Blog 014 - Swaminarayan Mandir . . . and more

Day 27 – Saturday, March 29

I was so tired last night; probably weak from continually losing everything I eat. I remember laying in bed waiting for Jose to finish showering so I could take my turn. I awoke around 5:30 with the lights still on – so I'd say I had been tired. I didn't have the urge to use the bathroom; any other night over the last week and that wouldn't have been the case. Turned off the light and went back to sleep. Woke around 9:30; no urge to run to the bathroom. Could it be possible? Drank some juice, then had to go, but isn't unusual. Later I ate some toast and jelly and some water. After a bit, no urge. Oh boy, this is going to be a good, I hope. Turns out, it has been a good day. The bug must have passed itself – 5 days. This is, after all, India. I could be absolutely wrong.

Today is Saturday, so it's Saturday Special with the kids, but that isn't till around 4. I want to go to old city to just get lost and take photos; and find someplace to buy some kurtas (men's Indian style shirts). Jose wants to come too, so we take off in a ricksha for old city. I have a business card with an address in the hub of old city that should be a good place to start off. We get to a corner – I say corner in losest of terms – more just like a place to stop and lets us off. First thing you see is a guy riding atop a painted elephant; yeah, this is good place to start. I get his photo and pet the elephant on the face; definitely a hardened Indian elephant, skin as hard as the sole of an Indian man's (or woman's) foot. We walk down a little, past carts full of colorful local fruits and vegetables. Come upon an archway covered in carvings. 

 

Walk under the arch and you are greeted with the colorful entryway of a large Jain temple. Remove sandals and enter. This is a beautiful place as you enter out of the heat of the mid-morning sun. You see both men and women take turns ringing a bell as they make an initial offering to the god Hunan, the monkey god. The strong scent of incense wafts through the air, cleansing the soul. The complex is undergoing a renovation at the current time. There are plenty of bamboo scaffolds around the outside, men up on top working. Just inside I see a man tapping with a chisel. I stand there and watch him for a while. Then I realize what he is doing. Little by little he draws a few lines and starts to chip away at a form. He is taking a block of the material and by hand he is creating a carving. Apparently, the renovations, at least this part, are being recreated in same way it was originally done. This is true artisanship at it's finest; a fine craftsman in an art form from ancient times. Chip by chip, slowly, methodically, not even phased when I take a couple of photos of him at work. I see a solid panel to his right. It is a solid stone with a rough drawing on it. This is how he starts. This isn't something for a tourist – this is a passed down art being done for the love of his faith. A few steps away, there begin a series of little rooms, each dedicated to a variety of Hindu gods. To my knowledge, Jain is an offshoot of Hinduism. I watch as people gather in front of each god's sacred section, their images in gold and rich colors. People pray, then circle each section in a ritual trail. It soothes your soul to watch them, knowing their faith is strong. It reinforces the belief that without faith, why is our life worth living. We live, we die, why are we here. We each have our different beliefs, but what's wrong with that. I think what is important is that we believe in something. Even athiests believe in not believing. I slowly walk the complex; I know I can take photos, but I respectfully avoid taking any of the individual gods. (I have the photos of all of these gods in my files from when I visited the Hindu temple in Jackson, Mississippi in 2013) The architecture of the buildings surrounding the temple are beautiful. I later discover they are the monastery, one section for the women, one for the men. The sun beats down, shadows line the paths.

 

It seems as though Ahmedabad is full of respites . . . temples, mosques, winding alleyways in the old city. It's always hot, but you can go for long periods of not even noticing it. Even so much as to get a steaming hot chai on the corner. You could go to every little dive along the paths and get a chai and never fear a bacteria; the extreme heat they use would kill anything in the poorest of waters. No chais are alike and this one kept that story alive. Always different; never bad. I had my camera out, so obviously we overpaid, but what's in a few rupees – pennies in US currency.

We just start walking down random streets. Never fear getting lost. Just ask shopkeepers for some kind of particular item and they point you in a direction. Muslim, Hindi, everyone comes up and talks to you, where are you from, what is your name. Everyone is friendly. They are so proud to have you in their city. Ahmedabad is not on the tourist route, so the local contact with westerners is limited. So if you don't mind the constant interactions, this is a great place to come; and down in the old city even better.

Found a shop that sells shirts and kurtas, but as I would have imagined, nothing my size. The shopkeeper directs me down the street where they will make a shirt for you from material. So we go down there and I get to select through all kinds of fabrics, then they take my measurements. Today is Saturday; they will call me and have them ready for me on Tuesday. I have been told since that I am paying too much. Let's see, I am getting four shirts; I am paying around 3300 rupees; that comes to around $12 for a custom made shirt. I can't even get a shirt at Walmart that will last a few washes without shrinking for less than around $18 on the low end. If I like these shirts and get more in the future, I will definitely attempt to get a discount, but for the moment I am happy.

Stopped off at a corner Hindi shrine. The priest wanted me to take his photo, of course; then he gave me a handful of cut up coconut pieces; how could I resist. Not really sure if I was given a blessing, or he just thought I was hungry. These little shrines are all over; not all are staffed by a priest. On the morning commute, you see people just stop by them and pray. A very spiritual culture indeed.

It was time to head back, Jose needed to get his medicine. Then we had some time so we went to eat lunch; I have no idea what it was but it was pretty good. I really need to learn some vegetarian dishes because rice and pasta, even with vegetables, is starting to get a bit old. Mid-afternoon and I haven't had a bathroom urge yet; hoping for the best.

Head over to Manav Sadhna to get a little wifi before Saturday Special at 4. I got comfortable against a pillow and after a while I must have dozed off. The fans were blowing, I was comfortable, it was warm, I dozed off. That happens to just about everyone at one point; you learn how to block out any noise without even trying. Zen in the land of the Hindi.

Somebody sticks their head in and lets us know know the kids have arrived. Today, no camera for the kids. Today I have brought my football; a REAL football, not a soccer ball. Four volunteers get a quarter of the kids each. I break down my guys into two sections (I dare not say teams). All I want to do, as with the Naroda kids, is to show them how to throw and catch. Watching them grab it in all the wrong places would make a Manning pull their hair out. But I keep walking around, taking each little guy one by one, showing them how to do it. Two lines on each side, throwing it back and forth. As usual, one or two catch on right away. Others need more help. For the next hour or so, I watch as they start to improve. They are having fun. They take turns on their own. They make sure the little kids get an equal turn. As they get better, I continually get them farther apart, watching who has the stronger arm. It starts to look good as it winds down for the day. I tell them next time, we will continue and learn some new things. They start coming over to me one by one, on their own, and thanking me. It just reinforces why I wanted to come here. These people really appreciate why we are here. It truly reinforces the fact that you CAN make a difference no matter how little it is.