Festival time

Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Zen master recently nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize, gave a beautiful talk on mindful living, then led a group of about 300 of us on a peace walk during the 2nd annual International Day of Peace on Delhi's Shantipath (Peace way).  We silently walked from in front of the famously grandiose edifices of the British Raj, now India's legislature and seat of government, to the equally ostentatious India Gate, below. Dusk brought hoards of huge bats, as big as pigeons flying just as steadily and more purposefully towards the eaves of the government complex.  I kept looking

up at this astounding phenomena, thousands of big fat bats with bulging bellies with clearly profiled vampire silhouettes. We were attempting to follow the lesson of our esteemed leader and achieve a meditative state, so that we could conjure the spirit of peace and communicate it to the world.  So I tried to ignore what looked to have been a scene made to order by Dr. Evil to thwart our efforts. I've come to learn that they  are the greater short-nosed fruit bat, such a common sight that for the families out for a family picnic and kite flying, they didn't warrent a glance.  It was the peaceniks they found to be the phenomena.  

Last Thursday marked the beginning of holiday season here.

Dussehera involves the burning of giant effigies of Ravana, the evil king who absconded with Sita, the wife of the good king Ram.  Good triumphs over evil, and miraculously none of the little kids setting off fireworks lose a limb.  Even more impressively, the 30 foot high sculptures I saw being burned didn't topple into the crowd.  These parties happen all over, in every neighborhood.  Deepa, our housekeeper, invited Evan and I to attend her neighborhood party, and gratefully we were settled on top of a six story apartment building overlooking this scene.  Otherwise we would have been part of the throngs I was sure would be cremated when these paper mache and metal framed structures collapsed. From up there, in every direction I could see fireworks and effigies being burned.  My Indian co-workers twittered at my telling the tale of imminent danger the next day:"Nothing ever happens.  People always just have fun." I've gotten used to lax safety standards, and even appreciate that I'm no longer admonished to 'keep from children', and 'wait for traffic light', but really, you should have seen this.  Even Evan watched with bated breath

 to inevitable carnage when the fireworks went bad, or the little barefoot kid didn't get away in time, or the breeze blew a swath of burning paper into the crowd.  But my friends were right - there must have been thousands upon thousands of these revels all over India last night, and today's paper was utterly mute about incidental victims.