Under the Banyan Tree

For any of those who were wondering why they haven’t actually seen me in any pictures, Deb took a couple of me on Saturday as we went walking around the grounds of the hotel and convention center. Here I am under a Banyan tree, you know, the one that the Buddha sat under to find his spiritual center. From the legend, he sat on one side at a time but when the world tipped he moved to another spot until he found his balance. Well, in the case of this particular Banyan tree, if I moved toward the camera, I would be likely to be hit by any number and types of vehicles. If I moved directly back, I would fall into the retaining pond that, from its effluence, told me that I would be in deep doo doo – literally. Off to the left of the photo, an Islamic school marching band was going through drills with all their parents all dressed in their white pajamas looked on. And so, where I was standing was the right place to be.
All righty then, I knew I forgot to tell you something special about our drive to the hotel from the airport the first night. Our driver, who was courteous and competent (great qualities for the job he was doing) asked us if we would like some music as we drove through the rain and gloom. Deb quickly spoke up, “that would be great, we’ll listen to whatever you like” (hoping that would keep him happy and focused on the obstacles ahead, which were many). Well, I know I was shocked when he turned on a station whose first song was a Muzak version of Brittany Spears’ “Oops, I did it again”. Now, this immediately created a flood of memories of the music the Gypsy violinist decided to play when I proposed to Deb in Budapest. He started playing “Somewhere over the rainbow”. I presumed it was the only American music he was familiar with, though I was anticipating a more traditional Hungarian or Romani tune. So you can appreciate my shock, once again, as we travel literally half way around the world to be introduced to the musical tastes of an indigent Hyderabadi -- and it’s a bad rendition of the Pop Tart’s banal second Top 40 hit.
It’s Saturday! Deb and I actually slept through the night, so, aside from it being “hotel, sweet home”, things must be synchronizing with our new time zone. We had a plan for today: exercise, lunch, and then go on a date. We had arranged for our driver, Ashraf, to pick us up and take us to the Cineplex in Banjara Hills, about 10 kilometers away. We had attempted to get an account from Cinemax to buy the tickets on-line, but the registration time was on IST (India Stretch Time) so that we didn’t have the password back before we had to leave. Our thinking: who in India would (1) be going to the cinema in the afternoon, and (2) what self-respecting Indian would prefer to watch an American action film with a fading lead actor when they could choose from about half a dozen Indian action films. Now, Bollywood has one of the largest studios in the world in Hyderabad. The set lots total several square miles and we’re planning a tour eventually. But I digress. “Knight and Day” was sold out. Fortunately our driver was still inching ahead to the parking deck as we started walking back trying to decide what we would do until he showed up. We caught him and after a quick stop at the Food World market, we drove back to the hotel, our date night thwarted.
What I REALLY wanted to talk about today is bum showers. No, this has nothing to do with some of the homeless guys in Penn Station attending to themselves in the NJT restrooms, though that is a story in itself. I’m referring to the personal hygiene regimen for which the Indians believe (1) they invented, and (2) is far superior to the Europeans (which includes the Western Hemisphere) using paper after toileting. Least you think I am suffering from heat stroke from our walk this morning, I offer the article that started our discussion. The editor is in a running argument with contributors, one from Japan, a country that also claims the invention, and a Pakistani who claims the invention was theirs after partition in 1947. The editor also says that the shower is a technological transfer of an ancient Indian practice for which he says was noted by such luminaries as Rudyard Kipling refer to in his writings for the benefit of a newbie coming to the Raj. I admit that I am firmly entrenched in the “European” camp, I have studied this alternative method, which is like a free-style bidet and I still am unclear as to the practical application as a Westerner. This may be one of the few items for which, even if adopted, I will probably not mention again.
I feel much more centered now. We’ll be getting up early tomorrow for our next adventure -- going to mass in the morning. We have a driver scheduled for 5:30am to go approximately 15 kilometers and be there for the 6am English mass. We’ll let you know how THAT goes.