Vrindavan, India - 5 am

Pealing bells and blast of horns fill the dark sky. In the Prabhupada Samadhi Mandir, we sit on bamboo mats on cold marble, eyes closed, legs folded. The echoic chamber is filled with a constant drone and hum, indiscernible from anything else -- chanting humming constant drone hare ram ram ram hare krsna krsna ram hare ram ram ram. In the main temple, monks sing even in the pre-dawn dark -- clapping crashing drumming chanting, dancing, singing, arms raised, blowing horns and crashing cymbals, creating joyous din. We sit still and watch our breath, and still the chant drones on hare rama hare rama rama rama hare hare. The voice hums and echoes, becoming non-different from silence, non-different from the marble walls of the temple. Still the devotees sing and dance in blissful circles, as the stars sparkle in the silent sky, and if you listen softly to the noise, you can hear God.

Monkey Trouble

"hey! you glass, you monkey trouble!"

We laugh at the boy's warning as he points his finger at Deborah. Craig and Deborah and I walk along the bank of the Yamuna river in the morning. The boatmen come and go, bringing boatsful of people from one side to the other, commuters i suppose, families, and men with bicycles. The boats' colorful flags flap in the wind as the boatmen steer with their long bamboo staffs.

As we walk along toward the ghats, all in an instant, Deb cries out in shock, and as i spin around, i see the culprit running off. The monkey had come from behind with no warning, snatched her glasses right off of her face, and bounded up into a tree. Deb's cry gathers a crowd of boys who seem to appear from all directions, as if on cue. We run up after the monkey, keeping a close eye on him. He non-chalantly chews on the glasses.

The boys, yelling the whole time, clamber up the shrine beneath the tree. One boy pulls an apple from his pocket, and throws it at the monkey. The monkey nimbly catches it in midair, still clutching the glasses in his teeth. The boy tosses a bag of rice, the monkey reaches out, and the glasses drop from the tree. The boy with the rice grabs the glasses, runs down with his quarry, and proudly hands over the glasses. Then all hands come out, eagerly awaiting rupees. I press a 5-rupee coin into rice-boy's hand, small prize from a white foreigner. The boys jump up and down, clamouring, "twenty rupee twenty rupee!" as we push past the crowd and walk on.

I've seen some clever ruses in India - There's the well-known gem scam, the sales commissions for rickshaw-wallahs, and the "please buy milk for me (so i can run around the corner and sell it back to the shopkeeper for 5 rupees)" trick. But this - pet monkey, well-trained, boys hanging around with bags of rice in their pockets?? umm, i don't think so.

As we walk past the ghats, the old man sitting under the tree snaps his cane at Deb, and shouts "munkeee!" This time we heed the warning.

Mathura Mix-up

It's perfect India - What was to be a two hour train ride turned into a ten-hour ordeal, complete with begging dirty children, hassles, yelling arguments with Indian men, and misinformation from all quarters.

We bought train tickets from Mathura to Delhi, on the Kerala Express, train #2625. We asked the station master - The Kerala Express was to leave from platform 2 at 1:30 pm. So we camped out on platform 2. We had time to spare. We'd sit, eat a samosa and drink tea. No problem, no problem.

An hour passes, and its 1:40. Ten mweinutes late, small change in the world of Indian trains. Then over the loudspeaker, the garbled announcement comes: "sdf!!ke@iu sdf?lj djfk Kerala Express, aso$^i Delhi f^lj??kh sd#fjn, now arriving, platform 1." Platform 1? OK, over to platform 1, quickly. Glance at the ticket: Kerala Express. Look at the train: big sign: KERALA EXPRESS. Look at each other, shrug. Platform 2 / Platform 1. Small change. I ask a guy on the train: "Yehi tren Kerala Express hai??" He acknowledges: "hunh."

Ok. On the train we go.

Another look at the ticket : seats #s 58, 60, & 72. We find the seats. Luggage is there. hmmm.

After some discussion in Hindi and mixed english, we find the our seats are all taken. So we go to find the ticket master. I show him my ticket. "Kerala Express?"
yes. Kerala Express. "tara hamro seats nahi hai": but our seats are taken. The ticket master is confused. He tells me "this ticket - not valid." My blood pressure rises.

It takes us a half hour of raised voice argument to determine that we got on the wrong train. But no, you might say, our ticket is for the Kerala Express, and this train IS the Kerala Express. But no, this is the wrong Kerala Express.

As it turns out, at Mathura Railway station, at 1:30 pm there are TWO Kerala Express trains arriving, one going north (to Delhi - our train), the other going south (to Agra - not our train). Instead of getting on the Kerala Express train #2625, we got on the Kerala Express train # 2626. Who knew???

In hindi, one may say: Kuch Snag Hai - some snag is there.

Hoo boy was i steamed.

All we could do was to ride the train to Agra, and then figure from there.

When we arrived, i marched straight to the station master, and told him what had happened. I guess i took an aggressive stance, and i told him that this was a railway mistake. He told me that this was not a railway mistake, that it was my mistake. He said to me, "In my twenty-nine years of service here, many people have come by this same mistake." So i told him (in a slightly raised voice), yes, this is a railway mistake - how am i to know that there are two trains by the same name, arriving at the same station, at the same time? He interrupted me to coolly tell me that this was my mistake, and i must simply buy another ticket, from Agra to Delhi. I consequently laid into him that if for twenty nine years so many people have come to him with the same mistake, that maybe the railway would somehow change this situation to make it a little bit less confusing for everybody, and he decided in the middle of my sentence that he had a very important phone call to make.

So we bought a ticket. (In india, ladies go to the front of the line. I gave money to Deb.)

After hours of waiting on the train platform, the train arrived (late) and we boarded, headed for Delhi. After five hours, late, dirty, tired and hungry, we arrived back in Delhi, to fly out the next day.

Buddhist Goodbye

Phra Ajan says, at our goodbye:

"Now, we must separate. If we did not meet, we would not separate. If we did not have to separate, we would not have met.

"This is cause-and-release system."

We flew from Delhi to Kathmandu 20 Feb.

Nepal Travelogues, 2002

The following posts are re-published from my original travelogue from my first trip to Nepal, from Feb 15 to Apr 4 2002.