Rakish, on the other hand, had the nasty inclination to do just that. With phony smiles and annoying clichés about doing God’s work, he would pressure us to give him money or gifts. I’ll copy my complaint via e-mail to our program coordinator instead of reiterating the serious frustrations we experienced with his brash approaches of covetous greed masked by a mockery of Christian virtuosity:
“Dear Ananta,
Perhaps you have read Peggy's email by now. I wanted to follow up with my own comments on this issue.
At first, Rakish and his wife Soba made us feel welcome to their home. They provided accommodations and seemed kind enough. However, near the end of our stay with them, it became clear to me that they were asking for us to give him more of our money. The manner with which Rakish asked was inappropriate and flat out unacceptable. He did indeed pull Peggy and me aside and with feigned warmness and affected smiles told us about how little money he has and how much he gives to the school and "God's children, his children". This spiel dragged on for too long, with an obvious implication that we give him our money. Please know that I am very hesitant to accuse someone of any negative intention, as I try to judge people with the principle of "innocent until proven guilty", but I gathered enough evidence against Rakish. His intentions were impure, and both Peggy and I were very uncomfortable. In fact, we were so uncomfortable that on our last night at their home, we were concerned that Rakish or his wife may steal from us during our sleep. Discomfort to this extent should not be experienced by any of your volunteers, so do please consider my e-mail seriously.
Particularly on our last day at the Raj's, they were very cold. Even their little boy, Benjamin, was not playing with me as he had every other day I was at the home. It was as if his parents told him that we were bad people. He spit at us through the window in our room. When we entered the home, Rakish greeted us, though probably insincerely, but Soba didn't look at me, say a word to me, nor did she smile. I felt very much unwelcome.
It really is unfortunate that they treated us this way. Peggy and I were responsible and considerate guests at their home. We came home when they wanted us to, we washed our dishes, and we were quiet and unintrusive, as we were at your residence. We bought over 90 notebooks for the school children and over 80 pencils with sharpeners and erasers. This was not a small purchase for us, and we gave it to Raj with sincere warmth. Instead, he told us that these were not the notebooks that he gets the children, and that they would last just a couple days or so (a gross exaggeration - the notebooks each contained 50+ lined pages, and each student used about 5 pages at most in a day). It was a surprisingly rude response to our kind gesture.
This next section is a serious matter of concern, but I do preface it with the condition that the Raj's may have nothing to do with it:
I am missing at the least, 100 US dollars, from our traveler's pouch. Peggy locks this pouch in her backpack everywhere we go. But, she hasn't been so careful with her bag while at the Raj's. On the last night, when Rakish pulled us aside for the foregoing lecture, Soba was in our room, apparently rummaging through some things for the duration of Rakish's lecture - about 10 minutes. Peggy's bag was open, and our money pouch was visible. I am not confident that she took anything from us, but the mere fact that I doubt her intentions in our room is enough for me to write this complaint. I should not have such a concern, nor should any volunteer.
Hiro”
If you got the gist of it, you should know that I was seriously offended by the guy. And, if you got to the end, you learned that I lost $100 somehow, out of Peggy’s money purse, and I surprised even myself when I wouldn’t put that issue past the Raj’s.
So aside from our experiences with our host families, let me talk some about our weekend trips. On the weekend of July 1st, we took a whirlwind trip to Jaipur, the “Pink City”, and on the weekend of the 8th, pleasant Pushkar sucked us into its hippie culture and romantic lull, then we took a weekend off for an Indian wedding (Memta’s brother’s arranged marriage), and on my last Friday in India, the 22nd, we spent a short but soul-lifting day in Amritsar.
Jaipur
Peggy and I took a “sleeper train” to Jaipur two weekends ago. A sleeper train is the cheapest and lowest class on Indian railways with sleeping berths. Some people warned us that we would not be comfortable, and various online sources warned of thieves in this class. Not so surprisingly, it turned out to be all right – much better than those reports made it out to be. I expected this because I observed a pattern: I read a horror story of some particular activity in India, I prepare for the worst, and then I get a surprisingly mild experience – my palette doesn’t get burnt and I still can taste the fresh air. Perhaps it’s not so bad to prepare for the worst, but I would hope that people do not scare themselves out of a memorable and rewarding experience – like a ride in Indian Railway’s fine sleeper class.
Our hotel in Jaipur was excellent. We stayed at a beautiful little place near the train station, owned and operated by a family who lives in the hotel – that seems to be common at least in the parts of India I have been to. At the hotel, they served us hot chai and cooled air.
We hooked up with a private cab who would take us around Jaipur from morning to night for only 400 rupees, or less than 10 US dollars. After many trials with imposters and swindlers, we were ready for the cab fare to magically double or triple. As a precaution, we firmly stated before stepping foot in this man’s car that we would not, under any circumstances, pay any more than what we agreed on in the beginning. He honestly told us that he won’t charge anymore, and frankly told us that he will, however, make commission everywhere we go. We knew about commission, but we were not well-informed on the cut the cabbie got. We followed him hesitantly to his car, and off we went for a journey through Jaipur, a city full of historical wonders inspiring the fantasy of any imaginative soul, but also the city full of tourist traps, ready to suck you dry of any remaining trust you have in Indian street merchants.
You can feel the history in Jaipur. It only takes a minute in the cab before you are at the gates of the Pink City, that is old Jaipur. This part of the town is organized with the precision and genius of a master astronomer named Jai Singh II. Jai Singh II was not only the king of Amber (the former name of Jaipur), he was also an expert in mathematics, astronomy, and architecture. You can see it in the old city, which was meticulously planned and later, in 1853, was painted pink to welcome the Prince of Wales (who later become King Edward VII of the United Kingdom). He built astronomical instruments out of clay that had the measuring precision of the brass instruments created by Isaac Newton. Wow. Being unable to grasp the concepts behind his instruments, during my visit to his observatory near his City Palace, left me feeling dull-minded and imperceptive. I wondered if I spent everyday of my whole life studying astronomy and mathematics, would I ever get near his level of understanding? I’d love to see the world as transparently as he did.
After visiting city palace, Peggy and I went to Amber Fort and Dawn and Zoe went shopping at a tourist bazaar, where foreigners shop and Indian merchants get out their bag of tricks and show us what they’ve got in store in their repertoire. Let me try to explain these “tourist traps” in India. They pitch an extremely high price at first, expecting you, the tourist to haggle. Sometimes, they tell you that the price is set, which is not necessarily true. They say some phony things like, “you are not our customer, you are our guest” or “look, don’t buy”. If you are the half-witted bargainer, you take their words with a grain of salt and shoot for 10-25% off. If you are the full-witted tourist, you take their words with a pound of salt, and aim for the stars: 50-75% off. You do not look very interested in whatever you want to buy, even if you desire it with all your heart. If you convince them that you're no longer interested, they will reduce the price, but not by much. So you should tell them that you'll check other stores, which they will pretend to welcome. But as you are stepping out the door, they will stop you and get serious about compromising. This is when you have the upper hand. I'm convinced that you can take them as low as they are willing to go at this point, which I never do. Actually, I don't mind paying the "tourist price" for goods in India. Why? Because I'm a tourist, and given that I could afford a flight from America to India, the tourist price seems just about right. But, I am against being ripped off, and so I bargain until the price seems right to me, considering the income of each party in the transaction.
Amber Fort, a citadel built by the Kachhawa clan, members of the Rajput caste, blends Mughal and Hindu architecture. It looks like a building fit for gods, perched upon a mountain, lush and green during the monsoon season, with a river which runs by it for form and function. Peggy and I took a long walk through its twisting corridors, trying to find our way to the highest point allowed for visitors. We were stopped from getting to the very top, but were satisfied with the fort’s pleasant emptiness. There were many visitors, but the fort is huge. We didn’t get a tour guide so I don’t know much more about the place, but if you’re interested, then read about it on Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amber_Fort), then tell me about it.
A view of the Amber Fort garden from a window high up in the fortress
After visiting Amber Fort, we went to the Galta "Monkey" Temple, where we fed monkeys peanuts.
On my last day in Jaipur, I took a walk alone, an activity I particularly enjoy. When I’m alone, I easily occupy myself with thoughts, and, particularly when I’m walking, I tend to think very positively. On my walk, I found a small Hindu temple, I peaked my head in curiously to see whether I was welcome. I was, which filled me with delight and apparently generosity too. I bought 5 rupee flowers for 10 rupees and the flower seller politely refused my donation. It was very little, I was ready to give him more, and in review, I wish I had. I think that sometimes social conventions keep me from being as generous as I want to be. As a human, I felt some urge to not give 500% or 1000% tip even though my intellect found it to be perfectly okay, and sadly, as a human, I listened. Still, the principle of giving was met, and the flower man was smiling widely at my warm gesture. I loved that moment. That’s the story of my morning walk, socially confined altruism, and consequent good karma.
