A Horse by Any Other Name

I'm in an astonishingly good mood today. Happy. Bouncy. Giddy even. Those of you who know me and my silly, goofy, happy mood, are likely happy that I am as far away as I am. There is no good reason for this mood. I cannot point at somewhere, something, or someone and say thank you. I'm just in a good mood.

Maybe because it is sunny out? Maybe it's because I had my second tabla lesson today and it was super fun? Maybe it's because all of my potential plans for the afternoon and evening fell apart? Maybe it's because I got a shave. New thing for me getting a shave. Kinda like it. Maybe it's because James arrives on Monday evening and I am anticipating the next two weeks of crazy running around seeing stuff? Maybe it's because I'm getting near the end of book 5 of Game of Thrones? Maybe it's because I got to play the piano for thirty minutes prior to my tabla lesson, or because after my tabla lesson and my shave I nearly burnt my lips off on some spicy noodles in the neighbourhood market and am already planning on going back for momos later this evening? Maybe it's because I feel like writing, or because for the first time in about a year, I have had the songs from the show I was writing a couple years back come into my head and they do not make me wince? Maybe I just had a good night's sleep? I shouldn't say "just". A good night's sleep is amazing. Or perhaps it's because in the past week I have met lots of awesome people, and am now getting to hang out with them?

Chances are it is all of the above.

I really enjoyed writing the last blog entry, and also the one prior to it. Along with that realization was the observation that my enjoyment of the process made for a better final output. You may disagree, and you are welcome to do so, but to my mind, it wasn't half bad. When I rush, when I feel I need to publish so as to not get too far behind but that I just need to get it out there and then get out the door, I generally am not thrilled with the final product. I cut corners. I don't engage with myself. I just slap some stuff down and hope for the best.

Which is actually what I do when I'm relaxed and enjoying the process as well, so perhaps not that much of a difference. Somehow though it seems like it.

Why am I saying all of this? No reason. I'm gonna show you some pictures I took from my trip to the National Museum shortly, and I have little to say about them, but felt like writing, and this seems to be what is coming out.

There you go.

When I was five I fell off a dinosaur. But I'll tell you about that another time.

It's been awhile since I've stepped foot inside a museum. You may recall that I had gotten museumed out somewhere along the way. It may have been Tallinn. Well, with James coming and us planning to see all the cool old things, and me wondering what else I could do that wouldn't then just be done again, I landed on museums and galleries. Glad I did so. The National Museum in Delhi is great.

It's got guys eating lunch and drinking tea nearby.

And near those guys there are monkeys.

Pretty sure that's Peter Tork.

Now, you hear about the monkeys in Delhi, and you're warned about them, their skills at theft, not ticking them off, stuff like that. Well, I hadn't seen any yet, so this was rather novel for me. I mean, if racoons weren't nocturnal this would be the equivalent of watching them route through your garbage, but somehow it's cooler with daylight and monkies. For me anyway.

Once you get past the monkies and through the gate of the museum you get to see a really big chariot.

Now, that pictures acts as a warning to you all. Many things in museums are behind glass. Glass as you may have noticed is at times rather reflective. While my camera has a handy dandy "through glass" setting, it's not like it's Alice, and it's not like I really know what I'm doing with a camera, so some of these pictures are going to suck for that kind of clarity.

Some of these pictures are also going to suck because, having paid 300 rupees for the privilege of using my camera inside the museum, I was damn well going to take plenty of pictures. Not as many as the guy who was walking around with his smart phone snapping a picture of each display cabinet and then walking on with barely a moments hesitation, but still plenty. And it wasn't till I came across a statue of Vishnu and the audio guide told me to looking carefully at his face and know that I was looking at the face of a god, that I actually realized I should stop with the "catalog" shots, and try for the "story" ones.

Oh, and you could totally see what the audio guide was talking about with Vishnu. I just wasn't able to capture the tranquility and beauty in my picture. Oh how I tried.

At this particular point (well, not just this point) I have no idea what I'm going to talk about, so enjoy the pictures and please pardon the occasional interuption. I actually sat down to write this entry yesterday, realized I had no idea what to say, so didn't. The difference between yesterday and today? Please review the opening paragraph.

This is Mohini.

Mohini is the only female avatar of Vishnu. I am reciting that almost verbatim from wikipedia. I'm not sure who they're copying.

Mohini is likely best known for pulverizing mint into some lime juice and sugar with her sublime jeweled feet and then adding a liberal amount of rum.

And you won't find that on wikipedia I'm bettin'.

The audio guide, which I will mention came included with entrance into the museum, singled the piece below out from the display case it was in and commented that it was either for secular or sacred use. Which kinda tells you that they don't know what the heck it is, or at least, didn't feel like sharing. A couple beside me at the time, who did not have the benefit of the audio guide were also wondering about it.

My guess is that it's a heater, or at minimum a lamp. It reminds me of all of those hanging metal spheres I enjoyed taking pictures of in the souks of Marrakech. Except of course for it being clay, and a tube.

I suggested this to the couple as a likely hypothesis, and they seemed content with the idea. Actually, I took my headset off and with the authority of the someone who has no idea that he is actually right but has a multi-million dollar project hanging in the balance of sounding like he does said "Fire. Heat. Candle maybe", and they nodded, and happily moved along.

I didn't try out the mojito story.

This is what an elephant might look like if Belloq was sitting on one when he looked inside the Ark of the Covenant.

Which reminds me.

I think I've told the story before about how my brother and I read at the kitchen table every weekday morning with our Dad when we were growing up, and that one of the things we read from cover to cover a few times over the years was the bible. Well, it occurred to me in Morocco, after a fascinating conversation with Daniel, that, while I've formed various opinions on Christianity, faith, religion, and where I sit in relation to all of those things, that the foundation of that thinking is, at best, a teen-aged understanding of the primary text. And it occurred to me that perhaps my grasp of all these subjects in my teen years may not be up to snuff. I mean, I reread my favourite Umberto Eco novels every few years because I'll know I'll get more out of them based upon increased life experience, so it's fair to think that that would also be true of the bible, and perhaps I owe it to myself to take another read as an adult, and apply that perspective to what are, when you think about it, pretty important questions.

Conveniently I had been given two bibles while I was in Sweden, so, as of Jan 1st, I've picked up where my Dad, Ken, and I left off close to 30 years ago, and am reading a bit each morning. Right after stretching and before, or hopefully during, my first chai. All depends when the cook gets in.  I'll be done the second book, Exodus, tomorrow.

And what have I learned so far?

Well, to begin with. If Indiana Jones had decided to go after the equally as lost lampstand that God told Moses to have made, then Belloq wouldn't have melted.

See? Adult perspective.

This is Buddha.

And this is Vishnu.

This is also the moment when I tried to stop with the catalog shots and go for the story shots. That means this is also the face that I was talking about. I so didn't capture it. That said, it's not his best side. Seriously. You can totally see it when looking from the left. The pictures I took from the left sucked even more though.

Oh, and while it may seem like I made the adjustment from catalog to attempted story rather quickly, that's only because I didn't show you twenty or so other pictures.

Now, the reason I didn't (read "blame for not") capture the radiance of Vishnu is fully put upon the shoulders of all the teenagers at the museum sketching. An art class was scattered about, and there was a gaggle of young women surrounding Vishnu, and I didn't want to be getting in their way with my silly camera as they were busy doing it the hard way.

Incidently the statue, and sketch-in-progress, and I guess now photo of the two, is of Daksha, one of the sons of Brahma. Now, if someone were to take a photo of this photo we could get a whole Inception thing going.

Elephants. I like elephants.

It's unfortunate that whenever I see an image of Ganesh the first thing I hear in my head is Homer Simpson.

This is Surya.

Surya is essentially the sun god of Hinduism. I'd tell you what his favourite colour is, but given his chariot is pulled by seven horses that represent the rainbow it's pretty safe to say that he likes them all. Unless of course Surya's favourite horse is Pankti, then, given that Pankti's planet is Mars, Surya's favourite colour must be red. If though...

Hang on, let's start that again.

It is suggested in the wikipedia article I was just looking at that the seven horses may represent the colours of the rainbow, or perhaps the seven chakras of the body. I started to get a bit silly with the above. You know, introduce you to a god, tell you his favourite colour. But it had to make sense, so of course I had to look it up. And yes, Surya's chariot is pulled by seven horses, and yes one of them is named Pankti, and the planet associated with the name Pankti is Mars. And Mars is associated with the colour red.

Well then. That seems to work. So what about the other six horses. Can they actually represent the main seven colours visible in a rainbow, the chakras in the body, and, given that we're talking about the sun god here, also the planets of our solar system?

Let's find out.

Pankti: Mars, Red
Gayatri: Saturn,  Black, Grey, Blue - let's take the blue so this doesn't fall apart before we really get going
Brhati: Jupiter, Blue and Purple
Usnik: Can't find.
Jagati: Can't find a planet but has the astrological sign of Capricorn, so Saturn. Dang.
Tristup: Can't find them either, but did learn that all of the horses names are also the names of the seven main vedic metres. The vedic metres are the metres used in the Vedas, which are the oldest of the Hindu scriptures, and are, incidently, Sanskrit.
Anustup: Last horse. Wanted to continue the vedic thread but figured I should give you the last horse name first. No luck on this one either.

So, back to Vedic metres. Perhaps they have colour associated with them or are aligned with the planets. Or perhaps I need to read Eva Rudy Jansen's  The Book of Hindu Imagery: Gods, Manifestations and Their Meaning, the book cited by the wikipedia entry on Surya that mentions the seven horses and says they're possibly aligned with the rainbow and chakras. Or perhaps that article needs a bit of a revision and at least mention the vedic metres as the most likely reference. I mean, sure, it says "might", but the direct relationship of having the same name doesn't even come up. Now, still, no word on Jansen's book though. I haven't read that, so who knows what the source says. And that kids is why wikipedia may be a fun place to start, but as much as you can, go to the source.

And yes, this is what I do.

I'll go read about the Veda later.

Veda. Darth Veda. I can kill catering with a thought.

Meanwhile back at the museum.

The shrine, though that is likely not the correct term, contains relics of Lord Buddha. Yes, relics.

So of some importance you can well imagine. Hence the gentleman praying. There is actually a sign asking that no offerings be left.

This is Krishna hangin' out with the milkmaids, which I think also count as gopies, which to my mind is close enough to "groupies" to make me chuckle.

Taking pictures of pictures is not so much fun. You get glare. You can't keep it squared. You're reminded of when you worked as a graphic designer and had to layout out picture upon picture of picture frames for a catalogue. (I have no idea why I decided to change spellings on that one all of a sudden.)

You also feel like a dork taking a picture of a picture. I only took a few. You're only suffering through one, and that one only because I wanted to chuckle about the gopie/groupie thing again.

Taking pictures of jewellery through glass with dim lighting also sucks. So you get to see a crown, and that's it.

Mind you, if you go, then you'll see plenty of other shiny stuff. And did you know that for a very long time India was the sole source of precious jewels? Yep. I read it on the wall.

This is the leg of a throne. It is also, I'm pretty sure given the crossed arms, Ganesh.

He appears to be quite cross. You would be to if you'd started out as just a normal kid, ya a child of deities, but still a kid, but then had Shiva severe your head from your body all because you didn't want people to bug your mom while she was taking a bath, and then had an elephant head stitched back on instead because they somehow couldn't find your actual head (or apparently even another human one) when they revived you.

If you're looking at this on a small screen then it may look like the remains of a party-sized pizza with lots of olives on it. It is however a Chaupar board.

Chaupar is a game that I know nothing about. Beside it was a chess board, and I took a picture of that too, but decided not to show it here because we all know what chess is, and it didn't remind me of food.

Chaupar is from about the 4th century and we'll trust wikipedia this time on getting the rules right. Here you go. Think I may see about learning to play if I can find a board.

Pretty sure this is Buddha again.

And this, this is Chamunda, one of the Hindu mother goddesses. Her name comes from combining the names of two monsters she killed - Chanda and Munda.

So, when you ask what is in a name, well, for some you're a whiny teenager who is headlining what my dear friend Jill once referred as one of the best comedies ever. For Chamunda here, I think it's a bit more serious.

Smell as sweet indeed.

These are called, I am pretty sure anyway, titti. Basically they're bagpipes. And who doesn't love bagpipes?

I was serious about that last question. Bagpipes rock. If you think I'm kidding then please refer to my blog entry from back when Noah, Jake, and I were in I'm pretty sure it was Oxford or "What Lucy Found There", as the titles don't really help that much.

And now it is time to say...

Move over Nyckelharpa. You are no longer King of Weird stringed instruments in my book. That dubious "honour" now rests firmly with something somewhere in this part of the musical instrument gallery of the museum.

I really can't say where though. Choices. Oh so many choices.

That's Saraswati, Hindu goddess of knowledge, music, and art.

So basically the embodiment of many things our Prime Minister doesn't believe in, even though someone gave him enough piano lessons to entertain his caucus with cover tunes when they get together for one of their shindigs.

How is it that people don't believe in supporting the arts and making them an important part of a kids education. I mean, what do these people do in their free time? Watch a movie? Read a book? Watch TV? The news? Radio? Listen to any form of music? How do they think that all came about?

But I'll stop on that one.

This is a cast of the Edicts of Ashoka, from the 3rd century BC. You can find them in their full or abridged versions all over the Indian sub-continent. I, by the way, like the term sub-continent.

The purpose of the edicts was to provide Ashoka's subjects some rules and guidance to help them "elevate their social and moral outlook".

#2 is a fun one...

"In and outside his dominions, Priyadarshi Ashoka has arranged for the medical treatment of man and beast."

Yep. Universal healthcare. There we have it people, in the 3rd century, BC.

I'm guessing Ashoka is sitting right next to Saraswati on the "examples not to use" shelf of the library at 24 Sussex Drive.

That's an eagle. Seriously, in there is an eagle.

Pretty sure it's Joe Walsh.

And this was the best shot I could get?

Yep.

Sure, lot's of eagles in Delhi, and I mean it, there are. At Lodi Gardens we saw loads of them as the afternoon crept into evening. And the same again by the museum when I was heading out. And I tried, oh how I tried to find a way to get a decent shot of them flying, or perched, or whatever. Between flight speed and tree coverage though, wasn't going to happen. This time anyway.

So why include a crappy shot of an eagle? Well, because, while standing there with my arms raised up over my head for a few minutes pointing my camera at ol' Desperado there, hoping he spreads his wings and takes it to the limit so you can actually tell he's a bird and not a stick with clumped leaves, I had two thoughts:

1. Why is it that eagles are always the Deus ex Machina in the LOTR and Hobbit movies?

2. Would they have gotten as excited as they did if it was Sam the Eagle who showed up?

I was so wrong about having nothing to say.

Down By the Lodi Gardens

Yesterday I promised I'd keep the next one calm. I think the pictures from the Lodi Garden should fit that bill fairly well. I'll do my best to do the same. I'm even going to type slower.

And to offer proof of my good intentions I'll also start off with a little pastoral tune that, for the first time, also has me blatantly pointing out the reference for this entry's title. That way you don't have to wonder. See. No worrying. Everything shall be revealed. Isn't that calming?

Interestingly enough, or perhaps not, the song is somewhat apropros in that, were you to wander around the Lodi Gardens on a nice sunny Sunday afternoon like I did, you would not be able to help but notice all of the young lovers nestled in the crooks of tree roots, amidst bushes, lazing on the lawns, the young women perched on one leg of their gentleman like Radha and Krishna. I however am not Jayadeva, and this is not the Gita Govinda, so I'll just stop there.

"And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva... So tweasure your wuv."

Nor am I S. Morgenstern.

I said calm. I didn't say I wouldn't ramble.

See, even typing quietly now.

The Lodi Gardens takes up about 90 acres, and it's current layout goes back to 1936 and Lady Wellington, but it also got a make over in 1968 by J.A. Stein (my books says J H but it is wrong - I looked it up). It's a beautiful garden, full of a variety of birds, a nice little lake, some wonderful walking paths, and some lovely old tombs, mostly dating from the 15th and 16th centuries. The park gets it's names from the tomb of Sikander Lodi for example.

This is the Athpula bridge.

And this is the Bara Gumbad, not a tomb, but an entrance to the attached mosque.

And this is a fellow playing cricket. The gentleman out of frame with the bat is about the same age. Everyone plays this game here. Everyone.

Okay, I can't say everyone. I have yet to see any women playing cricket. Not to say it doesn't happen, but I just haven't seen it. But with an overall population of 1.25 billion, and accounting for roughly 44 million males under the age of 3 and therefore likely not quite playing yet, and 31 million males over the age of 65 and, the above picture to the contrary, spending their time now watching rather than playing, that still leaves around, given the 1.1:1 overall male:female ratio, 545 million men playing cricket.

Is there anything calmer than statistics?

Perhaps some of that pastoral setting I had promised.

And a few animals.

And a tomb.

Unless your name is Buffy, you probably can't beat a tomb for calm. This particular tomb is the tomb of Mohammed Shah Sayyid, and is the earliest of the tombs in the garden, dating back to 1444.

And this is the Sheesh Gumbad. Next to the Bara Gumbad, it is a tomb built around the same time as Lodi's, but no one is quite sure who is actually buried here.

And then here finally is Lodi's tomb.

Now, as I alluded to yesterday, I'd come to the Lodi Gardens with the DPC - Delhi Photography Club, a group on Meetup that my host Neha had recommended. For the record Neha makes great recommendations, and I am very thankful for them.

I'd arrived early, with the intent to wander the neighbourhood a bit first, and then maybe take in some of the gardens on my own and take the 'catalog shots' as I now think of them - the pictures that show a place, rather than the 'story' shots, like I plagued you with in my post on Barcelona. I still owe you other pictures from there. Yes, I do remember.

En route to the gardens the meeting time shifted from 3pm to 4pm, so I then gained an additional hour to wander.

The pictures you've seen so far are the pictures I took on my own. Now we're going to walk around a few select spots in the gardens (Bara and Sheesh Gumbad, and the little lake by Athpula) and you can decide for yourself if I'm a better photographer when surrounded by 20 or so people with DSLRs and a passion for using them.

There came a point when alot of the group fixated on these kids playing, and then primarily on the little one in the striped top, as she was seriously hamming it up for the lens.

I thought the photographers made for a more interesting study.

The one in red is Rohan, the surgeon I mentioned who has been kind enough to show me around one of the hospitals where he works, and who will hopefully be showing me around the other later today. Beside him, and I sadly do not remember his name, is a young man who travelled from a town 90 minutes away from Delhi to come to this Meetup. He studied Engineering, and was planning on going to Vancouver to continue his education, but has remained at home to help run his father's business. I so wish I remembered his name. I so suck. Anyway, he's been into photography for less than a year, but has already entered his photos in some competitions and placed third in one of them.

The fellow below right was the first person I got talking to when we gathered, and whose name is Dheeraj. We're hopefully going to hook up again for I don't know what.

All that to say that I got to meet some great people during this photo-walk, and while some of them were definitely continuing the holy war of Canon vs Nikon, others were happily talking about healthcare, supporting startups, Neil Gaiman (I had no idea he was married to Amanda Palmer by the way), and showing each other a shot or two every once in awhile. At least, those were the conversations I found myself in the midst of.

Then there was this delightful young man and his friend, who proceeded to mug for us all, and then tumble, contort themselves through rings, and work the crowd for some very well earned rupees.

And then the sun went down.

Water fowl by the bridge.

Twilight.

See? I promised you calm, and what'd I give you?

Calm.

I am now typing so quietly and gently it's as if a soft breeze could blow these words from th          e
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Which, again, is saying something for a blog.