New Delhi, Part One

Soon after my arrival in New Delhi, I met the entire cast of characters with whom I would be engaging with in these next days: Massiji, Vinay's aunt, who kindly showed me her bengali cotton saris, and her daughters, Minima (to
represent the minimum number of children to have) and Maxima (to represent the maximum number to children to have). Minima I met later, she brought her children to stay for a few days. She talked with me about her beliefs in child rearing: she believes (as do many Indian women I've spoken to) that parents place too much pressure on their children to succeed academically. Because of that, she is not forcing English instruction upon her daughter, who is around 3. She will allow her daughter to receive the instruction at school. Not that her sentiments matched
her actions: if the three of us were interacting, Mom began speaking to her in English and asking that she try to use English. One morning the I took the daughter to the playground: we communicated with my elementary Punjabi/Hindi, and her elementary English. At the end of the play date, I had valuable practice with my vocabulary, but the girl had learned and used many more English words. Maxima is the independent high-achiever of the family, somehow striking a balance between functioning within the tightly-knit, interdependent Indian family, and leading
an separate life with her husband, her friends, and her work, in Mumbai. She speaks genuinely, without formal airs, so I felt more sure-footed in conversation with her, her meanings were not tied up in too many of the silent Indian cultural codes. Didi and Vinay considered her a life-boat, especially in the early days, when they did have to navigate all of those rules, dishonesties, religious encroachments, and more traditional ways of thinking with the rest of Vinay's, then later, with Didi's family. Minku, Vinay's brother, and a student in accounting, met us at the Baha'i Temple and remained with us until the following evening.


I was first introduced to Vinay's parents, his sister-n-law, Poonam, her daughter, Sonu, a shy, sweet 10 year old, and Sona, Vinay's sister, who had a little more pluck to her personality, an artist's temperament, and a good sense of humor. We had a very tasty lunch. Most of the conversation occured between Didi, Vinay, Sona, and I, with some warmth from Vinay's mother, who continued to bring in tasty dishes, especially fried eggplant, or brinjal, which tasted somewhat of a cross between a french fry and a seasoned potato chip, but they were a lighter snack, being less starchy than potatoes.

I had expected to eat a very bland diet of bread and jam to avoid the dreaded Delhi-belly. But, after seeing and smelling the delicious Bengali food Vinay's family prepared, I chucked that plan. Well, I revised it: I ate the bland stuff if we ate out: I ate noodles and french fries at an outdoor Japanese steakhouse called Bonsai. But if the food was cooked in the home, I ate it. Rice, fried eggplant, fish, dal, aloo, flavored with the usual Indian spices, but also with kalonji, and mustard oil. Coconut ladoos (we usually eat lentil-made ladoos) were my favorite dessert.


Formality and politeness characterized the social exchanges at Vinay's parents' house. After lunch, Didi and I walked along a road of tall, block-long concrete condos/flats, turned at the corner, walked in the street under trees which were crawling with white tree bugs which fascinated me in a repulsive sense, like when I watch moving snakes. Didi urged me to keep moving, all the while filling me in on the rich history of Vinay's family, the history that takes years of learn.....I had to take it all in as rapidly as possible before we reached Vinay's aunt's house, for while the topics were not taboo in the family, the history is taken seriously; it is very personal, delicate, therefore, fairly, the members should feel comfortable enough with me to share it on their own...but that was impossible with the few days I was to spend with them. Instead, Didi helped me to 'cheat', something she has done many times before, allowing me to circumnavigate all the visits, the imprecision due to the language barrier, and stumbling over social rules that I know little of. Without slowing our pace, we ended my history lesson as we entered Massiji's house. Here, Didi and Vinay talked more freely with Massiji. Vinay encouraged us to sit in his favorite room as a child: a small, square,screened in porch just off one of the living rooms. Sitting there, we felt mild breezes
from outside, in addition to air from the ceiling fan. It did have that cozy feel, perfect for spending time chatting with good friends, and a long seat which bordered one side made a comfy nook for reading. Plus, since the room sat at the edge of the house, far away from the kitchen, TV room, and washing machine, it seemed very peaceful and quiet, the kind of room teachers try to get their students to create so they can study without distractions.

We were sitting here when I met Maxima, rushing back from a visit with her in-laws, a little flustered from living her ambitions: to be a host of New Delhi to Vinay and Didi, a doting daughter-in-law to her husband's parents, reconnecting with her New Delhi friends, and being present as an aunt, sister, and a daughter at home. Still, her voice carried a warmth, and a confidence, perhaps, that although so many events are taking place, things will fall together. This assuredness made the anxiety in her voice just a tiny layer which came through sometimes when she gently asked for a little time to collect herself. While she took a shower, I took a nap, my mind grateful for a little rest from going within a new family.

Our first excursion: the Baha'i Temple. I sat in the front seat for the first time, and Maxima drove. Didi and Vinay sat in the back.

Didi said, "Maxima is such a fantastic driver in Indian traffic. She is amazing!"

Indeed, Maxima handled New Delhi driving the with the deftness I hope I have driving at home. However, Maxima truly impressed me with her driving prowess at the
very end of the evening, when she backed her car into the parking spot, within in an inch of the concrete wall, without needing any assistance from us.

Maxima knew where the Baha'i Temple was, but the lack of signs, the one-way roads, and the roundabouts kept us driving in circles and asking directions until we eventually pulled up next to a large green lawn with symmetrical landscaping, small trees, green shrubs clipped to a rounded shape, and rectangular plots of colorful flowers, all forming a straight-edge border to the brick footpaths. From here, I could look over a long distance of greenery, something I can only do during train rides, otherwise the rest of the landscape is urbanized. The Lotus Temple sat, enormous against the horizon, like a huge white, blooming lily pad on a natural section of flat, light green, arid land.

The Baha'i religion is fairly new, and my first impression, upon hearing the speech the temple guides gave us in very polite, smooth English, was that this was a progressive religion, one that welcomes all faiths, to meditate in their temple. Inside the silent temple, surrounded by ivory marble, I indeed felt very calm and peaceful. Didi was more restless, taking me to see inscriptions tucked away in the many corner nooks. One of the inscriptions emphasized the importance of believing in God. Many others made little sense to me. I began to get the sense that there was more to the Baha'i faith than a secular practicality for a peaceful community.
This message communications this combination of secular values with supernatural acknowledgment: "The religion of God is for love and unity, make it not the cause of enmity and dissension."

I found a strong inital statement of dedication to the secular on their website (www.bahaindia.org)

The Baha'i believe in the removal of prejudice by caste, creed, religion, sex, color, race, and language via universal education and the use of the scientific method in our thinking. A true religion conforms to reason, not to the old
standards of superstition, rituals, and dogmas.

To a secular humanist like me, this sounds almost too good to be true!

And it is.

Another piece of Holy writing, found further in the website:

The divine prophets came to establish the unity of the kingdom in their hearts. All of them proclaimed the glad tidings of the divine bestowals to the world of mankind.

Divine. Not of this world. Supernatural. The word divine contradicts the positive secular focus of the religion. Why do we have such a hard time trusting someone here on this imperfect world to have a good idea without divine intervention?? Is our world really so deceitful that we must ascribe altruistic, pure intents to something that could never exist on this planet?

Sure enough, The Baha'i was conceived by a young Persian man, called, "The Bab,
meaning, "gate." He announced the appearance of the Messenger of God. After this hallmark event, add a lot of persecution by the Muslims, a wealthy guy who cheered for the underdog, and voila: The Baha'i faith is born.


It gets even better: The Baha'i are a subversive bunch: Change the system from within, brothers and sisters! Read on..

God educated humanity through Divine Manisfestations, named as: Krishna, Buddha, Abraham, Moses, Zoroaster, Jesus, and Muhammad.

These guys were the nice guys in their respective religions, though I already know Muhammad made an expanding empire with his new religion and his posse. The most recent Divine Manifestation is (that good ol' wealthy guy who rooted for the small fry who received flak for his audacity in seeing a messenger from God): Baha'u'llah.

The Divine Manisfestations had the right idea, they were trying to unite humanity, and make it one soul. Therefore, Manisfestations were good, altruistic, and thus deserving of the name, divine. HA!

I believe having supernatural origins ultimately dooms the Baha'i to the same religious baggage it seeks to eliminate; what a shame. I will credit the originality of promoting secular practices as a means for creating world peace. It almost reminds me a little of the message of the Sikh religion, that sense of: lose the baggage and get practical! Both are newer religions, which gives me a little hope we may eventually lose all the religious baggage that keeps us from absolute focus on our lives and the earth.


After spending time in the temple, we walked around the gardens, which Maxima explained were Mughal in design, and we played with the camera, taking nice pictures and silly pictures. Dusk had settled in by the time we reached Maxima's SUV. Minku and Vinay smiled a lot and both seemed peaceful and happy in each other's presence, and I continued to see this the next day too. Perhaps it was due to the relief and joy that can be experienced after renewing what was once a strong family tie, and then, almost luckily, actually experiencing the fun times similar to those of childhood. Thus, one can rediscover that one doesn't have distance themselves from most aspects of childhood experience due to disappointments or struggles; sometimes one can savour the laughter and the innocent blissful moments once more...

More to come...