there is nothing else happening in the world, so that, in some sense it is a form of meditation. I’ve now met Eastern Europeans, who are just a blast to play with, Americans, who want to live their lives in Delhi, and will meet guys from the Congo. How incredible is that?

I always go back to Phil Jackson’s book, “Sacred Hoops”, which I’ve read a couple of times. In the book Phil talks about the Chicago Bulls and how he molded them into a “team” that was able to win championships, something that other coaches weren’t able to do even with Michael Jordan.

The fact is that basketball has such a beautiful flow, a dance, to it when all of the five players are working together. So much about life when we cooperate with one another towards achieving common goals. We all have our places and when we realize what those places are, amazing things can be accomplished. It’s somewhat letting go of the ego for the good of the larger “team”.

Even though New Delhi is highly polluted it is a breath of fresh air, in that, everything is so very different than what I’m used to. On Saturday my VSO Canadian friend Mark and I went to Old Delhi, a very crowded area with narrow streets. We went to a market leading up to the Jamma Masjid, which I believe is a Muslim temple. There were many things that seemed familiar, as vendors were selling shoes, plastic toys, western clothing, etc. But then there is the unfamiliar, the Muslim hat vendors, the women wearing saris, the extremely narrow streets lined with a multitude of shops, the man crouched on a counter, putting raw dough for chapattis into an inverted oven, the many goats, a mongoose crossing the market walking path, the fruit and vegetable vendors pedaling from carts and it goes on.

The newness of it all is something that I hope doesn’t change. There seem to be surprises everywhere one goes and one really does not have to look. If variety is in fact the spice of life, then this is what India is about, of course literally with the food, but also with the people and the place.

Traveling in India is something that I will do to really understand the diversity that this very magical place is. Yes, of course, there are the McDonald’s with no meat, in fact a sign states that “we do not serve beef here”, and the KFC’s, Subway’s, Adidas Stores, but most of it is so unfamiliar. The small entrepreneur seems to be the method that most people use to make money.

The poverty can be overwhelming, but overall people that I meet seem to be quite happy. The caste system is alive no matter what anyone says, although I really admire the Indians for being somewhat open about this. In the U.S. we are much more subtle and although we don’t ever talk about a caste system, people are born into certain families and therefore have certain opportunities more available to them than others. No, we don’t have so called “arranged” marriages in the U.S. but of course people typically marry within their social class. India is different, but not so different when it comes to these matters.

I’m looking forward to moving into my quite “Western” living arrangements and becoming a family member of the owners who live downstairs. They seem incredibly sweet and welcoming as Indian families tend to be. There is nothing like being welcomed into another culture. I think that others can tell when one is open or closed and I feel very open to the possibilities and opportunities. I think that being open is something that suits me well as it has brought me to the incredibly enriching place in my life.

The Journey to New Delhi

2009-03-29T01:36:00.000-07:00

This particular life journey began at the end of October/beginning of November of 2007, when my “dream” market job in Lancaster, PA ended on a somewhat down note. I won’t go into the particulars because it’s in other things that I’ve written, but needless to say, my time in PA ended abruptly and made me wonder what was next. After spending lots of time during 2008 moving around the country, first to CT for about six months, applying again to enlist in the Peace Corps and going through the medical and dental tests, where I discovered that I needed a root canal, applying and being accepted by World Teach to spend a year teaching English in China, and also spending a bit of time in CA visiting and for a memorial service for my friend David Stoner, driving cross country with my son Daniel in May in order to start a summer job in CA, how funny to think about this at my age, going to Chicago with my parents for Ben’s bar mitzvah and actually hooking up with a cousin and finding a place to live in L.A., really close to where Dan, Sarah and Ricardo were living, where I was supposed to live for three months but turned out to be a bit less than two, going for a job interview to Portland, OR and visiting my family in Seattle, going to New Orleans for a work week, then moving in with my parents in September-October in Orange County and taking them to Rachel’s bat mitzvah in NYC, going back to Seattle to do a bit more work and then travelling to Mobile, AL to do a presentation, and then spending the end of October through early February in Boulder, when the big “O” became president.

To say that I, at times, wondered where I was and in what time zone was somewhat of an understatement. Yes, it was all very interesting and I was able to play basketball in Waterford and New London, CT, Seattle, New Orleans, Los Angeles and Boulder, but as one can understand I did feel somewhat rootless.

But let’s go back to September-October, 2008 when I was again thinking about what was next. I decided to spend some time with my parents in Mission Viejo. Markets were a natural, but nothing seemed to be happening in terms of a long-term job. That fact that I had been accepted by World Teach made me think even more about an overseas opportunity even though Peace Corps just wasn’t working for me. I’d collected unemployment compensation from the state of PA, worked a bit in CT for a Chamber of Commerce, worked in L.A. and Seattle, while getting paid from a business out of New Orleans, so there was some money coming in, that combined with somewhat minimal expenses made things ok, at least on the short-term money front.

The Mission Viejo Public Library seemed like a great place to do research on maybe finally going overseas. I used the library as my office, and they had a great selection of movies. I found a wonderful international volunteering website for people 50 and over and went to the diversified programs category, http://www.over50andoverseas.com/vol_categories_diverse.html where I found out about an organization called VSO Canada, http://www.cuso-vso.org/.

On first examination VSO seemed a bit like Peace Corps, but due to the fact that it is an NGO, I was hoping that it would be much less bureaucratic and as it has turned out this was very much the case. Another advantage is that the VSO is a network located not only in Canada, but also in the UK, Kenya, the Netherlands, the Philippines, India and Ireland. The average age, unlike the Peace Corps is older, 41 and all of their goals and definition of “development” seem to be much more in line with mine. I filled out the on-line application and very soon after had a call from a VSO staffer to really determine my interest. This led to an assessment day in mid-November in Vancouver and since I had already moved to Boulder I ended up flying from Denver to Seattle, where I was again able to visit my family, took a bus to Vancouver and stayed overnight. A week after all of my references were in I was notified that I was accepted as a VSO volunteer! The next step would be to do the medical and dental assessments and wait for an assignment which could take up to six weeks or more.

I decided that I would be pro-active and schedule my medical and dental appointments for early December. I found a doctor and my friends Robert and Michele, who I was staying with in Boulder, recommended their dentist, who turned out to be quite painless! (This is not an oxy-moron in this case).

By mid-December I had two potential assignments provided to me, one in New Delhi for two years and one in Nairobi for one year. Both sounded to be the challenge that I wanted to find during “my year of travelling dangerously”. Since I could apply for one the attraction to India, having visited in early 2006 and keeping rupees in my wallet for the time that I would return, this was somewhat of done deal. Always showing my public side of that laid back Californian, but working with the insides of a type A Easterner, I immediately filled out all of the paper work and sent it back to my Volunteer Advisor. I now had to practice my patience, especially being at the doorstep of the winter holidays.

Both jobs involved fundraising, one on a national basis, India, the other on more of a continent wide basis. Both involved working in agencies that work with people with disabilities-India, the 66 million people living with autism, cerebral palsy or Down’s syndrome, the Kenyan job working with people living with blindness. I had so much to gain with either job.

However, it was now up to the Indian employer to approve my application and accept me for their agency. It did take more than a few weeks, but finally during January I received a verbal acceptance from my volunteer advisor in Ottawa. Things were moving and within another few weeks the written acceptance came. The next step was to obtain my visa. While visiting family, again in Seattle, in early February, I over-nighted my visa package on a Friday to the San Francisco embassy. It was vital that I receive my visa, and passport, within a 10 day period, because I needed the passport to get into Canada. Fortunately it all worked out and the passport and visa were delivered to me while I was visiting friends in CT, just before I came to Canada.

VSO requires volunteers to attend two courses, one Preparing for Change, the other SKWID or Skills for Working in Development. Typically a volunteer will take the first four day course, return home until they know when their placement will be and then return to Canada for the SKWID five day course. Since I was on a very short time frame I’ve been able to take the course back-to-back, with a four day break in between.

This is why I'm now in India.

A magical Moment

2009-03-27T21:31:00.000-07:00

3/28/09
Y’know when you have those magical moments, when somehow things just align so that the unexpected happens, that somehow life becomes more than you ever thought? Last night I went out to dinner with about six other volunteers. We’ve found this wonderful vegetarian restaurant called Ghulab’s quite close to where we are staying for our training. (I’m hoping that my stomach soon adjusts to Indian food which I so much love to eat). As has become my habit, if there is any food left over I will ask for it to be packed and then give it to one of so many people who seem destitute, in my Western eyes, in this area. (I’ll talk more about this at some point, because in fact the definition of destitute seems to be open to interpretation). There is an older Indian man who helps to park cars during the day and has been so helpful and friendly towards us. He sleeps across from the ISI on the pavement with some dirty covers. To my western eyes he seems destitute, but he is always smiling. As the saying goes he literally doesn’t have a “pot to piss in”, but he seems to take life as it comes. I know that he is often hungry and I decided to give him the leftovers from last night, some sweet and sour something or other and some palek malai kofta.

This man seems to hang out with an older Indian woman and her daughter, maybe in her 20’s, some of the many women who make the flower necklaces outside my door. Earlier in the day the man had told me that the younger woman had requested some food. It’s a difficult balance to know what to do, i.e. do you give people food and money on a regular basis? My feeling is that giving money, which is difficult anyway on my limited volunteer budget, is not the best route to go, because when or how does it stop. If you give to one you have to give to another. Whenever some of the children ask me for money I turn it around and in my rudimentary Hindi ask them to give me some Rupees. They get a laugh out of this and the asking usually stops.

After handing the man the bag of food I asked him to take me to the woman and share the food with her. As I was walking back to ISI, some of my many children friends, who always call me Michael with a big smile, waved hello from a doorway. Building up trust with people takes time. In the western world it probably takes a lot more time as we are constantly rushing around and don’t always tend to sit down with others in a really meaningful way unless we want something. In the Indian world this seems to be different. On a deeper level of course we all long for connection with others, for friendship, for understanding. In the Indian world there appears, from my limited experience, to be a gentleness, a just wanting to sit and talk and be with friends. It doesn’t seem to really matter what income level someone is at or what their “house” looks like, it’s a wanting to have meaningful connection. (Of course the caste system, from what has been described, is still in existence, but more on this later). I know that I always try to put intent out, what it is that I would like to have. I’m not sure that this is the case here as things, again from my eyes, seem to occur naturally.

From the doorway I was very gently invited into a “bedroom”. I have been here two weeks and I just feel so blessed to have built up enough trust to have been invited into someone’s house. I sat on a weaved bed and talked with my younger friends, with every subject being open to discussion. I’ve told them a bit about Judaism and they’ve told me a bit about Hinduism. On some level they can’t believe that I’m 52 and one of the children was kidding me about where is my walking stick. On another level I think that they appreciate the fact that someone of my chronological age is able to connect with them in a meaningful way, as a friend and not a parent.

After some time the children asked for music which my volunteer friends Joe with his guitar, from the UK, and Mark with his dulcimer, from Canada, have provided. I went to ISI and brought both of them back to the room. Both Mark and Joe are just wonderful human beings, letting and actually encouraging the children to play their instruments. The children did in fact play both instruments. We all sang jingle bells together. Picture as best that you can being in a “house” in Delhi, with it being very warm, singing jingle bells with an American, an Englishman, a Canadian and six Indian children. Other people from the “neighborhood” hearing the music would stop by, the women in their beautifully colored saris, a man carrying a three month old baby, who I was able to hold, others just popping their heads in with huge smiles, just appreciating the connection that we all shared.

As I left I hugged my Indian friends, a bond made and to be continued for who knows how long, but never-the-less all of us being touched by one another and making a difference, in each other’s lives. This is not to be taken lightly in any sense as we really don’t ultimately know how other’s touch us. Maybe years down the road one of the Indian children will look back with a huge smile and remember Joe and Mark and me and the other volunteers and how friendly we all were. I know that I will always cherish these moments and will think about them with a greater understanding of others and a greater connection to this world which we all share.

Playing in India

2009-03-25T10:08:00.000-07:00

The noblest service comesfrom nameless hands.And the best servant does his work unseen."
-- Oliver Wendell Holmes

"The only ones among you whowill be really happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve."
-- Albert Schweitzer
What we have done for ourselves alonedies with us.What we have done for others and the worldremains and is immortal."
-- Albert Pine
If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more,do more and become more,you are a leader."
-- John Quincy Adams

I get these inspirational quotes everyday and I thought that the four above are very appropriate to what is presently going on in my life and maybe what has always been going on.

We are in the second week of our training and I’ve very much enjoyed learning Hindi. There are six of us in the class, with others learning the language appropriate to their placement. It’s slow going but today we went to a place called Dellihut, a place that I will bring you to if you visit. It is a government operated crafts and food market with the vendors changing every 15 days. See my pics at http://picasaweb.google.com/michaelrosenkrantz2/. Anyway, I had an opportunity to practice some Hindi and the shop owners were quite patient with me. I’ve spent some time practicing on all of the children who live right outside the training area doors.

I bought a basketball a few weeks ago and have also played twice so far at the American Embassy School which was just great. I’ve played with people from the Philippines, my roomie, who is just as quick as lightening, Americans of course and a guy from Serbia and guy from Croatia. The guy from Croatia was bombing from three point land and of course missing layups. It is such a fun time and I’m so glad that I’ve found this game for both physical and mental health.

Ah, the children outside of my doors to the Indian Social Institute, where I am in training, are such a joy. I bought the basketball so that I could teach them some skills. It has been a challenge given my limited Hindi and there limited English. There are a few children who really know English, but at times they aren’t around. A few of us have also started putting paper and crayons, pens and markers out. Marbles are another great thing that Indian children love. Some of the drawings are just amazing and we’re saving them. Nothing that I would have expected. Two of the other volunteers play a guitar and dulcimer and the children really love this as well.

On some level I know that we are already making a difference. I actually played catch with the b-ball with a woman, maybe in her 60’s. She had a huge smile as I taught her how to throw bounce passes. The parents usually are just laughing at all of the fun that we have.

The children are now all calling me Michael and I say hello to just about everybody that I see. They all seem rather curious as I haven’t seen a whole lot of Caucasians in this area, although I know that there are a bunch of ex-pats around.

As I saw when I visited in 2006, the streets are so alive and there appears to be a strong sense of community. If you’ve viewed my pics you can see that this particular community makes these great flower necklaces. The flowers are delivered in the morning and mostly women turn them into these beautiful necklaces which are then brought to this Sai Baba temple around the corner from ISI. The area is front of the temple is quite wild, with people sleeping and visiting there most of the time.

One really has to be here to understand this culture. It truly is something so different than what I’ve experienced living in the US. The colors, sounds, smells! Maybe one can find these in the various ethnic communities, but in India one doesn’t have to look very far, it is right outside your door.

The Start of My Journey-Berlin and India

2009-03-17T08:41:00.000-07:00

3/5/09
I’ve already entered a new world. The languages are already different. Investigating the food possibilities I see ten men kneeling for prayer. I’ve decided on Turkish food, a flat bread with spinach. HLN is on TV, but I am now among a sea of faces that look differently than mine.

It’s all a bit bittersweet, these new beginnings, not so much endings, but knowing that some of my friends and family I won’t see for two years. Technology of course makes it somewhat easier but still there’s something about physical proximity which I will miss. Of course, we tend to take that proximity for granted. My path during the past year has been so much one of connection with people that I truly care about and have come to truly care about. People that are open to connection and wanting to share their lives on a deeper level, people that are self-aware, know about their diversity, and can deal with the diversity of others. There are also those that have been distanced in my life, but I know that I always do my best to shorten those distances.

It’s curious to me when others say keep in contact. Of course my perspective of contact goes quite deep and takes effort. Acquaintances are fine but I really enjoy deep friendships. The reality is that age doesn’t have to matter, but can be an issue. I think that it’s more about life experience and a willingness to be open to connection.

My adventures have more than started and they continue on this particular life journey.

3/16/09
I’m in India! Been here since 3/12. But a few words about Berlin first.
I saw the sun very little for the six days that I was in Berlin. I know that it’s the time of the year, but it also is somewhat how I saw the city. Don’t get me wrong, there is so much history in this city. So much that the city has to offer in terms of culture and of course my beloved children also live there. The buildings were just incredible and walking up unter den linden to the Brandenburg Gate and then seeing pictures of where the Wall was located next to this monument sent shivers up my spine. The thing though is that wherever I went I was reminded of the Wall, either through actually seeing portions of the Wall which have been preserved, maybe as a reminder as to how horrible people can be towards each other, but also through indications on the street where the wall was once established to separate people. Constantly asking myself and my children are we in what was East or West Berlin and knowing that people were put into this “cage” so that they weren’t free in my mind is “sick”.

There were also many reminders of a once thriving Jewish community, markers in front of various homes where Jews were taken away to concentration camps, the Jewish Memorial and museum, a Jewish cemetery with 65,000 or so people buried there, temples which once were vibrant but now are museums where one has to pay some Euros to get in, and pictures of buildings that were a, e.g. Jewish school. Yes, there are new headstones at the Jewish cemetery, but one knows that the people were most likely born in Berlin, somehow escaped being murdered by the Nazis and just wanted to once more return to their homeland.

I have an aunt who leads tours to concentration camps and is reminding us all to “never forget”. I had wanted to go to visit a concentration camp on my last day in Berlin, but was feeling a bit too nervous about my impending trip to India and so didn’t go. My children have not visited a camp, nor do they have the desire to. In talking to some Jewish people, they would never consider going to Germany and the fact still remains that there is not a thriving Jewish community, as far as I know in Berlin and possibly not even in Germany. But others can correct me on this. One cannot forget about a holocaust, because this type of thing, ethnic cleansing, is still occurring too frequently in our world. There is still anti-semitism and the fear of crimes against Jews as I noted by the policeman and barricades at anything that was Jewish, temples and even a restaurant in Berlin. But also at some point there needs to be healing.

Unfortunately I think that the collective world does forget because it is no longer happening to “me” and it is happening “over there” and it is happening to other ethnic groups and so at least it is not happening to “us”.

I think that the work that my aunt is doing is very important but are we in fact learning any lessons so that “we” don’t or allow some to do the same thing to others? Do we in fact reverse roles when we now get power? This is something that I struggle with.

Seeing my children in their home environment, having them lead the tour in a city where I didn’t speak or understand the language, was an incredibly transformative thing for me. Knowing that my children moved to a foreign country and are able to live their lives is very comforting. Of course they struggle, but never-the-less it is an amazing accomplishment! One of the last things that we did together in Berlin was to see the movie Valkyrie.

India
I am so fortunate in my friendships. They have so much depth and I feel so much love and support. Of course I’ve worked at this to make it so! One of these friends is Onkar Kakar who lives in his family home at 10-A Lee Road in Kolkata with his wife Myna, son Anant and father Mohan. Onkar is the kind of person who would do anything for his friends and family. I’ve known Onkar since January 1982 when we attended Northeastern University-MBA program together.

When I arrived in New Delhi on Thursday night, of course the VSO folks were there, but so was Onky with his, and my new, friend Rashmi. When I saw Onky I gave him a big bear hug and a kiss and he took me back to his aunt, Chachi and uncle’s, Chacha for a few days. Chacha and Chachi’s son Caren and his wife and new son also live in the house. Another Chacha and Chachi were also visiting. Because of Onky’s friendship I’m immediately part of this extended family. We would sit in Chacha and Chachi’s bedroom hanging out, drinking tea, talking, just being together.

The Indian family structure seems so lovely to me and the Indian family, at least from what I’ve witnessed holds the society together. Of course, given the pace of growth in India, this may be changing. There is more divorce and this impacts everything. But even among the very poor families that I’ve seen, no matter where they are and many do live on the street, the entire family appears to be together. To be accepted into an Indian family is magical and I wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Onky also introduced me to others, both family and friends and this makes my transition easier than many. Also, Ricardo, my daughter Sarah’s boyfriend, is in India and I was able to spend time with him as he showed me the American Embassy compound where I will play some b-ball at the American Embassy School, as well as how to use the Delhi metro.

But here is why I really love India and why I wanted to come. Outside of the place where the volunteers are staying at the Indian Social Institute are some pretty “destitute” people, living in some makeshift “houses”. As I tend to hook up with children no matter where I go, and as I was walking back from class today, I noticed a game of cricket happening. I tried cricket once in 2006 when I had previously visited India and was quite unsuccessful. But in order to start becoming part of this society I kind of pointed and the children, smiling, let me try. A little deaf boy had his own unskinned tennis ball and a cricket bat and we started playing. He would kind of make grunting sounds and would smile and we both knew exactly what to do.

Picture children of all ages from just walking to teens, hanging out in this kind of road with cars, dogs, three wheeled scooters and motorcycles playing cricket. The women are preparing dinner, but the other adults are nearby talking, some women stringing flowers together. So, one young man brings out a small basketball and of course I immediately pick up on this and start teaching him and a couple of others how to dribble and pass. Soon we are going up and down the alley, dribbling and passing avoiding all of the cars and other motorized vehicles. The next step, as the cricket game stopped was to get a bunch of the children together in a circle to start passing the ball, while I was in the middle trying to steal the ball. The game got so large that we had four people in the middle and everyone, including the adults, who were now watching, were just cracking up. There was so much laughter as this crazy American and one Brit were running around in the middle of this circle with all of these children. At the end of the game, when I was just dripping, I gave most of the kids a two handed high five and with one child I jumped up in the air as we crashed our bodies together. I’m now known as “uncle” or Michael.