Saturday, August 24, 2019

Rising

Every morning before the sun
    at work before others wake
    mosquitos sizzle in the still moist air
    roosters
    dawnlight slips over the mist-covered fields
    All is dull grey.

        Rising

Bus
   books
      notes
          blue pens
             chalk.
  Mats on the floor, woven in the colors of their lives.
     curiosity
        wondering
            experimenting with a language that is not their own
 Speaking, reading, writing
                       new worlds open

      Rising

Forbidden
   alien
     no role models.
The first
    the leaders
        What do the younger ones think?

      Rising

The world is waiting
  so much to do
  so much to offer
  so far to go
  stuck in place

    Rising

Loneliness

Too young to understand
     but not too young to feel
       left alone in the dark.
           short hair
           small face, her eyes don't match
  a girl in a boys-only world.

Old enough to balance
   the pot on her beautiful round head
         fetch water
         sweep
         cook
         wash the clothes in a pool of dirty rainwater
all the others go to school

Married to a man
   who doesn't see her
                       hear her
                       love her
                       want her
   water, cook, sweep, wash, repeat
surrounded by women living in their loneliness

Old, weary, bent
    wisdom fading
      no one comes anymore
  where are they?
     dying
       alone
         hungry
           tired
             spirit lost
alone.

Sunday, August 18, 2019

Beautiful but sad....India a land of contradictions


The Monkey Temple or Galtaji is a perfect symbol of the beauty that was India and the confusing contradiction that it has become.



Before coming to India to live last year I read extensively, watched documentaries and studied Hinduism for my masters. I thought there would be an inherent spiritualism here. I have found, however, that the idea of India is not the reality, and I am faced once again with the effects of colonial ruins and poverty.

Rather than spirituality, I have encountered practice and ritual with no connection to faith or belief. Women who are required to constantly fast and pray for men and boys while they themselves remain invisible. The most confusing is the inability of Hindus to explain their practice beyond knowing the names of some gods and a limited knowledge of festivals. In Hutup, they worship Hinduism as nature and yet pollute the air burning plastic, and throw garbage everywhere.

I thought that maybe it was because I am living in a very rural area among a large population of illiterate people.

But now having traveled to some of the main tourist sites the contradictions have widened. People who worship in the morning are trying to rip us off in the afternoon. Kindness is overdone and artificial, hospitality is not part of the culture and rules never apply to men.

Back to the monkey temple. It was clearly a beautiful, colorful small city set in the canyon, once upon a time. Two "priests", young men I doubt have any real training sit at the entrance collecting money for us the take photos. What was once amazing is now crumbling and lacks care. Pilgrims come, we saw many, but it seems they leave behind garbage that no one bothers to pick up. The pool, filled by a natural spring, is covered with floating filth. The beautiful frescos are faded, cracked, and dirty. The images of gods lay within piles of garbage. Could the priests spend less time harassing tourist over 5 cents to use the toilet and more time picking up rubbish? Could art students not come to repaint and repair the artwork. This is a holy temple, falling into ruin. Spiritual...nope....beautiful...in a very very sad way, yes.







Post Script: The temple is not nicknamed for the god Hanuman, but for the over 300 monkeys that live in the rocks of the surrounding hills.