The Pink City: Jaipur, Rajahstan

This was my first introduction to the mystique of India. I bought a garland of marigolds from a little girl near the bottom of the hill. There are vendors near most temples stringing flower garlands or selling nuts or sweets to be offered to the gods. She gave me a handful of rose petals too. You must take off your shoes to enter any temple. No one seems bothered by this, but at the Dalai Lama temple there was a sign that warned, ‘Don’t let anyone take your shoes.’ 

I’m not sure how one accomplishes this. Just one of those areas it’s hard not to feel inadequate in.

A quick scan did reveal that my beat up, dusty sandals were nicer than most of the footwear there, but I did not see a band of shoe thieves around. It is hard to know as there were the regular players, those annoying parasites, some call them beggars, some see them as people in need, milling about readying themselves to adhere to you like super glue as you walk, thrusting their pleading hands into your face while they kept up the “money, money” mantra. Sometimes they offered something for sale that you didn’t want at all, which made me feel more guilty than passing up the bare pleas for money. It was like rejecting their attempt at a livelihood. Now and then I would give someone something, but not more than twice a day, justifying it with the indisputable fact that I cannot feed all of India or heal their horrible-to-look-at wounds.

Back to the spiritual mystique discussion. When I entered the Ganesh temple, at the top of the stairs are two stone heads of Ganesh, akin to stairwell pinnacles. I noticed people discreetly whispering into Ganesh’s ears. This seemed like a good idea to me. Ganesh is the elephant-headed Hindu god of wisdom and success. He is traditionally worshipped before any major enterprise as he will remove obstacles. He is the patron of intellectuals, bankers and authors. So I draped the garland of marigolds around his neck, cupped my mouth so no one would hear my prayer into his ear… and I’ll be daggone, if I didn’t get the distinct sense that he was very much alive and present and listening to me. It was like a bolt of energy shot through me. 

I would have a similar paranormal experience the next day. I visited a Jain temple about thirty-five minutes north of Jaipur in Sanganer. I’d been curious about Jainism since reading a reference to the Jains many years ago, I think in a Lawrence Durrell book, possibly in the Alexandria Quartet. It is one of the world’s oldest religions, well-established in its current form 3,000 years ago, but even much older in philosophical lineage according to the Jains. At any rate, although they represent only a small slice of the pie when dividing the world’s population by religion, their beliefs have endured. I know very little about the religion, though they welcomed me to come stay with them and learn more. I probably won’t, but here’s what got me. Basically, they believe in twenty-four ascended masters, enlightened teachers who appear and re-establish the path of spiritual liberation in each cosmic cycle. Jainism is eternal, without a historical beginning or founder. That being said, the twenty-four Tirhankaras appear periodically in every time cycle to revive the teachings. The last one to appear, the 24th, was Vardhamana Mahavira, born around 599 BCE. He attained enlightenment at age 42 and died around 527 BCE. I visited his murti in its own room at the temple. He dominated the room. I sat cross-legged at the top of the stairwell next to him. He was quite large. I closed my eyes to meditate and my head began to vibrate. Literally vibrate. Bright lights raced around the perimeter of my black vision. I heard/felt a voice, a deep voice, saying, “I am a seed in your mind now and will grow.” Honestly, I was kind of amazed. 

He teaches Ahimsa: non-violence, Aparighara: non-possession and Anekantavada: many-sided truth. The doctrine of many-sidedness teaches that reality and truth are complex and can have multiple aspects. Compounded with this is the fact that human perception and language are limited, so tolerance and humility are necessary when expressing or judging truth. These challenges to spiritual growth are on my radar so I will now be more aware when they present themselves in their myriad forms.

The women here in India don’t mince when it comes to their beautification. Bangles, finger and toe rings, bracelets, anklets, necklaces, nose rings, piercings, bindis, along with the yards and yards of beautiful coordinating fabrics of many colors and patterns, and on top of it all, mendhi. I went to the home of my tuk tuk driver, Imran so that his sister could apply my henna, called heena here.

The blurry pictures below are the streets of Jaipur ready for Diwali, taken through the windshield of a taxi. The streets were crowded, festive, and very, very noisy with the honking of horns and people talking at crazy high decibels. Americans have a reputation in Europe as being loud, but frankly over the past few months I’ve come to believe that the Irish and the Indians are even louder. The honking especially was draining. It took me a minute figure out why so many vehicles were painted with the request: Please honk horn. Honestly. But it’s because no one follows any rules while driving. If there are designated lanes, those lines are simply ignored. Should there be a traffic light, that too is ignored. If there is a crosswalk, which are rare, those too are ignored. Drivers of tuk tuks, rickshaws, motorcycle, cars and trucks and those just pushing carts of long rebar or stacks of grain, weave in and out of traffic as they can, so you need to hear who is where and honking fulfills that need. Sometimes too there are cows or dogs in the road and those must be navigated around. I found walking the streets exhausting. After awhile, the shopkeepers felt like vampires, all calling you into their shops, sometimes standing in front of you, blocking your path, pleading, and sometimes a few would gang up and surround you so you couldn’t easily pass. Being looked at as simply a dollar sign, as a means to feed their family, was draining and it was very trying not to become annoyed and harden your heart. 

And then that could be used against you by these clever, desperate men. Case in point. Beginning at the railway or bus station, a tuk tuk or taxi driver will paste himself to you and offer you guided tours to everywhere imaginable. Each one has a network of comrades they work with and they get kickbacks. For example, I asked my tuk tuk driver Imran to take me to a tailor. I knew he’d have a connection and he’d get a kickback, but it was still inexpensive and worth it to me. He did indeed take me to a cool fellow who did hand block printing on organically grown cotton textiles, supported a refugee community and did a good job tailoring my sari and sewing a couple others items I needed. So I was pleased with that commercial transaction. 

But even after I repeatedly refused to go to an astrologer, which Imran pointed out would help me because maybe my heart chakra was closed, he took me to one. It felt like a total scam, but the guy was spot on with details he shouldn’t have been privy to, and said some pretty unsettling things before telling me to come back tomorrow since I was too tired, which I was. Jet lag had slammed into me and I was too tired even to stop Imran from taking me there. It was around the corner from where I’d picked up my garments. In case you’re wondering, despite the seeds of worry he planted so that I’d inquire further, I did not return.

So you know, there’s a welcoming aspect to the city and, as my Jain guru notes, there are many sides from which to view it.

I did find the vibe at the Curry Restaurant genuinely welcoming and the food divine. I’d been very cautious about eating and drinking since arriving in India and it was a relief to find this restaurant. It is worth going out of your way for.

A foundry amidst the chaos. It’s not unusual to find auto mechanics next to a clothing store. 

And dedications to the gods are virtually everywhere.

The town was bedecked with floral garlands as well as lights.

Buildings were draped with strings of lights mirroring the rows of lamps set out in the homes to welcome Goddess Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth, who, if you clean your house, will drop by and shower her blessings upon you.