Bharathnatyam, kathak, Carnatic, Hindustani music, do not constitute Indian culture. These are restricted to a portion of urban elite which is no more than 2 percent of a billion Indians.
Indian Culture is adjustment, soft nature, tolerance, willingness to give, share, and willingness to help.
Most of us do not know what Yoga is
Indians adjust to any situation, however hostile it may be.
We survive against all odds.
In the next post you'll see more of 'India overload'.
I have a story to tell you.
This is how I went to silent Valley 25 years ago. Like those two struggling people in the Jeep.
There were no buses from Mannarkkad to Mukkhali and Aghali and the road was not well laid as you see in the picture. It was a modified Jeep with an extended platform for more people to stand on. Perhaps more than 15 people were crammed inside, all tribals and all were drunk and stinking and i saw a goat inside. The goat was not wearing any perfume. i never use any perfume myself.
Two people jumped out from the front seats and asked me to sit inside. Offering their comfortable and secure seat to me. i had utter contempt for these illiterate drunk and stinking tribals
i am from the city with a walkman and headphones and a camera bag to my shoulders, i preferred to stand like the two guys you see in the picture. There were four including me.
i refused to sit inside.
i paid the money, one or two rupees, afterall it was a 16 kilometer journey. i placed my stupid orange ruc- sac with Aluminium frame on top of the jeep. there was no room for it inside.
i soon regretted my decision as the jeep started climbing the ghat road. My ruc-sac was sliding all over the top, there were three more drunk and stinking tribals standing with me. The jeep was rocking swinging and tossing me all over the place and i nearly got thrown off the jeep thrice. i would go rolling down a couple of hundred feet. My mouth was full of dust by now.
With a dangling camera bag, holding on to a bar and holding the frame of the ruc sac with the other hand on a bad dusty bumpy road and i could see the jeep driver three fourths out of his seat was driving like a maniac. i was cursing myself, my walkman was still on, don't remember what i was listening to.
My pride kept me from screaming and stopping the jeep. i was superior to these illiterate drunk stinking tribals who seem to be quite comfortable in this situation. i was just about to give up and stop the jeep and walk the rest of the journey nearing sunset with a stupid orange ruc sac attracting the elephants.
The landscape was breath taking.
The jeep was going at a break neck speed. The chap standing next to me neatly removed my camera bag from my shoulder and passed it on to another chap sitting inside who placed it on his lap.
Two of them held the ruc sac frame making themselves less secure for me. The ruc sac stopped sliding now. They did not even look at me,
not a single word was spoken.
A dark wrinkled hand appeared from inside the jeep, it wrapped around my waist very tight. i was as secure as a baby in a cradle.
That dark wrinkled hand of an inferior, illiterate, drunk and stinking tribal held me tight for fourteen kilometers.
i was in tears. i stopped my stupid walkman and removed my stupid headphones.
i felt so inferior to these people.
After what looked like eternity, i reached Mukkhali forest Check post. i was off loaded with all my meaningless belongings.
Within a second, the jeep disappeared in a cloud of dust. i could not see the the gentleman who was holding me, making me secure. And could not thank those cultured people who helped me without asking. They didn't need it.
i sat on a rock and cried like a child.
We are the poor people, very poor
i checked this time, the rock is no longer there, some shops have appeared. Lot of trash which was not there 25 years ago. The road is well laid and widened, lot of traffic now. Silent valley is no longer silent.
Now i am an expert traveler in such vehicles, chatting smoking their beedis, i let them smoke my pipe, i give my iPOD to them, they laugh at my music.
we have fun.
Indian Culture is adjustment, soft nature, tolerance, willingness to give, share, and willingness to help.
Most of us do not know what Yoga is
Indians adjust to any situation, however hostile it may be.
We survive against all odds.
In the next post you'll see more of 'India overload'.
I have a story to tell you.
This is how I went to silent Valley 25 years ago. Like those two struggling people in the Jeep.
There were no buses from Mannarkkad to Mukkhali and Aghali and the road was not well laid as you see in the picture. It was a modified Jeep with an extended platform for more people to stand on. Perhaps more than 15 people were crammed inside, all tribals and all were drunk and stinking and i saw a goat inside. The goat was not wearing any perfume. i never use any perfume myself.
Two people jumped out from the front seats and asked me to sit inside. Offering their comfortable and secure seat to me. i had utter contempt for these illiterate drunk and stinking tribals
i am from the city with a walkman and headphones and a camera bag to my shoulders, i preferred to stand like the two guys you see in the picture. There were four including me.
i refused to sit inside.
i paid the money, one or two rupees, afterall it was a 16 kilometer journey. i placed my stupid orange ruc- sac with Aluminium frame on top of the jeep. there was no room for it inside.
i soon regretted my decision as the jeep started climbing the ghat road. My ruc-sac was sliding all over the top, there were three more drunk and stinking tribals standing with me. The jeep was rocking swinging and tossing me all over the place and i nearly got thrown off the jeep thrice. i would go rolling down a couple of hundred feet. My mouth was full of dust by now.
With a dangling camera bag, holding on to a bar and holding the frame of the ruc sac with the other hand on a bad dusty bumpy road and i could see the jeep driver three fourths out of his seat was driving like a maniac. i was cursing myself, my walkman was still on, don't remember what i was listening to.
My pride kept me from screaming and stopping the jeep. i was superior to these illiterate drunk stinking tribals who seem to be quite comfortable in this situation. i was just about to give up and stop the jeep and walk the rest of the journey nearing sunset with a stupid orange ruc sac attracting the elephants.
The landscape was breath taking.
The jeep was going at a break neck speed. The chap standing next to me neatly removed my camera bag from my shoulder and passed it on to another chap sitting inside who placed it on his lap.
Two of them held the ruc sac frame making themselves less secure for me. The ruc sac stopped sliding now. They did not even look at me,
not a single word was spoken.
A dark wrinkled hand appeared from inside the jeep, it wrapped around my waist very tight. i was as secure as a baby in a cradle.
That dark wrinkled hand of an inferior, illiterate, drunk and stinking tribal held me tight for fourteen kilometers.
i was in tears. i stopped my stupid walkman and removed my stupid headphones.
i felt so inferior to these people.
After what looked like eternity, i reached Mukkhali forest Check post. i was off loaded with all my meaningless belongings.
Within a second, the jeep disappeared in a cloud of dust. i could not see the the gentleman who was holding me, making me secure. And could not thank those cultured people who helped me without asking. They didn't need it.
i sat on a rock and cried like a child.
We are the poor people, very poor
i checked this time, the rock is no longer there, some shops have appeared. Lot of trash which was not there 25 years ago. The road is well laid and widened, lot of traffic now. Silent valley is no longer silent.
Now i am an expert traveler in such vehicles, chatting smoking their beedis, i let them smoke my pipe, i give my iPOD to them, they laugh at my music.
we have fun.
