Sticker on indian van: slow drive long life, 2 children one wife.
Our Delhi-dharamsala flight turned back due to poor visibility. We returned to Delhi and booked a car and driver for the next day for the 12 hour trip. My partner asked for a good car, I asked for a good driver. A knowing smile and warm eye contact with the booking agent got us an angel the next morning.
The Hare Rama Guest house in Delhi can best be described by the Hebrew word 'jifa'. The beds are metal door cabinets placed on a scrapwood base. The sheets feel alive. Size is slim to tiny and the A/C can be turned on and off from the main board in the hall (which got me lightly electrocuted once). Somehow this place has managed to attract mainly Israelis for the last 15 years. reason is they care. India breaks down often on a local level, but the HR people will do their best to fix things quickly. They also take care with the food, using mineral water in their fruit juices. The chaotic surroundings can be intimidating to a westerner but the HR is cushioned on all sides with money changers and travel booking in the building and a post office for parcels is across from the entrance. did I mention 24hr room service?
Sitting in Dharamsala, eating Ayurvedic fruit porridge for my constitution (Kapha), Dharamsala seems a much easier place than Delhi - but somewhat sadder. It is after all a residence for a people undergoing what they consider a holocaust but with the theft of their land to boot. The place looks to me a little like a way station for lost souls. The local Tibetans have a decent life here (underscored by The fact that the place wakes up late) but it׳s not their home. Tibetans are restrained, meticulate and mechanical. They turn the prayer wheels, meditate with their beads as a means for stopping the mind and being in peace. Tibetans wear uniforms. No wonder the is an affinity between Tibetans and Jews.
Although everyone here behaves relaxed and spiritual like, the underlying stress and sadness is felt. I would call Dharamsala the Las Vegas of spirituality. It is a smorgasbord of treatments and courses in meditations, yoga, tibetan massage, Ayurvedic healing, tantric projection, chakra unplugging, singing bowl massage, panchakarma purging, and the list goes on. You can choose a hundred ways to heal and most will probably work, but my impression was that the level of knowledge here varies.
I enjoyed a Ayurvedic massage with steam which left me limp and content. The steam comes from a pressure cooker which feeds steam via a hose to a tea pot. The pot is then moved across the back (in my case) and feels like warm ethereal hands caressing the back. After 2 treatments with some medicine my back is back. Bombolenat Hare Om. I later learned that stricter practitioners use only their hands to produce heat, rubbing them together.
A lot has changed here in two years, according to my travel partner. She refers, sadly, to the fast paced development of Dharamsala. It does look like the balance between materialism and spirituality is shifting here.
Adjay - our driver from Delhi to Dharamsala turned out to be a native Dharamasalian. He is in his mid twenties, worships Shiva and Ganesh, has a guru and has experienced samhadi. As we passed holy smoke on the 10 hour drive to Dharamsala, we got to know a gentle and centered man. His driving was different than Delhi drivers. He would allow others to get in front but knew when to floor it too. When we got to Dharamsala it turned out that he lives 5 minutes from our guest house. We had our man.
Adjay is a lucky man In any term. He is young, good looking, has inner peace, owns a car, a chai shop and several cows.
I should say here that the calmness or openness of many Indians I've met enables them to keenly asses any person in front of them. After 12 hours we were all confident of the mutual common ground and after 3 days I was honored when he called me 'Anji', a greeting between friends or pals.
He is, in fact, a type of local 'tzfoni'. He does not drink and (I quote) smokes only with good people. All the people he introduced us to seemed also to be 'good people'.
Larger Dharamsala is a collection of small towns built on mountain terraces. Going anywhere means steep roads, which turns any outing into a serious workout.
Streets are so narrow that cars either have no side mirrors or they are folded in - permanently. A 10 minute drive up the narrow and rocky mountain with a 3 wheeled roofed motorcycle (taxi) really left me in awe of the driver's capabilities and calm. They reminded me of beduins going up mountains with their camels. Unlike the mountains, a traffic jam in the small Bhagsu square can cause a two hour Block where pedestrians have only room to skip over water pipes and shop stairs to get around. All this in conzstant honking and fumes coming out of rikshaws, cars and motorcycles
Sipping gingerlemonhoneytea on a terrace overlooking the valley of dharamkot, I saw an eagle fly, below me. Unfortunately, littering has changed the pristine landscape and many small waterfalls are full of plastic bags and garbage.
Dharamkot is one of the higher towns and therefore cheaper (climbing, remember?). Israelis have found here a kind of Sinai beach in the lush mountains. Many signs in Hebrew promise kvisa, burekas and Hebrew keyboards in the Internet places. The Hebrew word for this type of gathering is called 'Karachana'.
Compassion, Indians and Chabad: we moved 3 rooms in 3 days in Delhi, I was electrocuted and such, I did not consider these negative experiences. This is how most of India works. However, the basic compassion that any Indian showed me seemed to be lacking in Bhagsu beit chabad. This is the story: where ever I go here I sweat profusely. So much so that in every shop, stall, house, with any encounter I saw concerned Indian faces when they looked at a middle aged sweaty man. Most offer water and one Indian thought I was going to have a heart attack. My partner had to drop off a package at beit chabad so we arrived there and were met by the local rabbi, a young guy. He talked with my partner, did not offer us to sit and completely ignored me in my pool of sweat. After a minute or so my partner and I left and I said to him before turning around and walking away: "goodbye and thank you for the glass of water." and so it goes.
India has an openness that allowed me to visit Samadhi many times so far.
Tomorrow we're leaving and traveling to the Kinnaur valley.
Subhratri (good night) Dharamsala. Om mani padme hum.
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