Let all the eyes give thanks.

First, let me begin this episode for a sincere apology for my absolutely atrocious spelling. After I hit "send" the last time, I realized that I had not proof-read and had probably plunged myself into a well of embarrasment. See, I don't even know how to spell embarrassment... and these Indian computers don't seem to have spell check... oh dear.

So.
All good things must come to an end.

And for many (myself emphatically included), happiness comes to an end when you reach Delhi. For those of you who have been there, you know. It is a sea of chaos, and for four young white girls, the eye of the hurricane seems always to follow us with a precision that is miraculous. The very half-second that we were dropped off from our bus the other night (after dark, on an unknown side of a highway), the vultures descended on us, and I thought we really might be in real danger. The rickshaw drivers start yelling, gathering (and following, keeping up with our speed), "MADAM.
WHERE ARE YOU GOING. I TAKE YOU THERE FOR 150 RUPEES. MADAM! MISS. ALLO! ALLO! ALLO MADAM! MADAM WHERE ARE YOU GOING. I WILL TAKE YOU (another 10 voices all shouting over each other the same things)." and then add in the general mob of regular people just standing by, who just follow you to stare at you and shout "ALLO!" in the hopes that you'll answer back. and then add in the starving children who tug at your elbow, your skirt, your hair, "please miss. please food. please miss." And all of this in the dark, with traffic rushing by on the pitted, muddy roads of Delhi, all horns blaring at top volume. You trying to look where you are going to avoid
stepping in the massive piles of garbage, human feces, cow patties, dead rats.... ug. Plus we had been on the bus for about 16 hours. Why did we torture ourselves? Well, on our way from the mountains south to Rajasthan, Stacie requested that we see the Taj Mahal together, because she will be leaving a week earlier than us three. We all regretted to deal with Delhi, but considered the price worth it. So thus the mastochism. The Taj was beautiful by the way. But more on that later.

It's strange though... one of the most disturbing parts of it all is that Delhi forces you to see yourself, stripped down to your insides... I found myself wishing for a giant bushy tail, to sweep all the madness away as horses swish away the flies, or the gnats... But I suddenly see in plain view that my true patience is nil, my inner peace merely finite, and my compassion a mere mockery of true love. (how's that for drama.) But really. I just found myself wondering what is the right way to respond to all of this mobbing - my first reaction is disgust and hatred. Being touched and shouted at feels like an invasion of my mind, a very wrong invasion. But I found myself asking, how would Jesus respond? (And if Jesus was a woman, would it change the words he used towards the men.) Same thing... what would the Buddha respond, the king of meditation himself? But what a dramatist I can be. Oh yeah... Jesus withstood taunting and was peaceful even to his death. And the Buddha continued to sit under the Bodhi tree through many temptations of Mara. But when is annoyance just annoyance (and are you justified in brushing off the flies for your own safety), and
when do you determine yourself a martyr and try to respond quietly and peacefully, and have compassionate thoughts to the ones who make your skin crawl with their penetrating, steady, unceasing gaze, their snickering lips and grabbing hands.

Any ideas? There are many wise ones among you (and many of you who have been through Delhi!) I guess I'm always looking for a "correct" or "righteous" way to act. But the invasion of personal space here can turn me into a snappy little witch, ready to scream "GET AWAY FROM ME!" at the first step I take off of the bus. It really has my brain tied in knots, the way I can so quickly despise a complete stranger. And if I
were in their state, needing rupees to make it to the next meal, I wouldn't think twice about mobbing an American... we do look rich, with our healthy feet even... so many toes here are gnarled with disease, limbs missing, and faces gaunt. I would be a mobber if the tables were turned. But I am stuck in my body, and thus must decide my action and thought. Woe are the priveledged, for they have more capacity for moral failure in their great riches. Blessed are the meak, for they shall inherit the kingdom. These children will inherit many kingdoms, these hungry, begging children who's potty training begins on a ten-foot pile of trash. Blessed be these lonely
eyes and cursed be me for going home.

Phew. questions, questions. The men's black eyes with their relentless stares rattle my very bones, but on the other hand, the womens' eyes make me feel like a child again... you know how children have no bashfulness about staring, and their staring never makes you feel creepy? They are learning about their world, they are observing color, form, expression, movement -- their minds are still free of adulturating concepts, or judging evaluations -- they just observe. (I remember when our dear peapod was just beginning to focus on things after she was born... how magical to feel human development in motion)............anyway. Not to say that Indian women are children. Rather to say that it is safe to exchange long glances with these veiled creatures - their stares are not filled with the predation of sex, but the mere curiousity of sights unseen before. And our smiles in return bring smiles, and we have had the pleasure of engaging in some wonderful conversation with some of those who speak a little English. Or better than speech is a laugh, or a hug. Jamie and I were just discussing the universality of facial expression... always obvious when travelling, and beautiful, and..... I always feel drab and frumpy in my western get-up, but they still embrace us and want us to be in their vacation photos. It is
warming to feel such a kindred connection, a woman-to-woman respect, and to be able to look into someone's eyes without feeling scared. As much as I sometimes wish I were a man for the priveledges it provides, moments like these kindred ones I am sure no man has felt as women have. And as another note on amazing women, how wonderful it is to spend time with Kim, Stacie and Jamie, all very inspiring women who engage their world and encourage me to laugh and discover. I must be pre-mestrual, as I am just sappy emotional over everything today.

After seeing the Taj Mahal yesterday at sunrise, watching the white marble turn from a frosty pink into a starker yellow, we then visited the Keoladeo Ghana National Park, a bird sanctuary for thousands of species of birds. We rented bikes (old! rickety! fun!) and rode through the muddy paths of the wetlands, shouting in the pouring rain, basking in the following hot sun. Seeing hundreds of cranes, storks, and another huge bird that I forgot (and most of them I forgot, although I was excited to see my first Kingfisher!) Anyway, I've heard that to many the park is a disappointment, but for us it was glorious to take to a bike and sail around, scaring the poor cows (yes, they still let cows in these environmentally sensitive areas) and the jackals, the antelope and the pythons! Or was it cobras? One of those two snakes is prevalent in the mud. My memory is absurd.

So today we arrived in Jaipur, finally in Rajasthan, and were fortunate to find a haven of a hotel, suggested to us by our place in Agra. It is extremely clean as it is brand-new, and it is refreshingly on the cheaper side of things. This afternoon we decided we needed to let our hair down and see a famous Bollywood film (which, if you don't know, are filled with singing and dancing and DRAMA and are about 3 hours long with and intermission!) The thousand seat theater was sold out for the afternoon show, but just managed to get the last seats to the evening show. What a memorable experience -- we had no idea what they were saying in Hindi, but fortunately the overacting thing can really be helpful to foreigners, so that we were completely clued in to what was going on. A sappy love story of course, sort of Disney-esque...

So now to bed I said! Thanks for all your kind notes - and you are right, I dont' have time to answer them in detail, but I enjoy getting them immensely as I value you all very much!

Love to you,
Mand.

PS: a few funnies - the public phones here are all called "STD" and one of the banks is called "UTI." Love those little things.