A Single Volume Ramayana - And a Bit too Much Excitement

 You know, there are moments when I have to admit to a ever so slightly nerdy moments. Generally, I accuse many of my friends (for instance, Cyndi) of being much bigger nerds than me (well, Janet gets a pretty consistent accusation), but, maybe I may have an ever so insignificant, almost unmeasurably small, degree of nerd in me. No one should be so excited about the arrival of a thousand page version of the Ramayana. To be fair, I do love the Ramayana, but the arrival of a single volume is huge for my Epics project. I have been able to tie my research and writing to single editions of the Iliad (Robert Fitzgerald), the Aeneid (Robert Fagles), the Shahnameh (Dick Davis), and Journey to the West (Anthony Yu, although Yu's classic is four volumes - he did create his single volume The Monkey and the Monk, which I use every year). All of these are easy to track down and inexpensive to acquire. The outlier was always the Ramayana. There simply wasn't a single volume that featured the original text from the Indian poet Valmiki. There are several much shorter retellings, but I wanted my readers to experience the original text, and not a modern retelling. So, I tied my writing to Robert Goldman's massive Critical Edition, which is extraordinary, but something that would be hard to find unless you had access to a library at a research university. So, the arrival of The Ramayana of Valmiki: the Complete English Translation from Robert Goldman and Sally J. Sutherland Goldman is a godsend. I have my single, affordable edition that I can tie to my research (although lining things up to my original citations from the Critical Edition, and factoring in new translations, is a late challenge to my work) solves a big problem. Beyond everything else, I was simply way too excited to have the book arrive, and provide me yet another opportunity to delve into the Indian classic.

Robert Goldman, who is a major scholar but also a very nice guy, told me about the publication of the single volume Ramayana (which somehow I had missed). It's still a tome, obviously, but here it is next to the seven volume Critical Edition of the Ramayana from which it is culled. 

Bookmarks

 One of my (many) peculiarities is my willingness (joy) at using literally anything as a bookmark. Janet is much more likely to gather up free bookmarks at bookstores (like the motherlode we picked up yesterday afternoon at Bear Pond Bookstore in Montpelier), whereas I'll make use of just about anything; favorites would include: foreign currency, tickets to get into the Taj Mahal, plane tickets, etc. Yesterday I was putting a final gloss on my Ramayana chapter when the following restaurant receipt fell out of my copy of the Ayodhyakanda. I suppose, as I fast approach a major bookmark, that is my retirement, it would make sense that I found it oddly moving. An Indian epic definitely deserved an Indian receipt.

That's from the March 2020 trip to India, which will forever be known as the COVID trip, when the college irresponsibly sent us off on an international flight as the COVID pandemic was hitting (mainly because the administration wouldn't take my advice to cancel the trip and reimburse the money to the students; instead, they wanted me to cancel it, be the bad guy, and not give any money back).

The receipt was from late in the week, as we made our way back from Rajasthan to Delhi. I couldn't remember where we had stopped, although when I sent this picture to my friend and co-conspirator Steve, and he remembered the restaurant. The outside does look familiar.

Chinkara

 I don't know why I don't have a Label for Beasties or Random Nature Shit or something like that. It's not like I have taken some nice pictures - or are a part of - some nice pictures of various and sundry animals. Anyway, I never have, and it's too late to start now (he said, getting ready to create a new Label for Films in preparation for next year's project of recording every movie I watch). My excellent friend Ines sent me this picture out of the blue from the time when we went to India on a student trip (she also went on one of the Jordan trips). My response, "I remember him. He was very cute, but a mean little fucker with very sharp antlers." I also had to admit, that I knew he was in India but I didn't know where in India, which is definitely a comment on the inexplicably weird life I've led. In the end I sorted it out, with the help of my friend Kelly (not MK but KT), who was the other faculty member on the trip. It was the far north of India, and it was when we were running around either heading to or coming back from the tiger preserve. It's a chinkara, which is a little Indian gazelle.

And I found out it was a chinkara by typing "little Indian gazelle" into Google. They run amuck - and mess with old dudes - in India, Pakistan, and Iran.

The Inder Experience

 And another amazing friend: the near legendary Inder Singh. He may have begun as our as our contact at Tiger Paws Adventures (actually, he runs it, having taken over from his father) but over the years he's become so much more. Now, there's never a trip when he and I don't get into a fight about something - that's two pretty massive egos in one space - but we always hug it out (at least when we're not working around COVID). I suspect we'd be friends anyway, but we've gone through so many adventures - visa issues in Sri Lanka, travelling around India during a pandemic, sick students, elephants in heat - that our bond has been forged even stronger.  On last spring's trip we were finally invited to his house in Delhi, which was a tremendous treat.

Mohit, Inder, and Steve.

So many amazing pictures.

And the true treasures: his lovely wife and mother.

Posh Inder.

That classic Inder smile.

And the students, as always, loved him.

Holi Celebrant

 I shamelessly swiped this picture from my student Jessica Brinkerhoff (well, actually, I asked her permission and she graciously sent it along). We had recently become friends on Facebook (it's rare that I accept student friend requests, unless they've already graduated or are a veteran of one of my travel courses) and this popped up on her page. For some inexplicable reason I had never seen it before. There is a mythical picture of me sitting on the floor of a ferry in Zanzibar, happily asleep, with three little leaning against me, also sleeping, that I've never seen. People will talk about it, but it has never arrived. This one is not as famous as a "lost" Scudder picture, but my life would have been worse for not seeing it. We were in Agra at a Holi party held in someone's back yard (I've posted other pictures of it in a separate blog post). Here I'm being dog-piled by most students to make certain that I received my fair share of Holi color.

I'm having more fun than it might at first appear. I wrote about how the students just exploded with joy, like first graders on recess, at the Holi party, which is certainly a testament to the stress of travelling during a global pandemic. Believe me, I had fun as well.

Amber Fort Redux

 I know I've posted this picture before, but I cropped it to give it a better framing. It was taken at the Amber Fort on the last trip.

If not for the endless crush of tourists this would have been the best picture I ever took. Or, maybe having the jarring crash between the traditional, as much as anything is traditional, and the invasive actually makes it a better picture. Either way, I think I'm going to print it off and frame it.

Jai Hanuman

 Considering all the good luck that we had getting to India and back I guess it is necessary to give credit where credit is due: not me nor Steve nor even Inder; yes, Hanuman. Ever since the famous India/Sri Lanka passport misadventure Hanuman has always been the go to good luck source for Inder and I, and obviously Steve was happy to jump in and join our devotional fan club. On all of our trips the students quickly figure out that they are supposed to say Hamduillah after every success, no matter how small, including simply counting off in airports (they initially roll their eyes at it, but by the end of the trip some of them get quite emotional about it). However, while in India Jai Hanuman sneaks in as well. I guess this all popped into my mind recently because in my research I've been hopping back and forth between the Ramayana and Journey to the West, so Hanuman/Monkey are constantly in my thoughts.

I'm really cheating here because we never had the chance to go into this Hanuman temple in New Delhi, but maybe just driving by it a couple times gave us all the luck we needed.

A Year?

 Last Friday, 5 March, was, inexplicably, a year since we took off on our last student trip - and right as the world was ending. I remember 5 March, 2020 so clearly. We met at 8:00 a.m. as we always do, and, truthfully, I didn't see any way in hell that we were going on the trip. Mainly I used the class time to try and keep the spirits up before the official decision to cancel it. I had been in constant negotiations with students, parents, administrators, and my overseas contacts in the days leading up to that day - and there was nothing that led me to believe that we were going. Right after the meeting I had a meeting with our acting president and I assumed that was when the official no was coming down. In fact, it was my opinion that we should just go ahead and cancel it and give the students as much of their money back as possible (which, apparently, was not an option). Instead she asked if I could pull it off. I told her not to play to my vanity because of course I was sure I could pull it off, but even if I pulled it off that didn't mean the it was the right decision to go. So, as Champlain all too often does, the decision was dumped back in my lap, and so we decided to roll. Anyone who knows me know how much I love my students - and how, while claiming the opposite, I scrupulously plan everything in advance. It wasn't like we were winging it or taking any chances, but considering how little we knew about the pandemic at the time it was definitely stressful. By the time we got back on 15 March - having crossed the border from Canada into the US with eleven minutes to spare - the world had ended, and we never made it back to campus that semester.

Since that time my health has declined pretty dramatically, and right now it's difficult to imagine that I could run another trip - at least not like I'd like to run another trip. Well, I suppose that if this was my last trip it was a great crew to shut it all down. They were unfailingly upbeat and happy in the face of more stress than any group of young folks should have to deal with on an overseas adventure. It's funny to think that I ran ten trips, all of them different.

Pushkar Lake 2020

We visited the sacred Pushkar Lake on the recent trip to India. Once again it was an educational and moving experience for the students, and once again I ended up getting into an argument with the local brahman priests who were pressing us for heavy donations from the students.

Oh, and I'd forgotten that Pushkar Lake is mentioned in the Ramayana. I've been focusing on the Ramayana for my never-ending writing project on the epics and it brought back memories.

Charmed

Yes, you spend endless amounts of time planning your overseas trip with students, mainly focused on their safety, and you turn your back for one minute . . .

. . . that's exactly how long it took Wes to track down a snake charmer in New Delhi.

Amber Fort

On last year's trip to India we, unfortunately, only had the opportunity to see the Amber Fort in Jaipur from a distance, but we were so impressed that we were determined to right that wrong on this year's trip. Happily, we pulled it off, and it was an extraordinary experience. The only downside was that it was insanely packed, which seemed strange in an India falling into a global pandemic, but, hell, we were there. I snapped a couple pictures that would have been so wonderful, especially the one below of the woman in the saffron sari carrying the traditional broom behind her, which would have been so epic if not for the deluge of wanker tourists taking up space.

Yes, you could take a jeep up to the Amber Fort, although I don't know why you would.

The first, and largest, of the four courtyards.

You can just make out the massive walls on the far hills that provided the first line of defense.

The garden in the lake.

This should be the best picture I ever took . . .

So many lovely little odd corners.

A main area where you could meet the noble and state your case.

The Sheesh Mahal, or Hall of Mirrors.

My student Sara shamelessly photobombing my picture.

The hallway in the harem in the highest courtyard. Game of Thrones indeed . . .

Take That, Stupid Pandemic

I snapped this picture on the recent India trip. It was hanging on the wall outside of a great little restaurant where we ate one afternoon. It's a combination of peppers, a lemon and charcoal, designed to ward off the evil juju. My excellent friend Steve could speak much more eloquently about this than I could, obviously. The inclusion of charcoal was a new one, at least for me, but it seemed to be a common ingredient in similar spiritual devices across India.

I'm assuming that it's lingering potency is what kept us safe on the rather insane trip home.

Taj Mahal 2020 - Morning

As I'm wont to opine, I've led a strange life. From a person who didn't have a passport until I was forty-two, I've now reached the point where I'm one of those guys who has to answer questions with lines like, "No, I don't know how many times I've been to Jordan" or "It was on one of the times I walked through the siq at Petra, but I don't know which one" or "Truthfully, the best time to see the Taj is in the morning." Wow, what a wanker. Still, the best time to see the Taj is in the morning. On this recent trip to India, which was last month but now seems years ago as we work our way through the Great Isolation, I was fortunate to visit the Taj Mahal for, I think, the fifth time. However, I had never visited it in the early morning, although I had always wanted to do so. We rallied the students very early, which led to not too much grousing, and once they arrive they were wonderfully happy to be there. I envied them and in some ways pitied them, because it was the most beautiful I'd ever seen the Taj, but I also knew if they ever came back and managed to make if there midday they would not think it as beautiful. The light was ethereal and I don't think I took a bad picture, or could take a bad picture. The beauty was almost humbling.

A shot as we walked in. I've never seen the Taj in that light, and in that amount of detail. It's always beautiful, but definitely beautiful in different ways. Something about this time of day provided much more detail.

Turning back to see the entrance gate. You can just get a sense of the extraordinary sunrise.

Looking back towards the entry gate, about halfway out to the Taj itself.

Looking over a reflecting pond. I wish I could claim that I did something amazing with my camera to get those colors, but it was just my phone.

Another shot from the same spot. The light was otherworldly.

A picture I snapped of Mellissa, Jorja and Laney, which looks photoshopped.

A closer shot of the Taj, featuring a lovely reflection. I wonder how many trillion pictures have been taken of the Taj from this spot?

A view from the side of the Taj, taken from in front of the mosque.

I took a number of pictures from inside the mosque, looking out at the Taj itself. Every one of them was indescribably beautiful.

And another one. I'm not certain which one I'm going to print off.

Jess and Aaron from my traditional favorite angle for snapping pictures of the Taj Mahal.

Front row: Laney, Jorja, Chelsey, Jess, Brittany
Second row: Morgan, Mellissa, Chris, Ana
Back row: Steve, Aidan, Aaron, Wes, Blade, Sara, some old dude, Alex, Caitlyn