TuchMyBlog

Thursday, March 3, 2005

Yukheardt Tolle
On eastern spiritual traditions and psychology (and as little as possible on "ET" (to whom I think he bears a remarkable resemblance as well...), my indifference prevails- One of the most important contributions, in my opinion, of eastern spiritual traditions to western psychology is the special and practical, even scientific approach to ending or allaying personal suffering. The practical approach involves a practice, of course, that is usually a form of meditation or Yoga (I mean the eight-limbs -ashtanga- of Vedic tradition) and not just an opinion that, "Oh yes, stillness is where joy lies" and "we would have world peace if everyone was enlightened" which is how I summarize ET's "magnificent" contribution. (Pictures of him with his eyes closed! Please explain? http://www.eckharttolle.com/mainpage.htm)

All the talk about world peace and how the world is coming to an end is very grandiose. More to the point, it is not very helpful. Also, don't forget that one of the most important and influential texts of Eastern religion and philosophy is the immortal and charming dialogue between Krishna and Arjuna on the battlefield where Arjuna was afraid to accept and face his dharma as a warrior... It is terribly naive to believe that a meditation or yoga practice will bring world peace. I mean you can pray for world peace, and if everyone practiced yoga, Hugger-Mugger and Yoga Journal would be mega-corporations, and if everyone meditated, or "if everyone was perfect..." it's just not realistic or practical, and sort of repulsive.

A (theraputic and) spiritual practice involves discipline and even discomfort and startling discoveries sometimes not welcome, and does not often provide a short term solution to everyday problems of suffering people face (which is the reason they ultimately seek out the help and advice of professionals like yourself, right? some kind of psychic or spiritual incongruity, dis-union, conflict?) For some people suffering terribly, meditation can be dangerous. In India they have signs at the hospital that say "medical emergency, this way. Kundalini emergency, that way." Tee-hee. Eastern spiritual practices offer practical solutions to rejoining the Self, unwinding suffering, getting all the ducks swimming in the same direction, no? Zen meditation and yoga practice also deal with a higher power or the "seeking of God or higher power" or "Self" (ego-less) seeking which is, after all the definition of spirituality. (So, interestingly enough, does one of the most effective theraputic models in the 20th century - AA. )

Mark Epstein, even though he is kind of pop-eastern psychology, has some interesting writing too. I think lost people are attracted to Eckhardt Tolle because he talks about becoming "still" (OK what does he mean by that) and "joyful" (OK what does he mean by that?) with out having to do any real work (maybe joy is not having to work?) Instant gratification. Very appealing to the "western tradition". I mean life in India and Buddhist origin countries, well it is very different than here and there is really much more physical suffering and poverty and even violence - what is gratification when you are starving? I don't think Mr. Tolle is in any way in touch with that reality.

Most of the western psychologists of the 19th, 20th and 21st century agree that problems occur when there is psychic conflict in some fundamental way. Their reasons and treatments might differ but it seems they all pretty much agree on that. It seems that eastern traditions have something very valid and appealing to westerners who are willing to do the work and practice the "therapy" (meditation, yoga...) The theraputic value of a spiritually based meditation, or spiritually-based theraputic practice is very significant, and very popluar now. And very marketable! As sweet as he appears, doesn't offer any kind of meaningful solution in a practical way. He just says we "should" all be joyful and if you don't see the joy, you just don't get the meaning of life and will be destined to violence and misery. Not only do I find this ridiculously sophomoric, it is divisive, it implies that he and those who agree with him are somehow on a higher plane than everybody else and if they would only get it, gee the world will be a better place. Oh, OK, there is joy in nature... It's really condescending I think and a very bad example of compassion-based "westernized" psychological adaptaions of eastern traditions. Because just because you say it is doesn't make it so. With him, there is less substance and more cult of personality, I think. (Pema Chodrun, even, in all her militant feminst glory offers a better alternative in this month's ...I think Shambala Sun.)

And if you have made it this far along in my message here... I didn't want to send this without offering some viable alternatives so I am generating a good list in good faith although I trust you know of these wise beacons - : Recent article on how meditation effects brain:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A43006-2005Jan2.html

My Reading List: I Am That, Sri Nisgardatta Selected Teachings of Ramana Maharishi Namarupa Magazine Christopher Isherwood http://www.vedanta.com/getpage.cfm?file=titles/10000005.html Living Wisdom: Vedanta in the West - Pravrajika Vrajaprana (Editor) Essay on Gita and the War - By Christopher Isherwood 93-99). Anything by Robert Thurman - his new book "Infinite Life" says what ET is trying to say much more eloquently, I think. Zen Buddhism– Garma C. C. Chang The Buddhist Teachings of Totality, The Philosophy of Hwa Yen Buddhism – Grama C. C. Chang The Tacit Dimension – Michael Polanyi Zen Teachings of Huang Po – John Blofeld Three Pillars of Zen – Phillip Kapleau Zen and Zen Classics, 5 volumes – R. H. Blyth Zen in English Literature and Oriental Classics – R.H. Blyth What the Buddha Taught – Wapola Rahula Zen and the Taming of the Bull, Towards the Definition of Buddhist Thought – Walpola Rahula Chan and Zen Teachings – Charles Luk (also known as Lu Kuan Yu) Original Teachings of Chan Buddhism – Chang Chung-Yuan The Ox and His Herdsman, A Chinese Zen Text – Master D. R. Otsu, Translated by M. H. Trevor Zen Keys – Thich Nhat Hahn Zen Philosphy Zen Practice –Thich Thien An A Gradual Awakening – Stephen Levine The Secret Oral Teachings in Tibetan Buddhist Sects – Alexandra David-Neel Essays in Zen Buddhism Series 1 - 3, Mahayana Buddhism Series 4, Zen Doctrine of No Mind Series 5 –D. T. Suzuki Ambivalent Zen– Lawrence Shainberg Zen Flesh, Zen Bones, A Collection of Zen and Pre-Zen Writings Compiled – Paul Reps Siddhartha – Herman Hesse The Transposed Heads – Herman Hesse Awakening the Buddha Within – Lama Surya Das Be the Person You Want To Find – Cheri Huber Chan and Zen Teaching (First Series) by Charles Luk - (Lu K'uan Yu Chan and Zen Teaching (Second Series) by Charles Luk Chan Zen Teaching (Third Series) By Charles Luk

Monday, May 30, 2005

masala cross dressing
I met my first Mysore transvestite beggar today. I almost got bitch slapped by him because I wouldn't give him any money - but I should have because he had a great swish and looked fabulous in his sari and leatherette purse. I really thought it was a woman until she sat down next to me and I got a good look at her five o'clock shadow and the faint hint of mustashio. And so it goes. There's always someone more fabulous than me. I travel half way around the world to a place where I am the only white person for miles and I get upstaged by a mumbai trannie. I need a better sari.
9:31 am edt

Sunday, May 29, 2005

what is a rupee to you?
I'm not really sure what to write but I feel compelled to make some kind of entry here since I am now in Mysore and have started finding my way around, sort of. There are all kinds of crazy bird sounds in the morning but I can't see them. I keep thinking about the "Ladies Frisking Area" at the security point at both the Bombay and Chennai airports. I figure it was so much fun the first time why not do it twice? It's not everyday that I get a good frisking. Behind a curtain no less by a sweet lady in a sari holding a menacing hand-held metal detector and passing it all over my body, them feeling me up from head to toe. It was more like a costume fitting than a security check. Given my short experience with handing out 20 rupee notes to everyone who does something helpful for me, I felt that I should tip her for doing such a good frisking job. But then it may have been mistaken for a bribe and I could have ended up in Indian Airport jail and then had a movie made about the great efforts made to secure my release by the American government and the media, and of course my family. It was a very dramatic frisking and the cameras were rolling for the whole drama all the way through my dramatic rescue - but then I wouldn't want to leave because of course I would have served my sentance at a WOMEN'S prison guarded by sweet natured, sari-wearing lady prison guards. I have to tell my rescuers that I can't return with them becaue I had developed close relationships with my captors.
8:24 am edt

Friday, May 20, 2005

first offense
Absolutely no packing has taken place. According to "Lonely Planet", "Frommers" and "Culture Shock, India" and "my mother", I should be packed already. They also said that I should pack, wait a few days, then take out half of the clothes. So far in the huge pile on the floor that is destined for the duffel, there are no clothes anyway, only health and beauty aids and first-aid items to protect my delicate American constitution from potentially harmful Indian protozoa and micro flora. Don't drink the water!
12:18 pm edt

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

i leave in a week
need I say more?
4:25 pm edt

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

borgeouis guilt and shame
We have decided to poison our cleaning lady. She has taken over our lives and intruded on our peace of mind and our toilets. She rats on us to the landlord so the landlord comes up to check on us and see what transgressions have ensued AGAIN. SHe told the landlord that I set a fire in the apartment because I scorched the teapot THAT BELONGS TO ME and she decided that it had a lea so she threw it in the bin??? (No leak, OK? Landlord freaked, came up to apartment twice this afternoon with the cleaning lady to inspect the teapot.) Mind you the scorching happened three weeks ago and she just decided it was time to cause trouble today, apparently. She moves things that she doesn't want to touch and throws them way up on the top shelf so we can't reach them and put them back where we want them. For example, after the second drama about the soiled tissue having been (maliciously?) deposited in the red plastic bucket in my bathroom, we were ordered to purchase a trash can with a CLOSING top and PROPER plastic bin liners We bought these things. Now she wisks them away every day even when they are completely EMPTY and leaves the bin with no liner so we have to replace it. Since India is experiencing a national pollution crisis with piles of discarded plastic items of all types including used diapers and oodles of empty plastic bin liners, we started recycling the plastic bags we get from the food shop. But NO! Our bag of second-hand plastic bags was thrown up to the highest reaches of our kitchen. So we have to retrieve it or purchase MORE of the preferred proper bin liners so she can subsequently toss them out on the street corner five minutes later. And we do this EVERY day, all just for her. Because we don't care if a dirty tissue lies dormant in the lid-closing, properly lined trash bin for more than 24 hours. I know it seems unclean. One of the other really fun things is that she only arrives to clean when you lie down for a nap. She is supposed to come at 12 every day, but we don't want her every day. We asked, three times a week. "No problem." "Monday, Weds. and Friday, OK? No diert to clean every day! OK? Thank you very much. Also no remove clean bin liners, OK? Too much plastic on the corners. Black bags too expensive, OK?" "Yes, OK, fine no problem!" EVERY DAY SHE COMES. EVERY DAY SHE THROWS AWAY OUR BIN LINERS.

I will also now bore you with the toilet backing up problem I had from accidentally flushing tp down the western/indian toilet. For three days, it lay rotting, fetid, smelly disgusting, in the toilet (thankfully it never actually overflowed). This is because they DON'T HAVE PLUNGERS in India, they have UNTOUCHABLE SCAVENGER PEOPLE to do this sort of work. The cleaning lady, of course, told my landlord that the toilet was backed up, and he told me that they have no plungers because "here, we just use our hands, to just unblock it, no problem." NO way. Nobody is using their hands in my toilet to unblock anything, OK? I draw the line here. I'm willing to play along with all of your weird cleaning games and your strange caste system and the rock-throwing at the dogs rituals, but I draw the line here, OK? But it's not just ANY hands. It is the hands of the appointed, the choosen, the selected few upon whom this sacred ritual is appointed. I finally found what resembled a plunger, which is actually an instrument used to unblock SINKS, and brought it home. I told my landlord, no problem, the toilet will be fixed in a few minutes, just let me go up and plunge away. He said, "don't worry, if you can't get it, I will bring up the little scavenger girl who comes everyday to root through our garbage. She can put her hand down and unblock it." "Oh, geez, that's OK, really." I managed to plunge it free in about three seconds flat and nobody had to put their arms down my toilet after all. However, the next morning, my landlord showed up at our door with the little seven year old scavenger girl offering her to stick her hand down my toilet. "Oh, no thanks, really. Toilet is all set. Thanks! Really! No Problem anyway!" I was sorry to disappoint, but I draw the line, you know? I'm just not going there.

Now we just have to find a way to gaslight the cleaning lady who rules our lives Indian style, and will no longer. She will not touch anything dirty. I'm thinking she might want to consider another career? OR she is having too much fun torturing us. Then, after being shamed for my uncleanliness, I went to eat at the Green leaf and admired the dirty, grimy slimy filthy crap all over the front of the waiters jackets. What IS that shit?
6:46 am edt

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

finally photos

So I have finally got some photos together here. I would like to say that I’ve been really busy but I don’t think that will fly. I’ve just been really busy. I hope the photos fit – I think there will be captions at the bottoms of them so you can see what they are. I just got back from Bangalore where I had to go deal with APPLE INDIA because my cd/dvd drive decided to quit working so I “have� to get it replaced. We went to the Oberoi Hotel for dinner and it was really fabulous Thai food in a beautiful atmosphere in the back gardens of the hotel.

Even though the obvious impression is that western culture is consumer driven, commercial and materialistic, and India is not, one cannot go ANYWHERE (that I know of) in India without being constantly faced with people trying to sell you things by literally shoving them in your face, following you for blocks right on your heels and chattering in your sholder, or just plain blocking your path shoving crap in your face. IN Bangalore, they have an army of teenage boys who have wooden snakes and little backgammon games and they run after you shouting “snake? backgammon? madame? yes, hello? madame? snake? backgammon? hello, yes? good for travel? (why is a wooden snake good for travel?) You can’t say “no� You can’t say anything or they bother you even more. If you try to talk to me when I come home and I don’t answer you please understand it is not personal. It will just take a few weeks for me to re-adjust my attention sensitivity levels.

When I am in a shop, I generally like to take my time and look around, but you are simply not allowed to do that here. It is totally and utterly out of the question. If I go in a fabric or sari shop, which is rare and only at the shops that either other yoga students or my landlady has recommended, I am immediately surrounded by not one or two men, but sometimes three or four, all around me, and practically forced to sit down. Then I am trapped and two more men start laying out sari after sari or whatever it is they want to show me and usually they have utterly hideous taste. And I came in to look at fabric, but I leave before I get what I want because I am so battered by the ugly sari offensive so I have to escape and regroup.

This morning I was looking for a pair of sandals and I walked into a shoe shop in Bangalore that was about the size of my bedroom at home, and there were no less that five grown men who jumped up and lost their minds shoving every pair of the most hideous shoes in my face, “madam, these come in every color…. madam, lovely Indian style, you take… madam, boots here for sale (boots? it’s 90 degrees out, is there a snow storm coming?)… madame, you like with heel? flat?� “No, those are ugly� I say, “thanks anyway.� and walk out. Just back off for the love of god!

9:45 am edt

Sunday, June 12, 2005

there really are things I like about India
Some things are really cool. I love the animals just roaming around doing whatever they want. In the middle of the city, in the roads, on the sidewalks. Imagine walking in a busy downtown area crowded with people and then there is a cow. Or a pig and her litter (what do you call a litter of pigs other than "cute"?)

More yoga types are arriving daily as expected. The room is getting more and more crowded. Also as expected things are getting very much like junior high school, including me breaking out and having all the wrong clothes to fit in with the cool crowd. As usual I am the dork in the drama club. And it is actually true because we are going to be doing some play readings and performance nights at one of the regular hang-out's for breakfast and stuff.

Our cleaning lady apparently had a major freak out the other day wile my roommate was home and I was not. We were told by the landlord not to flush paper down the toilet and to use the trash bin. No problem. In my bathroom there is a red plastic bucket sitting there so I used that for a couple of days. The next day the cleaning lady went in the bathroom to "clean" and saw the used toilet paper and started freaking out saying "NO! BLACK! NO! BLACK! BLACK!" pointing frantically at the red bucket - to my confused roommate. Then, she ran to get the landlady who came up and also turned to my roommate in urgent distress, "No you must, Black! Black!" Eventually with the use of hand gestures, Tara was able to learn that they wanted me to put the toilet paper into a trash bin lined with the black trash bag liners we have in the kitchen. It turns out that the red bucket is used for cleaning the floor (even though it has never been used to my knowledge for anything) and the fact that I had dirtied it with my used toilet paper was so horrifying to our cleaning lady she was almost in tears. Also, I learned that she does not clean the toilet either. (beware this is gross) Our toilets are generally filthy and I asked the landlady if they were getting cleaned and she said "special, special." So what all this means is that our cleaning lady is not the lowest, shit-dealing caste that is assigned to deal with peoples excremental activities. She is the servant caste, but she is one notch above the toilet cleaning caste who also usually have their own entrance to the house so they won't sully up the fancy people's areas. She will NOT clean our toilets, and she will NOT dispose of the used toilet paper. OK fine, I didn't known these rules and how was I supposed to know that the red bucket was not a trash bucket? I went out and bought a little covered trash bin (It has to be covered) and everything seems to have settled down now except we have to hide clothes that we dont want scrubbed to threadbareness and beaten on the side of the stone sink out back.

I now have three tailors across town employed sewing gorgeous salwar kameez and skirts and such for me. I was warned that Indian women will snicker at me when I wear my new clothes on the street because I have unknowingly used material that is used to make sari tops for improper use. They will think this is very funny and I am not to be alarmed if I see Indian women whispering, laughing and pointing at me. Thank goodness for the generosity of the more experienced yogis helping me out. I might have mistaken the attention for friendly appreciation. Actually, I am very grateful for the advice I am getting. I would be riduculously lost without it.
6:21 am edt

Thursday, June 9, 2005

new rules
Because there are so many people in India, and so many people are willing to work for very little money, you can almost never purchase an item that is actually assembled. You have to buy the parts and then hire someone to put them all together. For instance, if you want to buy a mattress, you go to the mattress place, but all they have are foam slabs. You have to go to a seperate place to purchase material to cover the mattress, then go somewhere where they sew the cover and maybe even somewhere else where they cover the foam.

If you want to purchase SHEETS and PILLOWCOVERS for your new MATTRESS and PILLOW, you go to the textiles shop where they sew mattress covers and stuff, and they say, oh, you have to go to the fabric shop and purchase material for the sheets and pillowcases, then I will sew them together for you. If you ask for an item in a store, generally every store claims to have the item, then they send boy out on a bike who rides to a mystery location where the items are actually available, rides his bike back with the item (usually something like toothpaste, for example) and in the mean time the shop owner has offered you a seat and served you chai or something, fifteen miraculous minutes later, your toothpaste arrives.

Also, even in the nicest neithborhoods, there is no such thing as trash collection. It gets taken by the beggars and also strewn all over the street corners and empty lots where it is foraged through by the pig families, the cows, the goats and the dogs and cats, and the poor people. Every morning a beggar family comes by and asks permission to take our garbage. It really is remarkable that no one seems to care. It seems that half of India lives on plastic shopping bags. But I have to say that given these circumstances, there is very little trash considering the number of houses that throw stuff away becuase most of it gets eaten by the varios life forms that patrol the streets. Everybody has a job here. I still can't bring my self to throw trash in the piles on the streets.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow when the hermaphrodites come to town.
10:13 am edt

new rules
Because there are so many people in India, and so many people are willing to work for very little money, you can almost never purchase an item that is actually assembled. You have to buy the parts and then hire someone to put them all together. For instance, if you want to buy a mattress, you go to the mattress place, but all they have are foam slabs. You have to go to a seperate place to purchase material to cover the mattress, then go somewhere where they sew the cover and maybe even somewhere else where they cover the foam.

If you want to purchase SHEETS and PILLOWCOVERS for your new MATTRESS and PILLOW, you go to the textiles shop where they sew mattress covers and stuff, and they say, oh, you have to go to the fabric shop and purchase material for the sheets and pillowcases, then I will sew them together for you. If you ask for an item in a store, generally every store claims to have the item, then they send boy out on a bike who rides to a mystery location where the items are actually available, rides his bike back with the item (usually something like toothpaste, for example) and in the mean tijme the shop owner has offered you a seat and served you chai or something, fifteen miraculous minutes later, your toothpast arrives.

Also, even in the nicest neithborhoods, there is no such thing as trash collection. It gets taken by the beggars and also strewn all over the street corners and empty lots where it is foraged through by the pig families, the cows, the goats and the dogs and cats, and the poor people. Every morning a beggar family comes by and asks permission to take our garbage. It really is remarkable that no one seems to care. But I have to say that given these circumstances, there is very little trash considering the number of houses that throw stuff away becuase most of it gets eaten by the varios life forms that patrol the streets. Everybody has a job here. I still can't bring my self to throw trash in the piles on the streets.
10:08 am edt

rickshaw accident!
My rickshaw driver rear ended another rickshaw, and they had a yelling match in the street right in the busiest part of downtown Mysore. Everyone was staring. I put a bag over my head. On the way home I saw a film crew shooting a scene. I knew there were cameras rolling somewhere.
9:33 am edt

india is trying to kill me
Big tropical storm here the other night 7-8:30 pm. Many trees and power lines down. Hail and a 30-40 degree temperature drop in 10 minutes. Bad flooding and torrential rain 60-80 mph winds. I was caught out in it at 7 pm on my little scooter driving home on the main thoroughfare from the hotel swimming pool where everyone hangs out in the afternoon. Water up to my ankles while driving - had to pull over, completely soaking through. What a nightmare in Indian traffic with floods and... I ended up huddled under a bus stop with about 40 people shivering to death getting pelted by rain and hail blowing in sideways for about 30 minutes. Then when it slowed, everyone ran for their scooters and drove fast all the way home. NO electricity till 5 pm today. Down in Gokulam town, the road was closed off for about a 1/2 mile becuase the trees were all down -and the electric wires were all over the streets. Where my house is it wassn't so bad, but very loud bangs! during the night - I thought it was cujo the demon dog (lives up the street)coming after me because I was all alone in the house. It turned out to be coconuts falling on the side house that were loosened by the storm. Lets just say I was lucky to make it home without getting "coconutted" in the head. Slept 11 hours then found bedbug bites all over my leg. Today I moved the mattresses out and went shopping for a new mattress but everywhere was closed because of the no electricity.
9:30 am edt

Friday, June 3, 2005

warning, parasites discussed
It is really hard getting adjusted here. Just buying a towel is like writing a research paper. There are no Linen's and Things, you know what I mean? I (everyone has) have a cleaning lady who comes every day and scrubs everything even though nothing gets used. It is a very odd thing but I can get used to it. It is still pretty hot here and I wish more rain will come sooner. The heat is getting to me. Yoga at the shala starts on Tuesday. We have been practicing in the living rooom at a friend's house early every morning. I moved into my house yesterday. I can't get my laptop on line yet for some reason - it won't read the IP and router address but hopefully it will be sorted out soon. I am going to pick up my cell phone right now on my scooter that I tool around on. I might have to dodge a few cows sleeping in the middle of the road and some pigs and dogs and stuff. There are some pretty horrifying things I have had to dodge like lepers in the doorway of the bookstore covered with flies, I'll spare you the details. The conversations around here with the yogi types/bodyworkers/artists/yoga teachers who come to India 1/2 the year ionevitably turns to parasites. I am now convinced I have a tapeworm or some other kinds of disgusting worms from eating sushi. I am going to this great Ayurvedic Doc soon (who will tell me if I have worms or NOT) and getting a full western medical work up including MRI and just everything for about 20 american dollars soon at this really great hospital. I started getting Rolfed this morning. If you don't know what it is you can look it up but you probably know. I gotta go and shower off and eat dinner. A meeting would be good right about now. It's insane here, and really difficult to get adjusted for everybody. Apparently if someone (an Indian) asks you if you like Frank Zappa, it really means "Do you want to buy some weed?" I would come home so fast if it weren't for the Pattabhi Jois fellow who is in Bangalore right now probably buying more gold with the tuition I paid him.
8:34 am edt

Wednesday, June 1, 2005

"dazzling lights prohibited"
I was sad to see that this is in fact the case at the KR circle in Mysore (photo forthcoming) since I arrived with dazzling lights. I have had to quell the dazzle a bit since you can get a "reprimand" and possibly a ticket for said offense. And we all know what Indian jails are like. I hope the Mysore trannie knows about this rule. Several driving schools we walked by in Mysore on one street are sorely lacking students (all three completely empty, one actually boarded up) and the "traffic conductors" go largely ignored by the swarms of rickshaws, scooters, motorbikes, buses and pedestrians that race around the several motor circles that employ the uniformed gents. I suppose the fact that they wear white gloves and hats with brims and tassles makes it more ridiculous that no one pays any attention to them in the slightest while they go on waving and halting, waving and halting from their thrones in the middle of the circles. If you get dizzy and the traffic circle looks like more than you can handle, you can pull over and imbibe at the coconut stand till you replenish enough energy to continue on through the traffic. OR... you can just walk up the sidewalk across from Loyal World market and buy a lottery ticket from one of the lottery wallahs lines up on the sidewalk and attract a crowd of thirty or so men who are amazed to see a woman engage in this "gents only" recreation. I gave the ticket (valued at ten rupees) to a friend who is having a birthday. Now she has to go down to the lottery row and find out if she won.

More and more non-Indian people are arriving every day and going over to pay Pattabhi all their money and taking up space at the internet spots which could become a serious problem. I may have to switch their water and put them out of commission for a few weeks

Pattabhi was decked out in his bling bling yesterday like I've never seen before. He must have gone to the bling store since I saw him last. From now on he's Huggy Bear Jois to me. It's not a cult though.

And yes, I will be getting a bloody cell phone after all. "You having phone? I can call and tell when water is coming." With a sim card and I can use it everywhere out of the US, every time I leave the US which will be sooner rather than later if Jeb Bush comes anywhere near the white house.

And who are the extra men that hang around all the shops and banks and coconut stands and stuff who stare at you while you buy whatever you are buying? Hello, hello, smiling nicely. Do they work somewhere? Do they work there? Does someone know them? What are they doing? It seems like there are a lot of extra men in India. Something to think about. Off for another dazzling night with my dazzling lights a-glow. I hope I don't get arrested.
11:51 am edt

Saturday, July 30, 2005

rules
So here are some important rules I have learned since I have been here in India:

0. If an Indian asks you (and you are a woman) "why you are not married?" You just simply answer, "My parents did not have enough goats." with a sad look on your face, then walk away slowly. Be aware that you will be asked every question imagineable by complete and total strangers, especially if it is highly personal in nature. In India, this is a sign of respect, to mind someone else's business in a very public way, and get a good laugh out it if possible. They are being very sweet.

1. If you are a man, you should urinate exactly in the spot you are whenever you need to urinate, especially if you are in public and. There is no need to hide your pissing penis, in fact you should be proud of it and of your right to urinate freely, anywhere and on anything. It is a really classy thing to do. There is no need to wait and go in a service station, heck, they don't have urinating facilities anyway. I mean what ARE urinating facilities, really, but the divider in the center of the busy street, the tree on the side of the road, the spot on the ground next to the garbage bin (if there actually IS a garbage bin) or, why even take more than one step away from your scooter when you need to urinate? At least wait for a "red light" then stand up next to your scooter, lift your lunghi, and let 'er rip. If you have to pee in your own house, why go to the toilet room? Just pee out the window. If you are not tall enough to get it out the window, just pee on the wall under the window. Then, go out and get the scavenger girl off the street to come in and wipe it up. This rule applies to ALL men. All castes can realy on this rule. Men should urinate anywhere they have to. It is important for survival and the well-being of society.

2. Grab your penis once every ten minutes, especially in public. Others must be made aware of the fact that you have a penis, and you KNOW it. You really have to do this for several reasons - one, just to make sure it is still there, and another, to really feel good about yourself. Just having a penis in India meansa that you are the SHIT.

3. Never, ever, for the love of god and money, apply the brakes to your speeding vehichle, especially if you are driving through a busy intersection. People have been known to enter a fugue state they never come out of, and come back to life a much, much lower caste for performing this simple act of sensible courtesy. Instead, apply the HORN long and hard, speed up, and drive through with your eyes closed. Also, if you are driving up the middle of a street 30 miles over the speed limit and there are pedestrians in your way, NEVER, NEVER drive around them or move over even an inch. Speed up, apply the horn long and hard and drive over them. After all, we are all hysterically going from standing around at a shop where we don't work all day, just to confuse the westerners, to the chai stall, where we will also stand around all night doing tha all-important under-employed Indian occupation of absolutely fucking nothing.

3. Never, ever tell the rickshaw driver to put the meter on. This means, "plesae don't put the meter on I would rather you rip me off and tell me that the meter does not work." or "please don't put the meter on, I would rather wait till we reach the destination of a 20 rupee rickshaw ride and have you try and charge me 60 rupees and start yelling really loud when I get out of the stinky, ripped up, old natty, nasty-ass seat and drop a twenty rupee note over your shoulder.

4. Always say no five times. Saying no once means "definitely yes!" saying no the second time means "yes, of course" the third and fourth times means "yes, but ask me two more times because I might change my mind" and saying no the fifth time means "maybe no, but don't believe me because I am a stupid westerner."

5. When you tell the rickshaw driver to take you to Appolo hospital in English, it really means (in Kannada), "take me to your brothers craft emporium, the Indus Valley Ayurvedic Center, and other shops I don't even know I want to go to!"

6. When you tell the Rickshaw driver to take you to the Zoo, and he asks "waiting?" and you say, "no waiting, going to stay at zoo for long time" it really means, wait for me at the exit and harrass me when I exit for not paying you to "wait"

7. When someone says "we are not like the other Indians in Mysore who only want money money money from the yoga students, who charge you four time more than what they will charge Indians for the same service, these people are money-grubbing thieves, you should stay away from them." It means "we are Indian people who only want money, money money from the yoga students and will charge you four times as much as what we will charge Indian people, we are money-grubbing thieves and you should stay away from us."

8. If you are a western woman and you dare to go into a restaurant alone in the middle of the day, it means please stare at me the entire time I try to eat my food, because the reason I am here is not to get something to eat, but to have sex with the restaurant workers and perhaps some of the male customers as well, especially the ones who remember to grab their penis' regularly. In America, holding on to one's penis in plain sight in front of a woman while she is trying to eat her lunch is a sign of respect.

9. Always wear makeup and a good outfit when you go to the Mysore zoo. The Indian families will find you a much more valuable and interesting attraction then the absolutely, heart breakingly adorable three-month-old white tiger cubs and their mom, and ask that you pose for pictures with all of their attending family members. So it is important that you feel that you look good since your photos will be subsequently passed around several Indian neighborhoods, brought out on special occassions like birthday parties and engagements, and brought to schools for yearsa to come for "show-and tell" as in, "look! this is the tall WHITE lady we saw at the Mysore zoo!"

10. If you are mot married, never, ever try to get a pap smear at the Appolo Hospital during the light of day. Only married ladies "need" pap smears, and all unmarried ladies are virgins in India and do not "need" pap smears because this standard medical proceedure will render a woman "unmarriable" and thus destined for a life of shame and misery, or so I have been told by hospital staff. You are to go for this scandalous proceedure by the dark of night, preferably wearing a borrowed wedding band to avoid any perceived misunderstandings.

11. Shopkeeper ALWAYS know if you need to buy a saree, and you NEVER know yourself. You should trust them to tell you this because you are a stupid westerner and have no idea about your personal saree needs.

12. Always try to have a sense of humor when in India, otherwise you could end up like I did, grumbling "fuck off" to poor little postcard and bangle sellers bombarding you outside the gates of the Mysore Palace, or walking down the street with a rock at the ready like my roommate did, fearing another encounter with our neighborhood "masturbator" who does us the pleasure of showing us his monkey-slapping technique just when you didn't know you were looking for it.

13. Never forget your husband's or father's name and how to write it. This question will be on every form you fill out in India, on the first line, next to "what is your name." This applies to forms for opening cell phone accounts, internet use accounts at the internet place as well as for your medical records when you go to the hospital for any kind of procedure. When filling out the form at Apollo Hospital to get my master health check up (which I might add was highly professional, state of the art and trouble free, and mind bogglingly cheap) I left this space blank. The registrar clerk came back a bit flummoxed and asked me why it was blank. Goodness.

Now I am going shopping and I am going to buy copious amounts of clothing, jewelry, books and sarees that I don't need, and then I am going to drink myself silly with coffee at my favorite "cool kid" coffee hangout, Coffee Day, where you can always count on a soundtrack including Kurt Cobain, 2-Live-Crew, and many, many Bollywood soundtrack hits sung along to by the 18-something year olds in diesel jeans, Tommy HIlfiger t-shirts and $200 nikes. I kind of like it.

Later I will tell you about the "Brahmin Reiki-Rip-0ff" scheme I experienced and escaped before I forked over $60 for a 20-rupee foam ball and a bunch of Japanese drawings. It is too long and too funny of a story to write right now.
3:56 am edt

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

STAMP EPIC
So I went to the post office and bought stamps for three postcard destined for the States, but when I got home I found that there was no GLUE on the back of the stamps. I had to go back to the post office again to glue the stamps on since I don't have any glue at my temporary abode. Two of the stamps ripped in the process and the glue was really runny so I had bits of stamp stuck to the sides of my figers and parts of stamp stuck to the postcard which was also sticking to the side of my hand.

I want this to serve as a metaphor for my experience in India. The stamps finally got assembled and stuck to the correct postcard but not after advice from two local ladies who put down their things to rescue me from 24 rupees (60 cents) worth of postage stuck to my hands. I am really surprised that there is not a person who sits in the post office and glues stamps on for two rupees. Because - in the main post office there are a bunch of guys who wrap packages in the regulation manner for shipping for like 20 rupees or something. This process involves plastic wrapping, then SEWING muslin fabric on the package instead of the paper and tape method favored by the modern world. It is sort of like a scene from the bible. There are even camels walking about in the streets lately.

You could sew the packages yourself, but under pressure I suck with a needle and thread. And you have to go somewhere and buy the fabric before you sew it on and that involves a bone-rattling rickshaw ride, haggling with shop owners, being harassed by beggars wielding monkeys and cobras and harmoniums and I am too tired for that. If you use the guys in the post office with no teeth, they include the cost of the fabric in the 20 rupees they charge.
4:15 am edt

Friday, July 15, 2005

change of attitude
Well, I was going to write about how I discovered while in Bangalore last week that the only time you are required to use a knife and fork while eating food in India is when you are eating pizza at Pizza Hut at the Forum Mall, or at any Pizza Hut in India for that matter. Normally Indians eat full on with their right hand, food dripping down their hands and arms, no napkins or mopping up tools in the vicinity, even at fancy functions and the like, caste no matter. Last week, when I was in Banglaore to fix my computer and change my Air India flight, I was so, so psyched for pizza at Pizza Hut. I went to the incredibly crowded with twenty-thirty-something hip Indians Pizza Hut at the Forum, the modern, western-style mall just outside of the city. When the waiter brought my pizza, I picked it up and took a bite. Then another, then another. Then I realized that I was being stared at more than usual and when I looked around noticed that eveyone but me was eating their pizzas with a KNIFE and FORK. I thought the knife and fork the waiter brought me was optional and provided as some kind of cultural courtesy for westerners who like to eat Indian food with utensils rather than our grubby hands. I didn'[t realize that it was REQUIRED equipment at Pizza Hut. "What are you looking at? I'm American, and if there was ever a time to eat with one's hands, NOW WOULD BE IT!" "What? What? So now you are going to torture me with utensil etiquette? Give me a break." The waiter swung by my table with a stack of napkins and I swear he winked at me when he dropped tham on my table.

But I won't write more about that, or the intensive full-on, full body medical check up I am having today at Apollo Hospital for $25 dollars, I will write about the fact that a significant pay check for contracted work I did (am still doing) for a theatre company in my city that was due to me in May, but promised to me by early July, is now not coming until mid-August??? (So they say) I just want it on the record that I was counting on this money to live on while I am in India, and now they are not going to pay me, and I am REALLY PISSED. Now I am going to have to start driving a rickshaw or telling fortunes or some such shit so I can pay my rent and take care of my business for the next four weeks. What the hell? THIS is why parents tell their children to stay out of the theatre and go to law school. Or something.

For the record, if, and I know there are some, some of the readers happen to know what theatre company I am talking about, and who is responsible, and you are reading this thinking "Wow, I know who she is talking about. I can't believe they aren't going to pay her when they promised early July and she is in India, that really sucks..." or you are thinking "Wow, she shouldn't be writing politically incorrect stuff like this on a publicly accessible blog. She might loose her job with the theatre company, or she will make some enemies, or insult someone at the theatre company by gossiping about their dirty laundry", or "This is personal business and she shouldn't be telling everyone about her personal financial troubles..." To you, I say, "I DON"T @*&%&*($##% CARE!!!!!!" And you know who you are... I am getting STIFFED for my paycheck and I am none too pleased about it. And you can pass that message around.

Love,
Swami KaKananda I'm so broke now-ji
5:50 am edt

Friday, July 8, 2005

india proetry
three days to make copies. landlady made lunch stuffed us like muskets. little tree is incarnation of LAKSHMI, goddess of wealth. landlord charging yoga students 10 times the Indian rate. no wonder she is so busy praying to the money tree. no more today. dance party tonight. soon more party pics. oh boy. ankle and leg are multi-colored now, updates on photo column soon.

love and peace and lakshmi
7:26 am edt

Monday, July 4, 2005

trash and burn
Finally, as predicted, a rickshaw came flying out of a side street into a main road, no stopping, no loooking, right into the path of my old, clunky, heavy and unwieldy scooter, but I slammed on the brakes before the collision and my scooter skidded to the left and went down on top of me as I slid along the pavement on top of a large rock and my right ankle. I thought the photos would be interesting as I have sued the rickshaw driver for all he's worth and these are the photos that helped me win the case. It's much better now, but for a couple of days my right leg was really sore and my ankle swelled up like a squash.

Then as if the first roadside adventure wasn't quite enough, on the two hour ride in an ambassador cab to and from the Tibetan settlements on Saturday, we were almost killed at least twice and banged up pretty seriously because the roads are so bad that every minute or so the car has to (but doesn't) slow down almost to stopping because of the ruts and holes and serious mud. Also, the car has to avoid the dogs sleeping, the cows, the people, other cars? in the streets and the enormous tourist bus that came kareening (sp?) around another bus through a ditch on one side of the street, and tipped so far to the side that two wheels actually CAME OFF OF THE GROUND, then, at a good 50 mph or so swerved back to the left side of the road right in front of us missing the front of our car by only a few feet. It was AWESOME! I thought for sure there were cameras rolling somwhere but I never found them. Our driver NEVER flinched and kept rolling along as though it were a minor diversion he barely noticed. I love it.

The Tibetan settlements were incredible. I got a long dress, a pashmina shawl, a cool pair of bellbottoms, a couple of gifts... just kidding. See photos. Beautiful temples and groovy vibe at the monastery. The only real drawback was arriving to see the little dog twitching to death on the sidewalk and the long, sliming, nasty greenish snake slinking away that had just bit it. I suppose it was fun for the Indian guys who found a long stick and started poking at the awful green thing and playing "snake daredevil macho guy." It was another instance where the cameras were rolling somewhere.??

For those who are holding fast to the idea that my house is, as someone put it, "really cute," I have posted some overexposed photos of the really cute garbage dump right next door that also smells really cute. It's also really cute to watch the six year old scavehger girl (who was recruited to reach her arm down my filthy toilet to unblock it) rifling through the piles of used diapers, used toilet paper, shit, plastic bags, plastic bottles, rotting food and even dead animals looking for something to eat in the mornings. Then it's really cute to watch her play hopscotch in the street after breakfast.

Actually my house is really nice and I'm very happy. Our landlords are so kind. Mr. Ganapati is a tennis fan so I have been able to look in on the wimbeldon this past couple of weeks. Tomorrow Mrs. Ganapati in going to take us three women to her "good sari shop. not charging for too much to you. stitching very fine, also not too charging. i go? in auto (rickshaw) we go near zoo is where shop. yes, you can. you tell, fine. OK? OK?" "That would be really nice. Thank you so much." "You not be charging too much. I take."

She is so sweet. I come home in the afternoons sometimes to find her doing an incense, bell ringing, spice powder offering puja around this little tree in a standing planter out in front of the house. The tree looks like it could use a few prayers and with Mrs. Ganapati around it will get all the help it needs.

We are also all invited for dinner with them on Friday. It is very auspicious day for them because it is the beginning of the month that is devoted to the goddess Chamundi. Chamundi hill is here in Mysore and there will be large puja there every Friday this month. I don't know who she is, this Chamundi gal, but I'm psyched to go to the party.
3:19 am edt

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

home-ish
So on my way home I learned a few more rules that I just want to note. Apologies of they seem repetitious, but as we know, westerners are silly and stupid (something I have learned from the Indians) and it takes them a while to catch on to the twisted way of life that is the "Indian Way."

1. If there is a wall with signs posted all along the wall for several city blocks, and the posted sign says, in ENglish, "No Urinating" it translates in Tamil into "Please piss here and only here, and bring some of your friends to join you as well. And also please do it often."

2. Always, always agree on a price upfront, before getting in a rickshaw or taxi. Do not rely on the meter even if they agree to use it. Although it is the law that the meters be used, most Indian drivers view the meter as a pinball game with a little bell that is fun to ring.

3. Never expect flight attendants on Air India to be courteous and helpful. They are not there to work, nor are they interested in passenger's frivolous needs. They are there strictly for the free hotels and the opportunity to meet world-travelling business men and hopefully marry them. This is what their parents paid for when they bought them the "job" at Air India.

4. Ferocious horking and spitting is the duty of every Indian man, every morning starting at about 5 am. Because no one has air conditioning, all windows are open, and not only can you hear everyone in the neighborhood snoring all night, the horking thing sounds like it is happening right there in your bedroom. All Indian men are required to hork and spit for ten to twenty minutes every morning. They are to consider themselves part of a well-tunes orchestra and play out this ritual without hesitation. During the day, women are encouraged to hork and spit in the street.

5. If you are an Indian tailor, make believe that you are intested in what the client wants and pretend the measurements you are taking actually mean anything. Also, let your hand linger around the clients breasts when taking the bust measurement. Then go ahead and sew whatever you want since silly westerners don't really know how it's done in India after all... Then look perplexed when the western client points out how the item does not even come close to fitting, nor did they make what was asked of them. Dont worry if the finished article bears little or no resemblance to what was ordered. Westerners bodies aren't the right shape anyway. It's all just a silly charade after all, just like westerners are. They are only good for their money anyway. Everyone in India knows that.

Being Back in the US... more on that later. There is too much to do to really evaluate this properly.
10:48 am edt

Sunday, August 7, 2005

countdown to the western re-entry
OK six days to go and I have a few things to get off my chest. A few questions, a few more rules I have picked up, and a list of stuff I am going to as soon as I get home on Sunday next. Yesterday I waled out of the new house I am staying in to be greeted by what seemed to be a "wandering Brahmin" dressed in puja clothes - white lunghi, shive stripes across his forehead, mala and his brahmin string, or course. He had a little cymbal that he dangled off one wrist and a little gong in the other and a satchel presumably for collecting "donations" to have a prayer said for you, since we all know Brahmins are much closer to God than the rest of us, or so it is in India. So he sees me and gives this sweet sweet smile and gives his little cymbal a dainty little "gong", then holds out his satchel for me to make my insurance payment for a pleasant afterlife. I mean come on! Dude! Is that all you got for me? I mean really, a little cymbal thingy and you can only play one note? Give me a break. Get a JOB dude. Hit your cymbal twice at least! This is the MODERN world and we don't subscribe to that old-fashioned Brahmins live off the charity of others because they are too "holy" to work. It looked like trick or treat because monkey boy was right behind him with his filthy little criminal sister behind them coming at me with their hands out. They steal from your pockets while one of them distracts you with his cobra. They are really great to have in the neighborhood. Extorsion by reptile. There w ere also several boys on the way down trying to sell used garlands for 50 rupees, which is hysterical considering they only cost 5 rupees new...

Then... during the break during my Thai Massage workshop, I listened to three people talk about how Guruji and Sharath are just all about taking the money now, and how they make over three million American dollars a year now, and how most of the hundreds of yoga students who come here are stoners and ravers ans such, and they are just doing Ashtanga for social reasons, and how other senior students come here and sell weed for hiked up prices and... well I know a bunch of yoga students here hit the bong for sure, and I have seen more than two senior Ashtangi's SMOKING beedi's over at Coffee Day, right in the open, on the veranda. You would think they would have the wear-with-all to at least HIDE it like I would, you know, smoke in the woods and in the toilets and stuff, not letting on to anyone that you have this revolting, nasty and ultimately unhealthy habit and at the same time going back to America and teaching yoga again? It's so feckin weird. I felt really sad after that conversation probably because on some level, I think it's true.

I am not going to go in to the sickening story of how my (now ex) landlord is SO GREEDY that he tried to sleeze a water bottle off my roommate so he could get the deposit back, or how they kept demanding my key and then pushed past me into my apartment when I was still packing turning off the electric mains until I kicked them out and gave them a piece of my mind. "I will give you the key when I am MOVED OUT, not now, while I am still packing, but tomorrow when my month is officially over. And turn the refigerator back on please, if you don't mind. I have ice cream in there."

NEW RULES

1. Right blinker signal means, "Pass me on the right"
Left blinker signal means "Pass me on the left"

2. When an American yoga student crashes her scooter in the dark on the way to the rail station at 5:30 in the morning so she can no longer drive it due to the fender being crunched in, and she gets minor scrapes but is slightly shaken up and worried about where to keep the scooter because she is going to Bangalore for the whole day till late that night, and her train leaves in 15 minutes, and you are a rickshaw driver who runs over to see if she is OK and help her up with the scooter along with the nice chai wallah from the other curb, you should then TRY TO RIP HER OFF by demanding 30 rupees for a 15 rupee ride when she needs a ride to the rail station. That is absolutely the right and ethical thing to do. It is always best to wait until people are at their most vulnerable when you want to steal from them. You get more shit for yourself that way.

3. Do not EVER expect to shop at a craft show without being assaulted by the vendors who will follow you at a 2" margin when you are trying to look at the stuff on the racks, even after you politely ask to be left to look around. "Thanks I'm all set" translates in Kannada to, "Please annoy the fuck out of me by attatching yourself to my hip and grabbing everything I touch and shoving it in my face. I really enjot this kind of shopping experience and it really allows me to choose something I really like."

4. In the yoga shala during any of the twice weekly led classes when it gets really crowded because everyone is there at once - if someone comes toward you to put their mat down in the space next to and you don't like that person, quickly throw your rug down on the space and say you are "saving it for your best friend." Keep the rug there until the despicable unpopular person secures thamselves in another space, then remove your rug from the spot only when someone acceptable comes along.

5. If you see a dog in the street, tease it and lunge at it and even throw rocks at it, just for fun and get it really scared and upset and laugh like you are so hysterical you can't stand it, even if the dog has a collar. It is absolutely ESSENTIAL that dogs be continually reminded of their low status in Indian society.

6. If there is a dog sleeping in the road as they often do, just drive over it rather than around it, driving around it makes you look weaker than the dog and it is absolutely ESSENTIAL that you continually remind yourself of the status you think you have by running over poor street dogs with your fifty-year old, fume-spewing rattle trap piece of shit car.

7. Never, ever accept a job selling socks on the streets in Mysore. No one will ever, ever buy socls from you, because if you look around, you will see that among the hundreds of people milling around the downtown area, you will be hard pressed to find someone wearing SHOES let alone a pair of socks. It is like selling down jackets at the equator, which also happens here, on the markets and by the side of the roads. For those chilly, chilly 80 degree days with a wind chill making it an honest 78.

THINGS I WILL DO AS SOON AS I GET HOME

1. Take a SHOWER.

2. Take a three hour bath with a seaweed bath bomb from Lush.

3. Wash all of my surviving clothes (the ones that were not ruined by having the shit beat out of them on a rock) in an actual washing machine and dryer so I don't have to crack them when I put them on.

4. Eat a HUGE SALAD from Whole Foods.

5. Make a smoothie and drink it.

6. Hug my kittie-cats.

7. Hug the doggies.

8. Ignore the huge pile of mail on the dining room table.

9. Sleep foor two days in an air-conditioned house, on a bed that is not on the floor, in a bed without a mosquito net and an anti-roach chalk line drawn on the floor around the mattress.

10. Get in the pool for a few days and be happy that I don't live in India, that it is an amazing, magical, funny, infuriating, ridiculous, funny, frustrating, filthy, beautiful and special place that I can go to whenever I want, stay for as long as I want, buy a lot of ridiculously cheap materials and sarees, as long as I have my nice place to come home to.
8:45 am edt