Max Goes To the Punjab.

Sikh pilgrims at the Golden Temple, Amritsar.

After Agra, Kara flew to Slovakia for two weeks due to a family emergency. This was the longest period of time Kara and Max had been apart for over a year. Kara told Max to go wherever Max wanted to and she would meet him somewhere on the subcontinent when she returned. He chose to visit Punjab state, in the Northwest of India. Punjab is home to the majority of India's Sikh community, a culture that was hitherto unknown to Max. All he knew before this sojourn was that Sikh's made very good samosas at the Punjabi Deli on Second Street and Avenue A in Manhattan.

Max had set up a couchsurfing host to stay with when he arrived in Amristar, Punjab state. His host Narinderjit Singh, was a wealthy and generous Sikh whose family had lived in Amritsar for over 400 years. Max was met at the railway station by the man's personal rickshaw driver who spirited him to the farm estate a half hour's drive outside of the city. Max was initially confused as the building he arrived at was clearly set up as a hotel, complete with numbered rooms and a staff who "checked him in." He feared that he was a victim of a couchsurfing scam, however it turns out that Narinderjit was a legitimate and zealous convert to the couchsurfing movement. He had previously converted his traditional family dwelling into a rural resort but decided to run it free of cost once he found out about couchsurfing. The staff is a Nepali family who runs the kitchen and charges only for meals. They clean and maintain the rooms in exchange for free rent. In this way, Narinderjit has created a self-sustaining hospitality complex, complete with pool, A.C., TV and horseback riding. Kara is jealous she missed out on this couchsurfing experience. Seen above is Narinderjit giving Max and other couchsurfing guests a taste of Punjabi sweets.

The first day after arriving, Max joined two other couchsurfers for a tour of the city. The first stop was Jallianwala Bagh, a park situated in the city. The park was the site of an infamous massacre of early independence protesters in 1919. Thousands of unarmed men, women, and children were shot down in cold blood by the British occupiers. The incident came to worldwide attention and is said to have inspired Mahatma Gandhi's lifelong commitment to non-violence protest.

A pyramid at Jallianwala Bagh offers a message of peace in Urdu, English, Punjabi, and Hindi-- all languages spoken in this state.

The Harmandir Sahib, or the Golden Temple. The Golden Temple is Amristar's main attraction and holiest site in the world for Sikhs. It is here that the religion's ten founding Gurus built their following and refined their new religious theology. The main temple is situated on the holy lake or Amritsaravar, from which the city derived its name. It is at this temple that the oldest holy texts from the Sikh religion are kept and visited every day by thousands of people.

Max stands in front of the temple on the marble causeway. Behind him, worshippers take a holy dip into the water. Max was chastised for being too relaxed during his holy cleansing because it appeared to the guards that he was swimming without proper respect to the holy water. Max meant no disrespect. After saying goodbye to Narinderjit, Max decided to stay at the temple for the night. Any pilgrim, regardless of race, religion, or sex can spend the night at the temple, free of cost. The temple also provides free food for all visitors to the temple if they are in need. The food is delicious and clean, and the accommodation is spacious and comfortable. Max used this time to read up on Sikhism and its history as well as speak with pilgrims from all over India.

Sikhism arose as a synthesis of Hinduism and Islam and emerged from hundreds of years of gestation with a distinct view of the universe. The architecture of the Golden Temple clearly involves elements of the architecture of both cultures and thought. Seen above are cusped arches and tile mosaics borrowed from Persian and Islamic architecture on the causeway. This causeway surrounds a temple on a holy lake, a layout also used in Hinduism. Max's experience at the Golden Temple was educational and enriching.

No trip to Amristar would be complete without a visit to the India/Pakistan border at Waga, approximately 40 kilometers from Amritsar. The daily border closing ceremony has become a sight of much pomp and circumstance necessitating bleachers for the hundreds of spectators on both sides. It is a circus of nationalism, yet in all the strutting and posturing in the end it is clearly for fun.

"You guys just watched the border being closed. It's closed now. You can not pass." Check out the ceremony on youtube. After 4 days in Amritsar, Max headed southeast towards Chandigarh, the capital of the Punjab and Haryana States.

Chandigarh: India's only planned city. Designed in the 1950s by French architect Le Corbusier, Chandigarh is an ode to the straight line that exists in stark contrast to the entire subcontinent. One of the richest cities in India, Chandigarh is also the first city in the country to go smoke-free and has banned polythene bags since last year. Max was shocked when he arrived to this clean, well-planned metropolis and marveled at how architecture and city planning can completely transform a community.

Chandigarh is laid out on a grid of 81 sectors. Each sector is designed to function as its own unit with shops, schools, parks, and living spaces. Within the sectors, the streets have a more organic and twisting pattern (to a point), typical to most Indian cities. This allows each sector to function somewhat like a small village with the broad gridded avenues providing swift and efficient transportation to other parts of the city. The one baffling thing about Chandigarh is that in all this planning, both locals and foreigners are constantly getting lost. The source of the confusion is an illogical numbering system, seen above. The sectors are numbered in a snaking pattern rather than from left to right.

Nek Chand's Rock Garden. A former Chandigarh department of transportation worker, Nek Chand, started building this rock garden from scrap pieces scavenged from work sites. He built thousands of figures out of tiles, bangles, pvc piping, wire pieces, etc. When the site was discovered, it was first slated for demolition as it was sitting on government property. However, it was well received by the general public and after gaining international recognition, Nek Chand was given grants and was allowed to expand his self-described "dream world."

Bangle people. These figures are made of fragments of plastic and glass bangles. They stare down at the visitor in intimidating rows.

Chandigarh. Where am I, Max asked. Walking through the sectors, Max felt like he was in suburban America. Then a cyclo-rickshaw would pass him with an image of Shiva painted on the back, and he remembered exactly where he was. Despite being fundamentally atypical to India, Chandigarh offered a fascinating lesson about both the power of architecture to change people's lives and the enduring nature of Indian culture which retains its essence even in a completely "alien" environment.

Kara and Max agreed to meet in the foothills of the Indian Himalaya and Max slowly wound his way there from Chandigarh. See you in the North.

-Maximilian and Kara

The Taj.

Agra. Home to the Taj Mahal, the most beautiful building in the world. Once the seat of the mighty Mughal empire, Agra is home to many ancient edifices. However all of these are powerfully overshadowed by Emperor Shah Jahan's monument to his favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal. This Mughal masterpiece was completed in 1653 after 21 years of exacting construction. Not wanting his perfect creation to ever be equalled, Shah Jahan had many artisans' hands chopped off to ensure their retirement. Though many Indians beamingly told us that the Taj was created for love, it appears to be a monument onto itself, glorifying the ingenuity and aesthetic achievement of humanity. To the Taj!

But first, we must go to the fort. Agra Fort is a massive defensive complex and palace just a few kilometers away from its more famous neighbor. For hundreds of years, it stood as both the symbol and physical assurance of the Mughal's domination of Northern India. Part of the red sandstone fort is still being used by the Indian military today.

Seen at right is the palace prison where Shah Jahan was interred after his son, Aurangzeb usurped his throne in 1657. His only solace was the distant view of his greatest creation and memorial of his love-- the Taj Mahal. It can not be said whether this was comfort or torment. The fort itself is quite spectacular however many tourists quickly run through it, looking for the best views of the Taj. The fort houses several mosques, a ladies' quarter comprising of over 1,000 underground apartments, and the houses of royal public and private audience.

Max stands in front of lattice windows expertly carved from single blocks of marble from the neighboring state of Rajasthan. Their beautifully designed patterns served not only as decoration but also as a solid veil, allowing women to walk throughout the fort without breaking the tradition of purdah. Both Muslim and Hindu women of this era lived under this purdah system whereby women were never to be seen by men. These windows allowed the ladies of the court to observe the goings-on of every day life without being seen themselves. Max does not like the purdah system but appreciates the craftsmanship.

Foreigner queue at the Taj ticket counter, 7 am. Foreigners pay 750 Indian rupees; Indians pay 40. This seems grossly unfair but such foreigner/Indian ticket price discrepancies are normal in this country.

Obligatory photo. The Taj is perfectly proportioned from the relations of the minarets to the domes down to the tiniest detail of marble inlay work.

Max loves the Taj more than any other building he has ever seen in his life. We spent about 5 hours here just marveling at its beauty. This was Kara's fourth trip to the Taj but she still loves it. She likes to believe it was made for love. Max hopes he will be able to see it as many times and more in his lifetime.

Inside the mausoleum. The tombs of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal are buried underneath this floor and can not be viewed by the general public, however their cenotaphs are situated in the center of the main dome. Here Kara gazes through the lattice work in an outer corridor.

Two other structures, monumental buildings in their own rite flank the Taj Mahal to the East and West. Although identical down to the last detail, a mosque must face Mecca, therefore the one to the East is only for decorative purposes. Seen above is the real mosque.

Though the mosque does not function as a place of daily worship any longer, it is still revered as a holy place and you must remove your shoes before entering. Tourists are allotted small cotton booties to place over their feet or shoes during their time at the Taj in order to protect the marble flooring.

Max sits inside the fake mosque and gazes reverently at his new love. "I just love symmetry so much," he says. Max remarked that it seems sacrilegious to place a temple to God next to a far superior building dedicated to a mortal being. Being an atheist, he was not offended and would like to reiterate that he loves the Taj Mahal so much.

Words can not describe its beauty. Go there.
Kara and Max

The City So Nice They Named It Thrice.

Kashi, the city of lights. Also known as Banaras, and most recently Varanasi. This unassuming city on the banks of the holy Ganges River (referred to as the Ganga or Ganga Ji in India,) is one of the oldest cities in the world and commonly accepted as the holiest city for Hindus. Hindus from all over the world come to the Ganga by the millions each year to worship the river and receive its blessing in return. Hindus believe that if you are cremated in Banaras on the banks of the Ganga, you achieve instant "Moksha," or liberation from the cycle of death and rebirth (reincarnation.) Various priests and sects offer different explanations for Kashi's holiness and its story of origin, but all agree that is the holiest of holies and the city of Shiva, the god of destruction in the Hindu pantheon. From a historical perspective, Banaras first appeared as an Aryan city around 3,000 years ago. Situated at the intersection between the Ganga and the ancient roadway connecting Kolkata to Lahore, it quickly grew as a trade center as well as a spiritual one. It was here that the Vedas- the ancient texts of the Aryans-were eventually crystallized into modern day Hinduism. Despite its ancient origins, little of Kashi's original architecture has survived. Sacked numerous times by Mughal emperors and fought over as a prize by waring Hindu kings, one by one the ancient temples and dwellings were raised to the ground before being rebuilt. Even with these "new buildings" many of Kashi's temples are hundreds of years old. The winding narrow alleyways and rustic architecture still creates a romantic vision of what Banaras would have been thousands of years ago. Despite being holy, it is also one of the dirtiest cities in India. Waste of all types cover the entire surface of the sacred geography and seep their way into the holy water sources. Contrary to the American notion that a holy place should not be dirty, many Hindus believe that a holy place can not be dirty.

Early risers come to bathe in the holy Ganga Ji. Residents of the city have the honor of bathing in the holy water every morning and are considered very lucky to have been reborn here. The mood ranges from pious submersion to playful splashing to pragmatic bathing, complete with soap and shampoo.

Holy Cow! Literally. All cows in India are considered sacred, and the ones residing in Banaras are no exception. They wander the streets and their tiny alleyways, many times creating traffic jams for pedestrians and motorscooters. We quickly learned to respect and fear the cow after one headbutted Max in the chest. Normally they are docile, however Max was wearing a loud red shirt, which really turns them on. The cows also create a lot of cow dung which is ubiquitous on all city streets. So much so that sometimes you must only look down to make sure you don't step in shit. (Which also is considered lucky.) Although they are sacred, many of them are abandoned by their owners and left to the will of the people. In a country where many people can barely afford to feed themselves, it is not uncommon to see the cows foraging in trash piles. Many households who keep a charity jar for the homeless and the temple also set aside money for "poor cows."

Cow dung patties. These are used for insulating houses, making offerings, and probably a lot of other things we aren't aware of. They must be pretty useful as fresh, handmade patties are prepared daily.

Serious waste problem. Most Hindus believe that the Ganga is so holy that it can not be polluted, spiritually or physically. Many believe that the water has the ability to clean itself. Even scientifically minded "modern" Hindus have told us that Ganga water is the only water in the world that will never putrefy. Unfortunately this is not true, as the Ganga is now one of the most polluted waters in the world by any measurement. E-Coli and other common bacteria are rampant and many times the levels of other bodies of water. Though there have been recent internationally supported clean up efforts, they come up against formidable obstacles of faith, lack of infrastructure, and the exponentially increasing number of cheap plastic goods and wrappings that make their way to the banks each day.

Our first day on the ghats. A ghat is a series of steps that lead to a holy body of water. In Varanasi, the ghats line the entire length of the holy city forming a sweeping crescent. Each ghat has a specific temple, shrine, or purpose. We stayed on Assi Ghat, the last ghat in Kashi's holy geography. This allowed us to observe the length of the city every day, observing pilgrims, cremations, and religious offerings in a walking meditation.

Flowers, coconuts, and powdered dye, simply called color, can be bought from many offering-wallas throughout the city.

Ghee candles set in rose pedals on a banana leaf dish. These offerings are lit and set afloat the water. The act both blesses the water and the pilgrim. Every day Kara was propositioned by one particular lady selling these offerings at the evening arthi (to be explained later.) Kara promised to buy one on the last day we were in Banaras. Their daily exchange grew into a friendship and we came to expect her big smile every night.

Here a young boy sets a ghee candle onto the Ganga.

The evening arthi. Every day at dawn and post-sunset, Brahmin priests come to this stage to bless the holy water and make offerings to Shiva, the mythological founder of the city. Hundreds of pilgrims, tourists, and local worshipers throng to this main ghat- Dasaswamedh- to observe and participate in this holiest of blessings. For the 11 days we stayed in Kashi, we went every night. It was a beautiful ritual that drew us in every evening, regardless of our spiritual and religious beliefs. Many people told us that we were very lucky to have seen the arthi once, let alone so many times. Millions of pilgrims travel thousands of kilometers to see this rite performed only once in their lives. Filled with music, bell ringing, rose scattering, and conch-blowing, the evening arthi is one of the most mystical and powerful experiences to be had in Banaras. Max's favorite part of the ritual is the fire offering: A chalice of ghee is set alight and a Brahmin priest offers it to the Ganga Ji in a rhythmic circular dance.

Here a Brahmin priest, who turned out to be the husband of Kara's flower selling friend mentioned above, uses incense sticks to bless the water and the crowd. Later that night we joined them for a meal at their house. Our friend was both impressed and delighted that we were so interested in the arthi and her family's livelihood.

Kara in our hotel in her improvised salwaar suit.

Kara taking pictures in an ancient alleyway.

We happened to arrive in Banaras during the month long Shiva festival. We wondered how the Shiva festival was any different than a normal month in Varanasi as the whole city is dedicated to Shiva himself. Here, hundreds of pilgrims wait in a queue for their chance to view the god image (a process called darshan,) at Kashi Vishwanath--more commonly referred to as the Golden Temple.

Snake charmers on the ghats. During the Shiva festival there is a special day dedicated to snakes and the charmers were out in full force. Yes, these are real cobras.

Walking up to a Shiva temple. This temple is particularly holy for South Indians and holds some of the oldest god images in the city.

Max gets a shave and a haircut on the ghats.

Inside a temple. Shiva's mount- the bull, presides over the meeting of Brahmin priests.

Sidenote, Varanasi is just 8 kilometers from one of the most important places in all of Buddhism-Sarnath. We took a break from our daily routine of yoga, Shiva worshipping, and arthi-watching to check out the site where the Buddha gave his first sermon. The Buddhist emperor Ashoka built a huge stupa and a monastery here in Deer Park in 250 B.C. In the foreground are the ruins of the monastery and behind it, one of the oldest stupas in the world. It was overwhelming to visit the site of such a world historic event.

Back in Banaras, Kara gets mahendi (henna). The owner of the restaurant that we frequented near Dasaswamedh insisted that Kara come to his house so that his wife could decorate her hands and arms in traditional celebratory Indian designs.

Many young pilgrims wanted to take pictures with Max. Hand-holding between members of the same-sex is very common in India and all of South Asia... even amongst strangers.

Temple on the water.

Kara and Max separated for maybe 5 minutes one morning after yoga. When Kara returned to the spot they were supposed to meet, she was called over by a young man saying, "your friend, he is here!" Convinced that it was another tout trying to sell her something she adamantly stayed put in her spot until a group of men beckoned her over, explaining that her bearded friend was getting a massage. Max's masseur had shook his hand in introduction and started massaging it instantly. Max was powerless to resist and soon found himself being massaged by not one, but two men on a wooden platform being observed by a group of 20 men.

Walking to a tirtha, or holy pool.

Max and Kara have a linga blessed by a Brahmin priest on Dasaswamedh Ghat. That's all there is to say about that.

Varanasi. Kashi. Banaras. There is so much about this city that can not fit into a single blog entry, or even be explained by words. Coming here gave us a window into the labyrinthine nature of Hindu theology and culture. After visiting this place three times, Kara can now accurately say that Banaras is the weirdest and most interesting place she has ever been. Max thinks that Kashi is like quantum physics: if you think you understand it perfectly, you don't.

In light,

Kara and Max.