More Vrindavan pics, 2

The last round of Vraja photos...


The Hare Krishna on chanting walkabout near the MVT Guest House, viewed through my rickshaw wala's windshield




Small child doing the pump-n-fill at the local water source





Barefeet immersed in the results of the day's unexpected April downpour




Pretty nice pooch perch!




Cows and bhaktas roaming the back streets of Vrindavan

More Vrindavan pics, 1

1:25 a.m., Thursday April 9th, 2009
New Delhi, India

A few more parting shots of Vraja…


A sweeping rooftop view of the sacred Yamuna River (just to the right of the white spires) snaking through the town of Vrindavan




Me enjoying an unseasonal April downpour in the bazaar




Man selling devotional items, including some of Shyamdas' translations, in front of a temple in Jatipura




Flags waving atop the Sri Nathji Temple, Jatipura




Madhusudan ji showing Maharaji's son, Dharma Narayan, his iPhone

Breakfast of Champions

9:15 a.m., Tuesday March 31st, 2009
New Delhi


Gotta say, these heaping bowls of fresh mangos (‘mangoes’?) and pomegranates are a superb way to begin the culinary day! Truly a breakfast of champions—sorry Wheaties!

Drill, baby, drill!

11:11 p.m., Monday March 30th, 2009
New Delhi

Sara arrived a couple nights ago and I’ve not written since. Suddenly life seems busier than ever. She just today got some dental work done (an implant/tooth replacement) here in Delhi, at a fraction of the cost in the USSA even including the airfare etc. Bizarro-world. She’s been a trooper, even with the mandated prescription for post-surgical ice cream (Royal Alphonso-flavored, courtesy of the Saravana Bhavan restaurant down the road.

Dialects

11:30 p.m., Thor’s day March 26rd, 2009
New Delhi




It’s so easy and natural, it happens in a blur of acclimation. My language goes local to make easier my communications with people with often limited or unconventional approaches to English comp. Sara’s been noticing it in our phone conversations. Perfect example tonight speaking with Kamal here at Abracadabra:

Me: Kamal ji, do you know if anyone is going to be checking into Room 3 in the next few days?

Kamal, with cocked head and quizzical look: Eh?

Me, pointing to the room: Room 3, tomorrow, coming, anyone?

Kamal, understanding: Oh, no, no one…

Grinding On

11 a.m., Wednesday March 23rd, 2009
New Delhi


The Marwari opium seller of Meherangarh Fort

Can’t say these have been the most inspiring of days. (Though there’s been a few moments.) I quasi-tweaked my back in Jaipur—just one of those funny movements where I felt a sheath of muscle in my mid/upper back suddenly tense and contract and serve notice that any more bad moves would likely result in a number of days of supinity.

I’ve managed OK since then, but the other day it kept reminding me it was still here, waiting to go on strike and this encouraging me into a more relaxed pace than is my usual here in the Delhi grind pit. A steady diet of ibuprofen has also been on the menu—and where’s that opium-dishing Marwari guard when I need him? Understandably righteous ideology notwithstanding, there’s a time and place for painkillers, it turns out. I’m not quite there, but I think I’m within sight.

Anyway, it’s all moving in slow motion, and allowing myself liberal time to take rest in my AC room here at the Abracadabra guest house (downstairs room 7, for those keeping score at home) seems to be an integral part of sanity.

On the other hand, the prospect of hitting the streets in search of Green Tara, old statuary and maybe a harmonium, is keeping my head in the game…


Mrs. Sharma supervising the cutting of a vintage Gudri blanket into its new life: a one-of-a-kind party jacket

Au Revoir, Rajasthan. Bon Soir, Delhi!

Midnight, Monday morning March 23rd, 2009
Freshly arrived back in New Delhi

Every nerve in my body is so vacant and numb,
I can’t even remember what it was I came here to get away from.
Don’t even hear the murmur of a prayer
It’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there.
Bob Dylan

Can’t say I’ve been looking forward to the return to Delhi. I actually really enjoy many elements here—mostly, the people I work with and my little circuit in town. But man, the air, and the noise.

I remember my first visit here: 1998, before they switched the massive bus fleet and many of the little motor rickshaws over to CNG—the largest compressed natural gas fleet in the world, or so it is proclaimed. The air was demonstrably worse then, amazingly—but still, it’s heinous today. Landing here a few (impossibly long) weeks ago, I got clobbered pronto by the assault. I hope I’m more acclimated now. (Hm, or do I?) Time will shortly tell.

For now, though, I’m just happy to be alive, after running the gauntlet of the Jaipur-Delhi highway. Phew. One tiny little sardine can car with no apparent shock absorption, a driver kept waiting too long by my day running late, the sunset rush out through the canyons between the Jal Mahal and the Amber Fort and the starkly bloated carcass of a massive water buffalo, an after dark tire blowout remedied by pausing in full traffic along the far lane on the Highway of Doom to change to a tire with wire mesh showing through it’s last shreds of rubber: stir and swallow whole, no chaser.

So, it’s good to be here, in one fleshy piece!