12 hours in Somnath - Part 2

Feb 1 2013

By the time I finished my stroll on the beach, it was around 9AM and it was time to go to the bus stand to get the departure times for buses to Porbandar. As I walked past the temple, there were a group of photographers looking for tourists to offer their "instant" photo service. One saw me and offered to take a snap of me, and print it for a price. I smiled and said, "I have a good camera myself." He looked at mine and a few others gathered around me. Some were even interested in exchanging mine with them. I had to decline their offers.

I stopped by these two pilgrims, with whom I shared some fruits I had.

Pilgrims from the neighbouring state of Maharashtra. Having dressed in a Kurta and being dark, they thought I was a Maharashtrian. 

The bus stand was very close to the temple. The building looked like it was in desperate need of attention. Parts of concrete ceiling had broken off and the steel rods embedded in them could clearly be seen. It looked like an abandoned building of a war zone, which meant it was full of character. The next bus was to leave at 10 AM. I called my friend and asked him to get to the bus stand before then. Meanwhile, I went back to our room to check out. I was back at the bus station by 9:40 AM.

Staircase. I must say the spit stains on the walls add character.

A state government transport office.

Somnath Bus Stand - Looking up.

Somnath temple at distance.

Somnath temple.

My friend showed up at 9:45 and yet again, we ate some vadas for breakfast. I figured that even if the bus were to take 4 hours to reach Porbandar, I should be okay to catch my flight to Mumbai at 4 PM. I was going to be proven wrong...

It was 10 AM and no bus. We asked an official sitting behind the "Enquiry" counter. He said that it will arrive in a few minutes. 10:20 AM and still no bus. We went back to the counter and this time, the official attempted to call the conductor of the arriving bus - "No answer", he said. By now, I started to worry. My watch showed 10:45 and there was no no sign of any bus. The bus was not going to come. Change of plans. We walked out and started asking around for a taxi to take us to Porbandar. Having noticed our urgency, we were quoted high prices. So we decided to take a shared auto-rickshaw to go a nearby town that is bigger than Somnath and thus increase our chances of getting a taxi at a reasonable price. The ride on the shared auto-rickshaw was interesting. It frequently stopped all along the way to pick up passengers. No designated stops. People waved and hopped in. At one stop, a girl in her twenties got in and she demanded the driver to not let her sit with the other male passengers. She looked at me and looked at the driver. This meant that I had to move to another spot but where? The driver asked me to sit with him in the front. I didn't want to make a scene and demand equal rights for men and women. So without a word, I moved to the front to sit the driver. It was fine but it soon became crowded as the driver and I had to share the driver's seat with two more. So, the driver seat was now occupied by two guys on the left, the driver and myself on the right. One of my buttock cheek had some space on the seat but the other was not so lucky. The driver's face was stuck to the windshield as that was the only spot for his head. Amidst all this, the driver even answered his cellphone. I looked back and noticed that the girl was quite comfortable. I ignored and enjoyed the unhampered breeze.

We reached the nearby town. We got a taxi to take us to Porbandar. It was now close to noon but a car ride to Porbandar only takes 2:30 hours. So I felt safe and let go of my worry. Alas, the adventure was not yet over.

About three fourth of the way and just past the beautiful view of the Arabian sea to the left, the driver pulled over and got out. He opened the hood and put his hands on his head. It turned out the radiator liquid had started leaking.

Pretty neat drive along the Arabian sea coast.

Disaster on the way to Porbandar - radiator liquid leaking

The driver did not want to start his car again (understandably) but he started doing things which I was taught never to do in Canada such as opening the cap of the radiator while it is extremely hot and pouring down water! I stepped back but nothing happened. Now the only way for us to get to Porbandar would be to hitchhike as there were no big enough villages or towns nearby where we could get help. I paid the driver his money. He stopped an old Fiat for us and we asked the driver whether he could drop us at the Porbandar airport. He agreed.

There were no more surprises and we reached Porbandar. I thanked our new saint of the day profusely and got out. I made it to the airport on time to catch my flight. Phew. Despite the uncertainties throughout the journey, I enjoyed every bit of it.

12 hours in Somnath - Part 1

Jan 31 2013

There were two main reasons for my trip to India this time around; attend my friend's wedding and a surprise visit to my folks. The wedding was in the city of Porbandar (birthplace of MK Gandhi). After the wedding, I had one extra day to explore in and around Porbandar. Debating between a visit to  Gandhi's house and a 120km trip to Somnath, a friend of mine and I finally decided to head to Somnath. Somnath is one of the twelve important religious sites dedicated to Hindu God Shiva. We were told that it would be around 3 hours to go to Somnath if we were to take a local bus. I had a flight to catch from Porbandar to Mumbai the next day. So it was going to be a short trip.

We took a Gujarat State Transport bus at around 7 PM. I picked a seat next to the window to enjoy the breeze. The ride was quite enjoyable that costed approximately 80 rupees (CAD 1.50). My friend and I started discussing about metaphysical concepts about reality and this made time to fly faster than the bus. The bus stopped at a small town en route to allow passengers to attend to their nature calls and refill their bellies. Having not eaten any dinner, I allowed myself to push down few vadas (fried stuff) and off we went. By the time we reached Somnath at around 10:20 PM, we were the only passengers left.

A cool old man. 

We got down at the Somnath bus stand and I realized that we were going to find it hard to find a place to stay. The bus stand was empty and dark. Suddenly, two young guys in two separate motorbikes dashed towards us and were offering rooms to lodge. While my bargaining skills were rustic, my friend was in form and he got us a room for INR 200 (CAD 4) from one of the bikers. As soon as all three of us sat on the same bike, I knew this was going to be an adventure to remember. We rode for about 5 minutes and we reached some narrow streets. We got off and our friend took us to show the room. The room was clean, had two beds and an attached bathroom. It had a big window and those the narrow streets filled its view. The bathroom was small but doable for two guys. The tiredness of the wedding that day and the travel made me ignore the sensitivities to any discomfort. We set the alarm to wake us up at 5 AM.

Feb 1 2013

We woke up on time, attended to the usual morning things, had a cold shower, and off we went to the temple. The temple was a mere 2 minutes walk and only then I realized that we were staying in a lodge that belonged to Muslims. In fact, there were many Muslims living harmoniously right next to one of the most important Hindu sites in all of India. It was a pleasant surprise. There are two main temples referred to as Somnath temple; old and new. The old one looked more like the ones of the South, while the new one was built in the last century to restore the glory that it once had. The temple itself sits right next to the Arabian sea and notedly, it was plundered heavily by invaders.

The new Somnath temple.

Early birds. The wall to the right is the temple boundary.

After the darshan (view of the deity), my friend and I decided to split as we had different ideas on how to explore Somnath. He decided to do a tour of other nearby temples while I decided to just walk around and explore. From the rear of the temple, I saw that beach was very clean (not common if you are in India) and this meant, I could walk along the beach.

As the sun had not yet fully risen, street cleaners had not yet come by for the street vendors to set up their stalls. I stopped at a coconut seller for breakfast snack. A coconut was INR 10 (20 cents). As I was drinking my coconut water, I had a chat with the seller:

"How long you have been doing this business?"

"This actually belongs to my older brother who will be here any time soon. He has been running selling coconuts for many years."

"How is the business going?"

"Good, thanks to the Lord of Somnath."

I paid him INR 20 and asked him to keep the change. He did not like that and said to me:

"No, I cannot take this extra money. I sold you only one coconut. This not what our dharma (law of nature) says."

He was so firm that I took some pride in having met such an honest man in our times. As I was leaving, he asked me if I was still hungry. I nodded. He then went to a section of his pile of coconuts and took one. He gave it to me and said "A special one." I took it and said "Now you have to accept that extra 10 rupees". He smiled and took my 10 rupees. I thought to myself good people do exist.

A good man and a coconut seller.

As I walked east along the beach, the early sun warmed my face and my ears tuned to the music of the waves:

Arabian sea - looking south. 

Strange patterns on the sand.

I came across a group of girls and boys on an excursion and did not miss the opportunity to take some shots:

It is no fun to wake up early.

Curious boys.

Got to look funny.

A shy girl.

Surati Experience - Day 3, Part 3

We walked back to where we left our Auto and on the way, I took this picture:

No boundaries here. A Muslim boy playing a British game in front of a picture of a Hindu deity. I sure hope that the new generation breaks its shackles of hatred, and create the India of tolerance and mutual respect that MK Gandhi envisioned.

We reached the fort, but only after the Indian traffic ensured I inhaled toxins worth 10 cigarettes. The fort now houses various government offices but it was once a formidable fort as its plaque says:

"This strong imposing building was erected in 1540 by Khwaja Jafar appointed Governor of Surat with the title Khudawand Khan by Sultan Mahmud Shah III of Gujarat in order to put a stop to rising power of the Portuguese on the Gujarat coast. The castle was protected on the land side by a ditch 60ft wide and was fortified with many Turkish guns. In the year 1573 A.D., it was captured by Emperor Akbar. Under the Mughals Surat became a port of great importance. It was sacked by Shivaji twice in the year 1664 A.D. and 1670 A.D. but he did not attack the castle. The place continued to be in Mughal possession till 1759 A.D. when it was captured by the English and castle to be occupied by them. In 1962 the small garrison of European and native troops posted at the station was withdrawn and the place has been occupied by public officers."

Unlike many European countries but like many other places of historical places in India, this fort is in serious deterioration.  The entrance of the fort was littered with court peons who had setup kiosks with a type writer to get the complaints of the people written down:

As you enter, if you look up you can see the strong beams to support the structure:

Looking up the narrow corridor as you enter the fort.

Profile shot of the fort.

A massive iron door protected the entrance of the fort. The spikes on the door were placed to prevent using elephants to push open the door. Looking at the condition of the door, I cannot imagine closing this door ever again. Signs of peace?

Despite my love for India, I do not support vandalizing important historical places (even if it is an Indian flag).

The Tapti river next to the fort was one big sewage (like so many rivers that go through cities). So, I did not bother enjoying the view except to take a shot of this girl:

Girl with her luggage walking along the banks of Tapti river.

As we left the fort to check other places, I came across a man lying on the middle of road. You may know that the Indian traffic is a horror to many but imagine yourself lying on a main road with all sorts of traffic weaving through you. He was clearly unaware of his situation. It seemed that no one cared to lift him up. I pondered about helping him and I asked a passerby about whether he knew why he was on the middle of the road. He said, "Drunk, sahib". I did not help him but I find no reason as to why I did not. It would have taken me 5 minutes to pull him to the side of the road and 20 cents to get him some water. What happened to the high-held principles of mine? Perhaps, I was becoming immune to the vices of the society... Scary, indeed.

Before we got back on our Auto-Rickshaw, we walked past this man:

Views like this are all over India and they are more common than public washrooms. While India is a paradise for street photography, I can't help think feeling a certain way about my subjects. How can I not see the burdens of past, the pain of the present, and the anxieties of the future in this man? Yet, even the slightest smile on his face suggests that internal peace requires very few conditions. Such observations are everywhere but perhaps nowhere as evident as in India.

Surati Experience - Day 3, Part 2

Jan 29 2013

We knew that the Dutch and Armenian cemeteries were near the English cemetery but the locals were unaware of the difference and so we were always pointed to the English cemetery. We decided to get off the Auto-rickshaw and started exploring on our feet.

Surat is one of the main centers in India for cotton spinning for a very long time but the old factories disappeared along with their machinery.   According to Dr. X, you could hear the manual spinning of cotton anywhere you went in Surat but not so much these days. So when he heard the noise again, he was excited to check it out. We followed the noise and reached a small factory:

Rooms of British-era machinery. See the distortion of the photo? I took this photo at 18mm.

Small-scale industry is vital to Indian economy. I am not sure for how long this factory will last. Nevertheless, the flag captures the Indian spirit.

A worker. Work safety is non-existent. With so many moving parts at fast speed, risk of injury was high even for a visitor like me.

This man's job was to take each thread, insert it to a hole and make the yarn. All manual. I can't even to imagine the patience he must have.

 After this short detour, we moved on to explore and after asking various people for direction, we entered a cemetery but it turned out to be a recent one. Disappointed but determined, we finally found it with a help of a local. It was just one cemetery that had both Armenian and Dutch tombs. The Armenian tombs were much older than the English or Dutch (probably from late 1500's or early 1600's). Here are some photos:

Entrance to the cemetery but we came from the back. The photo was taken in a hurry as were running out of time.

Armenian inscriptions. We could not dicipher. Please contact me if you can read Armenian.

Armenian. The tomb stones were stuck to the ground (unlike the usual straight-up ones)

Looking up. This one was dated mid 1600's. The painting was still in tact. This really-fancy mausoleum suggests that it was for a high-ranking officer in the Dutch East India Company.

There was a hole on the floor in one of the mausoleum. It was so dark that I could not see any staircase but the camera flash came in handy. The stair case lead to a basement room. Real freaky.

Look at that wood work.

It takes you back in time and I wonder if some of these Mausoleum took longer than the dead's lifetime to build.

The far ones on the right and center show a clear Indo-Islamic style.

Next, we were off to search an old fort in Surat on Tapti river. This fort was a very important one for the Marathas, the Mughals, and the European invaders.

Surati Experience - Day 3, Part 1

Jan 29 2013

One of my friend's uncle (Dr. X) mentioned to me that there are old European cemeteries and a fort in Surat. History interests me and so, we decided to find out about them. We asked the locals but surprisingly many had no idea about them. Then, we turned to almighty Google and sure enough, these cemeteries and an old fort do exist within Surat's city limits. But far from being tourist spots, finding them turned out to be an mini adventure in itself.

Dr. X and I took an Auto-Rickshaw to check them out. Surat was one of the first European settlements in India and its sea port offered an excellent opportunity to do trade. Naturally, the foreigners wanted to impress to Mughals and they did this by building mosques and the tombs for their important men, women and children showed a blend of European and Mughal. When we reached an area where we expected a cemetery to exist, Dr. X asked the locals in about these cemeteries. Again, the locals did not seem to care much about its significance and could not pinpoint the location. But by mere coincidence, we spotted one. It was the English Cemetery:

Entrance to the English Cemetery

This tomb's architecture shows a blend of European and Mughal.

The cemetery is serious need of restoration like this tomb shows.

A stone showing that this area belongs to the Church.

Year 1736 but there were much older tombs as well.

On some, you can climb to the top through very narrow stairs. I've tried to capture the scale of the cemetery.

Surati trees, electric poles and lines are decorated with fallen kites.

This tomb says the person died of Smallpox.

A view for the Dead.

Then, we set out to look for other cemeteries (we knew there was a Dutch and an Armenian one). Stay tuned.

For more details, refer to this article: http://dro.dur.ac.uk/3774/

Surati Experience - Day 2

Jan 28 2013

Sitting on a swing in my friend's aunt's house, I started observing the infamous Indian traffic. A street-cleaning lady passed by. She was fully covered to protect herself from the dirt and filth but she had no protective gear - just her sari to cover herself. I wondered what caste she belonged to and what her social upbringing was like. Minutes later, a camel-drawn cart passed by. The animal was showing signs of long-term abuse - certain parts of its back had no hair and the skin was exposed, which suggested to me that it was beaten constantly and consistently on the same area and this prevented proper healing. I wondered about what kind of species are we to enslave nature to our whims. Gandhi said that a country can be judged by the way its citizens treat animals and if that is the case, what can conclude from my observation on his own country? While I was thinking about such serious questions, a girl wearing a 'Hollister' branded t-shirt peeked from her window across the street. I sighed.

A woman-servant came in to the room and disrupted my live entertainment. She started sweeping the floor. I observed her for a few minutes and to not make the situation look freaky, I broke the ice and asked her:

"Can I ask you a question?"

She nodded with a straight face.

"Do you study at a school or a college?", I asked.

"No", she said.

"How old are you?", I asked.

"Twenty", she replied.

I was fairly certain that she received no formal education and was put to this work due to her caste and other social norms. I felt rather upset but thought to myself that the best I can do for her is to appreciate her work and give her gratitude. I took the "Munnabhai MBBS " approach and said:

"Thank you for cleaning this room."

She smiled. I felt content and this experience reminded me of so many research work on psychology that suggests that by giving honest gratitude to others and helping folks in need, certain "happy" chemicals are produced to make us feel better.

P.S: Munnabhia MBBS is a Hindi movie where the main character hugs a servant to show his appreciation. Keeping the cultural norms in mind, I did not hug the woman.

Surati Experience - Day 1

Jan 27 2013

I took one of the fastest train in India (Rajdhani, 100 km/h) from Bombay to Surat. The train ticket was about INR 850 (CAD 17). The journey was about 3 hours. The highlight of this train ride was not so much the scenery but the people in the train, especially a British-Indian Muslim couple. After three hours of chatting about Indians in general, I came to conclusion that the criteria for an Indian is quite vague. Despite the differences in our appearance, religion, culture, language and other man-made borders, there was a connection. One could give reasons for such a connection to values like tolerance but it was more of a feeling than something based on logical reasoning. Our conversation reminded me of a quote by Michael Wood in his BBC documentary on India; Identity is never formed, it is always forming.