Gandhi's Place of Death, Some Political Commentary, and I Can Now Navigate MT!

I've been having the hardest time waking up at a set time - something which has never been a problem at home. It's because I sleep with earplugs in (an ability I developed after having lived with jazz musicians who jam late into the night) to filter out the din of the street, so my alarm, although set to max, falls on semi-deaf ears. Compared to my first night though, the noise levels seem much less noticeable. Amazing how quickly we can habituate to new settings.
All this to say that this morning, I am late again. Thankfully, so is Deepa. She picks me up at another metro, and we head to the Gandhi Memorial Museum (aka:' Matryrdom Place of Mahatma Gandhi'). Photos are stuck on my iPod at the moment, so patience, image-o-philes (like myself), they will come!
For those who have seen the movie 'Gandhi', by Richard Attenborough, with Ben Kingsley as Gandhi, think of the scene near the end where Gandhi is assassinated by a gunman. This Memorial Museum is the site of that scene. It is an unreal feeling to by walking through the room where Gandhi spent the last 144 days of his life, to see the bed he slept on, to look through the window he walked through on the way to prayers the evening he was killed. Through the window, his last footsteps are embossed in concrete on the path up to the little hill where he was shot. There is now a memorial gazebo at this site. There are so many things to learn about history, and the people who shape it. I feel humbled by the juvenile nature of our own country's history. In light of all the injustices that the rest of the world has suffered, we have had it pretty easy.
It bears to keep in mind that the freedoms and privileges we enjoy from birth are what some people have fought for, are still fighting for, over the duration of many generations. How easily unchecked power is abused when the opportunity is there, and how insidiously it can happen. No group is immune to this, no matter what we'd like to believe because of how comfortable our lives seem now, and how great our systems seem to function.
And with this, I will plug a bit of local political commentary: The Harper government in Canada is doing some pretty disagreeable things. The de-legalization of gay marriage being one of the most recent embarrassments. The Harper government was elected because of an outdated system of assigning seats in parliament based on a distorted first-past-the-post system (where as long as any given party has more MPs elected than any of the other parties, that first party takes power of the government), rather than proportional representation. The Harper government is thus making decisions that do not represent the interests of the majority of voting Canadian citizens (who as well, embarrassingly, produced only 57% voter turnout last election). There are groups actively working on changing the electoral policy, Fair Vote Canada being one of them. See here: http://www.fairvote.ca/en/about_fairvoting
With another four years of Harper government to go, Canadians have to watch like hawks to keep abreast of the changes that are happening in our country, and speak out when something unsavoury happens. Because if we don't, we might not recognize the place we live in a few years.
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There is a lot more to learn about not just Gandhi, but the entire scope of Indian history in the context of the world. Good thing I've got a couple more months here. ;)
We go to the Laxmi Narayan Temple next, and have a bite at a little kiosk with a tented sitting area. Little green parrots chirp, land, and take off in the trees overhead, and numerous kites (the birds, not the toys) soar in the skies beyond, circling. We have Chole Bhature, rounds of fried dough which are puffed from the cooking. Crispy on the outside, fluffy and chewy on the inside! Eaten with a spicy chickpea masala. Victory, I eat it all with one hand (ok, with the help of a spoon too)! Deepa is very apologetic that she brought me here, because it's not the cleanest of places, but I'm quite happy. Nothing a little hand sanitizer can't manage. Also, that's what immune systems are for! I also tell her about some of the dives I've been to in Montreal (anyone been to the old Peel Pub, before it moved?), and remind her that I used to live in China (I've been playing the China card a lot, I know, but it's been coming in real handy). I thoroughly enjoy the meal, and my tummy is just fine - in Ayurvedic speak, I have the Pitta-fire quality of being able to digest almost anything.
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We have to relinquish our shoes, cameras, and cell phones to enter the Laxmi Narayan Temple, so there aren't many photos. It's a Hindu temple, but everywhere I look I'm reminded of Buddhist images and stories I was exposed to as a child. Some of which I didn't even know were Buddhist until I see the Hindu influence in them. An example, for anyone who also had this in their upbringing, is the similarity between the Hindu Hanuman, an ape-like diety, and the Buddhist Sun Wu Kong, aka the Monkey King (also my childhood hero!). The Monkey King stars in the epic tale 'Journey to the West', where he is one of the disciples of a monk who sets off towards India (the West) to retrieve Buddhist sutras.
Now it all makes sense! When I was younger I always thought the monk was going to Europe, or to Canada. The West is relative, naturally =D
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Deepa drops me off at Connaught Place, where I am kind of familiar now. I walk around the circular landscape, and am accosted by hawkers left and right ('Why you want to go there ma'am? Nothing special there! Come with me to Underground Bazaar!'). By now I feel just fine ignoring people (this sounds awful, but it's totally necessary to get through the streets) when they talk to me. I bargain a pair of sunglasses down from 250 to 100 rupees, but am unsuccessful when I try to get an iPod cover hawked at 180 for 50 rps. Oh well. Keep moving!
In the innermost circle of Connaught Place (CP to the locals), there is nice green space separated by pathways and lots of hedges. I see lots of couples semi-hiding by sitting against the hedges which are tall enough to cover their heads, and I follow suit by finding myself a nice spot under the hedge, and stretch out under the sun. Despite my effort at discretion, I still catch groups of men staring at me. I put on my sunglasses, turn up some Amon Tobin, stick my bag under my head as a pillow, and run my I-don't-give-a-shit-anymore face.
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Arriving back at MT, both Makyil and Kelsang are out, but I now know how the key hiding system works. I let myself in, and prepare a noodle soup dinner for everyone with what I find in the kitchen, with Django Reinhardt's company on the portable speaker Rhetta lent me. Another victory! My voice is making a tenuous return, but I jump the gun by trying to sing right away, and now it's retreating to sulk in a corner, hacking as it goes. UPS says my Visa has arrived in Delhi, so I should have it by the end of Monday. This mossy stone is preparing to roll again.