Vice Consul

Ranthambore

2007-06-25T22:18:00.000+05:30

Some friends and I went to one of India's best wildlife preservation areas, called Ranthambore. It's in Rajasthan, south of Jaipur. We had a great time, from the train ride down to multiple trips inside the park to taking a 20 minute plane ride back to Delhi from Jaipur. We got a little jittery, however, when we kept missing the tigers. I had been to Ranthambore before with my twin brother, and we had a great time but also saw no tigers. So when we took two trips inside the park and came back with "only" lots of pictures of deer, peacock, and monkeys, well, I braced myself for another round of disappointment.

But on our last trip into the park, we got incredibly lucky. Not only was it peacock mating season (I have never seen so many peacocks strutting their stuff - perhaps 50 males dancing and folding and unfolding their tails) and not only was it a beautiful day in an open forest studded with Mughal ruins, but we saw four tigers!

We began our third trip in by zipping by all the animals we previously would have stopped and stared at - the aforementioned peacocks, langur monkeys (very personable, these guys), "blue bulls", sambar deer, spotted deer, golden orioles, kingfishers, crocodiles, etc. - in order to maximize our tiger searching time. We finally reached a water hole that we thought would afford us our best chance of a sighting. And then we sat. After what seemed an interminable wait in the open-air jeep, watching with eyebrows arched as the male peacocks shouted and danced, the volume of the forest dropped markedly and suddenly. The deer all started looking around, and the peacocks started making a different noise. The langurs started making a hacking, coughing sound. You could hear answering calls from the distance; the alarm was out, and it said the tigers were coming. But still we saw nothing. When we heard more alarm calls from 100 meters away, we fired up the jeep and zipped away down the trail, but still nothing. We returned to the water hole, and waited some more. More jeeps came to join us. The guides huddled. Then without warning there was a roar and everyone jumped in unison, one of those "yes, we all have a little instinct left" moments. The guide said that was a sign the cubs were around, and playing. "That was playing?" was the immediate question.

After a little longer, atiger emerged! Lazily, languidly, she just strolled toward the water, glancing in our direction but without really giving us a second thought, and relaxed in the pool. We all did little tiger dances in the jeep, thrilled to death to be so close to the tiger. Then, one by one, two siblings came out and joined her. We turned into tigerazzi, cameras clicking and whirring away. As stars do, the tigers ignored us. After some soaking, two of the cubs started playing. One dragged the other out of the pool by the scruff of her neck, which the other endured. Very cute, in a 400-pound animal kind of way. Finally, they all wandered away, fur muddy but with stripes still showing. We drove away exulting.

Then, on our way back down the trail, as we were all achatter about seeing the cubs and as we all were admitting that we had all secretly been a little sad there were no tigers, we came around a bend and came upon the three cubs' 13-year old mother. She was also pretty much just strolling, making her way down the path. (Apparently tigers' paws are soft enough that they prefer the dirt trail to the underbrush of much of the forest. A hurt paw can really impair their hunting ability.) Our guide said she had parted from the cubs to do the hunting for the day. At about 15 months, the cubs are still not hunting for themselves, though they may help her sometimes. But at this point, her mind didn't seem to be on hunting. Perhaps it was getting too hot. We drove behind her, passed her at about two or three feet away, and then drove in front of her for a long while, stopping and taking pictures before driving on again. Eventually she must of gotten hot, or perhaps this was her destination all along, and she went to dunk herself in another human-made pool (concrete). Again, she could not have cared less about our presence - the tigers are clearly the lords of all they survey. When she came upon a large group of monkeys, they started doing the coughing and chuffing that is the alarm call, and clearing the path.

We finally had to leave because we had overstayed, but we all wanted to hug the tigers and live with them forever at that point. (Not much rational thinking going on there - tigers may have some magical power when you are close to them, I don't know...)

We came out and hiked around the amazing Ranthambore fort area and did a puja at the Ganesh mandir. While walking toward the mandir, we came across an area perhaps 50 feet long where people were building little mini-cairns (see the pic to the right). Our guide explained to us that this was a place where people came for blessings on new homes or homes to be constructed. The bigger the pile, the bigger the house I think. I suppose I think this is just a superstition, but I did have an urge to build a small rock pile too for my little house back in Portland.

Here are a few more pictures. There are many more, as you might imagine. I have hi-res versions that look better, let me know if you want me to email you one or two...

Why Hullo!

2006-07-13T22:44:00.000+05:30

Hi everybody! Thanks for all the nice messages. I am doing well, albeit busy, and feeling slightly cagey but also a little disconnected from everything that happened in Mumbai.

To hear about so many people dying, and to hear that it was on the train line that many of the Mumbai Consulate's workers take every day, is tragic and emotionally baffling. I mean, in the final analysis, the bombings are a cowardly and craven act, and that is all they are. Has a purpose been announced for this, or has a group taken responsibility yet? Is this about Kashmir, is it some extreme Islamic critique of pluralism (aka ungodliness I suppose)? And do "they" really think that bombing innocent people on trains is going to advance their cause?

It's amazing that a group would want to unravel all the peaceful gestures that have been made recently between India and Pakistan. I guess that's what they want, to unravel the peace process, because that would mean peace with the current borders, which is unacceptable? Better deaths than the "wrong" peace. I hope it doesn't work. India has a long way to go to creating a truly harmonious mult-religioius state, but there's no way this kind of campaign would lead to India seceding land to Pakistan or to creating a separate Kashmiri state.

It is very sad, that's for sure! I hope India does not become victim to a prolonged insurgency. With any luck this will continue to bring India together, much as it's done in Mumbai so far. Mumbai has gotten a fair amount of press recently about being named the world's least kind city (in Readers Digest), but this event has brought Mumbaikars together in a really amazing way.

There was also a news article today about terrorists targeting the US Embassy in New Delhi. I don't know if it's true or not, but when I stop to think about it, it's very unsettling. Ach. Anyway, I don't really have much to say on this whole affair, only that I hate the feeling of helplessness that sparks these people to such desparation, almost as much as I hate the violence done to the innocent people on those trains. If there's any good to come out of this, it is that it challenges us (well, I guess I should only say me) to reflect on what we each do to contribute to other people's happiness or desperation and anger. Maybe that's what's happening in Mumbai. I kind of think that's what happened in Madrid as well. I'm sorry it takes violence for it to happen. How incredibly tragic.

Anyway, I'm totally fine. I'm doing a few people's jobs as they are all out of the office. I'm working long hours right now, and will be incredibly booked through July, but life is ok. I am certainly happy being in India, and just hope it doesn't degrade into communalism and violence any more. I don't think it will, people here seem more resilient than that. Of course, I live in a bubble, or as one friend called it, "camp". We'll see what happens. I'll try to keep you updated. And maybe find a good poem to post. Thanks again for the hellos. Hello to all of you!

My Hero

2006-06-19T16:35:00.000+05:30

For quite some time now there has been a wasp nest outside my bathroom window. I called the Residential Maintenance folks, who came and knocked down the nest. However, it was not destroyed. Instead, it just bounced and landed on my windowsill. This didn't seem to cause the wasps much concern. They quickly and industriously rebuilt the nest in exactly the same place it had been, only this time it seemed a little larger than before!

The nest kept growing. I started debating calling the maintenance team again and this time asking them to bring some poison or something similar. About a week went by, and the wasps were constantly crawling around and on top of each other as they added more space to their little wasp production factory. Then I noticed that all the little hexagonal holes were being filled with some whitish, cotton candy-like material. The wasps were clearly on their game. It was also about this time that I noticed that - get this - wasps can smile. Well, maybe leer is a better word. Whatever it was, it was chilling. I started asking myself, aren't all creatures good? Could these wasps actually want to hurt little old me?

Araucana filled me in on the true nature of wasps. The answer was yes. Yes, they could and would hurt me. Why? Because wasps are mean! Moreover, they have very poor manners and refuse to stay outside. And once they get inside, well, it's all over. Game to the wasps, and it would be a painful loss, so to speak. They read your paper, eat your jam, drink all your sugar water, and carve your body into a human nest. Not pleasant. I underlined the mental note in my head to call someone or email some department to come take care of my winged, jagged legged enemies.

Unfortunately, the truth is that I often make these kinds of mental notes, but when I go into work I'm buffetted by the sandstorms and hailstorms and people storms of consular work. Everything in my head just vanishes for the next ten to twelve hours.

So the nest grew, and I let it grow. The horror of it all.

You can see where this is heading. I certainly could. One stung Crawdad, lying in bed, head replaced by a red and swollen mass of irritated tissue, wasps laughing and laughing and stinging him again and again. I think it's safe to say noone has ever heard the cruel laugh of the wasp queen and survived, am I right?

Yes, I knew that after their little wasp condos were built they would be bored. And bored wasps do one thing - they kill the nearest human. I think we all know this.

But then it happened!

Just as I was planning a really compelling email that would bring the Wasp Busters team to my doorstep, I noticed that the nest was destroyed! Well, maybe not completely destroyed, but significantly reduced. What had happened? I paused. Perhaps the government, completely for my benefit of course, had chosen me to be a test case in its new mental email application? Just think about an email hard enough and it would be sent? Could that be? I decided that was less than likely. Another option - could the wasps have just moved out? While I was hopeful about this possibility, I was doubtful. Evil doesn't just leave; something must have happened.

But what was it? What had delayed my execution, my death by wasp love? Walking into the bathroom that night, I saw the answer. Straight out of a science fiction novel, the largest gecko I'd ever seen. He seemed afraid of noone - not me, not the wasps certainly. I felt like I was watching some ancient rivalry play out, something like a cross between Mayan folklore and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe. As near as I could tell, the wasps went into defensive formation. They covered the (now diminished) nest with their evil little bodies and threw insults at the gecko. I was terrified, but the gecko just looked at them with a bemused but cold glare. What existential questions were answered for me in just a minute of watching this unfold! Yes! there is good and evil in the world, and yes! there is such a thing as divine intervention. (And apparently blue whales are able to mate with geckos in the wild because that is the only way to explain this massive thing stuck to the side of my exterior bathroom wall.)

Anyway, to make a long story short, this gecko had obviously come, Boddhisatva-like, to my house to maintain the balance between good and evil. Yes, there are forces in this world greater than we are, and they are going through a titanic battle. We may only catch a glimpse or two of this battle in our lifetimes, and I had one of these chances just outside my window. Although this knowledge made me feel a little diminished, in the end I was comforted by my place in the world. I went to sleep calmly, secure in the knowledge that many of my questions about life on this planet were answered and that I had my own guardian gecko. Evil may never go away, but it can sometimes be eaten by hungry geckos. My hero.

Poem #13: The Language of Crows

2006-06-05T20:44:00.000+05:30

A crow has discovered a scrap of roadkill on the blacktop and can't resist telling everyone in a loud voice. Immediately another crow arrives on the scene and the fight begins, cawing, flapping, and biting. Suddenly crows come flying in from every direction to enter the battle, skimming low over the treetops, all cawing loudly. Finally one crow (it's impossible to tell which) makes off with the prize and flies a few hundred feet into the trees. But as soon as he stops the others are on him and the melee begins again. This scene is repeated time after time and each time the crows move farther away into the woods until their cawing has grown faint but remains undiminished in intensity. Crows have a limited vocabulary, like someone who swears constantly, and communication seems to be a matter of emphasis and volume.

If you lie quietly in bed in the very early morning, in the half-light before time begins, and listen carefully, the language of crows is easy to understand. "Here I am." That's really all there is to say and we say it again and again.

- Louis Jenkins

8 million pictures of Ladakh

2006-06-04T11:40:00.000+05:30

So, it's been three trips since I updated the blog. Whoops. See the prologue below for more info on that front. Yes, I've had fantastic trips to Sri Lanka, Amritsar, and Ladakh (currently part of Jammu & Kashmir) in the past 2 months. Most recently, Auracana and I went to Ladakh!

There are really two stories to Leh and Ladakh generally. The first one is the story of the society of Ladakhis and what they're going through in terms of trying to preserve their identity, traditions, and environment. Ladakh suffers through extremely severe winters, but it has for centuries had a fairly high standard of living through its tradition of communalism and ecologically smart farming techniques. Somewhat unfortunately, an influx of western goods and a more materialistic vibe generally has invaded Ladakh over the past couple of generations. Of course, freedom to choose one's life and to have options is a good thing, and it's an option that never used to exist here, but the active dismantling of years of tradition seemingly overnight is tough to see.

Luckily, Ladakhis have not just rolled over. Instead, many seem to have quickly ingested some of the disadvantages connected with Western life, and are starting to make savvier valuations of the pros and cons involved in the equation. As this article discusses (perhaps slightly hyperbolically), the fight is on in Ladakh, and what is emerging looks to be an interesting hybrid of tradition and modernity. At least it's not been a TKO decision for Western Culture, as so often seems to have occurred.

The second story here is my (much smaller) story of seeing Ladakh! A and I landed in Leh, which sits at about 11,500 feet above sea level. All the guide books tell you to not do anything for the first couple of days but drink tea in order to acclimate to the altitude. I thought I was in fine shape and basically scoffed at such warnings. Hey, I'd done some hiking at up to 14,500 feet a few times before, I thought. Clearly, these guidebooks are written for much less demigod-like persons than your humble blogger. Hmm, apparently this is not the case. While I was not bed-ridden, man I was huffing and puffing just walking up some easy little hills from our hotel. A good lesson indeed. Apparently flying in from sea level can really sock it to you. Luckily, we had a very pleasant first day exploring Leh and didn't attempt any crazy treks right off the plane. To the left is a shot from our hotel room; it was so wonderful to be in a place where it felt like we were floating in among the mountains, and where it wasn't 110 degrees. At night we gratefully wore fleece jackets and celebrated the cold air with hot minty tea.

Walking around, it was clear Buddhism is very much alive and well in Ladakh. I believe the type practiced here is basically Tibetan Buddhism (derived from Mahayana Buddhism - the "Greater Vehicle"?? - that's a guess from Jim Laine's 1991 Intro to Non-Western Religions class). In any case, pictures of HH the Dalai Lama are everywhere. A wide cross-section of people throughout Leh seem to be quite genuine and devout in their practice. Araucana and I stumbled on a talk being given (in Ladakhi) in this city courtyard. The mood was very inviting and relaxing. We could have stayed for quite a while soaking it all in. It was a feeling we would have over and over again in Ladakh.

We spent the rest of the day walking around Leh, looking at Thangka paintings, drinking tea, and looking up at the Leh Palace, where the old Kings of Ladakh used to live. I've long wanted to have a Thangka painting, ever since I was exposed to them in Dharamsala in 2004 by a good friend who was doing a Vipassana course. Leh is one of the best places in India to get a Thangka painting, and it was amazing to look through the hundreds available, spend some time with the shop owners, drink some tea, and gently negotiate. I was pretty sure I wanted a "wheel of life" motif, just because it's easiest for me to really understand and appreciate, although the mandalas and other thangkas are all very beautiful. But I wanted something that would be a helpful reminder of escaping ego, ignorance, suffering, etc, and the Wheel of Life really does that for me. I wound up purchasing the one to the left, which I think is just fantastic. It's hanging up next to my bed now, and it's kind of wild to see every morning! A good reminder of where visa work fits into the scheme of things....

Over the next couple of days, we hired a car and went out to see the nearby gompas (monasteries) to the east and west of Leh. The first day, we went to Thiksey, Shey, and Hemis. Without retelling the Lonely Planet and Rough Guide, suffice to say that these are all working gompas, with Shey also being the former summer palace of the kings of Ladakh. It was simply a pleasure to see the monasteries rising in front of us. They were often near a stream, and they were simultaneously integrated into the surrounding geography and dominating of it. There's something about this kind of architecture that is very appealing and harmonious, while also looking very strong and enduring. All the places we visited seemed to be adding more buildings and patching up existing ones. It looked like it was an attempt at restoration as well as expansion, all done in a precious few summer months.

I am honestly not entirely sure where we saw which enormous Buddha or which piece of artwork, but I do definitely remember (again) the wonderfully peaceful feeling at all of these places. In this shot, it was clear that this was an area for teaching. There were texts lying around, and the monks were going about their business, very friendly but definitely not part of any theme park or cultural reproduction / zoo featurette. The monks generally spoke Hindi, so we were able to talk about living in the monastery, what everyone does in winter, etc., at least to a certain extent.

It was also quite beautiful to see the little touches of artwork everywhere. Again and again, we saw the same types of devotional artwork, including wheels of life, Maitreya buddhas, Tara, guardians, mandalas, etc. The great thing was that sometimes they were 700+ years old, and sometimes they were being painted just then. It put things in perspective, some kind of small statement on our purpose in a disintegrating world.

At perhaps three different gompas, there were very large Buddhas in various states of repose. At the back of this picture, you can see a very small person, which gives some idea of the scale. On this day, it was one of a handful of fairly important holy days, so we were accompanied not only by a few other tourists but also by a cross-section of Ladakhi culture. There were several older men and women in traditional dress, spinning hand-held prayer wheels constantly, as well as younger folks in jeans and t-shirts, also prostrating themselves and circumnambulating.

I believe it was at Shey where in addition to the smaller gompa there was a section of ruin that was unoccupied and crumbling. In defiance of a wee small altitude headache, we scrambled up and through fallen rocks and what looked like soon-to-fall rock walls, up to a wonderful view. I also confess to having a mish-mash of two Tintin books in my mind at this point in time, Tintin in Tibet (naturally) and The Black Island. I happily clambered about the rocks, half-waiting, half-hoping for a yeti or gigantic ape to jump out from behind the next teetering cairn of rocks. No such luck, but the sky was beautiful and the view impressive.

In all the driving around looking at temples, we also a number of pretty incredible signs. We couldn't get all of them, unfortunately, including the several public service announcements about persistent dry coughing potentially being TB. "Check your sputum!" Indeed. However, I asked our driver to stop so I could hop out and add this to the collection of brilliant Indian armed forces marketing images. In addition to this sign, there were many such slogans painted around, both in Hindi and in English. The military presence was everywhere, tho it didn't seem particularly domineering. At the checkpoints, the police and armed forces folks were very friendly, and happy to chat in Hindi for a few minutes. I got the feeling they were posted there, and happy enough, but they wouldn't mind heading back south.

While this sentiment is perhaps not remarkable, it was pretty surprising to happen upon this sign in the middle of (seemingly) nowhere. It's a great public service announcement, but we did also wonder what percentage of the population understood all the english. It's certainly a conversation starter!

Another poster we saw in both the monasteries and in Leh itself was this very sad shot advertising the stolen Panchen Lama. What can one say? "10 Years of Anguished Cry: Where is the Panchen Lama?" To me, it spoke to the desire and ineffectiveness so many of these refugees must feel all the time. I believe the Chinese have their own Panchen Lama that they "found" and are advertising as the "real" one, while trying to tamp down interest in the other Panchen Lama. In the Dalai Lama's books, he never seems to miss a chance to comment on how he meditates on and tries to take on all the bad karma the Chinese are accumulating through their actions.

Last, every couple kilometers on the road were some often brilliant signs exhorting drivers to slow the heck down. This one is not that great, but some were priceless. My favorite was "Better Mr. Late than Late Mr." but there were many really good ones. "He who touches 90 flies to die at 19." "Darling I love your curves, but not so fast." Very few in Hindi though, again I'm not sure why.

Prologue to the 2nd Edition

2006-06-04T10:58:00.000+05:30

Ah life. It's about 11am on a Sunday morning, and I am coming to grips with my new lifestyle. All is well, but the plain truth is that I have to work now. I've been in India now for 6 months, and a steady accretion in the amount of responsibilities I handle at the Embassy means that it is harder to escape at 5:30. Instead, the dreaded 55 to 60-hour work week has been regularly raising its ugly head. It's therefore harder to summon up the energy to blog, and now almost two months have vanished!

It's been a few years since I've come home from my work and just wanted to watch TV or read a book, but I often find I am in that situation now. Since I left my job at the PDC, I've been able to coast, travel to Europe and India as a tourist, and have a more "fun" job in Austin, TX. Now, it's time to get down to work.

But hey, life is good! I genuinely enjoy work, although the visa load every day is fairly crushing, both in terms of the time it takes to adjudicate 100+ visas and the amount of time it leaves for longer-term projects. There is a lunch-pail mentality about doing consular work. I often think of military-oriented ways of describing the experience. Among Foreign Service officers, I think we style ourselves the infantry of the Foreign Service, on the ground and on the front lines. We should have Patton playing in the background while we work. Or would that be bad?

Of course, life here really is not that hard. It can be tough to be away from home, and to have to constantly make new friends even as others leave, but there are hundreds of reasons to be happy here. Life is cushy, for one thing. Here's my situation right now -- typing up a blog entry (hey - from India!) while painters transform my downstairs walls and ceiling from white to a combination of "Maya" and "Deep Beige." On my bedstand table lie great books I'm reading, including "Maximum City" (about Bombay), a book on practice by the Dalai Lama (very good), and "From Curzon to Nehru and After" by Durga Das. There's also my dog-eared Hindi textbook, just in case I get the urge. I'm about to export pictures for the blog from recent trips to Ladakh, Sri Lanka, and Amritsar. I played soccer, ultimate frisbee, and tennis in the past 3 days. I went to a Charcoal Steak Night last night that turned into an evening of tall tales. Truly, life is good. And Araucana and I are off to the beaches of Goa next weekend (another important reason it's harder to blog these days!).

Anyway, I hope this is all prologue for another, longer session of tilting at the blogger windmills. While I really should go into work today (and every day - urg), it's important to me to write and record my experiences here. So, off we go!

Don't Look!

2006-04-11T19:20:00.000+05:30

So I hit a peacock on the way to work today. Yeah, the national bird of India. My bad.

But really, it hit me. I mean man, that thing can move. I was driving along, trying to anticipate the dizzying array of things that could go wrong while negotiating Delhi's roundabouts and crowded streets. I successfully navigated the people on bicycles, and I've gotten used to the shared understanding everyone here has about switching lanes on all turns. I used my horn before making any sudden movements (when it worked), and I didn't freak out when 3 cars came within 6 inches of me on all sides. I was feeling good. Maybe I wasn't the lead ballerina, but I was playing my role in the dance called Get to Work Alive.

Then that darn bird decided it was going to make a break for it. I don't know what "it" was, because there was nothing that interesting across the street. But it started trotting across the street, acting like it owned the place. Right as I saw it out of the corner of my eye, it decided to make a bee-line right for the spot directly in front of my car. Oy vey. And then it accelerated.

I swerved. I swerved into the oncoming traffic. But yeah, I bumped it. There was an explosion of feathers and one very surprised looking peacock suddenly going the other direction. And it flew! So perhaps it wasn't "bumped" too badly. I'm sure it's in shock somewhere today, telling a very different story to all its bird friends.

So yeah, I felt bad, but I didn't have much time to do so, because I was suddenly in the flow of traffic from the other side. One more swerve, though, and I was ok. I had a little taste of metal in my mouth. I drove on, and made it to work, and told no one. I hope this can be our secret. Sorry Mr. Peacock!

Poem #12: To Meditate

2006-04-10T21:02:00.000+05:30

Is this poem (below) simple? Perhaps, but I am going to try to memorize it and say it to myself on the Consular line. I get way too grouchy, and at whom? At myself, and unfortunately at the poor applicants who are already nervous and scared. Here goes:

To meditate does not mean to fight with a problem.
To meditate means to observe.
Your smile proves it.
It proves that you are being gentle with yourself,
that the sun of awareness is shining in you,
that you have control of your situation.
You are yourself,
and you have acquired some peace.

- Thich Nhat Hahn

Akshardham

2006-04-09T20:58:00.000+05:30

Last weekend, Auracana was in Delhi for the weekend, and I mentioned to her that there was a newly christened, gigantic temple that offered Lordly animatronics, a larger-than-life movie portrayal of a child saint, and a 12-minute boat ride through 10,000 years of Indian culture. Oh, and a musical fountain. Needless to say, she was intrigued. So off we went to Akshardham.

Akshardham is a Hindu temple complex, one of several around the world built to honor Swaminarayan, a late 18th century saint. It gives an overview of the sect's history, teachings, and accomplishments. From the website: "Swaminarayan Akshardham in New Delhi epitomises 10,000 years of Indian culture in all its breathtaking grandeur, beauty, wisdom and bliss. It brilliantly showcases the essence of India’s ancient architecture, traditions and timeless spiritual messages. The Akshardham experience is an enlightening journey through India’s glorious art, values and contributions for the progress, happiness and harmony of mankind."

The temple complex is magnificent, and far too much to take in on one trip. It is apparently the largest handcrafted structure in the world, and was done by a group of stonemasons who have devoted their lives to this craft and pass the skill down from generation to generation. (We interviewed these folks for visas once and got to know more about their roles and craft. Very dedicated!)

The entire complex is a symbol of the purity and teachings of Bhagwan Swaminarayan, who as far as I can tell is considered by his followers to be an avatar of Vishnu / Krishna. As such, he came to protect the world in a time of wickedness. As an 11-year old in 1792, he left his brahmin home to wander 8000 miles on foot over seven years, dispelling danger through his faith and wisdom. He practiced austerities in the mountains, and I assume either had or attained enlightenment at this time. He developed a significant following and preached intense devotion (bhakti) and disattachment to material things in order to fully be able to offer worship to God. Today, as Wikipedia notes, a follower of Swaminarayan "devoutly begins the day with puja and meditation, works or studies honestly and donates regular hours in serving others. He/she observes the five principal vows: No Stealing, No Adultery, No Alcohol, No Meat, No Impurity of body and mind. "

So that's the purpose of the temple and the group behind the temple. Auracana and I were pretty well stunned by all the intricate detail work in the stone, and the sheer massiveness of the complex. Just to give you an idea of the scale of the place, all around the outside of the temple is the Gajendra Pith. It is 1100-feet long and is a tribute to the role of elephants in creation! It weighs 3,000 tons and has 148 full-sized elephants, and is just one tiny part of the complex. And it's about elephants, which is always appreciated. (Click on the pictures for larger views.) We wandered around the elephants, and then went through the main temple and read about the life of the young Swaminarayan, which was portrayed in decidedly low-tech paintings.

This is where it became a little more interesting. In what I assume is an attempt to grab the attention of today's MTV generation, there is the wonderful trifecta of displays I mentioned earlier - the Hall of Values animatronics display, the giant movie, and the boat ride. The Hall of Values was my favorite. Here we were part of a crowd of perhaps 200 and were whisked through a series of exhibit rooms depicting the life of Swaminarayan. In each room a seminal moment from his life was portrayed. As the website says, "The exhibits portray the messages of ahimsa, endeavor, prayer, morality, vegetarianism, family harmony, etc. through fifteen 3-D dioramas and presentations from the life of Bhagwan Swaminarayan. Exquisite settings and statues in each diorama are brought to life through robotics, fibre optics, light and sound effects, dialogues and music; transporting the audience to 18th century India."

Perfect! Well, really It all felt eerily like the Pirates of the Carribean ride at Disneyland, except here the figures were looking for moksha instead of gold and booty. The figures would move in place, gesturing with their arms, blinking their eyes, and moving their lips in time with the story. One of the bonuses of this whole experience was trying to correctly time when the crowd would all stand up and surge toward the exit to go to the next room. About 5-10 seconds before the story ended, you could feel the crowd getting antsy - noone wants a bad seat for animatronics! One of the last rooms we went through had no animatronics, but was filled with signs hung around lifesize sad-looking animals that basically chastized people for eating meat. Totally guilt-inducing.

After experiencing the magic of robotics, we were let out into the open air again. We took a breather, and then noticed that people were sprinting toward the next exhibit, the Giant Screen Film. Featuring a cast of thousands (45 thousand!), 108 locations, and a very game set of actors, "Mystic India" once again gives an overview of Swaminarayan's life. But this time, instead of robots, the hook is a six-story high screen. It was impressive, and the production quality was very high. I felt bad for the actors portraying Lord Swaminarayan, as they spent the whole time walking barefoot through snow and brush. I think my favorite part was when the 11-year old saint saved a town that was being terrorized by a vicious lion. Swaminarayan waited until nightfall to meet the beast, which was the oldest and most domesticated looking lion I've ever seen. He kind of smiled and wrinkled his nose at the lion, at which point it flopped down and asked for a cookie. The town was saved!

At this point, the movie ended, we were asked for the 4th time by our neighbors in the exhibits if we understood the Hindi (it was all in Hindi - we said "some" and smiled), and made for the exit. It was getting late, and we were tuckered out. So, unfortunately, we did not go to the boat ride of 10,000 years. How disappointing, it's true. Here's a picture from the ride (all pictures from the Akshardham website, as cameras are not allowed inside). From the pictures, it looks pretty similar to the animatronics in the Hall of Values. Still, 10,000 years of culture in 12 minutes seems like a pretty tall order, and something worth experiencing. I think I will go back for this, and for the musical fountains. More reports then!

Gospel of Judas

2006-04-06T23:11:00.000+05:30

For the last 15 years, off and on, part of me has really wanted to embrace Christianity. I think there's real meaning there. I love the idea that we are all united as a spiritual family, that there is a tie of spirit or energy that binds us. And certainly since my Mom died, I've wanted to believe in a spiritual connection that goes beyond our 5 senses and our sense of time. It's certainly better than thinking we are alone and unconnected to each other.

I especially like the idea of putting our egos to the side and letting someone or something else be the guiding principle of our lives. Submission to something greater, dedication to being on the path, is a wonderful concept, and a test, and it unifies us in purpose. It forces us to come up against our egos and our issues, and fail, and rally again with humor. It allows us to experience grace. And the idea of celebrating that unity and grace with other people in fellowship (or by helping others) is great and makes all the sense in the world to me.

Since I was raised Christian, it's the easy choice for me. It's part of my culture. Unfortunately, I've never been able to really get into Christianity as it's generally practiced. The literalism, the conservative and repressive politics espoused by many mainstream churches, and the exclusivity of Christian dogma ("Noone comes to the Father except through me," etc.) make it tough for me. I prefer the idea of Jesus as a guide, someone who pointed out a path to humility and unity and ultimately divinity, in a way that is much more open and metaphorical. When he said "I am the way," I'd prefer to think he was saying "Listen, I am the way, look to my path. Your lives are founded on illusions and desire. Stop and go this way." However, I think the vast majority of Christians do not see things this way, which makes it hard for me to associate with them. I have a hard time believing that Christianity is the only true religion, that everyone else goes to Hell, that the miracle of the Resurrection is a physical certainty, etc etc. To most Christians, if you're Jewish, you're going to Hell. Buddhist? Burning. And if you are a "practicing" homosexual, you're definitely out. And then there's so much time spent talking about how bad and imperfect we are, and how much we need Jesus, like he's a pill to swallow.

But then something like the Gospel of Judas comes along, and I'm fascinated by the possibilities all over again. Have you heard about how they've translated this 1800 year old document? It basically says that Jesus actually blessed Judas and said he would exceed all the other disciples because he would free Jesus the Spirit from Jesus the flesh. Pow! Suddenly, Judas is transformed from a traitor to Jesus' dearest servant, the only one who understood what Jesus wanted.

Now, I'm not saying I buy into the Gospel of Judas as a newer or better dogma (I don't), but when something like this comes along, it just shows how so much of our fundamental beliefs rest on accepted tradition. What was yesterday's internecine battle is today's understood "fact". Elaine Pagels said in this NYTimes article, "These discoveries are exploding the myth of a monolithic religion, and demonstrating how diverse — and fascinating — the early Christian movement really was."

Hearing this warms my heart. Maybe there is a place for metaphor in the Christian spectrum. Maybe looking to the Jesus way without getting hooked on all the damnation and oppression and literalism is ok? I've felt in the past like you either were a Christian and bought into the dogma, or you didn't buy in and were out. Sure, there's some area for disagreement, but if you're not sure about basic facts like the Resurrection and about Christianity being the only true religion, I think you're out. The Gospel of Judas doesn't necessarily change either of those, but it does point out that at one point in time, there were some very different, competing ideas of what the point of Christianity was to be. How much was it about deifying Jesus versus following the Jesus path? I think the Gnostics were more in the latter camp, but I don't know nearly enough to make that claim.

In the end, I'm still on the fringes. Maybe I can hang out with the Unitarians or something. (I always liked the Quakers, too.)

Here's a link to the article. (The first picture above is from the article, copyright NYTimes. The second picture is from ClipartReview.com.)

Poem #11: L'Art

2006-04-05T23:58:00.000+05:30

Green arsenic smeared on an egg-white cloth,
Crushed strawberries! Come, let us feast our eyes.

- Ezra Pound

Movin' Right Along

2006-04-02T22:16:00.000+05:30

Allow me a minute to send a word of thanks over to Prince Roy. His is one of the first and longest-running blogs about the life of we itinerant Foreign Service Officers. Well, it was the first blog I ever found, anyway. I'm no blog archivist, but I remember well when I found his blog, and how I became hooked. It was December 2003 or early 2004. A younger PR was just starting work in Washington DC, experiencing A-100, and finding out where he would be sent. I was trying to find out just what this whole Foreign Service thing was all about. And there it was. Prince Roy's Realm was well written, honest, and personal without being maudlin; it gave me the inside scoop on what my life could be like if I chose to "enlist". It sounded good to me.

So hats off to PR. I am now in the Service, in India even. Reading his blog gave me a free preview of life in the Service and helped coax me in. He even answered a couple of my e-mails on how life was on the inside. So it was a thrill to meet him during my brief stint in Chennai. I got to listen to him adjudicate and see the style that produces 200 visas in one day. Like Hector in his prime, surely. I even got to witness a supersecret passing of the torch ceremony, full of arcane ritual, in which PR passed the mantle to the next senior junior officer. It wasn't Masonic, but, well, I'm scared to say more.

The picture above is from Prince Roy's "wheels up" party, some of his final moments in India. It's a picture of bloggers, including Kiruba, Beth, PR, and me. Kiruba and Beth also have excellent blogs that detail the joys of being in South India. I believe Kiruba is one of the first of the notorious Chennai bloggers, with perhaps 8 years of blogging under his belt. Highly recommended, both of them. (And he allowed me to snag this picture!)

Thanks PR for being an honest guide to the FS rollercoaster. You are a generous man, sir. Hope to see you soon, perhaps Christmas in Beijing? All the best.

It's Starting Already...

2006-03-28T23:09:00.000+05:30

Holy crow, I cannot tell you how much I want a burrito from La Sirenita on Alberta at... 28th? And that is not because I'm not a very good writer, it's because I want it so badly, which is to say I want it in the worst way. Oy.

I just want the chicken burrito, with the black beans. I'll add the green salsa bite by bite. I know they use lard. I know my stomach hurts if I eat two of them in the same week.

How much are they now? $3.25? I know I remember when they were $2.25 and I could eat 5 in a week. Remember sanding the floors at DZ's house that summer? We slept in beds 10 feet from each other in the basement, ate burritos for lunch, and refinished those floors for weeks. I hallucinated. But those burritos.

Poem #9 and #10: "Parting at a Wine Shop" and "Wind and Rain"

2006-03-28T21:06:00.000+05:30

Parting at a Wine-shop in Nan-king
A wind, bringing willow-cotton, sweetens the shop,
And a girl from Wu, pouring wine, urges me to share it.
With my comrades of the city who are here to see me off;
And as each of them drains his cup, I say to him in parting,
Oh, go and ask this river running to the east
If it can travel farther than a friend's love!

Li Po (701-762)

(Nice to imagine this actually occurring…)

(Buuut... sometimes this is more like it)

Wind and Rain
I ponder on the poem of The Precious Dagger.
My road has wound through many years.
... Now yellow leaves are shaken with a gale;
Yet piping and fiddling keep the Blue House merry.
On the surface, I seem to be glad of new people;
But doomed to leave old friends behind me,
I cry out from my heart for Shin-feng wine
To melt away my thousand woes.

Li Shang-yin (812?- 858)

Admin Note

2006-03-26T21:32:00.000+05:30

Sorry to all who have made comments and haven't seen them post! I turned on some ultra-high security feature that wouldn't let comments post until I approved them, due to some earlier spam. I remember doing that. I thought I had also asked to be notified whenever there was a comment via email, but I guess I didn't.

Imagine my surprise upon finding some 30 comments waiting for my approval on a heretofore never used part of the Blogger dashboard. Heheh... sorry! Anyway, they're all up now. Double-super apologies to one VDub in Austin, to whom I owe an email.

Now back to your regularly scheduled blog. Thanks!

Chennai!

2006-03-26T00:22:00.000+05:30

With a rush and a great gasp of air, I emerge from my blogless existence! Whew. I think I experienced one (short) lifetime in my trip to Chennai, which was colorful, eyebrow raising, slightly sickening, educational, and, well, fun. Of course, I spent most of my time doing consular work on the visa line (or "counselor" work, as a few folks there say for some reason). But I also managed to collect some impressions of greater Chennai, of nearby Pondicherry, and of similarly nearby but way "out there" Auroville. What a great trip.

Chennai
As a quick introduction, Chennai is one of India's 'Big 4' cities, the others being Delhi, Mumbai (Bombay), and Kolkata (Calcutta). I've been to only Delhi and Chennai, with a trip to Mumbai looming in the near future. While India has historically been a country of villages, urbanization continues to accelerate. As this occurs, more and more focus is on city life and culture. All four cities are being connected by the 'Golden Quadrilateral'freeway project, and so are increasing their pull as centers of cultural gravity. Each of the Big 4 has its own character (and partisans, natch). I confess that as an American, I think of these cities in analogous American terms - to me Delhi is Wash DC, Mumbai is a combo of New York and L.A., Calcutta is kind of like Atlanta, and Chennai is, well, Seattle?

I think of Chennai as "Seattle-like" not only because of the southern Indian tech boom, but because it actually feels like a walkable city, unlike Delhi. Where Delhi is built for parades and imperial splendor, Chennai has a certain small town flavor to it. Some would say there's little to do in Chennai, but I had the feeling I could walk around downtown and find all kinds of restaurants, shops, trinkets, whatever. Like a Northwest US city, it has narrower roads, storefronts flush against the street, and something that felt almost like a grid system. Contrast this again with Delhi, which has clusters of markets, most of which need to be driven to, and wide streets that invite comparisons to Frogger.

Another great thing about Chennai was that it constantly threw me for a loop; I couldn't decide whether I thought it was an incredibly urban island in India or a center of cultural conservatism. Of course, it's both, and it's going through the same growing pains as the rest of India, only perhaps more vibrantly and palpably. For example, when you first drive into downtown Chennai, it is impossible not to be struck by all the billboards everywhere. They are stacked horizontally and vertically, advertising everything from movies to travel to cellphones to air cleaners. So urban! Can it be that so many Indians are now buying Moto Razr cellphones and Tommy Hilfiger clothes? I think this fellow to the right wants both - just another commuter writing SMS messages on his cellphone in traffic. But just when I was ready to proclaim Chennai decidedly urban and Western, I started noticing all the 'pocket temples' everywhere. In the middle of a traffic circle, next to a business or restaurant, wherever, these temples spring up. They are all ornate, packed with figurines, and in technicolor. Similarly, as I experienced when I was in Kerala, folks I talked to seemed more culturally conservative. Temples seem more populated, more women wear saris and more men wear lunghis or dhotis. So at the end of the day, Chennai is just Chennai. I wish I had had more time to just wander around and meet people.

Visas, Visas, Visas
Anyway, Chennai baptism complete, I actually had some work to do. I arrived in my suit and tie on Monday morning to the consulate. Now, people have varying opinions of the Embassy architecture in Delhi. It's grand, ornate, just plain big, and of course is the basis for the Kennedy Center in DC. Some people like it and some people think its an anachronism and a white elephant. But it is clearly an embassy. This was my first trip to a consulate, and, well, let's just say it's not an example of grand architecture, or the Raj, or anything else. It looked more like a concrete fortress to me.

Inside, however, the people were very warm and friendly, and work hummed along. Unlike in New Delhi, where there's so much political and economic work to be done, here non-immigrant visas are pretty much the name of the game. Chennai is far and away the #1 issuer in the world of non-immigrant visas for workers in specialty occupations (H1B visas) and intra-company transfer visas for specialized knowledge professionals (L1 visas), and the demand is only growing. Said another way, all those computer folks Thomas Friedman and everyone else talks about are coming from India, and most from Southern India. It is a crushing load, honestly, and the people in Chennai are on the front lines. Sometimes it feels like you're on the Starship Enterprise, a floating outpost thousands of miles from the mother ship. The Chennai section gets cases no one else gets, by the hundreds, and as a result they have a work culture that feels slightly insular and definitely battle-tested. They have taken the lead in setting best practices associated with "Hs" and "Ls" because they've seen things noone else sees. It can feel a bit like the Wild West down here. But it was a pleasure working with all of them; they really know their stuff.

The only unpleasant part, really, of working in Chennai was that they have an astoundingly bad mold/mildew problem. I think I am slightly allergic to mold, so I'm more sensitive to it, but I was bowled over by the air quality. You can see black streaks coming from the air vents and there are veins of mold on some of the walls and ceilings. Yikes! In many places, you can also see where they have "solved" the problem by painting over the mold. Hmm, perhaps not the best long-term solution, eh? I spent my two weeks continuously coughing, but luckily it wasn't serious. I hate feeling fragile, but they have got to do something about the air quality there. If anyone knows how to solve mold problems, let me know and I'll forward it along.

French Flying Saucers
Ok, so work was illuminating, and Chennai's a funky town. Cool. But what did I really take away from my trip down south? There are some crazy people down here, that's what. I had a pretty extraordinary weekend taking in the weird French-Indian hybrid town of Pondicherry, and then seeing the exponentially weirder Auroville. Gosh, I loved that place.

First, Pondicherry. For history on Pondicherry, go here. Suffice it to say that for some 150 - 200 years, Pondicherry was part of French India, and many people there still hold French passports. It officially became a part of India in 1963. My friend Araucana and I stayed at Le Dupleix, a wonderful, restrained hotel that for some reason seemed slightly more Swedish than French to me, but what do I know? Our room was bathed in dark wood, had incredibly high ceilings, and was really quite genteel. Others might say "old," but I'd rather be in a place like Le Dupleix than some of the hyper-modern, characterless places out there. So yes, it was old yuppy, not nouveau-yuppy. Now, the restaurant experience I had there was abysmal, but besides that I would recommend it in a hearbeat. It was designed by the person responsible for HiDesign, a leather (bag) company with a weird, fetishistic, funny website. (Check out the intro.) This fellow's also just finished a newer place called the Promenade, but it looked too flashy.

Araucana and I wandered around Pondicherry, which honestly does feel different from the rest of India. They clearly have some hardcore zoning and design standards here. The buildings are all whitewashed, and there are a number of nice cafes. Unfortunately, the one we picked was only ok. I was dreaming of good coffee, but the poor folks at "Le Cafe" fell into the trap of confusing "good" with "astoundingly bitter and brackish." (See, we are yuppies!) But the atmosphere was very pleasant, and that more than made up for my slightly dented coffee expectations.

Now, here I have a confession to make. Well, two. The first is that I've neglected to talk about the wonderful temples we saw at Mamallapuram, including the shore temples. They are great, and old, some 13 centuries old. They are part of a chain of temples across India, and their style is the same as temples found in Cambodia. They are fascinating for their quality and for their theology. I have some nice pics if anyone wants to see them. Anyway, I just don't have the energy right now to go into this part of the trip. The second confession is that we were going to go see Chidambaram, the mother of all technicolor temples. It's been recently refinished, and is even more awesome now. But we didn't go see it. Instead, we went to Auroville, and I am so pleased we did.

Oh, Auroville. Where to start? I had never heard of this place before. In short, it is a UNESCO-sanctioned international peace city of 1800 people that is trying to create heaven on earth, a peaceful, reforested, harmonious, the-divine-dwells-within-each-of-us kind of place. And it's got a gigantic buckyball temple in the middle covered with gold discs and the world's largest crystal ball in the middle. Yes! I know, sign me up, right? I could not have made this place up, it was so perfect.

Auroville was the brainchild of two people, I believe, Sri Aurobindo and a woman known as "the Mother". The Mother was French, born in the late 1800s, who claimed to be clairvoyant, into the occult, and in touch with the divine. Her book On the Mother (by the Mother) details her life growing up. She knew when she was 14 that she was really the Mother, and she knew she was called to India to begin showing people how to become in touch with the supramental. By the 1960s, they decided that she would begin to make a place on earth oriented toward human self-perfection, based on spiritual harmony. To me, it sounds like she was born right into the middle of the fin-de-siecle interest in the occult, egyptian mythology, etc, and she internalized it and lived it. With an international group of young folks, I would guess hippies, in 1968 they started Auroville in the dusty plains outside Madras. Today, there are 1800 people, 2/3 of them westerners and 1/3 Indians, building according to the plan for an international peace city for 50,000.

Araucana and I spent the better part of a day checking the place out. It is huge, and not really designed for tourists, although they have a nice information center. We watched a video, bought some literature (amazing), read about the great reforestation work they are doing (they've planted 2 million trees I think), and then we visited the Matrimandir, aka the buckyball. I think Matramandir means Temple for the Mother. Unfortunately, they wouldn't let us in that day. Total bummer. I think they were replacing the gold-plated (real gold) discs on the outside of the temple, so we couldn't go in. Here are two pics, one of the work in progress on the temple, and another of the crystal inside. So amazing, and not at all tongue-in-cheek.

Part of me was really taken with the place and their aims. It feels very peaceful (see the rocks above, natch), is full of artists (mostly fairly well-off I think), and most of all it's interesting to see what happens when a group of people decide to make one geographic area their focus. And sure, it's silly, new-agey, and vaguely cult-like in terms of its adoration of the Mother, but how wild to meet a bunch of people that committed to these ideals. Good for them! And they had great food - great organic vegetables, good tofu lasagna, a surprisingly good spirulina honey drink. I would love to go back again and spend a couple of weeks there, just to understand the mentality of the kind of person who decides to live there. When you go to live there, you are first a Guest, then if you commit to join, a Newcomer for 2 years, then finally an Aurovillian. Fascinating. Who are these people, I wonder, and how much does the ideology of Auroville take over their lives? Are they artists interested in self-perfection and spirituality, or are they kooks infatuated with crystals and the supramental? I would love to find out. And eat their food.

Back in Delhi
But all that will have to wait for a while. I'm back in Delhi, with much work staring me in the face. It's Sunday noon now, and I need to venture out and re-engage with my town. I'm behind on poems, too, which means I'm not keeping pace with my New Year's Resolutions. More soon.

Bleach?

2006-03-11T20:17:00.000+05:30

This is a very common ad in India. There are ads in the newspapers, billboards on the streets, and commercials on TV with snappy jingles. This one is pitched toward men, but there are many for women. The ones that strike me the most are the ones oriented toward mothers of infants. Mothers are encouraged to lighten their child's skin as early as possible, so that the child will grow up to be fair. In Bollywood movies, the love songs often extoll the heroine's beauty, including how fair she is.

I think it's got to be a very mild bleach?

What can you do? It's not my culture, after all. And I'm sure I don't understand all the cultural reasons why this occurs here. It could be lingering cultural impacts of caste society / Brahminism or the legacy of the Aryan invasions, but it is interesting from my POV to find it in yet another culture. Interesting, and sad.

...

In other news, I'm going down to Chennai (aka Madras) tomorrow for two weeks. I'll report when I'm back, if not before. I'm not sure what kind of web access I'll have while I'm there (gulp), at least in terms of blogging. But I hope to take some good pictures of temples and of southern living generally. More soon!

Priorities

2006-03-07T19:50:00.000+05:30

Nukes, No Nukes

2006-03-06T07:56:00.000+05:30

Good NYTimes article on the implications of Bush's visit to India and Pakistan.

And here's another piece that asks whether the nuclear deal with India is smart or reckless.

The more I think about it, the more I think this is a good deal, because it points toward international dialogue as the way to decide who should be recognized as a valid nuclear weapon country. For me, this whole India process has exposed what an unwieldy tool the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty is, and how unstable the treaty's foundations really are.

Said another way, many people object to India being recognized as a nuclear weapons state because it undermines the effectiveness of the NPT. But when you look at it, under the NPT, membership in the club of nuclear weapons countries is determined solely by who got there first, which hardly seems an adequate criterion. It's not about democracy or record of peacefulness.

Now, the NPT has spawned good tools for slowing proliferation (i.e. IAEA inspections), which is a very good thing. But by itself the NPT is a poor substitute for international dialogue on who should or should not be a nuclear weapon country.

And while the NPT may have slowed nonproliferation, it clearly hasn't stopped it. Now we have all these cases of states that have some degree of nuclear weapon capability, and under the binary model of the NPT, we can only say "No. Bad. No nukes for anyone after 1970." Unfortunately, this shackles the international community from effectively dealing with those countries in gray areas (Israel, India, and Pakistan, to name three) or those in almost black areas (North Korea and Iran). Shouldn't the international community be able to say, "you and you are ok, provided you take these steps, but you guys over here are going the wrong way."

Additionally, as long as the NPT is the sole treaty governing nonproliferation and disarmament, it will only underline the power imbalance between nuclear haves and have-nots, much to the chagrin of the have-nots. This situation galvanizes a number of the "have-not" countries to develop nuclear weapons technology (by any means necessary) because they perceive they will then be taken seriously and/or seen as a "great" power.

So perhaps it's right to say inspections are good, nonproliferation is good, but change happens and we're going to talk about it. That would also give the international community flexibility to apply different kinds of sanctions for different countries.

Perhaps the best lesson of the U.S. / India nuclear agreement should be that the world needs to start talking about nuclear disarmament. If the only nukes that existed were for energy supply and all parts sold were registered with the IAEA, period, then the use of centrifuges, etc could be more easily tracked. I believe the Atlantic Monthly said that AQ Khan was able to construct Pakistan's program because there were so many dual-use technologies around and he took advantage of gray areas. We need to get to a place where all nuclear facilities are inspected, because all are solely for civilian purposes, and there are fewer of these gray areas.

(By the way, as ever, all these opinions are strictly my own rambling thoughts, and they are not connected in any way with U.S. State Department policy. I'm speaking only as a citizen trying to understand the world.)

Now, the next question: what is Congress going to say? I think they'll go along, just based on what the newspapers here are saying. Anyone disagree?

Poem #8: Mad Farmer's Love Song

2006-03-05T17:54:00.000+05:30

O when the world's at peace
and every man is free
then will I go down unto my love

O and I may go down
several times before that.

- Wendell Berry

I'll take a dozen.

2006-03-05T10:53:00.000+05:30

"Where decisions are made, the Vice-Consul exceeds the comfort confidence."

Beautiful. I don't know what this means, and I think the ad copy was written by someone who speaks fluent english, so it's even more of a bonus. But certainly I like to think that I exceed the comfort confidence. Indeed, I would march smartly in these "vice consuls". Hail Rockport, maker of fine shoes.

And yet, what the heck do they mean? Is that confidence as in to exude confidence? Or is it more like when one is taken into one's confidence? Or perhaps are they speaking of confidence men? I doubt the last, as it wouldn't help sell too many shoes, except perhaps to fans of the Grifters.

Still, fascinating. I really may buy a pair.

Behind the Scenes...

2006-03-04T20:01:00.000+05:30

So, yeah, the President of the United States was here. W - i - l - d, that's what it was. It is pretty cool to see the POTUS machine in operation, I tell you. We had literally hundreds of people here in the weeks leading up to his visit to India - people negotiating the nuclear separation deal, people arranging security, people doing walkthroughs, people talking mangoes and agriculture. It was crazy. Right before the visit, a storm of military and other official personnel swept through, including the K-9 unit, armed forces, and secret service. The motorcade alone was about 90 cars I believe. (And I'm not giving anything away, because all of this was published in the local papers. They knew exactly what floors folks were staying on.)

I was the site officer for one event, the President's Greeting to the Embassy community (i.e. the "meet and greet"). Luckily, I did not have to deal with Government of India contacts, which would have raised the degree of difficulty considerably. But it was still quite a trick to work with the White House staff, secret service, tentwallahs, and our own internal staff to transform our Ambassador's lawn into a suitable place for the President, the First Lady, the Secretary of State, and the Ambassador and his wife to spend a little quality time with 700 embassy staff.

Planning went well, and it was a pleasure working with the White House and Secret Service staff. Things didn't get really hectic until the actual event. I had heard that when Secretary Powell visited before, there was such an intense push for handshakes that some people, including parents with kids, got pushed and almost stepped on. So, we had the bright idea to make a separate special stage area for kids under 16, about 120 kids in all. We had them clustered inside the rope line area, so we needed to take special care that they not run up to the President during his speech. Guess who got that job?

While the kids started out on their best behavior, it is asking quite a bit for them to sit quietly for an hour in the sun for anyone, even the President. (Especially when the younger kids were confused on just what the big deal was, anyway...). Unfortunately, the president (who is quite often 10 minutes ahead of time) ended up being about 45 minutes late. This did not go over so well with the slowly-roasting-in-the-sun kids. I was stationed right by them, watching them wilt, most coming down from earlier sugar highs. They went from excited to bored to squirmy. Then one of the boys started alternately kissing and kicking the kids around him. So, we needed some action. We ended up serenading the crowd with songs, and even did the wave. Thank goodness the President's party finally arrived.

Or so I thought. When they arrived, the same kid who had been kissing and kicking everyone made a run for the stage! He tried to hug Ms. Bush and then tried to throw down the microphones. You could see the muscles twitch in all the security people's arms. I went to catch him, but Ms. Bush turned to me and said "Oh, he's alright, let me talk to him." Eek! Now, we had all been informed, do not talk to the POTUS party, and stay out of the photo shot. By trying to gently corral this child, I was being led right to the stage area, and then I was talking to Ms. Bush.

So I of course said, "Um, yes ma'am" and just backed away. She was great though; she clearly has kids, and I do not. She guided him off the stage like a pro. His mom was duly mortified. The president gave his speech, took photos with the kids, and worked the rope line. Everyone had a great time.

(By the way, nuclear nonproliferation - is this just a seriously flawed concept or what? Well, that's for others to think about. For me, after the Meet and Greet, the POTUS visit was pretty much over. I also got to attend his speech at the Old Fort, which has been received with great acclaim across India. I thought it was ok, but it definitely played well in the papers. His entrance seemed to me to be straight out of Triumph of the Will, if you've seen that. Very dramatic.)

Welterweights

2006-02-28T19:07:00.000+05:30

When I was growing up, I somehow managed to watch a fair amount of boxing, much of it with my father. I have his general preference for middleweights over heavyweights, for example. But most people turn out for the heavyweight fights. Which class is better, now that's the question.

Which is the way I feel about India's armed forces. Sure, the army's the heavyweight. They've clearly got a PR machine, where they whip out classic one-liners ("how's my parking" indeed). But consider if you will the Coast Guard and the Air Force. Nimble, thrifty, forced to compete with a juggernaut. And what do they turn out?

Are you ok with swagger? Confidence? Are you maybe thinking "Talk to me Goose!" Yes, baby, top gun. Top Gun! What are these guys' nicknames? Not Dimple, not Baby. No, these are men who are ready to face the challenge. Air Warriors. (In other news, I hope you can see this picture, at least when you get the larger version. Shooting pics from a rickshaw is tough sometimes. And they don't really understand when you say, "Ooh! Pull over so I can take a picture of that ad."

Next! Here's a counterpuncher for you. Swarming all over you, throwing you a hook, shouting "Feel the Thrill, sucka!" Ok, they're not doing that at all. But you have to give the Coast Guard credit, they manage to get more images onto a billboard than any of the other services. They seem to be saying, "we can afford all kinds of stuff, check it out." I don't know, I associate "feel the thrill" more with maybe bungee jumping, but maybe that's what the new Indian generation is all about? Of course, what's the US Coast Guard catch phrase? I don't know either....

I still haven't found a navy. Maybe the coast guard is the navy? I don't think so, as I believe the Indians and the Chinese recently held joint naval exercises, but that's just a stray memory from somewhere.

Anyway, judge as you like. I'll try to pop a few more pictures up if I can. I love this place.

Poem #7: First Lesson

2006-02-26T10:05:00.000+05:30

Lie back, daughter, let your head
be tipped back in the cup of my hand.
Gently, and I will hold you. Spread
your arms wide, lie out on the stream
and look high at the gulls. A dead-
man's float is face down. You will dive
and swim soon enough where this tidewater
ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe
me, when you tire on the long thrash
to your island, lie up, and survive.
As you float now, where I held you
and let go, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told you:
lie gently and wide to the light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.

- by Philip Booth

Armed Forces Advertising Bake-Off!

2006-02-21T19:33:00.000+05:30

One of the baffling, wonderful things about Delhi, and really all of India, is the just-slightly-different way they use language. On top of this, there is (to me, of course) a lack of jadedness, a willingness to accept advertising messages at face value, in a way that just doesn't exist in the US. India never had a true counter-culture movement, did it? I don't think it had a nouveau cinema flowering the way France did, a sixties/seventies experience the way the US did. Did it ever have its Bowie, its Velvet Underground, heck, even its Doors?

I think because of this basic cultural conservatism, there's a kind of American Graffiti (or Indian Graffiti) feeling in the air. Sexual mores still seem to center around lots of giggling and wishful thinking, kind of like Grease. It's changing fast, but it's still here.

For whatever reasons, it makes for awesome advertising. As one example, the armed forces have some really good ads dispersed throughout the city. I've seen some for the army, the coast guard, and the air force. None for the Navy yet, but I'll keep looking. I like the cut of the Coast Guard's advertising jib ("Feel the Thrill."), and I think the Air Force may have the best action shots, but right now I'll start with this series of four army ads. What are they really going for in this series of coordinated messages? I think the answer is simple: P-R-I-D-E. Some of these ads are oriented toward recruiting, some are more about upgrading the image of the army.

Sometimes, though, it's difficult to tell why some ads are placed. "Am I Marching Smartly?" What prompted this, one wonders. Perhaps there's been a rash of poor marching taking over the army ranks? Is this a drastic problem or just a gentle reminder? Or again, perhaps it's all just about upholding the pride that comes with being a member of India's army - the iron first wrapped in velvet, as they say.

Certainly that seems to be the case with this next ad / propaganda piece - "I Take Pride in My Uniform." No explanation necessary here. And for anyone who's seen the Republic Day celebration (book your tickets now!), I think it's clear the armed forces take pride in their uniforms. Sure, sometimes it looks like Morris Day and the Time found a second career as uniform designers, but these men are sporting a more conservative look. "We've seen things you can't possibly imagine," they seem to be saying.

Of course, with all positions of power come responsibility. And what greater responsibility than accurate parking? The person who dreamed up this advertising gem was clearly on their "A" game. OK, I confess that I don't understand this ad, but I'm not in the army, am I? Perhaps this is just another example of the benevolence of the army. I mean, I wouldn't want to be the one who is parked perpendicular to all the other cars in the lot. Thanks, army! That's what I say.

Next up: Coast Guard!

Sick... Phooey (and Poem #6)

2006-02-18T18:14:00.000+05:30

Good news - 3 day weekend!
Bad news - I'm kind of sick, purely my own responsibility, as I've been trying to burn the candle on both ends. Instead of getting sleep, I went and played early-morning tennis and then stayed late at work, etc. When will I learn?!? I guess it's the human condition. But overall, I'm fine. I'm going to relax tonight and go see the latest epic movie to sweep India - Rang de Basanti (Paint it Saffron perhaps is the translation??). More on that later, but it's got Aamir Khan, who was in Lagaan (and Dil Chhate Hei of course), and is about an englishwoman who comes to do a documentary on her grandfather's role in the British occupation. Good songs, deep discussions, and she somehow speaks perfect Hindi/Punjabi. Curse her!

Anyway, another poem to try to keep up with my New Year's Resolution of a poem a week! This is one of my old favorites, first told to me on the barren alkali floor of Black Rock City by the poetry jukebox. It's called simply Poetry (I think) and is by Pablo Neruda:

And it was at that age...Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating planations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesmal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
I felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke free on the open sky.

Hacking up a politics furball...

2006-02-15T21:55:00.000+05:30

(Note: rolling unedited blogular post ahead, decidedly boring, basic, and about politics. Likely to be updated. Beware.)

One of the things I love most about India is that there is quite a broad spectrum of political parties. Now, I say I love this, and by that I mean it's fascinating. There's a kind of pinball effect always in play, like that show The McLaughin Group, but in Hindi. This country is changing so rapidly, and everyone's accusing everyone else of not doing it the right way, or of ignoring this or that interest group. The debates are about class and culture, about a history of agriculture vs. the rise of computers, and of course about tradition and modernity. It all winds up as a big family argument, with weird flashpoints and triggers. At this point, I'm just trying to identify the main players on the political stage and their affilitations in terms of class and culture.

From my rudimentary viewpoint (I'm in Consular, not Political, remember!), we have three main national parties, the BJP, Congress, and the Left Coalition (led by the Communist Party of India, or CPI). The BJP is out of power and flailing, but on occasion it lands some embarassing body blows to the central government. The BJP is synonymous with Hindu nationalism, center-right economic policies, and with the idea that a rising tides lifts all boats (aka the "new economy," "outsourcing," and "India Shining."). Much like the Republicans in the US, they have managed to turn a handy trick, convincing culturally conservative villagers to vote for a party that emphasizes investment in the Bangalores of India, potentially at their expense.

Congress is the middle-of-the-road, all-things-to-all-people, traditional power that also runs on star power. It is the party of the Nehrus and the Gandhis that has embraced securalism. Congress is currently in power as part of the United Progressive Alliance coalition (UPA). Its policies are stretched between a desire to raise the growth rate (8.1%, woohoo!) and a desire to raise the living standards of the poor. It's trying to be all things to all people, again much like Centrist Democrats in the US. But many people will tell you the latter is just a sop to maintain its coalition. Of course, many would probably say the same about mainline Dems in the US too.

Of such critics in India, a number would acquit themselves as members of the Communist Party of India (CPI) or the more radical CPI(M), or Communist Party of India (Marxist). From what little I know, they are considered by many to be obstructionist curmudgeons who often cling to their theories of non-alignment and suspicion of capitalism. To their supporters, they are heroes, a final bulwark against the hegemony of market economics. As such, they are wary of foreign direct investment (FDI) policies, seeing them as a trojan horse that could lead to a new era of colonialism, this time to multi-national corporations. So some argue that keeping FDI out is shackling India to an inefficient and lumbering economy, and the CPI folks respond that it's better to do it our own Indian way than open a Pandora's Box of bargains with foreign capital. After all, once you've sold your country, it's hard to get it back. I imagine you could compare the CPI folks to the more radical democrats in the US who are anti-NAFTA, anti-GATT, anti-WTO, etc.

The one thing all the parties seem to agree on is that India is the greatest country in the world. I've not heard the term Indian Exceptionalism, but it seems to be as strong a sentiment here as in the US or most any other country. The BJP sees India's inherent greatness in its Hindu traditions and in its ability to be a leader in the IT and computer services boom. The Communists seem to want India to make it on its own, or at the very least to not go through another round of neo-colonialism via ownership by multi-national corporations. And Congress seems to be in the middle, shouting Jai Hind and wondering how to keep it all together.

The BJP was in power recently, but was surprisingly and uncermoniously kicked out of power in the 2004 elections, which few expected. The main message at the time was: don't ignore the poor. (I think it was also a repudiation of hindutva, but I'm really uneducated on whether there was a mandate against using religion as a political wedge tool from this election or not...) Congress came to power and announced that its Common Minimum Programme (CMP) would lead India to its rightful place in the world (watch out, China!) while creating opportunites and a safety net for the poor.

Since 2004, I think Congress has shown its true colors as a middle-left, secular government that favors mild market liberalization. It's also pretty wonky at the very top. If it were a horse, I think it'd be a solid bay, not a galloping wonder, but a solid ride nonetheless. Fortunately or unfortunately, one member of the UPA has popped a bit in Congress's mouth and is riding it hard. The CPI has kept Congress from going too far to the right, and the debate from my perspective is whether they are benefiting the country in doing so, or if they should just step off and fade into history. I'm really not sure.

For my part, on the one hand, I do love the fact that the communist party is alive here. While it is full of graft and some parts may be associated with Naxalite rebels/terrorists, the Communists do represent the left-behinds in India, the people who are generally without running water, who work as laborers for less than a dollar a day, and who vote based on whether they have more electricity this year than last. Tom Friedman doesn't report about these folks as much, but they are still the vast majority. And they vote! Also, the party has a rich intellectual heritage (of which I know very little, unfortunately). But mostly, it serves as a foil to ask an important question - how great can our country be if the majority of us are hungry, dirty, and poor? And sometimes the question becomes a demand, i.e. show me that the rest of us are benefiting from the Bangalore boom. Otherwise, the populists and the demagogues will have their way with the vote.

Also, one could argue that the Communists have pushed Congress to implement domestic reforms. Recently, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh announced a revolutionary, yet very very basic "welfare" system for poor Indians. The program basically guarantees all adults 100 days of access to labor jobs per year. Under the scheme, rural workers would be paid Rs.80 for seven hours of unskilled work every day, and would be paid even if the government could not locate jobs for them to do. Note that 80 rupees is less than two dollars per day, which is to say shockingly little, but also almost twice as much as many folks make each day. So, on the whole, it's a step forward.

On the other hand, the communists are driving me crazy! They are standing in the way of India's modernization. In their kingmaker role in the UPA, they have effectively slowed the proposed increase in foreign direct investment to a crawl. An increase in FDI would mean a massive increase in capital, which could be used for entrepreneurial growth, sure, but as importantly for infrastructure and development projects. The communists are also part of the group standing in the way of India getting out of the nuclear isolation hole it's been in for a few decades now.

Ultimately, I have no idea what's going to happen in the next month in Indian politics, much less the next year, which makes for some pretty compelling newspaper reading.

(Whew. This was a long, unedited ramble on politics with little fact-checking (perfect for a blog, no?). If anyone's made it this far and cares to correct me, please do so. These are all just my perceptions, and I'd like to sharpen them a good deal!)

Poem #5: The Gift

2006-02-09T22:20:00.000+05:30

I want to give you something, my child,
for we are drifting in the stream of the world.
Our lives will be carried apart,
and our love forgotten.
But I am not so foolish as to hope that
I could buy your heart with my gifts.
Young is your life, your path long, and
you drink the love we bring you at one draught
and turn and run away from us.
You have your play and your playmates.
What harm is there if you have no time
or thought for us.

We, indeed, have leisure enough in old age
to count the days that are past,
to cherish in our hearts what our
hands have lost for ever.
The river runs swift with a song,
breaking through all barriers.
But the mountain stays and remembers,
and follows her with his love.

--Rabindranath Tagore (From 'The Crescent Moon')

Condi's Revolution

2006-02-08T21:31:00.000+05:30

The Divine Ms. M forwarded me a January 23 article by Ralph Peters for the New York Post called "Condi's Revolution". (The NY Post requires registration, so this link takes you to a reprinted version.) It's a response to Secretary Rice's recent speech at Georgetown on transformational diplomacy. I recommend first reading Rice's speech, then Peters' piece, and then my own little diatribe.

The upshot of Lt Col Peters' piece is that Secretary Rice is knocking heads at State, and the befuddled dangerphobes there are running for cover. And while it's high time for such moves, they are sure to make Rice the "most hated" Secretary of State ever by her charges at Foggy Bottom. Luckily, I think he's wrong. While individual officers may have a range of opinions on Secretary Rice's effectiveness and priorities, I think most agree, and have long agreed, that increasing our presence in rising powers (like China and India) and "non-western" cultures (read - the Arab world) is vitally important.

Peters first notes approvingly that diplomats are now required to learn two foreign languages and develop regional expertise in two areas. This is true, and applauded by everyone in the Service I've spoken with. Note also that these requirements were developed while Colin Powell was still Secretary of State, and he is regarded as perhaps the most popular Secretary of State ever by folks here. So, they're neither hate-inducing nor particularly new.

His second point, that "Old" Europe has been disrespected via the shifting of diplomats from traditionally larger European posts to rising countries like India and China, is perhaps half-true, but comes off more as another refrain of Rumsfeld's chorus, circa 2003. Officers are being shifted, but I think it's more a reflection that China and India's economies are surging. Such countries stand to become ever more important in terms of economic output, resource competition, and realpolitik discussions. Of course officers will be posted to such places - one wonders why would this cause an uproar.

Here in Delhi, I can definitely say that State folks are excited to go to India, China, Iraq, Brazil, etc. My second day at post, the Political Counselor told me that years from now we'll look back and say we were in India when everything changed. Not exactly present at the creation, but pretty close, and you can feel it in the air. Who wouldn't want to be a part of the discussion around nuclear separation plans in India, the tension between human rights and economic development in China, or the rise of populism (again) in South America?

His third point rehashes the second, implying that the increased emphasis on other countries can only mean a diminution in Europe's importance. However, I don't think this is a zero-sum game. State has for the last few years been reversing a long-term trend of hiring below attrition. Through Powell's Diplomatic Readiness Initiative (DRI), there has been a focus on hiring, on technology, and on recruiting speakers of critical needs languages. The end result is that we remain able to work with our traditional allies while increasing our ability to reach into new areas. After all, it's not in our interest to disrespect the third and fourth largest economies (Germany and UK) just to pander to the fifth (China). I think our goal is to be open to all, and to do so in as expert a fashion as possible.

Peters' fourth point takes the increased emphasis within State on serving in danger/hardship posts (again, started by Powell I believe) and twists it into an attack on the courage and desire of those in State to serve. Beyond being in poor taste and counterproductive, it's also false. Next time he calls State employees gutless and like "Chinese court eunuchs," he should remember that more Ambassadors have died in the line of duty since Vietnam than generals. I'm definitely not questioning the bravery of those in uniform, just wishing for a more unifying tone. We're all working toward the same ends over here, after all.

He then throws out a few more personal daggers, referring to Foreign Service Officers as eurotrash, calcified and arrogant, and lacking management experience. I'm not sure what experiences he has had to make him so bitter. What's patriotic about demeaning your comrades-in-arms, anyway? I'm lucky to serve in India with the Deputy Chief of Mission of the Year, the winner of the Dissent Award (Political Counselor) and the Foreign Service National of the Year (i.e. Indian coworker). Clearly, the people here are good workers and motivated, and they are not maneuvering to get into "coveted old Europe."

One good piece both Army folks and State employees should read is DOD is from Mars, State is from Venus (Microsoft Word doc). This piece handily discusses some of the traditional differences in management style between the two agencies. After reading this, it's easy to see how innocent "cultural" differences could be considered intentional slights, by either group.

Perhaps my favorite line is where he calls Georgetown University a "theory-poisoned backwater." I wonder what he thinks about President Bush's alma mater. Yale can hardly be less poisoned than Georgetown. As far as his suggestion that State recruit from the Pentagon, that too has long been the case. There are many former armed forces veterans in each entering class (and they're happy to be there). And they are hardly the only ones interested in "getting things done."

It is true that many people want to serve in Europe. Those positions are coveted. And I certainly wouldn't turn down Rome, I admit! But that's probably true in the armed forces as well. Europe is cushy, and lots of people like cushy, especially those with families. At the same time, I was impressed in my A-100 intro class at how many people were champing at the bit to go to Sudan, Afghanistan, and Iraq, as well as China and India. Many people sniffed at the idea of going to Norway or Finland. Not enough action, not enough of a chance to serve. Perhaps I just don't know the people Peters is focusing on, but at least the folks I've met in DC and India seem excited by the opportunities ahead.

I think I'll choose to put on some rose-colored glasses and re-interpret Col Peters' comments. I agree with him that the push by State to expand our presence in developing countries and to continually re-invent ourselves to address new threats is great. While Secretary Rice's plans are pretty vague in her speech, again, who can argue against expanding our presence across the world? I would also ask for his support in getting some tiny percentage of the budget DoD gets. There are still only about 6,000 generalists in the Foreign Service, with about a third of them in DC. That means 4,000 people to conduct diplomacy, help american citizens in need, and be the front line in the immigration process, all spread across the globe. He does say that "a functional State Department is essential to America's role in the world," and on that too we agree.

If Col Peters writes about State again, I'd ask him to write about how we can actually unite our two different cultures in a respectful way, about his concrete suggestions on how State can use its limited budget to do more, and about how State can do more to encourage democratic reform while respecting other cultures' values (like Islam). This column seemed to reflect on a few bad experiences he had personally, so perhaps his next column could focus on more constructive next steps?

High life - the summary post

2006-02-05T14:08:00.000+05:30

Sorry for the extended absence. I was overtaken by events, as they say. I fell prey to the embassy lifestyle.

In the last week I:

- wrapped up the raw food cleanse (cheating all the way home)
- tried some kundalini yoga
- started a twice-weekly hatha yoga course
- began feeling overwhelmed by work requirements
- continued my 7am tennis lessons three times a week
- picked out plants at a nursery and shopped for housewares
- played in the local soccer league
- continued reading the latest Thomas Friedman book
- hung out with MTV India's artist of the month

Does that sound ridiculous, indulgent, and kind of bourgeois? It certainly felt that way. Also, you'll notice that work gets just one line in that list, which is not good. I'm all for a balanced life, but I need to make sure work gets the attention it deserves.

Of course, that one line comprises about 10 hours of each day. In addition to my 6 hours of consular non-immigrant visa work each day, I have a number of other duties. I'm focusing on in-depth fraud issues in specific types of visa cases, updating on our regional disaster prep plans, working on an NIV process map booklet, making a new introductory consular video, and some other tasks that I'm forgetting right now. I actually need to go into the office outside of work hours to get organized and make some personal project plans. I find myself waking up thinking about consular work now, which is both a good and bad sign.

(Will someone who knows about these kinds of issues let me know if discussing my duties is in any way compromising in terms of security? I don't think it is, but let me know.)

Regarding my social and extracurricular life, it's been quite enjoyable, and slightly surreal. I spoke with some Mumbai officers, and they said that they often hang out with Bollywood stars because they just travel in the same circles. But Delhi is different (not oriented toward media stars, per se), so when I went out to a dinner last night I was not expecting one of the guests to be a pop star. He was very nice, and came with an entourage of about 6, including his 7+ foot tall bodyguard (also very nice, enormous hands). He sang a couple of songs at dinner with his acoustic guitar. After dinner, everyone went out to the Sheraton and danced until about 3am. All the Indian folks there knew exactly who he was, and there was constant whispering. He was quite the extrovert and danced with everyone, men and women, doing his best Justin Timberlake impression. Ah, India!

Saw another elephant on the road, this time in traffic. Seemed pretty placid.

Now I'm off to soccer with the embassy guys. I generally embarass myself at these games, but I run more than anyone else, so they keep me around. (Perhaps for entertainment value?) There's little to no ultimate frisbee here, so I'm making do.

Ok, posts of more substance coming!

Poem #4: Exposure

2006-01-29T16:14:00.000+05:30

It is December in Wicklow:
Alders dripping, birches
Inheriting the last light,
The ash tree cold to look at.

A comet that was lost
Should be visible at sunset,
Those million tons of light
Like a glimmer of haws and rose-hips,

And I sometimes see a falling star.
If I could come on meteorite!
Instead, I walk through damp leaves,
Husks, the spent flukes of autumn,

Imagining a hero
On some muddy compound,
His gift like a slingstone
Whirled for the desperate.

How did I end up like this?
I often think of my friends'
Beautiful prismatic counselling
And the anvil brains of some who hate me

As I sit weighing and weighing
My responsible tristia.
For what? For the ear? For the people?
For what is said behind-backs?

Rain comes down through the alders,
Its low conducive voices
Mutter about let-downs and erosions
And yet each drop recalls

The diamond absolutes.
I am neither internee nor informer;
An inner émigré, a grown long-haired
And thoughtful; a wood-kerne

Escaped from the massacre,
Taking protective colouring
From bole and bark, feeling
Every wind that blows;

Who, blowing up these sparks
For their meagre heat, have missed
The once in a lifetime portent,
The comet's pulsing rose.

- Seamus Heaney

Truckin...

2006-01-27T18:41:00.000+05:30

Saw an elephant walking this morning in the middle of a 6-lane road, circling India Gate. Pre-dawn by just a few minutes. The mahout was gently, assuredly swaying on top, directing her forward. My taxi driver waved his hand and just said "it happens, in the morning..."

Republic Day

2006-01-26T18:16:00.000+05:30

It's January 26, which means it's Republic Day across India. Here in Delhi, I finally understood why all the roads are so wide and why the design is so imperial - it is designed for pageantry. Boy, does Delhi bring it. As a guy who's seen a few Rose Parades in Portland, has seen the pomp of July 4th in DC, and was even a french voyageur in a Northern Minnesota parade, well there was no comparison.

Where to begin? First, there may well have been a million people on the streets waiting for the parade. I got an invitation via the embassy, and was allotted a seat near the final parade presentation podium. I started walking from my house around 7:45 and finally got to my seat around 9:00, after being misdirected and told to wait in long lines. The parade began at 9:57 am precisely, as announced in the program and over a battery of loudspeakers. ("Officers, synchronize your watches on my count - 10, 9, 54321, Mark.")

I thought there would be some floats and bands. No, no. India is one of those countries where they believe in illustrating just how proud they are to be Hindustani. They paraded the army, navy, air force, and other paramilitary services. Helicopters, planes, missiles, tanks, camels, elephants, dancers, bands, acrobats - the works. The announcer had a great baritone and an even better script - "And now, the army, India's pride - an iron fist wrapped in velvet. When the going gets tough, the tough get going." Actual quote, and indicative of the whole thing.

One of the many highlights for me was seeing actual missiles on the streets. This is the Agni 1, I think, followed hard on by the even longer Agni 2. Its dimensions and firing range were announced in another swell of rapturous commentary. Around this time there was also weapon locating radar, 155mm guns, reconnaissance vehicles, a demining vehicle, an amphibious bridge deployment system, more guns and more missiles. I believe all of these wind their way through much of New Delhi.

Watching the many marching contingents, each with its own band and theme song was great, too. Each contingent had its own very distinctive parade uniform, all of which were in striking colors - reds, bright oranges, greens - and many of which included great head ornaments. The Sikh regiment looked great in their parade/dress turbans. All marched in precise synchronized step, arms swinging in time to their band's beat. Most impressive, though, was that they got the camel corps to march in near lockstep as well.

After the military paraded, the cultural pageant began, starting with the elephants. Seated on top of the elephants (they were not quite in lockstep; harder to do with an elephant I think) were children who had won national awards for bravery. Then there were many floats showing traditional Indian culture and the bright future that is Indian modernity. I wish I had a picture of some of the floats. There were floats showing off the new subway, one with a giant computer mouse and a finger clicking on it (the finger moving up and down was almost creepy), lots of traditional dancers, an homage to bamboo, and my favorite, the float for the Ordnance Factory Board ("the Power that Packs the Punch").

I kept thinking the parade was over, but it kept going. It finally wound up with some flyovers in formation from the Indian Air Force (very loud). Everyone started to leave. But just like the people in the movie theater who know there's something more after the credits, some folks stayed glued to their seats. Sure enough, about 5 minutes later came the motorcycle acrobats. There were guys like this in formation, and there were also people standing on a ladder mounted on their cycle, a fellow reading the paper while riding handless... and backwards. These guys were the real hit and may have gotten the biggest cheers.

Overwhelmed, impressed, and slightly anemic, I lurched away and joined the hordes of people exiting. I walked back to my house, ate my zucchini and tomatoes, and dreamed of pizza. What a day.

Off the Wagon

2006-01-26T17:20:00.000+05:30

So, I can choose to be positive about this, or negative. Naturally, I choose to be positive. Therefore, allow me to say: what a great 5-day raw food cleanse that was!

The not-so-subtext is that I was just feeling too tired, too low to do much of anything. So, I just had a bowl of muesli, some raw almonds, and some banana bread. Not exactly uber-sinful, but gee it tasted good. I think I'm going to continue the cleansing elements for the next 5 days, but not exclusively. For all the promises of doubling my energy, I felt the cleanse was doing just the reverse. It was never meant to be a fast, but rather an energy and mood enhancer.

I am a little confused, and I do wonder if I had given it a couple of more days, if perhaps my energy level would have shot up, exploding upwards as promised. But today was Republic Day, a holiday, and part of me just wanted to sleep the whole day away. I felt so lethargic, even as I watched an amazing parade (more on that in the next post). Then I remembered, wait a second, I didn't feel bad before I started this. I had quite a bit of energy. Then a friend of mine made a joke about bacon, and I almost started to cry. (Well, ok, that's overstating it, but I certainly felt an overwhelming fondness for crispy bacon... Sigh. All this after a measly five days. Am I a weakling, or just sensible?)

So, my new plan surrounding raw foods is to broaden my sample size of people who are doing it, and get their experiences. If you are a raw foodie, you have my admiration. Would you mind telling me - did you feel a marked energy drain at the beginning of your diet switch? I tried eating more fruit for the good carbs, but it wasn't enough. Perhaps I just needed to eat even more. I certainly learned quite a bit regarding fats, carbs, and proteins in raw, "living" food.

And I think the idea of raw foods is still intriguing; the possibility that raw foods are more alive, are processed by our bodies more easily, and allow us to live dramatically lower on the food chain is very appealing. I just know I wouldn't be writing this post right now unless I had eaten the aforementioned forbidden food.

I also admit to wondering: are some people just, metabolically speaking, a better fit for veganism, raw foodism, or even vegetarianism? Is there something to the whole blood-type diet, perhaps? I'm O+, which puts me in the omnivorous slot.

Any thoughts? In the meantime, I think I'm going to have a veggie pizza and complete my fall from living food grace.

Poem #3: As I Watch’d the Ploughman Ploughing

2006-01-24T21:28:00.000+05:30

As I watch’d the ploughman ploughing,
Or the sower sowing in the fields—or the harvester harvesting,
I saw there too, O life and death, your analogies:
(Life, life is the tillage, and Death is the harvest according.)

- Walt Whitman

Day 3 - Not Dead Yet!

2006-01-24T20:56:00.000+05:30

So, I'm almost done with Day 3 of "the cleanse," and... well... it's not as easy as I thought it would be, this raw food thing.

I actually don't feel as hungry as I had feared I might, which is good. But I've also felt tired and a little weaker than normal. Apparently, the experienced, faithful raw foodist knows this is the point in the cleanse one's toxins are being mobilized. This is the dark before the dawn. In a classic "is this genius or doubletalk?" moment, I found this on the web about cleansing:

"Once these poisons are gone, you will feel energetic, vital, happy and healthy. It is the poisons that make us feel tired, mentally confused, irritable, unhappy, depressed and ill. Consequently you should look forward to detoxification."

So I've got a bunch to look forward to! Alright!

Tomorrow is Day 4. In the morning, I'll have a delicious liver flush drink, which consists of:

1/4 tsp of cloves
3 springs of parsley
2 oranges/tangerines
2 lemons (indian size, which are much smaller)
1/4 cup filtered water
1 pinch of cayenne pepper
1 clove of garlic (peeled)
1-2 inches of fresh ginger
2 Tbsp of extra virgin olive oil

Throughout the day, I drink the "master cleanser," which is a liter of water with the following:

2 indian lemons
1 1/2 tbsp of honey
1 pinch ground clove
1 pinch cayenne pepper

I believe this is all designed to peel the toxins from your intestines like so much old paint and unwanted wallpaper from your living room. If you liked that paint and wallpaper, tough.

More good news is that my dreams are sure to be delicious and cooked-food filled tonight. I may wake up with tears on my pillow. But perhaps tomorrow dawn will break and my food fears will be gone? I'll see.

The Cleanse Begins

2006-01-22T18:17:00.000+05:30

Today is day 1 of the Raw Food Cleanse. Yes, I have decided to join a small group of friends who are eating nothing but raw foods for the next ten days. No loopholes, no jokes, the rocket is off the launch pad. Now let's see what happens to the old body. Option 1: increased vigor, a system flush, and better immunity. Option 2: Some hunger, but no permanent damage. Option 3: Brain-eating tapeworms. Place your bets.

Luckily, very luckily, I am not in charge of this whole program. My friend Soorya is considering opening a raw food / vegan restaurant here in Delhi, and we are her guinea pigs. She has been eating only raw foods for some years now, and she looks great. She looks much younger than her 56 years and certainly seems to be flush with energy. As part of the package, she tells us what to do, gives us four kundalini yoga classes, and even makes lunch and dinner for us every day. How could I say no?

So why would one do this? Well, the theory goes that raw foods are chock full of helpful enzymes that aid your body. With cooked food, your body wastes quite a bit of energy breaking down the dead (i.e. cooked) food and transforming it into needed enzymes. With raw food, the body gets what it needs at a lower cost, and passes the energy savings on to you.

For more information, check out this site.

I have no idea if this will work or not, but it seems worth it to give it a try. How bad could it be?

I'll report on the results, unless I die, in which case the tape worm will take over this site... Cheers!

Poem #2: Odysseus' Decision

2006-01-17T20:50:00.001+05:30

The great man turns his back on the island.
Now he will not die in paradise
nor hear again
the lutes of paradise among the olive trees,
by the clear pools under the cypresses. Time
begins now, in which he hears again
that pulse which is the narrative
sea, at dawn when its pull is strongest.
What has brought us here
will lead us away; our ship
sways in the tinted harbor water.
Now the spell is ended.
Give him back his life,
sea that can only move forward.

- by Louise Gluck

Shimla

2006-01-16T22:20:00.000+05:30

I spent the weekend with two friends in that queen of the hillstations, Shimla. Shimla is most famous, I think, for being the summer capital of the Raj. Every summer the Brits would pack up everything and go to Shimla, which is at about 8000 feet and considerably cooler. They traveled by mule train, which just shows you how desperate people are to get out of the plains.

Although we too discussed taking mules, just for the sake of historical accuracy, in the end we elected to go by train. We took the night sleeper to Kalka. There we sleepily boarded the Shivalik toy train, which has been running for over 100 years, albeit very slowly. This (very) narrow-gauge train is charmingly, arrestingly slow, but the view is fantastic, especially with the sun rising over the mountains and valleys.

We reached Shimla and checked into our hotel, a Quality Inn, which staff apparently chooses to abstain from use of any heating products. It was cold! We were encouraged by this to get moving and go see Shimla. (They eventually provided us with a space heater, which was a life-saver.)

Shimla is not that big, but the view of the mountains is wonderful. It feels very much like Mussoorie, where I stayed last time I was in India, especially with the combination of the pine trees and the view of the Himalayas. The architecture is that familiar mix of barely-preserved Raj-era buildings and newer concrete/aluminum dwellings. We strolled along the mall and made a few stops to drink chai and coffee.

We debated the merits of our two favorite stops, the very modern Barista and the very traditional coop, the Indian Coffee House. While the coffee was much better at Barista, the atmosphere at the ICH couldn't be beat. It seemed as though it had not changed its decor in at least 50 years, down to the promotional posters:

Of course, all the kids hang out at Barista, and all the old fogeys hang out at the ICH. Count me in with the fogeys.

Sufficiently caffeinated, we hiked up to the Jakhu Temple. In the Ramayan, this is the place where Lord Hanuman (a gigantic monkey, and one of the big heroes of Indian mythology) is reported to have briefly rested on his way to save Lakshman from the demon Ravana (who lived in Sri Lanka, naturally). While Hanuman dozed only briefly and then went on to Lanka, his helper monkeys all stayed asleep. Thus, the temple in Shimla is said to be populated by the descendants of Lord Hanuman. The local population comes to the temple for pooja (worship) and really reveres the monkeys.

Said another way, there are a bunch of coddled, aggressive monkeys here who get ornery when they're hungry. They want your food and your bags, and they'll come after you to get it. I got jumped by one monkey who saw I had a little food for the temple offering. He got the food. On the way down, we saw some monkeys grab a hat and a purse from a group of Indian tourists. Much screaming ensued. (The monkeys really aren't that dangerous, but they are quick and they hiss and scratch.) We got the purse and the hat back, which made us feel good. We rewarded ourselves with more coffee.

Lord Hanuman, father of many monkeys...

There weren't too many other highlights of the trip, besides a trip to the Oberoi hotel for lunch. I'll write more about the Oberoi and other such hotels later, but they all seem to celebrate the Raj era. The Oberoi is dominated by large pictures of Lord Kitchener in full regalia, and the staff all dress in period costume. A little unsettling, but fantastic brook trout. These hotels are all quite expensive, but they also offer a real respite from that daily feeling of chaos that envelops you in India. But it is still surreal to see what feels like an unapologetic nod to a different era.

Some more hiking about and a little more coffee later, we caught the return versions of the toy train and sleeper train back home to Delhi. Today is MLK Day, so we are off. I'm back on the consular line tomorrow. Happy MLK Day!

You're Twins??

2006-01-13T20:18:00.000+05:30

So here I am in India, and I miss my twin brother. Now, he and I are very different in many ways, and we've always been cast that way (not least by ourselves). But over the years, I think we've each started, now and again, to crib a page from the other's notebook. We are, after all, twins.

I remember tromping around in the Philippines together when we were about 6 or 7 years old, making up games and drinking orange juice through our noses (well that may have been just me, but it's more indicative of the kind of thing we'd do than of one particular event. Ahem.). Or making up a new alphabet and trapping crayfish when we were 13. (We never knew what to do with the crayfish, but it was fun to do, I guess.)

Or him poaching my girlfriends in high school (ok, again, that was more me, but he made up for it after college). After high school, we lived together for a year, working in a bakery and a restaurant. We explored Portland and defied death in a 1975 VW Beetle that taught us the meaning of the phrase "caveat emptor!" We split to go to different colleges, which was a good idea. It also started a trend of missing each other more. Starting in college, first he and then I got involved in a crazy Indonesian martial art called Poekoelan.

After college, we both moved to San Francisco. We stayed out way too late in weird warehouses before getting up to go make video games together. He stayed in California when I moved back to Portland, but we did get together for one fateful trip to Europe and North Africa in 2004. Here are a few pictures from that memorable trip, which surely show why I miss my twin.

Happy Eid!

2006-01-11T22:08:00.000+05:30

We at the embassy receive 20 holidays a year, the maximum allowed by State. Were there no maximum, I'm sure we'd have over 25, what with the combined Christian, Hindu, and Muslim holidays. Well, today is Eid ul-Adha, the second Eid of the year. The first Eid marks the ending of Ramadan. This second Eid, as Wikipedia explains it, is celebrated by Muslims worldwide as a commemoration of Prophet Ibrahim's willingness to sacrifice his son for God.

I believe that son is Isaac and that God at the very last minute stayed Ibrahim, thanked him for his steadfastness (and willigness to sacrifice his son), and then provided a goat or two to finish the sacrifice. Without going into the question of what kind of God would test a person to that degree, it is quite an illustration of putting your trust in God.

But who ever asks in Sunday School, "But what happened to the goat?" Well, the goat got no reprieve, and apparently that's carried on for generations. Again turning to Wikipedia for guidance:

The first day is the primary holiday, on which men, women, and children are expected to dress in their finest clothing and perform prayer (Salah) in a large congregation. Muslims who can afford to do so sacrifice domestic animals, usually sheep, as a symbol of Ibrahim's sacrifice; this sacrifice is called "Qurbani." The meat is distributed amongst their neighbors, relatives, and the poor and hungry.

So at least the meat goes for a good cause.

Anyway, as today was a holiday, I ventured out to Old Delhi, which is the main area in Delhi in which Islam is the dominant religion and where Urdu is spoken and written. I love the streets of Old Delhi, which are packed with people, full of life, and which often end up as mini-labyrinths. I made many friends whenever I took a picture, and I cemented the friendship by saying "Eid mubarak ho!" They responded in kind, and we would chat in Hindi/Urdu for a minute. It's a simple ritual, but really very pleasant. Here are a few of the pictures I took:

Here I'm approaching the Jama Masjid (or "Friday Mosque"). Check out the traffic. The cars were dominant at first, but gave way quickly to the bicycle rickshaw and scooters. In the alleyways, it ended up being dominated by pedestrians, camels, and goats. Finally, I got to the mosque itself. People were milling around, and many were in their finest clothing, mostly long white kurtas and pants for the men. (Some were playing cricket in their finest clothing, in a field to the side of the mosque, but hey, it's a holiday, right?)

The Jama Masjid is impressive, as are most of the mosques and monuments made by the Mughals. Most of the work done in that era seems to me to be a great combination of masculine and feminine architecture, what with the solid, almost menacing bulk combined with the intricate engraving and ornamentation. I can't wait to see the Taj Mahal...

I did have one funny, then sad moment. At first I thought it was great the way many of the goats had festive necklaces on. I didn't realize that this was their last moment of celebration before reprising their ancestor's "No, no Isaac, allow me" moment. As a result, there were large hunks of fresh goat meat all around, as well as bloody pelts. Don't scroll down if you don't want to see the next two pictures...

Happy Goats

...

Mission Accomplished! (Sorry goats...)

Just so I don't end on that gory note, I'll share one more thing I like about Delhi, namely the multi-lingual signs. Throughout much of Delhi, you'll find signs in three or even four languages. In Old Delhi, it's Urdu, Hindi, and English. In New Delhi, it's Hindi, English, Punjabi, and Urdu. This is a sign for the Hotel Deluxe in Old Delhi, and a bad picture of the road sign by the Embassy. I'll try to get a better picture of Punjabi, because it looks like it's written by martians...

Happy Eid!

Three Reasons to Love Consular

2006-01-09T21:03:00.001+05:30

My friend S. has been on the consular line for about 6 or 8 months now. I asked her if she had heard anything unusual, if she had any good stories. She agreed as how you get into the strangest conversations, like...

1) The time when she heard one of her fellow consular officers shouting "Stop staring at me like a monkey! You're staring at me with those monkey eyes. Stop it!"

2) The time when an applicant kept telling her that he needed to go to the US to rescue his ex-girlfriend from her parents. He kept saying that he knew if he could just see her one more time, she would follow him back to India. He knew she was being trapped by her parents' mind control. S. was a little disturbed by his voice, the way he was so insistent. She told him that she couldn't issue him a visa unless he had something else to show her. At this, he said that yes, he did have something else. She asked 'what?', and he slid a piece of paper through the window opening. Then she saw it was a letter professing his absolute sincerity and his love for his girlfriend - written in his own blood. (Needless to say, she dropped it immediately, reached for the hand sanitizer, and denied his visa.)

3) The time when an applicant said he needed to go to the US for an operation. S. asked why, as India has many excellent hospitals, all much less expensive than those in the US. He said, well, it just isn't working. What isn't working, she asked? This isn't working, he said, and he popped his eyeball out of his socket. It bounced once and rolled right under the window. As she jumped back, she said, Sir - it's never going to work if you keep doing that. (Then she grabbed the hand sanitizer, and you know the rest...)

Poem #1: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

2006-01-08T21:05:00.000+05:30

A poem from Wendell Berry:

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion -- put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Joining the Raw Food Club

2006-01-07T23:51:00.000+05:30

I am now a member of the newly-formed RFC - the Raw Food Club!

At first, I was just an associate member, I think. One of my neighbors was hosting a dinner, and he was kind enough to invite me along. We enjoyed delicious raw versions of ravioli, cold corn soup, tortilla chips and salsa, salad, stuffed tomatoes, and desserts. All the food was made by a very interesting, slightly older woman named Soorya. An expat american who's been living in India off and on for the past 35 years, she is (I believe) a converted Sikh who came to India as the 60s were waning to follow a spiritual teacher. She teaches yoga off and on and seems to be something of a local legend. Everyone knows Soorya K. Certainly she has quite a presence. Although she is quite short and slender, her white turban, a penchant for wearing flowing garments, and her tight, almost austere facial features give her a unique look. Anyway, the food was great, and I was converted, at least to the idea of eating raw food.

Preparing raw food, on the other hand, was a different matter. Round 2 was tonight at Soorya's house, and this time we were each to bring a dish. Turns out raw food "cooking" is really all about soaking, dehydrating, and blending. It's not too hard, but it helps to have a dehydrator, and to be organized enough to soak nuts and such for 24 hours before you're going to "cook." I do not have a dehydrator, and I didn't really get the part about soaking for 24 hours, so I was in a bit of a jam this afternoon when I started. One purchase of a food processor and a bunch of nuts and fruits later, I decided to make a... fig and nut lemon torte! It actually turned out very well, especially considering it was really just a huge oily lump of mixed nuts and raisins sculpted into cake-like patties, with lemon fig "frosting." Quite surprisinly, it was a big hit at the party. (I was afraid I was going to get kicked out for bringing sad food, but it all came together...)

We spent much of the night listening to two young Russian musicians Soorya invited over. They live in Delhi and study classical Indian music. They played tabla (drums), guitar, and a variety of bamboo flutes, and it was incredible. I wish I could have recorded it. Indian music is much like jazz in that there are some overarching structural forms, within which you improvise. These two young musicians live together and practice every day, with performances at night. The Indians in the room were fairly well stunned to see these two young Russians playing traditional and fusion music so well.

By the end of the evening, I had had several of those moments where I asked myself, wow, how did I get here again? After talking with the expat converted Sikh yoga teacher about taking kundalini yoga, comparing urban renewal stories with the man from Chandigarh, meeting the ex-Hindi TV soap opera actress and newscaster, exchanging contact info with the Russians, and pledging to join in on a big group 10-day raw food cleanse, my head was spinning. (NB: The raw-food cleanse starts in a week or so, I think, and we'll see how that goes!)

Rollergirls?

2006-01-02T18:15:00.000+05:30

So, for all y'all in America, has the A&E reality TV show Rollergirls come out yet?

Rollergirls is based on one season of the TXRD Lonestar Rollergirls League. TXRD is an updated version of 1970s roller derby, complete with jammers and blockers and a banked track roller rink. Now it's all women, and they are tough, great women who like to basically skate, get into fights, and drink.

When I was down in Austin in early 2005, I became good friends with a couple of the skaters (one Hellcat and one Puta Del Fuego). It was a real ride to hang out with them for a few months. While I was there, A&E was always around, filming the teams for the show. I almost forgot about it, and then today I saw a story about it in Google News. I think tonight is the premiere. If anyone gets a chance to see it (or even better, tape it!) I'd love to hear about it. After meeting a bunch of them, I think it would be great to see them on TV, especially in reality TV-mode. How crazy.

While I was there, it was pretty astonishing to see how hard many of the rollergirls partied. There's a real rockabilly sensibility in many of them, not to mention in Austin generally. I wonder if that comes through. I saw them get pretty wasted when the cameras were around, and I have a feeling some people are going to get a little embarassed on (semi) national TV. It was also interesting to see how some of them were oblivious to the cameras or pointedly didn't care, while some acted like attention-starved kids acting out, and still others had natural charisma muscles that they flexed. I also saw the camera-folk interrupt them and say, "Uhh, that was a great conversation, but we didn't get any of it. Can you do that again?"

From what I saw, the people in the league were all incredibly devoted to the success of TXRD. I know four of the PDFs have PUTA tattooed on the inside of their lower lips. Crazy. Anyway, I hope it's a good series. Maybe some of them will get 15 minutes of fame.

P.S. Oop! Looks like there's some good news and bad news. Good news is that the New York Times just did a review of the series, so that's a bunch of publicity. The bad news is that they really panned the whole thing. Third-wave feminism is great and all that, but the series comes off sounding pretty thin and sophomoric. Oh well, that's just the Times. It may still be a big hit...

Resolved!

2006-01-01T12:11:00.000+05:30

Happy New Year! It's early afternoon here, we're doing radio checks with the Embassy, and I feel a little groggy from last night's shindig at Thai Wok. Thai Wok is on top of a rickety four-story building in the south of New Delhi, near Qutb Minar, a beautiful 800-year old red sandstone tower. The Thai food was excellent and the company was good. Of course, the power went out about 20 seconds before the New Year, so we celebrated in sudden darkness. It was pretty cool, in its own way...

So, I'm scrapping about for some resolutions. Here are a few that come to mind:

1. Don't die. Sure, this may be a little morbid, but at least it's pretty achievable. It's good to have one resolution more or less in the bag. Unfortunately, it's not a given. I saw a dead body on the drive into work a few days ago. I think one of the many tiny, teeming little rickshaws got hit by a bus. The way they skitter about, it's not really surprising, but it was shocking to see. The man had apparently been thrown from the rickshaw, which was half-crushed. He was lying on the ground, and a crowd was quickly forming. We drove on.

2. Write more. This blog is a start. I really want to record what's going on around me here. I don't know if my parents kept a journal when we first went to the Philippines in 1975, but I would love to read it if it exists. (I know my father always had his Day-Timer with him, and those notes alone could make a great book...) I'd like also to write a cable or two this year. As a Vice-Consul, I do visas, pretty much exclusively. We Consularites are in a different building from the political section, and sometimes it feels like a different world. The folks in Political spend their days becoming policy experts and writing cables to Washington on the latest developments. It's almost impossible to spend all day on the visa line and understand a topic well enough to write a cable that merits being sent to the mother ship. Still, my hope (no, my resolution!) is to get out and have some unique experiences that will translate into an interesting cable.

3. Learn Hindi. Ooo, just writing that hurts. It is easy to get around India, especially New Delhi, without speaking Hindi. Still, my Hindi is very basic, and it will be hard for me to be an intrepid reporter without knowing the local language. (I admit to having visions of T.E. Lawrence reading local newspapers and understanding the "real" situation on the ground in Arabia. Cue the music.) Even better, I might actually be able to make some friends outside of the Embassy circle. Since "learn Hindi" is really pretty vague, I'll refine it a little to "be able to watch a Bollywood movie without the subtitles, and really understand it."

4. Join a Community Group. I'd like to get involved with a group that is helping people in need here. Just driving around Delhi is a constant reminder of my good fortune. It would be great to get involved with a local community group or NGO and understand how to help at the local level.

5. Read one poem a week. Make that one good poem a week. Sounds easy, but I rarely do it.

Ok, that's it! Goals laid out. Forward into 2006!

P.S. I'd love to hear other resolutions... any takers? Or any favorite poets to read?

A Note From Work

2005-12-31T11:28:00.000+05:30

I'm on the consular line here in New Delhi. I'll be doing two years of consular work here, along with my colleagues. We each adjudicate around 100 visa applications each day, and it's simultaneously boring and heart-wrenching. Today, I had to decide whether or not to let a woman travel to the U.S. to see her dying mother, who has been diagnosed with liver cancer and is deteriorating rapidly. Unfortunately for the poor woman who was applying, this is a very common story and one that is more often than not fraudulent.

She actually came to my window yesterday for the first time. She barely spoke a word, and was softly crying as I read her application form. While she seemed genuinely heartbroken, her supporting documentation was thin at best. After some conversation (a combination of English and patchwork Hindi), I asked her to come back with more information from the hospital in the States. She protested that her mother was dying, the holidays were upon us, and she needed to get her visa quickly before the Embassy closed.

Without going into details, suffice it to say that there were many reasons to suspect fraud in her case. But lo and behold today she showed up again, still silent, still crying, and with much more detailed paperwork from the hospital. It was very sad to read about her mother's condition in the report, but it seemed clearly real. (NB: Next time, I'm going to cut to the chase and just call the hospital to verify facts...) After some more questioning I approved the visa. Because we were closing early today and won't open again until next Tuesday, I asked her to wait in the lobby while we did some emergency visa production work.

Here's the best/worst part. Her brother (or cousin?) accompanied her, and he is an American citizen. He came up to me afterward and told me he was an Amcit and that I had made the right decision, he knew I was concerned about fraud, etc. etc. I said thanks and shut the blinds on my window (it was the last case of the day, of course!). I went to a late lunch, and when I came back, someone came up to me and handed me a hand-written letter. The brother had come looking for me again, to give me a thank-you letter, telling me again that I had made the right decision, and that he was proud to be part of a country that judged people with feeling, etc. The letter was very nice, and it was great to get. But at the same time, it just made me more nervous that this woman had pulled the wool over my eyes.

In talking to colleagues, there were many suggestions (Call the hospital! being the most sensible one) and many more stories of heart-breaking stories that were ultimately false. I think I will never know if this woman came right back to India or if she overstayed her visa. Heck, maybe her mother actually lives around the corner and is fine, or maybe she's in the hospital but is doing fine, or maybe she really is sick. It's a little like being in a David Mamet play, like House of Games or Spanish Prisoner (not like Glenn Garry Glen Ross, thank goodness).

My gut says she's going to the US and will return, but I'll be interested to see what it says in 6 months if I get a similar case. I guess the moral of the story is to see the best in people, but call the hospital!

I Hear the Train A'Comin...

2005-12-31T09:53:00.000+05:30

First post! This is a test and a greeting from India. Alizarin suggested I keep a blog to keep track of my experiences in India. Hence, viceconsul.blogspot.com - based on my title at work (i.e. vice-consul as in second-in-command, not as in "consul in charge of vice," which would imply a very different kind of blog...).

My goals for this blog are the following:

- Keep a record of my life in New Delhi
- Stay in touch with family and friends
- Write consistently!

I'm listening to Johnny Cash right now, who I've really been getting into ever since I saw "Walk the Line." Jackson and Cocaine Blues sure are snappy numbers.

Rickshaws

2005-12-30T22:44:00.000+05:30

This is really a test post, to see how to add images...

Rickshaws!