Local Photos 2

Reminder: For easier viewing, hit the F11 key on your keyboard for full-screen. Hit it again to un-do.

On this page I've included a collection of other miscellaneous photos.  Rather than putting tiny thumbnails and requiring you to drill down to see them, I've included the full photo.  This means that the page will take a few minutes to load. 

Go get a cup of coffee and come back in a few minutes after the photos have all loaded. A 28k modem will take ten minutes running at full speed to load all of the photos on this page...    If you've got a slow connection, you could click here to see thumbnails of these pictures first...  but don't skimp and just view the thumb nails... look into the eyes of some of these people and try to imagine who they are.

Remember: if you're using Internet Explorer, press F11 to toggle to the full screen mode.  (Press it again to return to this mode.)

This is my friend Nandu. He and Unni are brothers.  This picture was taken at a traditional dance concert in which he had a large solo part. I was unable to attend, but saw pictures and was told that his performance was wonderful. Check out his web site at www.geocities.com/nandu1986

My first night in India at a hotel in Bombay.   To the left is my buddy Ananda.  These guys met me at the International airport at midnight and then hung out in my hotel room with me 'til three or four a.m.   Of course, it was easy for me to stay up that late being 12 hours jet lagged; it was 4 p.m. for me. 

I've known Ananda for about ten years, visiting him and his wonderful family in Bombay when transiting through the city.  He lived in England for many years. The two of them, living in Bombay, are plugged into the Internet and the Western culture.

View from the clinic one foggy morning with sun gleaming on the water. The boat is a ferry boat that crosses the river... at 2 cents per ride.

A young boy waiting at the clinic. He's looking at you from across the centuries... or at least from an ancient cultural standpoint from which he'd have trouble understanding your full refrigerator, sense of urgency, or religion.  Can we even begin to imagine his perspective? 

Shot from the bridge, looking down.   This is a public spot for bathing.

Imagine this: you're living in a society that is far from affluent. You're scratching out a living from crops.  There is a lot of non-cultivatable land in your community: some of it's too dry, too wet, too rocky, too hilly... or perhaps there's just too much land to cultivate given that you don't have oil-based technology to help.

Someone comes to you offering a way to easily convert that unused land to nutritious, tasty nourishment.  You don't have to plow, water, worry about crop failure... you just set this thing out in the field and it more or less takes care of itself.

Of course, I'm talking about cows and their milk.  When we look at it in this light, perhaps we can capture a sense of how deeply the Indians feel about cows and why the cow is so sacred to them. (Imagine: green, non-palatable and non-digestible grass goes in, and white, rich, lucious milk comes out!)  

The ancient poetry in India frequently describes someone's  wealth by stating how many cows they have.   Here in the West, we're so removed from poverty (most of us...), from our agricultural roots, and from hunger, that we've lost that innocent appreciation of something as simple as a cow...    I'd rather be amazed by a cow than stunned by this week's entertainment on TV or at the movies.

At the clinic one often sees piles of  sticks and herbs drying. They are later converted into medicines. The photo below is one of the doctors posing next to such a heap.

In the 5th century BC, Hippocrates used a bitter powder from the bark of the willow tree to treat aches and pains. ( Click here to read more about this.)   How did they figure out that aspirin had the beneficial effects that it has???   It seems that over the ages (and I mean ages), we've experiemented with various herbs and natural remedies. How many people died during that as a result of trial and error? ("Here, drink this fox glove tea..." A photo and description of fox glove is here.)

At first I was put-out when I saw sticks in piles scattered about.  ("My god, they're treating me with wood!??")   But as I considered it, I realized that we in the West also frequently treat with natural products, but because the materials have been so heavily processed, we forget their source.  In India, like most developing countries, the people have a closer relationship to the land and wild life...

En route to the clinic, I visited my friends Shantaram and Sunita at their home.  This family has always made me feel very much at home.  They exemplify the graciousness that is part of India's traditional culture. Geeta is sitting in front of me.

I spotted this during a walk with Unni.   It probably wasn't worth the time it took for you to download it, but this fascinated me. Someone took some branches and wove a gate (which in itself is no big deal.) The vertical pieces actually took root and began to grow!

In the US, we had a century to grow the infrastructure that supports our modern society: cars, telephones, etc.  India has had only about ten or twenty years. (In some cities there are still two-wheeled carts drawn by water buffalo.)  Consequently, they have some growing pains. 

The photo below is of the national highway approaching the bridge.

An "auto-rickshaw" taxi.  Fare is about 6 rupees (12 cents) for a five minute ride to and from the clinic. Sometimes I find myself arguing because they tried to charge me 8 rupees.  Sure it's only 2 cents overcharge, but it's the principle of the thing... 

I don't know how you feel, but I'm not sure that I want to go to a travel agent whose namesake is a traffic jam!

This year I again visited Sona and Sindu at their house. I lived next door to them in 1997 and we became playmates. At that time I did a simple magic trick that I had brought with me.   This year, they had the magic and, as you can well imagine as well as see from the photos below,  they were only too happy to perform for me! 

They have never met a Westerner other than me and are intensely curious about me.  It was for them, two years ago, that I learned in the local language to say, "You are my buddy."  Upon proudly reciting it for one of them, she turned to me and knodded, "Yes,"  greatly rewarding me for my efforts with that one word. Of course, most of the time they can't understand any of the carefully rehearsed phrases I try out on them!   The language Malayalam sounds unlike any Western language you've heard.  It's derived from Sanskrit, which is much like our Latin.  Having studied Sanskrit, I discovered that many of the words I knew they knew too! 

Here, I was taking my leave of Sona and Sindhu.   The next week, they were to depart to live in Syndey, Australia. I can only imagine the culture shock they and their parents will feel there, having grown up in simple India.   I feel somewhat like a Greek god who has descended out of the skies from a place far away that they can't imagine but are venturning to.  Years from now, when hopefully they'll be safely settled in modern Australia, I hope to meet them, and try to remind them of our meeting in their youth and what they were then.

It was a very touching goodbye --  them: excited to be embarking on their adventure - me: wondering how they'll fare and what they'll be like years hence. Urging them to continue study hard in school and help their parents during the move by behaving well, with tears clouding my vision, I turned and walked up the street, wondering if I'll ever see them again...

Here's Unni with the award he got as valedictorian in his high school. This was a tremendous accomplishment and took a lot of work. His parents are very proud of  him, as am I.  Now he's studying to take the admission exam to medical school. There are 600 seats and 100,000 applicants...

Unni and I spent lots of time together, both learning from the other.

Unni's web site is at www.geocities.com/morpheius6   I'm sure he'd enjoy hearing from you!

This is "The Palace" where the doctors live and prepare most of their medicines.  It actually was a palace of a king for several hundred years. Wandering through the interior courtyard, I couldn't help but run my hands over the hand-carved designs in the teak woodwork and think about who it was who labored on them so long ago.  Teak!

This is an pretty plant that we spotted when Unni and I were out walking.

A candid shot of some women walking ahead of us to show the dress.

Some school girls. This is a good example of the scenes one sees and knows that there is a lot of data being lost across cultures.  What's the head covering mean? (Is she Moslem?)  What kind of school do their uniforms mean they attend?  ... etc.

This photo begins my "Truck"-series. Many of the lorries have this kind of thing painted on them. At the risk of overreacting, I found myself delighted to see such a deliberate  celebration of beauty.

Every day, you find signs of appreciation and thankfullness: garlands hanging from rearview mirrors on the cars, dashboards dabbed with sandalwood paste,  incense sticks burning, chants wafting out of temples, drums beating, and the ornamental "dot" on the forehead of women...  all evidence of a respectful, reverent, and thankful attitude woven into their culture.

How does this affect the psyche of the children who grow up there (or the on-going lives of the adults?) to have a culture saturated with a deeply held belief in the sacredness and rightness of things? Do you think that this insulates a person from the trials of being human? Is that kind of insulation good and open the heart, or does it produce a complacency, an opiate of the masses??

One day each year is singled out for special honor to tools. On that day especially, one sees  expressions of honor and thanks everywhere.   Even school children participate, wrapping their school books carefully in paper and leaving them at the temple for the day.  What isn't sacred, especially learning?

So, take these pictures as part of the wild, exuberant celebration that is India. 

Here is Valsa and her daughter Priya.   Valsa was a patient at the clinic when I was there. We spent afternoons chatting about India, our lives, and life. We became great friends. I miss her a lot and worry about her.  I hope to meet her and her husband at their home in Hong Kong someday!   Valsa and her family lived in England for some years and they travelled a lot before and after that, so they are comfortable in the West or East.  

This is my father and me  at my sister's house. It's not a good photo of either of us...