My friend, a man, a brother and much more - Happy Birthday

This friend is different

No story told of me will ever be complete without including him. Any life story without friends is a story that has not even begun.

Then amongst friends there is one; different, separate, unusual – holding a place that words have yet to be found to describe, it is more than sight, more than hearing, it is of hearts that people wonder why and can never understand.

It is not for others to understand, but it is for us to cherish and for me to celebrate, honour and declare – my secrets; he knows, my fears; he shares, he stands tall amongst all men and with him we know we have each other’s ears and minds.

Nature would not have allowed him to be my big-brother, by happenstance he could have been my half-brother, by the wonders of science today, maybe even my twin-brother but any which way he sticks closer than a brother in a covenant of a life of shared and varied experiences.

Adventurous at heart, daring at times that I am just blown away, caring that even with the distance his voice is like a hug in times when one is needed – and those times have been many over a period of almost 28 years.

Today marks another milestone, another one of my birthday card blogs to those who matter too much to me to ever be silent about it.

Once again – Happy Birthday, my dearest friend – may wonderful amazing things fill your days with beauty that makes you gasp, freshness that makes you smile and a naughty tickling that makes you laugh that your ribs almost ache. You are loved beyond what I can dare to express.

Happy Birthday and many happy returns.

Thought Picnic: Gentle on my mind

Adjustments

It has been a week since I returned from India in what for me has been a life-changing experience. In that week, much has happened some of which is interestingly significant because managing my health is critical to my survival.

I cannot tell if it was the weather, the change of diet, the ground to the issues and problems I left behind or other things that meant that I have had to fight off severe diarrhoea again with the popping of Imodium pills, then a cold accompanied with cough that had a German pharmacist prescribing a diurnal and nocturnal expectorant strictly advising me not to confuse the two.

However, I have never followed the prescriptions for expectorants as I have done for other kinds of medication, the nocturnal one even came with a precision measuring syringe but true to form after the first act of conformance, it was the bottle to the lips and a gulp for accuracy.

Hamburg

Yes, indeed, the return from India required a short break, one that I planned by the time I was 10 days into my sojourn and it was to Hamburg.

Before my loyalty points lapsed for my Carlson card, I posted the points towards a stay on the 23^rd floor of the Radisson Blu Hotel and found that my outward journey had to be done by train because the weather was just too bad to put a small plane in the air.

I was last in Hamburg some 9 years ago and though it was winter it still had all the excitement and not so decent sides of a sea-port city, it is the 3^rd largest port in Europe after Rotterdam and Antwerp.

Life ahead

There are other things to do too, tests to pass before the month runs out means a lot of study, my apartment is on the market as a result of fundamental changes that followed long-term sickness and well I need to repackage myself for the market being more confident of using the new knowledge I have gained and being able to leverage the wealth of my experience once again.

Usually, I do not leave it this long to write blogs and there is at least a blog or two to write to sum up my Incredible India experience. Besides, the old home of my blog at http://akin.blog-city.com has now closed after 8 years, it is sad to see that era end but the guys at Blog-City got bored with that venture and it probably is a good lesson about going for the established over the small startup.

In all, here’s to new beginnings, 2012, here we come. As haunting as this song has always been since I played it on my father’s stereo system in the 1970’s, it is still one that remains etched in memory and of all the covers, the one by Dean Martin is most remembered – Gentle on my mind – the things of life, the past, the present and the future, written by John Hartford it is all summed up in this line, “That keeps you in the back roads, by the rivers of my mem'ry, that keeps you ever gentle on my mind.”

Back roads, rivers, memory and mind – to reminisce, to meditate, to conquer all.

Thought Picnic: Seeking other travel companions

So not I

I cannot say where he came from but I immediately took a dislike to him. There was much to dislike like poking me so he could get through to use the toilet like his bladder was weak, the word please had not visited his vocabulary, if ever.

I did not touch the vegetarian dish I was offered, I had had enough from a month in India, he was soon pointing a finger expectantly at it, presciently I thought he eventually would so I obliged.

I could only remember Janis Joplin's song and sing my own lyrics, O Lord, don't ever let me travel coach class again - the next line will however not be written yet.

Am I to endure another 5 hours of this?

Lord have mercy.

So strange me

Then he gave me an apple, literally thrust it at me, I could not refuse even with my remonstration that I took it.

Taking apples from strangers forced together by the improbability of aircraft seating plans is just not safe for all sorts of reasons.

With my thinking in overdrive after the second bite I was in bulimia extremis as I mustered all emetic strength I never knew I had to put whatever I had bitten of the apple in the embrace of blue ice.

It soon dawned on me the accident of fate that put a Spaniard and an Englishman together, the barrier of language exacerbated by the lack of social graces of the former.

So naughty us

Dear Lord help my lack of humility and forgive the snobbishness that so easily befalls me.

A vegetarian Spaniard? Wonders shall never cease, at which point, nothing more can shock me, maybe I have spoken to soon, we are 8 hours into the flight by Indian time.

Aren't we there yet? Says the little boy in me.

There are better ways to travel than this, I know.

Ah! The captain speaks, Paris in 25 minutes, hoping to land at 5:50AM.

I was asked to fill in a survey, like the receptionist at the training centre in India opined when I was filling in that amateur final feedback form they offered me - it is my favourite hobby.

Well, ask for my opinion and you will get an honest and frank expression of views; surely, that is what they want. I hope so.

Come think of it; are the couples on the plane in Paris for a romantic holiday?

I hear the sound of landing gear being deployed, so there.

Incredible India: No task like a job

How many men do it take …?

I think I have to conclude, it is an Indian thing, passing through customs was a breeze of handlers. In fact, my passport was first touched at the entrance to the terminal and that was two checkers just 3 metres apart to ascertain the first had not been derelict in his duty of observance.

Then I am approached at ask was flight I would be on, that was by a lady, she gave me a form to fill in – yes, we have to fill in a departure form that includes the address of where we stayed in India amongst other unnecessary bureaucratic information.

Then I checked in my baggage with the privilege accorded a frequent flyer to add one more, airline loyalty and airmiles accumulation does pay. I paid for my return trip to India with my airmiles and got to travel in style too. Two men at check-in, though in this case, one did help with my baggage.

Form filling is form

After filling in the form and cabin luggage tags, one was issued for my cane but there was no way of attaching it to my cane, I did not bother; I gave my passport, boarding pass and departure form to the immigration officer who squinted and bent my passport every which way, took advice off his colleague then passed it through the electronic verification system before stamping it and handing it back.

Then I was at security where everything was put in trays and I was handed identifiers for the trays going through the X-ray system, at the point my boarding pass was checked and stamped, and that was a lady at work. When my goods eventually emerged from the X-ray system, eventually, because they chose to change positions after I stepped through the metal detector, the identifiers were matched and once again my boarding pass was stamped – another lady at work.

I had to smile as I watched the lady try to attach a hand baggage tag to my cane, a really stupid exercise that someone by law had to do – Shaking my head, vigorously.

All busy very slowly

I am surprised at my somewhat apt observation from when I arrived in India that there was indeed a man per task rather than a person doing a job that consists of tasks – this supposed division of labour keeps everyone busy and props up a bureaucratic system that is unwieldy at best.

Just when I thought I have seen the last of checks before the boarding gate was another man checking if my hand luggage had the correct tagging as well as ensuring I had a boarding pass – as if everyone else was sleeping on duty.

I suppose everyone is busy doing something in India, to what end escapes me apart from it keeping unemployment figures low, not helping people assume responsibility or take initiative and worst of all, it means very few will know how to multitask because it takes that to do a job and do it well.

Incredible India - Homeward Bound

Daring and going

The hour has come and the quest to rescue my professional clout is in full swing as I look into 2012 and see the opportunity to leave the long tail of cancer behind and assume the exciting journey of being the best I can be in endeavour I undertake.

It was a bold and daring decision to launch out from the comfort of Europe to the uncharted by own standards land of India. I choice I so resolutely made and executed within a month of its conception and it has resulted in a month of intensive course, new knowledge and unforgettable life experiences.

I observe and write

Indeed, I took the opportunity to compare and contrast the differences between what I already knew and what I was observing be it on the streets of New Delhi, on my travels to Agra and even at the Koenig Solutions the outfit that provided my training.

Maybe I was difficult, maybe I was pernickety, even facetious and quite pedantic but being frank and honest is a worthy standard to aspire to.

And so after a month in India, I leave with memories, new friendships, ideas and goals. A desire to return, a wanting to explore and yearning to appreciate the larger expanse of Asia at a later date.

Gratitude and thanks

We are close to the completion of the intended goals and ready to meet the new challenges stoically and boldly with the assurance that nothing is beyond the realm of dreams and what can be dreamt is conceptually within grasp.

It has been Incredible India for me and a chapter is written already about my sometimes ordinary and sometimes incredible life, I am thankful despite other misgivings to the staff at Koenig Inn (Mahendra and Rakesh get special mention) and my trainers Karteek Parsad and Sonam Gupta (Sorry, that is just the way things are, I write and whatever concerns me gets written about.)

I hope they all do well and prosper as they have in their little and large ways help me in my quest.

Bye for now, Incredible India.

Incredible India: India Gate

Halting and hobbling

After visiting the Bahá’í Lotus Temple, I had planned to visit India Gate, an imposing structure very much like the Arc de Triomphe in Paris and this meant getting off at the northern terminus of the Violet Line that intersects with the Yellow Line at Central Secretariat metro station.

Unlike on my way to the Lotus Temple no one offered their seat to me, I was suffering quite a bit after my walks and much as I had not needed my cane for the last few months in the Netherlands, I did have it with me in India and found that I needed it more than I realised I would.

This month has been sedentary at best, in the Netherlands I would have been on my bicycle, the riding helped a lot as physiotherapy, not much so here even with the just usable gym downstairs.

Wide and ceremonial

From the signposting within the metro I came out at Gate 3 and then realised India Gate was not going to be a brisk walk for I got on a tuk-tuk having negotiated tourist prices with the driver.

Left and then left turn, I could see India Gate looking deceptively close but probably a good 2 kilometres away. The lawns on both sides of this really wide road had been cordoned off with seats being installed in readiness for some parade which I suspect is the Indian Republic Day on the 26^th of January.

I suppose they had to start this early for all sorts of reasons that I will refrain from generalisation and supposition.

No snaps, no thank you

Just before the major road in front of the gate, I got off and for the first time I saw a pedestrian crossing with traffic lights and push-button call signal. Though I also noticed I was the only one who thought it sensible to cross there – Indians basically jay-walk with a sense of bravado that borders on the suicidal.

As I got to the gate, I ran the gauntlet of photographers, in all maybe 20 approached me and I was not their typical tourists, those that were not in my face, I ignored completely and those who dared to be bolder got a sharp and stern rebuke that they almost scurried away like frightened squirrels.

What I found most fascinating was the Taj Mahal pose which had been brought to India Gate as a novelty. The one where photographically you appeared to be touching the tip of the Taj Mahal just did not look as exciting if it was the flat-topped India Gate – I was having none of it and I was not being a killjoy, just unimpressed.

To the fallen

India Gate built in 1931 during the colonial times to honour and memorialise the war dead is now the national monument and the Indian Army’s tomb to the Unknown Soldier.

The walls of the gate are engraved with names of the fallen and a flame burns under the canopy. The expansive grounds around the gate are public areas where people gather for picnics, games and other activities.

Everything on sale there was going for prices I was not willing to pay to the many that were there to exploit for opportunity and occasion. After circumnavigating the gate, I decided to have a late lunch at Connaught Place – I got on the metro in the wrong direction then changed, had a meal and returned to crash out until I was woken up at midnight by the fireworks and celebrations ushering in the New Year.

Incredible India: Bahá'í, the faith and the Lotus Temple

Intrepid and foolish

My first day after the torture of lecture I thought I’ll be the intrepid tourist seeking out the tourist attractions of New Delhi rather than hiring a cab to take me around for the day.

Sometimes I forget that I get disorientated quite easily that my sense of bearing might be lost when I think I am charting a course somewhere.

On agenda was the Bahá’í Lotus Temple and the India Gate, they were as far apart as you could have them in the large expanse of New Delhi but I was confident I will make it.

After 2 changes of the metro I was just about 8 stops from where to get off on the Violet Line; I wondered about that choice of colour but having used Red, Yellow, Blue, Blue, Green maybe Brown would have been an option and Black was out of the question. I had been advised to get off at Nehru Place but the Lonely Planet guide suggested Kalkaji Mandir – I stayed on the metro to Kalkaji Mandir and caught my first glimpse of the temple before I got there, it looked close enough.

Going everywhere but there

However, getting out of the station was a maze that by the time I was out, I had made it into the compound of a Hindu temple before I realised I was off course. I risked the ire of a religious mob too because I could not count the number of leather items I had on my person – belt, phone case, camera pouch, wallet, shoes, bag – everything short of a leather thong.

Turning around, I made for the main road and saw my first pedestrian bridge in New Delhi, built in such a way as to discourage usage; the riser was looking from the side a zig-zag of close to 500m probably to aid wheelchair users and there was a staircase opposite the riser but getting there meant jostling with busy traffic.

On crossing, I came upon serious a National Geographic type enclave or slum as I risk political incorrectness, but I had already realised that the road to great monuments was not paved with finesse at least that much I saw in Agra.

Another Hindu temple but no Bahá’í temple, I was at the point of giving up having walked up and down the road to no avail and really decided on returning to the station.

No gate in sight

As I approached the station, I caught a glimpse of the temple and a smile crossed my face, wiping away the despair that had clouded my countenance as I chided myself for being too adventurous for my own good.

The temple was imposing but there were no directions to the entrance, not from the station where they had put up an advertisement and synopsis of the Lotus Temple or from the roads around the temple.

From the fence, it appeared you could gain entry from a field behind the temple, that ended up in a perimeter walk of the fence around the temple grounds through places the wiser would have done well to retreat from, I did not retreat until I got round to where the gate was.

Learning and viewing

I have gotten used to the security rigmarole; we all have to walk through metal detectors, be frisked and have our bags X-rayed and checked, even at the temple of universal peace.

Not knowing much about the Bahá’í faith, I made for the information centre, walked through the exhibition and sat to watch the 21-minute introduction to Bahá’í which was quite enlightening.

I could not help but think that the premise of Bahá’í was ambitious in that it from my own thinking had found the superfluity of sophistry to suggest that it is the culmination of every revelatory religion allowing for difference by assimilation.

The teachings appear humanist though the monotheistic theme directs the sense of devotion, I could relate to the core elements of the recognition of humankind and the service of religion to humanity which many of the established religions are losing in the quest to fulfil creed and tenet at the expense of the people.

Not my opiate

However, I could not connect with the supposed spirituality of the message, in all, within the supposed difference most religions still to the same narrative – leaders rising out of obscurity with a message for the day, gathering a following, upsetting the political order, earning persecution and either being martyred or dying.

Each person is persuaded of their convictions and as Karl Marx once said, in German, “Religion is the opium of the people.” Opium is a drug – a painkiller, a sedative, a narcotic, a stiller, a dream-inducer that can separate people from reality into fantasy, it offers the succour of numbness in the presence of pain and suffering – Religion does in many cases opiate, on my way to the Lotus Temple, there was a queue almost a kilometre long of people mostly unshod and certainly well-dressed trying at access a Hindu temple – Go figure!

Not another burning bush

After the exhibition, I walked towards the Lotus Temple and there realised we had to bag our shoes to walk the hallowed confines of this amazing architectural edifice that they say draws more visitors than the Taj Mahal.

I thought the Taj Mahal was awesome even though it is a mausoleum, but I was not ready for another “burning-bush” experience of walking unshod when my own religion does not make that a requirement of others. There might be a conservation concept behind this but it has not been suggested.

The deification of humongous premises as the incumbency of the holiest interactions in my view belongs to centuries past, the matter of devotion is purposefully of the heart, if it still beats to some rhythm; that we are gathered together for the purpose of worship does not change the building into the throne of deity but that is just an opinion – I passed on the opportunity and clicked away with my camera from afar.

Not!

Now that the Bahá’í have ensconced themselves in sprawling landscapes in Israel and have erected amazing architectural beauties on all continents, they probably have a claim to some legitimacy but they did not come close to when King Agrippa said to Apostle Paul, “Almost thou persuadest me ...” I am neither convinced nor persuaded but impressed, yes, impressed, indeed.

Then I was off to the India Gate.