Indore Pt. 2

On Friday evening, we swerved through rush hour traffic towards the Indore airport, thinking our flight was leaving half an hour earlier than it was scheduled. The weather outside was near perfect- close to 80 degrees and sunny, with a light breeze- similar to Boston weather, but the driver kept the windows closed and a/c on because the pollution on the road was unbearable.

Indore is an intensely dense city. Millions of people live in cramped high-level houses in between dusty roads which the local government has been time-pressed to repave. The drainage system is still in development too. When it rains, my cousins warn me to not step into the “kitcharrd”, the muddy puddles that pepper the road. “You don’t have that in America,” they say. The smog and crowds dispel as soon as you pass the city limits though- we were able to leave the windows wide open and enjoy the fresh air on our faces the day before, when we traveled on the newly-made Indore-Bhopal bypass to Pushpgiri. This main artery out of Indore was surrounded by fields that stretched passed the horizon. The road was quite smooth, and there was no speed limit. I put my iPod in my ears and blasted the Slumdog soundtrack as the air billowed around my head. I fell asleep while watching the buffalo and camel herders working in the fields.

When I woke up, we had arrived at the hillside Jain temple in Pushpgiri. The temple was being expanded to accommodate more followers for larger ceremonies since a new Jain muni would be living and preaching there. Close to thirty workers were clinking away in small warehouses at the base of the hill, chipping elaborate designs into rock that would form the foundations of the new portion. One of the temple managers showed us around the compound- also in construction was a school and hostel where poor children from the surrounding villages would live and be educated for free. Impressive- the school looked like a Jain temple from the outside but was outfitted with modernities children living in rural villages can only wish to see. The rooms in the hostel were less glamorous, with only the solid cement in place and laundry drying outside each iron fence, but the manager delighted in the idea that two children had the luxury of their own room and food prepared for them every day by the temple cooks.

However, the food we had asked the temple cooks to arrange for us was not ready since we had arrived at the temple too late- the cooks were already busy putting together food for 400 Jains who had registered to attend a sermon that evening. I wasn’t too hungry for a pure Jain lunch though- no onions, garlic, and carrots, and my lactose intolerance- I wasn’t craving for a meal here. I ate a couple cookies and drank some water, I was fine for now. At least I had the opportunity to pray with my great-grandfather- an invaluable experience.

Now we are on our way to the airport- flying to Delhi, and then flying to Srinagar tomorrow morning. India is crazy.