One Minute from the Slum

its been a minute, so heres a minute

Investments & Temples

hopped on a plane straight from the meeting. was getting antsy because theres a serious lack of progress on a project that should be shooting already. but whatever its progress so i bolted out of there and took a taxi to the airport. on the plane i finished that book about a kid who was on wall street then gave it all up to come to business school in india and gave that all up to meditate and smoke weed in the himalayas. landed and took an hour taxi to my dad listening to "goals!" on my ipod and realize its been a few months since i wrote them down. had late dinner and beer with my dad, hes always up for a beer while travelling. woke up butt crack of dawn to the debates and mccain looks like he's desparate, sayin 'i know how to run this country!', and obama calmly and cooly answering questions. during the drive, what should have been 4 hours takes 7 of course in the car, there's some kind of labor strike and theyve shut down the road, we're missing some permits to cross state lines, blah blah but i dont mind cause my pops is dropping some wisdom as always. whats up with the financial market pops? how does that cell phone tower work? who are the powerful political parties in andhra pradesh? we get to the gurudwara and realize that this is the beginning of a month of festivities commemorating 300 years since guru gobin singh was killed here. so theres pilgrims galore. an hour or two of roaming around, listening to prayers, eating prasad, looking for toilets which even with millions in repairs they havent seem to build any of. then back in the car for 2 and a half more to stay in nizamabad. a company he's on the board of, the owner invited us to stay with his family to break up the drive. they offer us fresh goat meat, from a goat they slaughtered this morning. i mean, usually i dont eat brains, but this is a delicacy and who am i to refuse? and the way its curried up its damn good. we go for a walk, the owner and his pops, me and mine. his father is an old school hindu nationalist, but a gentle man who owns land, a farm, from a village, and works in education for the government. some bats swoop around, the misquitoes realize ive got my spray on, and we come back and fall asleep. all the while the family downstairs watches their hindi movie.

"take care the blasts"

(posted a week late. my bad)

just got into delhi this morning. if bombay is the hollywood of india, delhi is the DC. all about politics. election posters everywhere with bad photography of smiling mustaches. every week signal the arrival of another festival, or the end of one. tomorrow is EID, the end of the muslim fasting period, and a day of feasting. i was thinking of going to chandni chowk, an ancient market inhabited by 3 religions living in unison; Islam, Hinduism, and Sikhism. a prime example of what India could be if neighbors could stop fighting and blowing each other up. i mentioned my intentions to a co-worker, to which he replied "take care the blasts." he said it almost as if it might rain tomorrow, so please take an umbrella. terrorism is just accepted as a way of life here. there have been over 50 terrorist bombings in india in the past 6 months, the most recent one 4 days ago in delhi. a member of the Indian Mujahadin dropped a briefcase while riding through Mehruali and a 7 year old child picked it up, running after him. hey mister, you dropped your -- CUT TO WHITE. there is no sense to it. no logic. a blinding hatred that is fueled by some skewed perspective and baseless acts of violence. there is a frenetic pace to life which begs a frantic means towards death. i read another article today in which 150 people were killed in a stampede at a temple. turns out someone yelled "bomb!" and people panicked, clawing over each other in every direction. the statistics said more people died this year in trampling than in bomb blasts. i guess thats where terrorists do. spread fear and inflict pain, even without the bomb.

another day, another bombing

my dad and i stayed at this islamabad hotel in december of 2006. on friday, a truck bomb with 200kg of explosives pulled up to the front gate and detonated. it was the largest single explosion in pakistan in 7 years. killed 60 people and injured 260 more in retaliation for all the civilian casualties we've incurred over the past few weeks. terrorism is different out here. its REAL.

oh osho

The car came at 4 in the morning. Dragging myself out of bed, I’m happy I packed last night but pissed I stayed up til 2. I get in the car, tell him were going to Pune, then tilt my head back and focus on passing out. Theres a misquito hovering over my backpack, and suddeny im wide awake, the windows rolled down, eyes darting around as the street lights pass and illuminate the flying vermin at different positions in the backseat. I hate misquitoes. Back home I don’t care, but here there’s a 1 in 4 chance that they’re carrying 1 in 5 diseases. After clapping my hands several times to get him, I’m pretty convinced he flew out the window. I close my eyes. When I open them, were at some truck stop in the middle of nowhere and the driver is nowhere to be seen. I’m too tired to worry about if ill get mugged so I go back to sleep .

As we pull to the entrance of the meditation resort, I see a white man with long grey hair strolling in the morning rain in a maroon robe. He seems to be smirking, as if he’s figured out some divine secret that no one else knows. What am I getting myself into.

The guard at the front desk chastises me for taking a newspaper off a stack of newspapers. You don’t know what those are for, he says with a condescending smile. You’re rude I say bluntly.

They point me to the guesthouse and I check in, receiving food vouchers and 2 colored robes. Maroon for the day, white for the night. Oh boy. After ditching my stuff in the room and slipping into the robe – its actually quite comfortable but I laugh when I look in the mirror – I head to the orientation center. They tell me to line up and get an HIV test. Oookay. The large swiss man in front of me comes out and smiles while the doc calls me in, already changing his rubber gloves. Must be like a goddamn factory line for him, day in and day out. He pricks my finger, puts it on a popsicle stick, and slaps my member number on it. Next.

Then the tour. An Italian man with long grey hair and a goatee talks so slow and deliberate I could have gotten a masters degree in the time it takes him to tell us about the hygiene here. He leads us to a small room and walks us through abbreviated versions of the “meditations” Osho created. The first is dynamic meditation, which starts with in intense breathing exercise. Breathe out, as fast and as irregular as you can, to change your normal conditioned breathing. Don’t worry about the inhale, your body will do that on its own. He demonstrates. It looks like he’s having a seizure. The elevated consciousness must come from the lack of oxygen to the brain. Next step, dance with your eyes closed. I like dancing. Catharsis is next, basically go as crazy as you want to, yelling gyrating, punching laughing crying. Just like acting class. Then, jumping up and down on the flat part of your foot with your hands up saing HUH with each leap. Then in the final phase, freeze in place and don’t move. This is Dynamic meditation. This will last an hour. I have no idea what it means.

After some chai and a bathroom break, we come back in and he asks us to put on masks and pretend to be someone else, introducing ourselves to one another. I want to say Fidelio but I’m pretty sure no one else has seen Eyes Wide Shut. He asks us to stare at ourselves with masks on in front of the mirror. Then slowly take it off he commands softly. And look at the mask you are wearing beneath this mask. It’s supposed to be deep. But its about as shallow as a kiddie pool.

Next the video. An over the top musical telling you to wash your hands and not to caugh or fart in the giant pyramid meditation hall. It’s completely absurd, and as a result really quite scary. Come with me he says and we move thru the rain to the courtyard. I meet a british couple in their 30’s, tall skinny James with a shaved head and his cute red head Becks. They are almost as skeptical as me but seem to be enjoying it thus far. She’s been working in Mumbai, he finished a 6 month stint in Bangalore. How long you been out here? They ask me. I say just 6 weeks but I’m planning on 4 months. She laughs and says yeah I was planning on 6 months. That was 2 years ago.

We are introduced to 5 more “guides” or teachers or whatever who are really just trying to sell us more shit. Apparently there’s a Multiversity here, where you take classes in such topics as “the Art of the Heart” or much less defined “the Esoteric.” They’ve got ashram eyes and ask us to come closer and closer while they try to pull us in the tractor beam of their gaze. Their lips are moving but all I can hear is Come with us… we can help you.. just take my hand.

As we continue the tour there is a group of 20 dancing in the rain, completely soaked in their robes, each smiling to themselves with their eyes closed. Because it is loud thumping house music it is hard to view this as meditation.
I crash out for 4 hours in the afternoon, take a shower (thanks, video), throw on a white robe, and head out to Evening Meditation.

The Osho meditation hall is a state of the art Pyramid that seems more out of a sci fi movie than a spiritual retreat. I walk around the long way in, just so I can see the droves of white robes hovering down the walkway between 2 ponds, up separate stair cases and into the pyramid. I feel as though I’m in a star trek episode on some utopian planet and we’re all about to go get our minds erased by some super crystal. And when I get inside it’s not too far off – save for the crystal. As soon as it starts its – you guessed it – more dancing. People are spazzing out in the pyramid. A hundred white robes, gyrating wildly to some fusion trance music, old ladies, young men, fat foreigners, spirit seekers with beards, Japanese tourists, and me. Spazzing. Usually I love to dance but this feels forced. Maybe its in my head. I relax. Go with it. Lose myself in the music. No. It’s forced.
When the music stops, everyone puts their hands up and screams OSHO three times.

Sit. Meditate. My mind wont be still so I watch the thoughts pass by clouds in the sky. What would my parents think? … What am I doing here? What seemed so fascinating from the outside is really quite empty, soulless, and lost here on the inside. A massive screen comes down in the front of the room and people prostrate themselves. OSHO appears like a mystical apparition. Long white beard, half closed eyes, lets every word hang in the air, dragging out his S’ssssssss til the words tickle your ears. His clothes are leftover wardrobe from Star Trek (I see a theme here), a purple vest with sharp V shaped shoulders covers a blue half cut sweater that looks more like chain mail. And a blue and purple knit cap. I mean for a Guru he’s got sick style. In the video, a man is asking him a question. “My life is being held together by a single thread. And that thread is you. Everyday I feel like I am dying, but I am glad. My only wish is to become as close to you as possible and spend as much time as possible with you.” Whoa. Osho stares at him for a few lingering moments, then tells a story about a Abraham Lincoln impersonator who convinced himself he was Lincoln. His next story is about an aunt who died whom everyone was glad in her passing but no one could express it out loud. A third story explained how he was scolded in math class for staring out the window. The teacher made him stand outside and the young Osho stayed outside for a month. I have no idea how they related to the mans question, an to be honest, I feel bad for that man. I wonder if he took his own life. The video goes black but his voice continues. Now he is telling jokes. Everyone laughs, which leads us into laughter meditation. The pyramid erupts into a deafening fake laughter, people hooting and hollering, the sound become muddled like the sound of a thousand desparate souls on some eternal fantasy chaser.

Then the dance party. Does this place ever stop dancing? The atrium is filled with black lights and loud electronica. You can get wine and smoke cigarrettes in the corner. A few middle aged women wear short tops that show their wrinkled stomachs as they throw themselves at men. Some salt and pepper haired guys stare devilishly at the 20somethings girls who try to be friendly but keep up their defenses. A Chilean mother and her daughter are the most normal people there and so I dance with them. Some Indian couples are trying to make a party but instead leave to get lassis. A grandpa stands in the corner pinching his fingers together like Buddha. His 70 year old female counterpart is walking in figure eights, not quite dancing, but moving just fast enough to be in time with the music.

Looking back, I wouldn’t have expected less. Osho is a controversial figure, and so were his teachings. He was a guru preaching sex towards enlightenment during a time when free love reigned. The US government charged him with immigration fraud and deported him. Some say the Reagan administration even tried poisoning him. He published over two hundred books and owned ninety nine Rolls Royces. And now, followers from around the world still come to seek out his wisdom. From what I can see, this resort is full of people who have given up on the real world, given up on a family, work, politics, religion, god, and all things that society values. But what does it replace the void with? As far as I can see, desparately chasing the next fix, always just out of reach. I’m glad I went. I’ll never go back.

medical adventures in south bombay

it's pouring rain outside. trains blare by as if we're in the middle of a railway platform. im at the clinic, sittin awkwardly in the waiting room, wondering if they will ever get around to me with all these other sick people ahead of me. not to mention the language barrier. this place is shady, but what am i gonna do. i need some medical attention and this is the best i could find over the past 3 days. an old muslim lady in hijab is rocking back and forth down the hallway, saying 'allah, allah' over and over, in a strained voice. she is in serious pain. they finally acknowledge me and say they are ready. i walk down the hall in place of swinging doors, all the rooms have bed sheets hanging in the doorway. since all the windows are open the sheets are waving in and out like some horror film set. i walk into the examination room and a tall bony doctor grins at me. his eye sockets are like moon craters, and as he points a exam table for me to lay on it seems that his waify fingers might snap off at any moment. a flourescent light buzzes from above, sending a sickly green glow to the ancient equipment below. the mix of paint peeling walls and cracked tiled floors feels more like a mortuary than a health clinic. but what am i gonna do. i need some help and this is the best i could find. i havent passed anything thru my system in days and i can barely sit down or stand up without excruciating pain. ive already tried another hospital and 2 other doctors. and i thought the US health system was tricky to navigate. "so. what is the problem." here we go again. i ask him if he has some sheet they can put on the exam table cuz one look at it and im scared to death of who else or what else has been on it. just then my phone rings. a family friend. theyve got another doctor for me, someone they know and trust. in fact a family relation. salvation! ... she says get out of there i dont trust this place. so i use my broken english as a means to slip out the door. thank god for family and friends...

the new clinic is night and day. clean. people smile. speak english. and when they stick fingers up your ass they actually use gloves. that's about all im gonna say right now. maybe one day ill tell the full story, because aside from the pain, the graphic descriptions, and the intensely personal nature of what was to follow, it is absolutely hilarious. let's just say i walked out feeling a few pounds lighter and a million bucks stronger. i used to be scared of what would happen if i ate the fruit here. but now, i much more frightened what happens if i don't.

The Art of Living Ashram

sri sri ravishankar is a living guru who runs a world wide spiritual organization called the "art of living"

this is a clip from his ashram headquarters outside of bangalore. i promise, next time the video will not include singing and dancing. actually i better not make a promise like that in a place like india.

other than that everything is good. approaching the 1 month mark since my travels started. in the rest of the world hurricane ike is hitting landfall, obama and mccain are holding hands in public, and the nuclear reactor did not create an earth swallowing blackhole on the franco swiss border.

i like reading the local news here -- its a great way to wrap my head around the culture. youll have a picture of a rolls royce dealership grand opening right next to a picture of the people stranded after the bihar floods. we thought katrina was bad, try 2.2 million people in bihar stuck without food or aid for the past 3 weeks. yikes. the world bank did a new estimate instead of a dollar a day as the poverty level (which was 310 million people in india) they raised it to 1.25, which raises the number to 430 million. if you make it 1.35 its over 600 million people in india. its mindboggling

ok im in this gelato place in south mumbai and theres a massive kids birthday party raging next door. insted of a magician or clown, they just brought in a famous cricket player. but now the kids and their parents are spilling into this main room all eating pani puri. i dont think im supposed to be here cuz the moms keep lookin at me like whos this? so ill just leave it like this... peace and namaste

where i roam is my home

This is MUMBAI. the red arrow is where i live (thanks googlemaps). its called BANDRA, a nice sleepy town deafeningly loud suburb outside the city center, which is down at the tip of the peninsula - of the top photo. the bottom one is all of india. you knew that. Even tho South Bombay is only 8 miles away, it usually takes about an hour and a half to get down there. about 10 million people live on this peninsula. with another 10 just to the north. can u see me? im waving to you... offering up some choice gulab jamuns

Ganpathy & Golds Gym

sometimes i feel like im in the future. cause its exactly 12 and a half hours ahead of where i started. ill email people before i go to bed, knowing that their day is just starting. but forget the night and the day part, its all happening right now. besides, if europe is the past, and america is the present, then asia is the future. so maybe there is more to this than just time zones. i moved into this sublet in bandra on this little lane off of hill road. apparently sublets are rare and people are flipping out that i found a spot for 2 months. its great cause theres an old outdoor vegetable market down the block and even a helper lady that comes here 2 hours a day and helps me cook and clean the place. and its weird to say but i actually really need the help here, to figure out what to eat each day, etc. plus she speaks zero english so im forced to use my hindi, which i feel like should be farther along that it is. but i try not to be too hard on myself cuz i keep thinking about that simpsons episode where bart goes to france. remember, he discovers the two guys he is staying with are putting antifreeze in wine or someshit and wants to rat them out but cant because he cant speak french. then he's like ive been here depuis deux mois, et je ne parle rien de francais..! and voila, hes fluent. thats how i feel. like im absorbing it faster than i realize and ill be spitting it out and dancing the dance before i know it. hehe. or at least ill know enough to understand if people are talking shit about me. i found a golds gym down the street and its the same kind of gym culture as back home, a bunch of meatheads hanging around checking themselves out in the mirror. with banging bollywood beats. but its cool, no matter how fly they think they are, i KNOW i am way flier so it doesnt matter. today was the beginning of ganpathy, the festival of Ganesh, the elephant head god. apparently his mom (who was a god too) told him to watch the door while she took a bath. and then his dad (yep, another god) came in and pushed him out of the way. in fact, his dad was so pissed that his son would tell him what to do that he cut his head off. right afterwards, he felt bad but i guess he threw his head away or something because the closest thing they could find was an elephants head. so they attached that instead. and now hes the god of good luck and opportunity. so yeah during ganpathy people go nuts and erect huge statues of ganesh and carry them all over the city, singing and dancing (i LOVE that everyone sings and dances, i feel right at home) for a week straight. then theyll immerse all of them in the ocean. like, 4000 of them, in a huge procession. not very eco friendly. but i mean he's a god, so he's probably got that part figured out. thats gonna be nuts. my friend and i thought it would be a good day to go check out the festivities in dharavi, the largest slum in asia. something like 2 million people live in a couple square kms. both of us were brown and able to walk around without too much fanfare. its one of those places ive heard so much about over the years that i already had an impression in my head, and of course it was vastly different than the reality we experienced. everyone was so kind, offering us to come in, take pictures, pray to their ganesh, or just talk with us. no one begged. no one was aggresive. it was a mish mash of energy bursting at the seams. color, sounds, kids, temples, stores, meat, old ladies, drums, bricks, paint, speakers, games, water, prayers, trains, icons, music, hindus, muslims, love, life, with NO privacy and ALL family. we ducked into a shack cum movie theater and saw a pirated tamil film for a few minutes. we sang sing is kinng with a group of marathi kids who were throwing colored dust at each other. we watched fireworks and were blasted drum processions in narrow alleyways. we stood on a rooftop and let our jaws drop at the sheer scale of this place. and even tho they had nothing, they asked for nothing. any day im sitting in my room wondering why i came here, all i have to do is wander but a few miles to see the craziest and most inspiring shit ever. one day im in the office of the biggest producer in bollywood, the next im navigating the alleys of one of the poorest shanty towns. and i finally got to finally hang with some kids my own age the other night. hadnt really noticed that my nights were spent alone and days spent trying to adjust to the way of living here until i just chilled and talked with some young searching souls like myself, it made me feel like home for a few hours. there was lounge electronica playing from ipod speakers and a delivery guy who brought us wine. a black light and smoke filled the room, and there was an epiphany moment when we realized that all 6 of us had lived in NY at one point or another. and now were in this psychedelic den in mumbai. something brought me out here and im realizing that that something is changing from day to day. i like to think i have an idea where im headed, but i feel so alive and inspired in the NOT knowing that i wouldnt trade it for the world ... i mean, how boring would life be if we saw everything coming? besides, its not about where you end your journey in life, but about the journey towards that end that matters the most...

GULAB'S VIDEO BLOG



BOMBAY: Week 2

Lokhandwala is where im staying. Its not so bad and its close to the office, only a 5 minute auto rickshaw ride away. The meter on the rickshaw reads 19 rupees (45 cents) but its really 18 becaue you always subtract 1. Not sure why, but im just brown enough that they don’t try to rip me off. The other day leaving work there was a terrible stench in the air, like rotting leather mixed with an overflow at the sewage plant. I was gagging the whole way home. When I got to the apartment the stench was still there. I shut all the windows and went to bed. The next morning I woke up with a sore throat. The neighbor was gagging and coughing, and so was his wife. And as soon as I sat up I was choking too. Was there some sort of gas leak? How does this whole town smell? I decided to nip it in the bud and find a doctor first. In India you don’t need a doctor to get medicine, any chemist will sell you anything you want, painkillers, uppers downers, and oh yeah cough medicine and antibiotics. But getting a diagnosis is still a good idea (even tho most people you meet will tell you their combination of drugs to cure what ails you). So I go to bandra cuz out of the 3 doctors I find, he seems like the best bet. (1 was a cardiologist, which I geuss would be okay if I was having heart palpitations but the problem was in my throat). This guy has a nice one room clinic where he asks me all sorts of questions before asking me to strip. Its all good and normal even tho I get the sense that hes enjoying this when I ask if I can pull my pants back up and he says no no its fine lie down. He sees all the insect bites and asks me if I had my malaria pills before I came. Now im panicking cuz I didn’t and he laughs it off, not to worry. Put your pants back on and go get these pills.
The cook named Mahesh is such an agreeable chap. He always has a smile and a joke and is eager to tell you how he can’t wait to get back on set. office life is boring. But nevertheless he always makes sure you get a hot roti and a smile. So full of life Mahesh is.
Im taking a shower this morning and the light goes out. Wait let me back up. A shower is basically part of the bathroom, there is no tub, no door, no demarcation at all. Its as if you were to stand in one corner of the room and just turn on the water. So im taking a cold shower cuz I still havent figured out if there is hot water or not when BOOM! There is a huge explosion 2 feet away. The bulb exploded and so did the glass cover all around it. It goes dark. I wouldn’t be as scared except that I am naked and soaking wet and theres just been an electrical explosion. Then I laugh, already thinking about how funny this will be a couple years from now, and how not funny it is right now. It blows a circuit so all the lights go out. But somehow the AC is still running. The AC is another story cuz every time I hit the switch there is a blue electric outline around it so you have to hit it just right so as not to get shocked.so I guess in a way it’s the same story. I think theres a pidgeon living in there. every couple of hours I hear wings flapping. But it might just be a humming bird or a giant moth. Either way hes just chilling.
So l go looking at apartments this week cause even tho I’m in a decent place, the misquitos, stench in the air, possibility of electric shock, my toilet doesn’t flush, and oh boy don’t let me get started about the smell of the pillows, I figure any place would be a step up. Why am I movin? Everyone asks. This is a great building in a fantastic neighborhood. What smell? they ask. And then I have to fight the feeling that im being a stuck up American but damn I guess we do have it good. But fuck it I don’t want malaria or a 20000 volt shower so on Monday im moving.
Mahesh the cook hasn’t been at the office for a few days now. Hes been at home with fever and nausea, bedridden etc. so may people at the office are falling ill, some with the same throat infection I had, and now im no doctor but I think its something in the air. the doc said the monsoon usually stirs up a lot of this stuff this time of year. Someone said Mahesh has malaria and again im freakin but ill play it safe as I can and the rest is in the hands of god
These 2 reporters are in town from the bay area, doing a story on the connections between the silicon valley and the Indian entertainment industry so cool, ill take them around. We go visit film city, which is he equivalent of a studio backlot. We walk into 3 different film sets until we realize that there are way more productions here than back home, and then on the 4th try we find the right one. It’s a major blockbuster film with superstar actors and a legendary director, and its so laid back and chaotic I feel right at home. How long have you guys been shooting I ask the AD, which is a totally different role out here – basically overworked twentysomethings who are the only ones who know what the F is going on --- and one of the says I don’t know a hundred days? So im like oh, you mustve started in may? They were like no no, it was June. Of last year. The actress is stunning and still young enough to be cool and chat it up. Her boyfriend and co star looks like a coked out Indian version of sylvestor stallone and he couldn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything just so long as you know hes been number 1 for fifteen years. Cool guy, do your thing. Said director is in his trailer scribbling away and I sit there in silence, figuring I should leave him be, then suddenly he and his AD rush out to set and the AD says to me, oh yeah, I forgot to say, in India, we write the scenes 10 minutes before we shoot them. I love it. No wonder it takes 100 days and a year. The reporters love it too. We leave and get dinner and talk about how crazy it is to live and work in different countries, with all the curious spirits that wandering about India cuz theyre choice to live to its fullest. How big the world is and how few actually go see it. This makes my mind get blown five times a day.
I come home and pandey says don’t worry I fixed the light, it was just two wires that got too hot. That’s cool it happens, thanks pandey. Some bad news sir he says. Mahesh the cook has died. … What? Yes sir, he died today. No one is knowing why. No hospital, just bad fever then stopped talking, stop breathing, just stopping. Pandey wants to cry and I can tell he already has, they’ve been friends for years. I mean, I loved this guy and I only knew him for a week. I saw him 3 days ago, smiling and telling me about how he couldnt wait to get back to delhi. This place is so damn real. life is in your face. death is in your face. this trip is not going to easy. Where energy and life explodes in every direction, so does pain and darkness. So as I sit here on my moldy bed, with the cracks in the walls, microscopic bugs everywhere I don’t even care any more and the AC humming with occasional wings flapping, im about to turn out the lights (I should get rubber gloves) and pass out. I am alive. I am breathing. And I am anxiously, humbly, trepidly, wondering what will tomorrow will bring.