Global Nomad: Travels and Travails

By Dan Mayur

Global Nomad provides fascinating glimpses of Dan Mayur’s peripatetic life. In a lifetime of exploring the globe, he has traveled to over seventy countries visiting some of them multiple times. He is Indian by birth, American by education, and global nomad by choice. “The world is a mirror,” he says, “it reflects you. If you are good, it is good to you.” This book is an entertaining and informative rumination of a few of his selected travels covering parts of India, Australia, Bali, Cambodia, Thailand, Egypt, Greece, Russia, Peru, Chile, and Argentina. In the delightful narration of his experiences he creates vivid word pictures in the reader’s mind with his trademark lucid language using sensitivity, wit, humor, and an unmistakable philosophic undertone. Global Nomad will appeal to a wide audience of students, teachers, and travelers, indeed anybody with the slightest curiosity about our beautiful world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781664136984

Dan Mayur

Dan Mayur is an engineer, financial planner, and a freelance writer. He is a graduate of IIT Bombay and has a PhD in chemical engineering from Rice University in Houston, Texas. He has had a distinguished career in industry and has worked for Shell Oil and Bechtel Corporation in senior management capacities in various parts of the world. He is active on the speaker circuit and has presented numerous talks in international conferences. This is Dan’s fifth book. His earlier books, Mumbai to Stockholm via New York—Reflections of a Globetrotter, SamajRang, Living Dreams, and The Four Ls—a Memoir have been acclaimed by his readers around the world. Dan is an avid traveler and has traversed the globe several times for work and pleasure. His interests include writing on people, places, and politics. He is also a connoisseur of the performing arts and a recognized critic of Indian classical music, theater, dance, and movies. His reviews are widely read and appreciated. International in spirit, he resides in the plane, an airport lounge, or his family home in Sugar Land, Texas. He can be reached at [e-mail]

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Global Nomad

Travels and Travails

Dan Mayur

Copyright © 2020 by Dan Mayur.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 11/12/2020

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

Preface

Acknowledgments

Part I – Incredible India

My Motherland

1. Mumbai

Shivaji Park

Jai Bhim!

Matunga Market

Elephanta

2. Pune

Essence of Pune

Artisans of Pune

Tulshibaug

The Gastronomic Delights of Pune

The Legacy of Music and Dance

The Heroes of Pune

3. Delhi

Delhi Street Food

Delhi Street Life

Manganiyar Seduction

4. Jaipur and Udaipur

The Joy of Jaipur

Jaipur Literature Festival

Udaipur

Kumbhalgarh Fort

Ranakpur Jain Temple

5. Lucknow

A Modern-Day Nawab

The Art of Chikankari

Sheroes’ Hangout

6. Hampi

The Terrain

The Lost Empire

A Glimpse of Splendor

Badami

7. Varanasi

The Holy City

Of Tulsidas and Kabir

The Ghats of Varanasi

Tradition and Modernity

8. Khajuraho

The Temples

Significance of the Sculpture

9. India—Yesterday and Today

India before Liberalizing

India after Liberalizing

The Wealth of India

Connected India

Of Highways, Metros, and Statues

Cashless India

Pratap Vidya Mandir

The Second Green Revolution

Siddhagiri Muth

10. Religion

Fact or Fiction

The Wisdom of India

Ancient Temples

Santwani

11. Bollywood

Bajirao Mastani

Dangal

Padmaavat

Bollywood Olympics

12. Traditions of India

Weddings

Festivals and Holidays

13. Travels and Travails

My Favorite Things

Things That Amuse Me

My Pet Peeves

Part II – Australia and Southeast Asia

Amazing Australia

1. Crystal-Blue Waters and Balmy Warm Weather

Townsville and Cairns

The Great Barrier Reef

2. Melbourne

Melbourne Cricket Ground

The Twelve Apostles

3. Sydney

The Sydney Opera House

Bollywood in Australia

Blissful Bali

1. The Lovely Landscape

The Flora of Bali

Kintamani Volcano

2. Arts and Artisans

Ubud

Balinese Dance

3. The Culture

Balinese People

Balinese Hinduism

Captivating Cambodia

1. Of Devas and Asuras

Historical Perspective

Phnom Penh

2. Hell on Earth

Pol Pot

Norng Chan Phal

The Killing Fields

3. The Magic of Angkor

Siem Reap

Angkor Thom

Angkor Wat

Tantalizing Thailand

1. The City of Angels

2. The Material and the Carnal

Thai Food

Shopping in Bangkok

Nightlife in Bangkok

3. The Artistic and the Spiritual

Thai Art

Buddhism in Thailand

Part III – Two Cradles

of Civilization

Enchanting Egypt

1. The Pyramids

Sakkara

Giza

The Great Sphinx

2. Cairo

The City of Mosques

Khan al-Khalili

Tahrir Square

Belly Dancing

3. Alexandria

Center of Hellenistic Civilization

Biblioteca de Alexandria

4. Luxor

Valley of the Kings

The Temple of Karnak

5. The Nile

Aswan Dam

Abu Simbel

6. Some Civilization Milestones

Glorious Greece

1. The Land of Socrates

2. Parthenon, the Heart of Athens

3. Greek Food

4. Of Hermès and Nike

The Aegean Sea

Greek Gods

5. The Greeks, the Indians, and the Americans

6. The Greek Islands

Mykonos, Delos, and Milos

Looking for Aishwarya Rai in Santorini

The Garden of Greece—Crete

7. Ephesus, Turkey

Part IV – The Land of Revolutions

Resplendent Russia

1. The Country and Its People

2. Moscow

Tverskaya Street

The Red Square

The Kremlin

The Seven Sisters

Metro and the People’s Palaces

The Churches of Moscow

The Novodevichy Cemetery

Tolstoy’s Yasnaya Polyana

3. St. Petersburg

Venice of the North

Landmarks of the Revolution

Peterhof

Catherine Palace

St. Isaac’s Cathedral

The Hermitage

4. Russian Food

5. Russian Art

The Fabergé Eggs

Kostroma

Swan Lake

Part V – Land of the Future

Spectacular South America

1. Peru

Lima—the Temple of SRK

Awe-Inspiring Paracas National Park

Mystical Nazca Lines

2. Reflections from the High Seas

Life on Board

Political Unrest in South America

3. Chile

Gabriela Mistral

Valparaíso

Pablo Neruda

The Unspoiled Natural Beauty of Chile

Chilean Fjords and Glaciers

4. Tango—the Heart and Soul of South America

The Origin of Tango

Montevideo, the Vibrant Capital of Uruguay

5. Argentina

Buenos Aires—the Paris of South America

Rio de la Plata

Plaza de Mayo

Recoleta Cemetery

La Boca

Eva Perón—No Llores por mí Argentina

Avenida 9 de Julio

Teatro Colón

6. The Delights of South American Food

7. Ultimate Triumph of the Human Spirit

The Incredible Voyage of Ferdinand Magellan

Charles Darwin and the Beagle Channel

Epilogue

To

Connor and Benjamin

In fond memory of

Your great-great-grandfather Maganlal Nagindas Baa

who instilled in me the love of travel

May you fearlessly explore our beautiful world.

PREFACE

Traveling—it leaves you speechless,

then turns you into a storyteller.

—Ibn Battuta

W HAT IBN BATTUTA said seven hundred years ago rings true in my ears today. I have traveled. I have had a lot more than my share of globetrotting in a career that spans over three decades. Some of those travels took me to places from the Swedish border near the Arctic Circle to witness the spectacular northern lights to Ushuaia at the southern tip of Argentina to see the colonies of penguins peacefully basking in the sun. Other trips have shown me the magnificent Catherine Palace in Saint Petersburg and the gut-wrenching killing fields in Cambodia. And there have been a lot more. I have had the good fortune of visiting many more parts of the world, about seventy countries at last count. These travels have left me speechless. This is my attempt at storytelling as Ibn Battuta says. I hope he will app rove.

I was born in rural India in a small town called Chopda. Until the age of twenty-two when I first came to the United States, I had not sat in a plane or gone outside the two-hundred-mile radius from our little town. Yet I grew up listening to fascinating stories of foreign travel from my grandfather. Grandfather Baa, my mother’s father, was a rare human: a social reformer, adventurer, and a pioneer in many walks of life. An unlikely world traveler, he went to Europe and the United States three times in the nineteen thirties and forties when India was under oppressive British rule and foreign travel for most people was practically unheard of. Baa was a great raconteur and would come home from his trips loaded with gifts and stories he would repeat decades after his trips with great relish and hearty laughter. By the time I was five years old, I knew about his climb up the Empire State Building, his awe-inspiring description of Niagara Falls, his ship passage through the Suez Canal, his camel ride around the pyramids of Giza and his visit to Mount Vesuvius.

I was delighted when I received my admission to Rice University in Houston, Texas. But the thought of my going to the United States brought more joy to Grandfather Baa than to anybody else in the family, me included. Since the day when the admission letter came to the day I left for the United States, every day he would tell me the stories of his travels that by then I had memorized verbatim. Then he would extract promises from me that I would climb up the Empire State Building, see Niagara Falls, visit the pyramids—the whole works—before returning to India. He would then end with his favorite slogan:

India is cursed by man and nursed by God. Europe

is cursed by God and nursed by man.

As time went by, I have been able to explore the world and see everything on Grandfather Baa’s list and a lot more. My professional career has been in the engineering/construction industry that services major energy companies all over the world. The travel bug that Baa had infected in me came in handy. I traveled the globe attending meetings, negotiating, solving problems, and seeing the world on the fly. I enjoyed working. I was focused, disciplined, and determined. I kept pushing forward. I was an overachiever. I enjoyed the travel; but it was Monday-morning-in, Friday-night-out, typical business schedule that just gave me glimpses of the places, whetted my appetite, and left me longing for longer more relaxed travel trips so I could get to know the new cities, meet the people, and immerse in their cultures.

American corporations create a unique malady. The more you work, the more you succeed. So you work more until you become a workaholic. Unbeknownst to you, stress and anxiety build up. Then comes the burnout. I realized there was an easier way to happiness, especially once my basic needs were satisfied. Travel. I believe that once you travel, it becomes a permanent part of you. The journey never ends. It haunts you, playing over and over in your mind. That was happening to me. I wanted to travel at my pace, at the destinations of my choice, doing specifically nothing. Nothing other than observing, reflecting and understanding. Emotionally, I had become a nomad. A global nomad!

I am blessed with a wide circle of friends, among them some highly accomplished authors, professionals, academics, journalists and travelers. When I mentioned to them that I was becoming a global nomad of sorts, I received a spate of comments about what Global Nomad meant to them. Some of them are quite revealing as well as entertaining:

• Nomad implies no attachment but global implies a degree of affluence. So it is one of those terms that all of us who are relatively privileged like to see ourselves as.

• Somebody with a zest for life and travel with the requisite affluence to afford it.

• Anyone that can sense the reality and predicament of another that is unlike them, travel with their stories and empathize, would be a nomad. Global could mean a destination a few hundred kilometers away or one that we have no clue about.

• In the simplest form, it is my palate that roams the world, as I cook up food from across the continents in my kitchen.

• Somebody who has the realization that despite the affinity to one’s roots, one realizes the oneness with the Universe.

• A good, little ambiguous phrase. ‘Nomos’ is Greek for pasture, so the world is my pasture might be one way to look at it.

• Global Nomad is a hyperbole of sorts. Nomad is someone who wanders around without growing roots anywhere. But, of course, it is understood that one can do that only within the limitations of the globe.

• In the present context (In the year 2020 when the pandemic Covid -19 is terrorizing humanity all over the world), Global Nomads are those who initially spread the Corona virus causing the dreaded disease.

• It is wishful thinking during Covid - 19. Once upon a time, not too long ago, it is what we all were.

• Somebody who is mad but claims to be no mad.

• The Ideal Homo Sapien.

• A person hoping to discover who am I? But ends up finding out nothing.

• It is the choice to not have a home or roots where you are. It is also the choice to not have responsibilities to your home or roots wherever they are.

• Also referred to as Glomad! No permanent address, highly mobile. Could also refer to lifestyle migrants who travel between their country of origin and their new chosen home country. A Global Citizen.

• It is an oxymoron because a true nomad has no specific affiliation to any country while a global has ties to all.

• A nomad is not someone who travels frequently just for fun. A nomad is one who does not have a permanent, settled home, and is constantly moving in search of sustenance.

• To paraphrase Gloria Steinem it is good to travel and live out of bags and hotels but also nice to have a nest to come home to. One does not preclude the other.

• A person who spends more time around the world than at home but still has to pay rent or property taxes.

I think all of my friends are right in one way or the other. The Oxford Dictionary says that a nomad does not stay long in the same place. He is a wanderer. To that, I add that he values his freedom and lives life on his terms of time, place, and work. That suits me fine, and I have been doing that for the past several years. While I have a nice home to return to in Houston, I find myself in the air or on the road for several months in the year. Fortunately, Neela likes to travel too; her work as a power distribution software expert has allowed her to travel extensively. We have traveled solo and we have traveled together. I just seems that we have been everywhere.

American author William Langewiesche says, So much of who we are, is where we have been.

How true! That is why I feel I am Indian by birth, American by education, and Swedish by absorption! The Swedes, like the Russians, are legendary drinkers. Humor aside, travel has an indelible impact on your personality. It shapes you subconsciously. I think I am constantly evolving becoming a little different person after every trip.

There is an Indian verse that says travel is education: it expands the mind, opens up broader vision, and liberates us, every place leaving its imprint on us. Travel makes you more confident and independent in several little ways that add up to a great, noticeable whole. The more different and exotic the culture, the more it intrigues and challenges you. The more you get involved and understand it, the more you grow as an aware citizen of our rapidly globalizing world. Every country I visit, my natural inclination is to search for some greater meaning and find a connection, carefully avoiding quick simplistic conclusions like Russia is corrupt, Latinos are lazy, or Indians are spiritual. Yes, some are, and some are not. Such single-word descriptions are always wrong and misleading. There is a lot more to Russia and Latin America and India than that.

Related to my work assignments, I have had extended stays in Algeria, England, France, India, Mexico, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Indonesia, and Thailand. For the sheer joy of travel, Neela and I have been all over Western and Eastern Europe and to Argentina, Australia, Bali, Brazil, Cambodia, Chile, China, Egypt, Greece, South Korea, Japan, New Zealand, Peru, Sweden, and Russia, just to mention some of the countries we have immensely enjoyed. Travel is meaningful if it means understanding the local culture. And culture is people, their language and arts, and above all, their food. In these pages are my ruminations on the sights, sounds, and smells of just a few selected places from my recent travels that I found noteworthy. I trust that you will find them interesting as well as entertaining.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

E VERY BOOK IS a child of its author. The author conceives it, spends a lot of sleepless nights with it, nurtures it, shapes and reshapes it, defends it, promotes it, and watches it succeed. This book is my fifth child. An unplanned but legitimate child. I had no thought of writing this book. But sometimes in life the affection and persistent demands of your friends and well-wishers leave you no choice. This is my response to the requests of the scores of friends and followers regularly reading, supporting, and critiquing, sometimes gently and sometimes not so gently, my essays and commentaries on people, places, and politics in various media over the past de cade.

As the African proverb says, It takes a village to raise a child, I have heavily depended upon the help and advice of a large number of people in raising this child. My heart is full of gratitude for each one of them. As I write this, English writer-philosopher G. K. Chesterton’s words resonate with me:

I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought, and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.

Foremost, I gratefully acknowledge the contributions of my editors and publishers at Xlibris for their critical review, helpful suggestions, professionalism, and promptness in the publication of this book.

This book is based on my travels. The benefits and the joy of travel multiply several folds if you have knowledgeable local experts with you. I was lucky to have wonderful help in this regard thanks to Mikhail, Julia, Nadiss, Natalie, Katya, and Yeffrin in Russia; Nicos and Anna in Greece; Mahmood and Ahmed in Egypt; and Toure in Cambodia. Many have become my personal friends since the trips and communicate with me regularly. My thanks to them all.

As always, so many of my friends from IIT Bombay enthusiastically read my writings (possibly with the intent of ragging me) and, after considerable nitpicking as IITians seem to be trained to do, made several constructive comments. I am grateful to Professor Shankar Bhattacharya Bhatto, Suresh Gurjar, and Vijay Kulkarni. I am also thankful to my friends from Ravalgaon, all residents of Pune now, who are ardent supporters of my writings, eager to read and offer helpful suggestions. Among them are Jayant Sane, Ananda Kale, Raju Joshi-Darade, and the wonderful couple, Ajita and Shrikant Gadre. My dear friend, scientist, and philanthropist Dr. Ashok Joshi and his wife, Surekha, are great supporters of my writing. My gratitude to both.

Some of the material in this book is based on my postings on Facebook. My respectful thanks to Professors Pravina Cooper and Shoba Rajgopal, Shirish Kulkarni, Radhika Sunderaj, Amit Pandya, and so many others who enthusiastically read my blogs and made invaluable comments providing newer insights to my observations. My special thanks to my Melbourne-based friend Ash Nallawalla for making my Australian trips so enjoyable. Over the years, Biren Thapar, whom I call the Modern-day Nawab, has been a dear friend and an admirer of my writing. My heartfelt thanks to him for his continued support and for going out of his way, committing considerable personal time and resources for making my visit to Lucknow a few years ago one of the most enjoyable and productive trips I have ever taken.

As always, my family support team was led by my sister Ranjana and my cousin Gopi, both of whom are the biggest cheerleaders in my writing projects. Ranjana joined me and Neela on our last Russian trip. Gopi and his wonderful wife, Sandhya, traveled with us to Thailand and Cambodia. I am deeply indebted to them for keeping me on my toes by their constant barrage of questions, forcing me to read, reflect, and analyze more than I had planned and thus making the trips educationally far more enriching.

Just as in the case of all my earlier books—Mumbai to Stockholm via New York, Samajrang, The Four Ls, and Living Dreams—my artist-architect friend Anita Kulkarni has been of invaluable assistance from the beginning to the end of this book project. She is an entrepreneur and impresario, a published author, and a poet in her own right. Despite her very busy personal schedule, she provided critical reviews, suggested changes, liaised with the publisher, and designed the cover. My appreciation for Anita’s help is beyond words.

Any serious book writing—regardless of its shape, size, and subject—is almost impossible without the understanding and support of your family. It is all-encompassing in terms of time and energy. An avid traveler herself, Neela accompanied me on trips whenever she could. I am deeply thankful to her for her support and understanding during the writing of this book. For almost a year, I was practically unavailable for the routine household chores, but she kept the place running single-handedly without complaint.

As they have always been, my biggest supporters were my children, Anita and Samir, ever so eager to know about my travels and learn about the places and my well-being during those travels to faraway lands. I hope I have not disappointed them.

PART I

Incredible India

My Motherland

MY MOTHERLAND

India is the cradle of the human race, the birthplace of

human speech, the mother of history, the grandmother

of legend, and the great grandmother of tradition.

Our most valuable and constructive materials in

the history of man are treasured up in India.

— Mark Twain

image001.jpg

The Land of Extremes

A S I CONTINUE to travel the world, I often mumble, Been there, done that. And yet, there is this insatiable desire to travel with a powerful pull toward India. It is the land of my birth! I am an American citizen now, but the words of T. S. Eliot often ring in my ears:

We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.

It has been my routine for the past several winters to visit India to explore my roots and understand this rapidly changing, vibrant nation. India is an unending wonderland for the curious adventurer. With its rich history and thousands of monuments, it is a veritable treasure of art and architecture. Synergistic diversity is the essence of this complex and majestic country with so many colorful cultures, traditions, and languages.

Travel within India is infinitely compelling. From the majestic Himalayas to serene Kanyakumari and from the vast deserts of Rajasthan to the formidable forests of Assam, I have been able to visit just about everything in between. The allure of the incomparable Taj Mahal, the magnificent temples of Khajuraho and Meenakshi, the holy ghats of Varanasi and the mesmerizing caves of Ajanta and Ellora is never ending. Exploring the places where the best of historic India is on display to the remote inconspicuous corners of the rural land where ordinary citizens are striving to make both ends meet is an educationally enriching experience. It has been a breathtaking journey. India is a mystical land of extremes and contradictions. But then, that is its appeal. An old country of young people, it is dynamic, dramatically different today than the place I left behind decades ago to immigrate to America. The socialistic, controlled economy of that period has given way to exuberant capitalism now with all its promises and challenges. And it continues to change.

Once thought of as a land of snake charmers, sadhus, and mystics, today India is an important contributor to global developments in science, medicine, and technology. From exotic spicy foods to scintillating dance and music, from space exploration and medical tourism to yoga and spirituality, from cricket to Bollywood, the new India of today has everything that human creativity can deliver. And then there are certain unique aspects of Indian life that I see as being immensely fascinating as well as amusing.

One’s destination is never a place, but

always a new way of seeing things.

—Henry Miller

1. Mumbai

Besides any distinguishing monuments like the Taj Mahal in Agra, the Red Fort in Delhi, or the Charminar in Hyderabad, most Indian cities look more or less alike. The same masses and the same mom-and-pop shops in the same narrow streets is what you see anywhere you go. If you are a visitor flying into Mumbai at night (most international flights arrive at the ungodly hours after midnight), a pale orange-yellow haze over the city is all that comes into view on your approach. As you come closer, you notice an explosion of newly built tall cookie-cutter apartment buildings amid a patchwork of shanty towns drifting below. Farther down, are the clogged arteries of the city—roads jammed with trucks and two-wheelers, cars, and cows. The landscape seems to be scattered with numerous beehives of humanity. If you are landing during the day, greeting you everywhere is a giant dusty mass of fog, smog, and smoke. Strangely, for me, all of this is comforting. I am in familiar India.

In the last few decades, I have visited India over thirty times; and my entry and exit points have always been in Mumbai. During this period, I have seen the city change from Bombay to Mumbai. This name change is not merely symbolic. Bombay was British; Mumbai is Maharashtrian. The change has been good in some respects and not so good in others. A lot of Mumbai is not what I knew it to be in my college days there decades ago. But I keep coming, and my family and friends in America keep wondering. Why? Mumbai does not appeal to them. It is a crowded, crumbling, and chaotic city in their eyes. To me it is blissful nostalgia.

Geographically, Mumbai developed on a group of muddy islands joined by landfill and inhabited by enterprising people coming from all over the country, bringing their skills and building their businesses. From that evolved a vibrant and irrepressible urban landscape that keeps evolving constantly. People view this changing Mumbai differently. Those who have been around here for years see that their Bombay the Beautiful has lost itself to thoughtless development by greedy builders and conspicuous consumption by some of its super-wealthy denizens. They see Mumbai stagnating under the weight of overpopulation, bloated slums, insufficient public spaces, and inadequate infrastructure. In contrast, the newcomers see this as their City of Dreams. They are here for the opportunity of learning and earning. They are here for one reason: somehow making a living, accumulating wealth and making it big.

I am not an old-timer and I am not a newcomer. I come here because I love Mumbai for its people and for its food, for Bollywood and cricket, for its amazing arts, the spectacular architecture of its Victorian-era buildings, an eclectic mix of Gothic and Indo-Saracenic styles; and for its readable newspapers that are a lot thinner than their fat American counterparts filled with fliers and advertisements. I come because it still feels like home.

But I do have mixed feelings. Mumbai is the financial and movie capital of this land of 1.3 billion people, one-sixth of the world population. It is India’s New York and Los Angeles combined. Always on the move, Mumbai is a victim of massive migration. People from poor rural areas keep moving to Mumbai, the problems of overcrowding exacerbate, and the ever-widening income gap becomes visible on a grand scale. The city always seems to be on the verge of collapse, but never does. In fact, it seems to grow and thrive to my utter amazement. The fact that Mumbai functions at all is a marvel. Here I often remember what my grandfather used to say, Europe is cursed by God and nursed by man. India is cursed by man and nursed by God. Mumbai is a prime example of that. Nursed by God! Perhaps just for that reason, Mumbai seems secure and attractive to most Indians.

Year after year, in my return trips, I notice big changes all over India, not just in Mumbai. The Indian youth looks well-fed, taller, more energetic than previous generations. There is more traffic, bigger crowds in streets teeming with shops overflowing with all kinds of consumer goods. There is more construction and more construction debris, noise, and dust in most cities in India. It is especially true in Mumbai. The middle class is doing well. Earning more and spending more, traveling, shopping, and eating out. This is a far cry from the India I left decades ago when we had to wait for five to seven years just to get a telephone line. And more often than not, the thing did not even work. Today, every Indian child is born with a cell phone attached to her ears.

I find that the upscale Indian hospitality industry is among the best in the world with great hotels like those in the Taj Group and so many others including many multinational chains all with excellent restaurants serving local, international, and fusion cuisines. I recall a recent outing with some friends to a posh restaurant with a spicy name, Mustard, in the Atria Mall in the Worli Area of Mumbai. Midweek, the place was jam-packed and noisy (this is India); but the food was superb, especially the marinated trout cooked in banana leaves and the king prawns in Thai-style coconut/basil gravy. This stuff goes down good with Sula Dindori. It is a locally made wine, not comparable to a French vintage but drinkable. Produced in rural India, this itself is a sign of the changing India—in manufacturing, in the economy, in consumer taste and demand.

Another noticeable and positive thing about the new India is the resurgence of the great traditional performing arts unique to India: classical music and dance and all the supporting skills that go with them. Mumbai and other big cities in the country play a key role in this heartening development. Today, every middle-class family in metropolitan areas seems to have at least one child involved in pursuing some kind of artistic skill. There are coaching classes galore with opportunities to learn, practice and perform. Likewise, to India’s credit, there is a rapidly growing interest in the sciences of Ayurveda and Yoga all over the world.

In this mix of positives and negatives, emotional highs and lows about my Motherland, my travails and pet peeves have remained the same over decades. The notorious Mumbai traffic has gone from bad to worse now that the city streets have all been dug up for the metro guaranteed to ensure Mumbaikaranche’ Ujjwal Bhawishya (the Bright Future of Bombayites!). Another thing that annoys me is the apparent hurry of Indians who otherwise seem to have so much idle time on their hands. No matter what they are entering into or getting out from, Indians are always in a hurry, pushing, shoving, and stepping into the slightest opening they see or create in front of you. The moment the plane lands and taxis toward the gate, our Indian brothers jump up and begin to retrieve their bags from the overhead bins and start talking loudly on their cell phones (called mobiles in India). Damn the admonitions of the stewardesses. In five-star hotels, during the night, you are likely to hear loud conversation of the hotel guests passing by to their rooms down the hall. And the memo about Swachh Bharat (the Indian Prime Minister’s much ballyhooed program for national cleanliness) does not yet seem to have made its way to most of the country. This is the unchanging part of India.

I hasten to recognize that India is not a monolith in any way you look at it. It evokes different thoughts and feelings in different people. For me it remains a contradiction of the extremes it always has been. A true microcosm of India, Mumbai is a place of obscene wealth and dismal poverty. There are affluent parts of the city, the clubs and hotels—hangouts of the rich and famous, the politicians and the business tycoons, the movie stars and the cricketers—that can take on the most exclusive parts of Beverly Hills and Belgravia. There are people in Mumbai and Delhi who still enjoy the exclusive lifestyle of the maharajas of the bygone era. But the showpieces of the country like Bollywood or South Bombay or Lutyens’ Delhi are not true representations of the real India where most of its masses live. That exclusive India is not of my concern. I am focused on the middle-class men and women struggling to make a living and raise a family. They are rooted in traditional Indian values, and that may be their salvation. These are the simple people who use local trains and buses, celebrate the innumerable Indian festivals, gather in public spaces like Shivaji Park, and shop in Matunga Market. Places like these, where ordinary folks congregate to carry out the business of life immensely fascinate me.

Shivaji Park

A nation’s public places are a report card on its well-being. The soul and heart of India can be found in its streets and shops, in its public transportation systems, in its parks and playgrounds. These large spaces, away from the tourists and the privileged class, are a real microcosm of India. They are the essence of India. Life happens here. This is where you get to see and know India. Among the plethora of such places, one is the Ramlila Maidan in Delhi and another is Shivaji Park in the Dadar area of Mumbai, just to name two representative ones. There are many other such places scattered all over the country.

A leisurely morning stroll along the thickly shaded, paved walkway around Shivaji Park, which is not really a park in the conventional sense but a large open field, reveals a lot about the life of middle-class Mumbaikars. All around the periphery of the park is a raised curb that makes a wonderful bench for people to sit on, the famed Katta, almost a kilometer long. While hundreds of kids play in the dusty field at the center, mostly cricket, the cool Katta is where much of the off-the-field action happens. Ordinary, everyday folks are out in droves doing their thing here. Young and old, men and women, grandmas and grandpas, employed and unemployed, retirees and pensioners—they are all there, relaxing and doing what they please: eating, playing, chatting and arguing, hugging and courting, reading or texting, preaching or demonstrating, buying or selling, jogging or resting. They come in all shapes and sizes, wearing outfits of all colors and styles. It is leisure time here, with no trace of the proverbial big-city rush. Mumbai is supposed to be addicted to speed. Not here. Every now and then, you come across groups of Mumbai policemen slouching lazily in their plastic chairs nearby, peanut vendors packing their hot, salted product in paper cones, and stray dogs oblivious of the hustle-bustle around them blissfully napping on the Katta in the middle of it all. Much of real India is visible outdoors in a place like Shivaji Park.

In Mumbai, I forego my customary stay at the Marriott and insist on staying at a modest boutique hotel located conveniently just a block away from Shivaji Park. A brisk morning walk around Shivaji Park every morning is a not-to-be-missed, coveted part of my daily routine in Mumbai. This is no Hyde Park or Central Park, but it is adequate for a little exercise, and its educational and entertainment value is incomparable.

Created almost a hundred years ago during the British rule and about twenty-eight acres in size, this largest park in Mumbai is of great historical and cultural significance. It has witnessed important political and social gatherings over the past century. It was a popular venue for gatherings of freedom fighters in British India. Later, after Indian independence in 1947, it became the focal point of Maharashtra-centric regional activist groups for political rallies, demonstrations and strikes, and for cultural, social, and religious programs. Around the open field are a couple of temples, a few buildings like those of the Shivaji Park Gymkhana and the Bengal Club, a gymnasium, Scout’s Pavilion, assorted eatery shacks, a children’s playground, a designated area for senior citizens, and, of course, an equestrian statue of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj after whom the park is named. The use of Shivaji to name public places and monuments is as ubiquitous in Maharashtra as Gandhi is in the rest of India or Washington is in the US.

The pace and rhythm of the normal, tranquil life around the park is broken frequently by special events like gigantic bookfairs, lectures, and video shows featuring hi-tech LED screens, political or religious rallies as diverse as Trade Union Morchas, and the celebration of the work of ISKCON’s Prabhupada Swami. Not too long ago, during one of my morning walks, I saw the park and the residential streets around it abuzz with unusual activity, heavy traffic, large crowds, police barricades, and blaring loudspeakers all centered on the large east entrance of the park. The city was celebrating one of its most important events: the birthday of Matoshree Meenatai Thackeray, the late wife of Shiv Sena founder Hinduhridaysamrat Balasaheb Thackeray Ji and the mother of current Shiv Sena leader Uddhavsaheb Ji. Most billboards around Shivaji Park feature members of the Thackeray family. The heavily garlanded statue of Matoshree Meenatai graces the east entrance, the center of action. Previously, a bust of eminent playwright Ram Ganesh Gadkari occupied the spot.

India is a country of heroes, be they Gandhi or Nehru, Ambedkar or Shivaji, Tendulkar or Bachchan; and it is a country of unabashed hero worshipers. Each society has its built-in value systems. It chooses its role models and objects of worship which become essential parts of its social intercourse. The vision and work of these heroes, or the lack thereof, shape the nation’s destiny. It is not rocket science. We are what we do. Who we worship and who we follow reflects our values. Knowingly or unknowingly we choose our destiny.

Jai Bhim!

In an embarrassing display of my remarkable inability to learn from experience, year after year, I wind up in Mumbai at my hotel in the Shivaji Park area right in the middle of a three-day mega event, in early December, the celebration of the Mahaparinirvana, the death anniversary of Shri Jai Bhim Babasaheb Ambedkar who is practically a god to his followers.

Bharat Ratna Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar, also known as Babasaheb, was an economist, politician, and social reformer. He had the lead role in writing the Indian Constitution and later became the country’s first minister of law and justice. A champion of the dalits (untouchables) in India’s caste system, he campaigned against social discrimination and inspired the Dalit Buddhist movement. I am impressed by his stellar academic career. He had a PhD in economics from both Columbia University and the London School of Economics, and he was a recognized scholar in law and political science. An opponent of Hinduism, he converted to Buddhism and initiated mass conversions of dalits. India’s myriad dalit organizations celebrate his Mahaparinirvana on the sixth of December every year with great enthusiasm, and Shivaji Park is one of the biggest venues for that.

Those who have watched this event—the gathering of hundreds of thousands of Ambedkar’s Buddhist devotees grow in size, scope, and commercialization over the years—think that it is comparable to the great Kumbha Melas of the Hindus that happen every twelve years, periodically moving to four holy cities with a certain schedule. That is the magnitude and importance of this event to the followers of Babasaheb.

But the Mahaparinirvana happens once a year, not once in twelve years. They come from all over Maharashtra and beyond in droves of thousands by bus and trains, on foot and on bikes, in numbers that paralyze the transportation systems of Mumbai already under great duress (this is in the December of 2019) because of the ongoing construction of the Metro; overstrain the creaky infrastructure of congested Dadar; and overwhelm the usual tranquility of Shivaji Park with their giant processions, loud music, songs, dances, and speeches on multiple PA system and their loud speakers.

It is a stunning sight. The entire Shivaji Park Maidan—usually a quiet, dusty playground of local cricket-loving youth, all wannabe Tendulkars of tomorrow—becomes a gigantic campground for the hundreds of thousands of devotees much like a refugee camp in some war zone. Beyond the grounds, the picturesque, tree-shaded alleys and residential streets surrounding Shivaji Park also get flooded with squatters; vendors of Babasaheb paraphernalia (pictures, books, and idols); and food stalls. There are volunteers, security personnel, water-tanker trucks all over. And there are signboards after signboards repeatedly requesting people to use Sulabh Shauchalaya (public restrooms). Many attendees do not know where to find them or how to use them. The place reeks.

In a place like this, you realize that India is a land of beliefs and billboards, of crowds and honking vehicles. All of that is in its full glorious display at this Jai Bhim gathering. For my morning walk one day during a recent trip, I ventured out right in this gigantic mass of humanity. In that wall-to-wall crowd, it was impossible to walk; so I frequently stopped and talked every time I could make an eye contact with anybody who would smile and who seemed like he might chat a little. Mumbai is not a part of Texas and it is hard to find a stranger here who will return your smile. What I found was perhaps not so surprising. A great majority of the attendees did not seem to know why they were there and what they were doing. They came because they always came at this time of the year. Because their neighbors or friends or uncles or aunts came. Because the transportation and food were free. Because