Monday, July 13, 2009

The world is the mirror of myself

How quickly certain masks drop to expose the Hindu as human. Even with the language cement wall the guts float above and I see the New York in them. Even in this fourth world village 11 times zones away from my home; I see the shadows of my neighbors. Humans are diverse as songs. Humans are similar as ants. All men are to be feared, loved, and respected.

The roommate (Jadeev) who I previously spoke so fondly of has dropped his veil of hospitality and exposed his scales. He now sleeps ¾ of the day, complaining and borrowing the rest. He even has the vanity of a Long Island Italian! Constantly checking that death-thin face in his pocket-size, dirty, dying mirror. While another “friend” (I use quotations because our conversations are bare-bone) has shown handsome true colors. Sanjoy has grown from hospitable to true friend proving himself truly kind and humble, not nice like it’s his job. So I wonder, is it better to overly hospitable, or honest with our desired amount of attention, time, and materials given to a stranger. This dichotomy of N.Y. and West Bengal is embodied in the difference between the treatments of sex here-and-there.

It is a common misconception that because India has arranged marriages, regulated naval-covering, and many segregation-birthing conventions between men and women (such as the wall in the teacher’s office that separates us-from-them) that men are considered superior to women. This is mostly a fallacy I’ve seen it. Women get a great deal of respect here and the fact they are separated is because their power is understood. There are countless female gods such as Kalima, the many-armed warrior goddess whose purse you would not want to snatch boy-o. When they speak the men are silent (likewater), and when they walk through the swarming market the crowds’ part for their passing (likeMoseswater). It is codes of respect for marriage (much like the codes for hospitality) that cause this silencing and room-making. The sacred union of sex is symbolized through the amalgamation of matrimony. Love here is considered a special, singular, connection of two spirits. This of course is the ideal while in reality marriages are far more political usually arranged by guardians but nevertheless sex is considered a blessing and natural inklings must be restrained to keep it so. And this control (the same control which makes hosts so giving) is effective for the divorce rate here is below 5% compared to our ugly numbers over 50%.

In me, most my friends at home, and most certainly in the boy-o’s over here with their pocket-sized unused Karma-Sutra there is an inexplicable natural attraction to the fairer sex. The irresistible female causes our whole beings to gyrate (hard) heavenward. But is this love for what’s underneath her shari, or what’s underneath what’s underneath her shari. Am I inspired each day by a warm moist spot between her legs, or a secret buried deep within her mysterious whole? The American interpretation is the more materialistic of the two while according to the Hindu’s sacred Bhagavad-Gita Krishna declares- “A person who has given up all desires who ahs given up all sense of proprietorship and is devoid of false ego-he alone can attain real peace.” And it is incomparable how much more they listen and live their sacred texts than we do ours. I have not met a single boy yet who has had sex without marriage. While for the Western materialist there is no peace, forever, forever unsatisfied but a lot of fun multiplying.

I am moving to a more urban mission (where they tell me I’m more needed I leave today) to do a daytime classes and will than have to take an hour long India bus-ride (big difference) and mile walk to get here and exercise with my angels and give one more class for the college boys here before doing the journey back to Barrackpore city where theya re sending me. New experience, I welcome thee and will kiss you on the polluted air door. As you can see I am being kept very busy and living a real Indian life. So while it is true I will not see the Taj Mahal, I do not feel any tourist in a 3rd world country guilt. No matter how good the rides, I could not go to a Six Flags in a Ghana leper colony.

I lifted my head from strange fruit to hear a gecko’s call. I even live with on, it’s always naked.

I am covered in sweat but why must this Indian sun be so hospitable!

1 comment:

  1. Hey Shane,its your dear brother Ned - send me your e-mail address. I've got some stuff to send you. also the blog is fantastic. keep up the great work