First Day in Chennai

In the Beginning

Culture shock fades quickly in a car on the wrong side of the road.

As we whiz by motorcycles, scooters, auto-rickshaws, cows, and people (usually by mere inches), the immediate sense that we're all going to die, and rather soon, disappears. It is replaced by the sense that while we have absolutely no idea how people live in conditions like this, that there is order. There are rules. We don't know what they are, but they most certainly exist. People can't speed inches away from traffic coming toward them in the opposite direction and live without rules. Rules = sanity. Sanity explains away the oddity of cows walking in the street, the trash fires burning in the street, the urinating in the street, the piles of...stuff...everywhere.

It's chaos at first glance, but then, after awhile, the logic emerges. Our driver honks the horn, the motorcyclist carrying his wife and toddler shifts every so slightly to the right. We pass. The truck coming directly at us, and fast, toots, and we shift ever so slightly to the left. At the same time, the person directly behind us and to the left slows so we can fit in a space no longer than this --------------------------------- gap.

So there is order. Order is good. Order allows us to see the sights, to hear the sounds, to smell. Order allows us to ignore looming, speeding death, and the fact that we've put our lives into the hands of a complete stranger who speaks little English and even less Hindi. It allows us to focus on the adventure.

And what an adventure our first full day in India was. These few pictures do no justice to what we saw or did. These few words, even less so. Still, here are the details.

To the Temple...Part I

The day started with a drive into the countryside. Looking for a temple devoted to Anil's guru Baba Neem Karoli Ji. Ted, having been here before, offered me the front passenger seat. He wanted to gauge my reaction to traffic in India. There are still marks on the dashboard.

After wending our way through traffic, we made it out into the countryside and to the temple. At about 20 feet per side, the temple was of medium size. It was decorated in an ornate but unobtrusive manner. Surrounded by several outbuildings, the gated complex radiated an energy that was palpable (might have been the oppressive heat though, who knows?).

Unfortunately, two issues arose. First, the priest was not available. He had gone home for lunch and refused to return for just one devotee. Second, we learned that had he returned, it would have been in vain. The temple for Anil's guru, who is revered in Northern India, had been razed. Apparently, not many people in the south worship Baba Neem Karoli Ji and so a temple for another guru had destroyed the temple in order to make space for an expansion.

Upon hearing the news, Anil reacted with equanimity. Is a testament to his character that he did not become furious. Given the same circumstances, I don't know that I would have behaved as well.

The First Test

From there we headed home for a quick lunch and another test. Crossing the street. Crossing the street, I learned, is an exercise in focus and sphincter control. To succeed, you can only look toward your goal. Do not look to the left or right, or it is possible that you will freeze like a deer in headlights. Of course, when you hear a horn honk for you...and how you know it is for you is a phenomenon I cannot explain...you must discern the direction from which it came, determine the vehicle from which it came, look that way and then slow up or speed down depending on the situation. Easy enough, right? Not quite. There are dozens of cars, motorcycles, people, cows, etc., on the road at the same time. Not only do you have to avoid the vehicle speeding toward you, you must do so without impacting, or forcing into traffic, any of the other obstacles that surround you.

The solution? When in Rome.

I stayed hard on the heels of an elderly woman in a beautiful sari. I was her shadow. When she went right, so did I. When she slowed, so did I. When her foot hit the sidewalk, so did mi...ok, so I stopped and kissed the ground first (The doctors say the infection should go away by next week). The food at the Malaysian restaurant was delicious. Even more so because I was thrilled to be alive.

Meeting the Team

From there, we went to Birlasoft and had a quick meeting with the team. They all seem very bright and focused and really excited to be working on iMagic. Listening to Ted and Anil speak about our plans for the week and reviewing the plan for the development of the Event and Education modules for iMagic, I was struck by how well they communicated some very complex ideas, and how much the team respected them. Given our interaction, I know that the next two weeks will be highly productive.

The Birlasoft building looks 1,000 times better than every other building in Chennai. Where most seem slightly disheveled at best, it looks like it could be at home in any office park in America. We could have been at home. Like Rapattoni, it was a beautiful setup of cubicles and computers. The only difference was that the cubicles were mauve, not blue.

To The Temple...Part II

Given the disappointment earlier in the day, Anil decided to go to another temple to make an offering to his guru. He was kind enough to invite us along and Ted and I readily accepted. As the sun faded slowly in the west, and we removed our shoes, our driver took us to the temple. Nestled on a busy avenue, the temple was teeming with worshippers. A neon sign, in Tamil on top of the temple, blazed above the throng and illuminated their faces. Outside the temple, several women were earning a fairly good living by selling items to be offered up in worship. Anil explained how items were offered, we took the opportunity to purchase coconuts, hyacinth, and some sort of leaves to present.

Worship at the temple is a constant cycle. The crowd gathers, men on one side, women on the other, separated by two long brass railings. In between, the priests do their work. First they gather the offerings from outstretched hands. Second they present worshipers in the front few rows with a red powder (we were lucky enough to be against the railing), which is placed on the forehead. The priests then present a somewhat sweet, somewhat smoky liquid which is sipped and then rubbed into the hair (scalp in my case). On their final go round before closing the curtain and presenting the offerings to the statue representing ??, the priests extend handfuls of leafy vegetable matter. Some people eat of it, some, like Ted, Anil, and me, just held it in our hands.

A silence fell over the crowd as the curtain closed; the indecipherable chanting from inside the temple was almost hypnotic as we strained to hear. After one or two minutes, the curtain re-opened and the priests came out holding the remains of the offerings people made. For me, a half coconut, some hyacinth, and a few strands of greenery. I took the remainder of my offering, and like millions of people before me, I circled the temple clockwise, my mind open and reflective. I offered up prayers to a god I did not know and wished for a healthy and happy life for all the people who shared the experience with me. It was profoundly moving. As I circled the building and offered up my thoughts, more people filled the spot I occupied against the railing and the cycle began anew.

What brought me out of my reverie was an insistent tug near my hip. Looking down, I saw a small child. She and her mother were begging for rupees, for anything really. I didn't know what to do. Anil, ever wise, suggested that I take a bite of coconut to signal my communion with ?? and then give the rest of my offering to the poor woman and her child. The look of gratitude from that woman will probably stay with me for the rest of my life. Her face was haggard, her bones obviously weary, but her eyes blazed with life as our hands touched and she accepted my small kindness.

On the ride home, I peppered Anil with questions about what we had just experienced. It was a wonderful way to learn and also a wonderful way to ignore that people drive the exact same way at night in Chennai as they do during the light of day.

The End of the Day

Dinner at the hotel restaurant was delicious. The conversation was spirited as we planned for the future of iMagic and solved the world's problems as well.

After a quick tour of the disco, where we saw men dancing wildly together to incredibly suggestive American rap music, we marveled at all we had seen and called it a night.

I can only wonder what new experiences the next two weeks will bring.