After reviewing this little single-shot documentary several months after I pointed my camera out the window of a speeding auto-rickshaw in Agra, I can’t prevent from again being flooded by the immensity of India. Agra is of course the home of the breath-taking Taj Mahal, as well as a few less grandiose but equally elegant monuments, and yet the state of things, for lack of any better phrase, captured in this video is a commonplace in some form or another on the Subsontinent. Astounding in its vastness…
The immensity and sheer confusion of much of India does not often produce a feeling of calmness in the heart of the foreigner, despite the philosophical history of the country. One at times even imagines that such a philosophy was itself born of a desire to escape the crush of India (such a theory would, of course, be comically anachronistic). But it is fitting that the cremation monument devoted to one of the country’s most famous men is located in such a tranquil oasis, and indeed seems an oasis unto itself.
Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated on January 30, 1948, by a Hindu extremist. He was cremated the next day in Delhi. The simple black marble monument marking the place of his cremation does not fail to produce a sense of gravity in the viewer, and this impression floods in quite independently of the opinions one may hold of the nearly mythical ‘Father of India.’ We spent a good portion of the day here, enjoying the scrupulously pruned flowers and the atmosphere surrounding the shrine of the famous Indian statesman, and the experience is one that will not be easily erased.
India is haunted by many powerful ghosts. Some of them wield an influence over the country unmatched by any living Indian today.
Here is a site that is calling for individuals sickened by the Burma situation to assemble a governmentally independent death squadron to invade Burma by stealth. They are encouraged to terrorize high-ranking generals and ultimately kill them, as well as destroy the Indian and Chinese oil pipelines that compel the two giants to favor regional stability to the elimination of the militant regime.
Apparently, with great power comes great impotence.
There is a subtle sense of accomplishment that follows returning to one’s own country after a prolonged absence. Doubly so, I think, when one returns via a two month vacation on the subcontinent.
My first impressions driving the three and change hour ride from the Toronto airport to my northern home revolve around three (interdependent) concepts: a return to orderliness, sparse populations and lack of visible pollution (the beauty of the clear blue sky conspired with the first three to make the short journey somewhat magical). As anticipated, the shock of returning, unemployed and disorientated, reeking of the inevitable Indian odors escaping through my pores, was greater than that of touching down in Seoul to teach kindergarten some 14 months ago.
In the near future I will post pictures and retrospective interpretations of the recent past here on this little brain-dumping plate. As it’s been, so it will be.
Canada is beautiful, but even the brightest halo gathers its share of rust.
In the interests of upholding animal rights, I’ll let this little kitten out of its undoubtedly claustrophobic bag: as long as a certain Indian travel agent didn’t burn me (Ganesha guide me), I should be home (i.e., in the strangely distant lands of Canada), on May 4th.
The oddest thing about this past year and a bit was that, whilst I was teaching in Korea, I never once missed the snowy landscapes, familiar language or home cooked meals that I associate with that far away confederation.Perhaps the reason for this unconcerned detachment was that I was absorbed entirely in whatever Korea cared to offer up to me – I say this because the moment I actually felt myself ‘on vacation’ in Nepal, my thoughts turned immediately towards my forsaken homeland.I am now anxious to observe the behavior of foreigners in their native habitat.
So breathe, small kitten.Soon your sisters and brothers may also be free.
One morning as Gregor Samsa woke from anxious dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous vermin. He lay on his armour-hard back and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his brown, vaulted abdomen divided up into rigid bow-like sections.
From this height the blanket, just about ready to slide off completely, could hardly stay in place. His numerous legs, pitifully thin in comparison to the rest of his circumference, flickered helplessly before his eyes.
Here is a site that is 
