This will be a very abbreviated report of our fantastic, incredible adventures. I have written literally hundreds of pages of diary already. This will be a skeleton from which to write a wonderful book. The book will be entitled, Humble as the Dust, A Retired Couple Tours India by Tandem Bicycle. The phrase, "humble as the dust", is from a quote I read in the Gandhi museum, Mani Bhavan, in Bombay. Gandhi says, "Unless you become as humble as the dust, you will not find truth." The book will describe a multiple succession of exciting adventures to illustrate what I think Gandhi might have meant by humility in that context. 

Our first three days were spent in Bombay. That was our initiation into the fine art of out not being taken advantage of and/or driven insane by "touts." In case you have not had the misfortune of ever being descended upon by a flock of touts, I will define the term. A tout is a scam artist who pretends, to the best of his ability, to be a guide who will help you find a hotel or taxi or learn about an historic site. The problem is that he has made deals with other businesses that will charge many times the going price. Touts at historic sites will claim to be qualified but are virtually uneducated and know nothing about the history or culture, besides which their English is totally incomprehensible. They just try to imitate the mannerisms of real guides and sputter out a bunch of worthless gibberish. 

In the Bombay airport we were descended upon by a flock of touts who assured us of good deal on a taxi ride to our hotel. We were already half mile away when the driver finally quoted his real price of 2100 Rupees. The Lonely Planet Guide had assured us the going rate was only 350 R. It wasn't until we had demanded several times in an ever more insistent tone that he took us back to the airport. So there we were in the middle of the night hauling our luggage down the roadway out of the airport hoping to flag a taxi. Soon one stopped and assured us his price was only 400R. 

Our scariest encounter with touts occurred at the train station in Bombay when the sleeper train we were supposed to take to Agra pulled away before our very eyes. We had missed the train because our watches were set incorrectly. Touts smell a crisis and descend upon you like dogs after the corpse of a pig that has died in the streets. To make a long story short, we rescheduled our trip for the next day and found a hotel nearby with no real help from anyone and all the while with a flock of touts swarming around us shouting orders, writing down prices and shoving them in our faces, etc. Two of them, still shouting orders, ran after us down the dark street where homeless people were camped around fires and under makeshift shelters. I have never been so relieved as at the moment we entered the hotel followed by the touts who were rudely thrown out by the proprietor. 

Bombay is an amazing place full of huge buildings, many of which have architecture reminiscent of Venice. Some of these magnificent structures are defaced by corrugated tin awnings, decaying straw mats over windows, small plants and trees growing out of the gutters, balustrades and crevices between the stones. The sidewalks of Bombay, originally made of beautiful ornate paving stones, are falling apart. Thick clouds of thus exposed reddish yellow dust ooze out and over the streets. Virtually everything we have seen so far in India is covered with dust and grime save for the beautiful stone tiled floors of the few middle class homes we have visited. The leaves of all the trees and plants are covered with dust. The millions of yellow mustard blossoms covering thousands of acres of the Indian countryside are all gritty to the touch. 

The guesthouse where we stayed at in Bombay is located near the Gateway to India, an imposing structure reminiscent of, but considerably larger than the L' Arche de Triomphe in Paris. It looks out over the Arabian Sea. We took a boat ride from there to visit Elephanta Island where a seventh century Hindu Temple is carved into the hillside. Its beautiful stone carvings depict legends and stories about Shiva and other Hindu Gods. The sculptural style is every bit as sophisticated and representational as Greek or Roman yet more gentle and spiritual. Much of the carving was later defaced by Portuguese conquerors, but the central image of Shiva remains intact. It is a huge head with three faces representing creation, destruction, and preservation. 

Our second-class sleeper train ride from Bombay to Agra was an education in itself. Fortunately, we had reserved seats so we were given first dibbies on sleeping platforms. The problem was getting to the toilet what with sleeping bodies and trunks filling every inch of the aisles. There will be more details in the book, Humble as the Dust. 

In Agra things really began to look up. While trying to phone a Servas host, we met Gaurav, basically by phoning a wrong number. Gaurav proved to be a gentle, spiritual young man who introduced us to Sengeev, a young Hindu priest. They took us, not only on a tour of the Taj Mahal, but also to visit five Hindu Temples and participate in rituals in and around the teeming Agra market. There will be much more about these experiences in the book. 

Gaurav also helped us get in touch with the real Servas host, Sant Dass, who turned out to be our saintly benefactor. We stayed two nights with Sant Dass. You will get to know this amazing character later when you read the book. As for now, let it suffice to say that, while Dick assembled the bicycle, Sant Dass took me to the newspaper and the TV station for interviews. I really related well to the young woman newspaper reporter. We were great friends by the end of the hour. The result was a front-page article with a picture of us with the bike. 

I can't read the article, of course, because it's in Hindi (as is everything else) but roughly translated by Sant Dass, it presents us as followers of Gandhi taking the hard road to get to know the real India on a mission for global democracy and peace. It also talks about the upcoming World Social Forum in Bombay where we will be giving workshops on global democracy. That article has proven to be our greatest friend so far. I keep the article in the back pocket of my bicycle jersey to be hauled out whenever we need to explain ourselves. For wherever we go, these two weird aliens on this strange double cycle space ship looking contraption, we are surrounded by people. Sometimes there are just a few polite people gathered round looking kind and extremely curious as we stop for a break or fix a flat tire. There have been up to a hundred people, predominantly younger males, in these groups. Sometimes there are mobs of joking, jeering youths swarming all around us and closing in to invade our comfort zone. Even as we bike down the road, a paparazzi of anywhere from one to a dozen bicycles follows along behind. Always, at just the right moment, we haul out the article and show it to someone who looks well fed and clean enough that he may likely also be able to read Hindi. That person then reads the article aloud or summarizes for others. Usually the reaction is positive and people seem to back off a little and give us a bit more space. A few times we have shown it to the police in small towns and they have then helped us find lodging. Several times we have taken it to other newspaper offices where more photos have been taken and more articles written. 

One afternoon when we stood beside the road a tall, beautiful young man stopped to get acquainted and introduced himself as Kamlesh Tiwari. He loved the article and wants to be part of our movement. That happened to be our most worrisome day for lodging because our day's ride would terminate in Malarna Dunger, a town too small to have a hotel. When we explained the lodging problem, he had an excellent solution. We must stay with the family of his uncle who lives in Malarna Dunger. 

In fact, our destination for the following day was the town of Sawai Madhopur where Kamlesh's parents and three beautiful sisters (in their early twenties) lived. So we spent two nights with the Tiwari's in Sawai Madhopur. That way we could spend half of the extra day touring the Ranthambhore National Park lion preserve. The Tiwari family impressed us very much. They are exceptionally beautiful people both physically and spiritually. Mr. Tiwari led us in a guided yogic meditation on both of the evenings before leaving for his job as a nurse in a hospital. His daughters showed us their photo albums with pictures of Venita's engagement ceremony, groups of beautiful young women in soft pink saris (their school uniforms) award ceremonies, dramatic presentations, etc. Priyanka's beautiful paintings were all over the house. She gave us one of a lion. Priyanka also sang us a song, and Venita performed a beautiful dance for us. We could not have experienced a more beautiful introduction to middle class lives well lived in such a poor country. 

There will be much more about these and other great adventures in Humble as the Dust.

 --Dick Burkhart & Mona Lee
Bike for Global Democracy
206-851-0027 
dickburkhart@comcast.net