الدخول مجانا للبوابة التاريخية لعمان

خلال هدنة الكوفيد، ومع عودة إمكانية السفر، ولو مؤقتا، فقد قررنا أن نغتنم الفرصة لحضور حفل زفاف في الأردن لإبنة أختي وصديقتي منذ أيام الجامعة، فطالما كانت عمان تمثل لي تلك المدينة الراقية بأهلها الكرام، حتى صارت عائلتانا على مر السنين كعائلة واحدة. 

وفي ذات يوم، وخلال جولة لشراء الهدايا التذكارية من مشغولات الخليل لفتت نظري يافطة مكتوب عليها “متحف أرمات عمان”، وبالسؤال عن المتحف عرفت أنه متحفًا للافتات القديمة لمختلف المهن،  أقيم بالجهود الذاتية.. لذا فقد وجبت الزيارة. 

وسط البلد في عمان في القرن الماضي كان بمثابة نقطة مركزية على شكل سوق تجاري مفتوح لمختلف المشتريات ومختلف الحرف من تجار ومهندسين ومحامين وخياطين وتجار خردوات، وحتى شركات الطيران، حيث يعلو كل محل ‘يافطة’ خطت بعناية بيد فنان. 

صفت صديقتي السيارة على جانب إحدى طرقات جبل اللويبدة العريق، وهو منطقة من أجمل وأهدأ المناطق بعمان، منازله صغيرة بنيت من الحجر، طرقاته ضيقة تغلب عليها رائحة الياسمين التي يتنسمها  الشجر الذي يوجد بغزارة في حدائق هذه المنازل. في هذه المنطقة يمكن للزائر أن يستمتع باحتساء فنجان من القهوة في إحدى المقاهي الصغيرة حيث تختلط نكهتها الغنية والمميزة برائحة الياسمين التي يعبق بها المكان.  تضم المنطقة أيضًا أربعة كنائس قديمة وإثنين من أقدم الجوامع بعمان، كما يقع بها السفارة الإيطالية والمركز الثقافي الفرنسي وبعض الآثار الرومانية. 

تتميز المنطقة العتيقة أيضًا بالمعارض الفنية والحفلات الموسيقية التي تقام بين الحين والآخر، حتى باتت كمركز ثقافي هام ومقصد سياحي  يجذب مئات الزوار على مدار العام.

 خلال جولتنا نزلنا “درج الكلحة” – وهذا يلزمه حديث منفرد – في طريقنا إلى مقهى (السنترال) الشهير الذي يعلوه المتحف. حيث وصلنا إلى بناية قديمة يرجع تاريخ بنائها إلى عام ١٩٣٢ في شارع الملك حسين العريق (شارع السلط)، وهو موقع جغرافي عزز مكانة المتحف التاريخية لتكون قريبة من قلب التاريخ، وحتى لا تبتعد اللوحات عن مكانها الأصلي، وهكذا أصبح المتحف على خريطة مسار عمان السياحي وسط البلد مع المدرج الروماني ومتحف الحياة الشعبية وغيرها من المزارات السياحية الهامة.

 الدخول مجانا لتلك البوابة التاريخية لعمان، فالدعم المادي يقوم بتغطية السيد غازي وإخوانه، في حين أن الدعم المعنوي فتلك الزيارات كفيلة به.

 المتحف يقع في مساحة 160 مترا مربعًا، حيث يستطيع الزائر أن يتجول في أروقته بحرية تامة من زاوية إلى أخرى ليجد عشرات وعشرات من اليافطات معلقة على كل الجدران وحتى السقف وفوق مدخل الأبواب وعلى الأعمدة وحتى على الادراج المؤدية للمتحف. مقاسات وألوان وخطوط مختلفة، كنز كبير غني بمحتوى ثري، خاصة لهؤلاء ممن يجدون متعتهم في قراءة اليافطات في الشارع.  يوجد أيضًا بالمتحف ما يعرف ب “ركن الضاد” وهو قسم خاص للخط العربي، يعرض لوحات لمختلف الخطوط والأدوات المستخدمة في فن الخط العربي، حيث تستطيع أن ترى العديد من الزوار يستمتعون بالشرح الفني عن أنواع الخطوط والمواد المختلفة المستخدمة في الكتابة، 

أ وبالطبع عن معلومات أخرى عن البعد التاريخي والثقافي والاجتماعي لتلك اللوحات. فمثلًا، عند الخياط تقرأ عبارة “بدلات كوبونات”، وهذا يعني قطعة واحدة من القماش من إنجلترا أو فرنسا تكفي القطعة منها بدلة واحدة فقط، فيضمن المشتري أنه الوحيد الذي يمتلك هذه البدلة في الأردن، 

(إنها ثقافة موضة اندثرت وتاهت خلال السنوات.. أو قد تقع عيناك على شعار “قهوتنا صافية، خالية من الغش”، إنها بساطة الناس في التعبير آنذاك، والتي قد لا تخلو من عمق ورقي.

اللوحات بخطوطها المختلفة تمثل بالطبع قيمة فنية عظيمة، ولكن وبلا شك، فإن لقيمتها المعنوية في وجدان الناس القيمة الأعلى، فكم من زائر وجد لوحةلوالده أو لجده هنا أو هناك.. طبيب، خياط، أو صاحب حرفة.. هنا تستطيع أن ترى بعينيك ذلك المردود الإيجابي والذي قد يصل إلى الدموع، حينئذ يشعر غازي بقيمة ما قدمه لعمان.

   ولكن يبقى السؤال: من هو غازي خطاب؟

بدأت القصة مع غازي محمود خطاب وهو من مواليد عام ١٩٦٢كهاو لفن الخط العربي منذ نعومة أظافره إلى أن أصبح حرفتة لاحقًا.. حصة الخط كانت المفضلة لديه، فهو لا يزال يذكر ذلك اليوم الذي عوقب فيه من قبل مدرسه بالفصل بسبب قيامه بملء دفاتر الخط لزملائه بخطه حين تهربوا من أدائها. يذكر أيضًا تلك الأيام عندما كان يشترى من مصروفه الخاص فرشاة خط، وعندما كان يذهب للدكاكين كالبقالات والمطاعم الصغيرة يعرض خدماته لكتابة اليافطات مقابل أجر زهيد، فالخطاطون المعروفون كانت أجورهم مرتفعة في تلك الأيام.

في مرحلة الدراسة الإعدادية والثانوية اشتغل عند عدد من الخطاطين المشهورين، حتى حل عام ١٩٨٠ حينما كان في وسط البلد ورأى الناس مجتمعة حول أحد المصورين يقوم بتصوير الصور الفورية بآلة التصوير الشهيرة من طراز”بولارويد” ومعه مجموعة من المجسمات على الورق المقوى للفنانين لتصوير المارة، مقابل مبلغ نصف دينار، ففضل أن ياخذ هذه الصوره بالقرب من لوحة محل ملابس “نوفوتيه صرصور” للخطاط تيسير سادات الذي كان يتابع عمله ضمن خطاطين آخرين، حتى تحققت أمنيته ليسجل هذه اللحظة 

ي. دفع ثمن هذه الصوره ديناراً بدلاً من نصف دينار وذلك لبعدها عن مكان وجود المصور، حيث رافقته هذة الصورة أثناء دراسته في ألمانيا  لمده خمس سنوات لدراسة التصميم الرقمي graphic design وفن تصنيع اللوحات الإعلانية.

في عام ١٩٨٦ أنتقل محل صرصور لمكان آخر فحصل على  اللوحة التي رافقته بغرفة نومه لمدة سنتين، وفي سنة 1988 تحولت الهواية إلى الإحتراف حيث افتتح غازي شركته الخاصة مع إخوانه.

 في أثناء ذلك بدأ في تجميع اللوحات القديمة لغرض الحفاظ عليها ليس إلا، وكانت لوحة صرصور هي المدماك الاول لمتحف أرمات عمان، فصار يجمع اللوحات القديمة من خلال شرائها أو من خلال استبدال لوحات المحال القديمة بلوحات جديدة، واستمر في تجميع اللوحات حتى عام ٢٠١٦ وإبقائها في شركته. 

بعد ذلك أصبح لدى غازي كم كبير من اللوحات، وعرض عليه لاحقًا الاشتراك بمعارض مختلفة ولكنه رأى أن عمان تستحق أكثر من باقة ورد تعيش لفترة مؤقتة، تحتاج لشجرة عطرية تبقى رائحتها تفوح في كل الأوقات، ومن هنا جاءت فكرة المتحف الدائم لتوثيق تاريخ مدينة عريقة عن طريق لوحاتها الإعلانية.

يعتبر هذا المتحف فريدًا من نوعه، ليس على المستوى الإقليمي فحسب وإنما على المستوى العالمي وذلك من عدة نواح، فمن ناحية المتحف كفكرة فريدة وغير موجودة في أي مكان في العالم، ومن ناحية اللوحات نفسها، حيث أن كل لوحة تقف خلفها قصص وحكايات مشوقة عن الخطاط الذي خطها ونوع الخط ومكان اللوحة الأصلي وصاحب اللوحة ومهنته وتفاصيل كثيرة قد تكون ملهمة لمن يعرفها .

ومن الحكايات التي تروى عن اللوحات بالمتحف، فقد شاهد أحد الأشخاص تقريرًا تلفزيونيًا عن المتحف في دبي فاتصل بأخته في عمان على الفور وطلب منها أن تزور المتحف عسى أن تجد لوحة تحمل رائحة والدهم، فذهبت على فورها مع أولادها لزيارة المتحف، وبالفعل وجدت لوحة والدها (لوحة الدكتور محمود جمعة)، واللوحة مكسورة وغير واضحة المعالم 

(ال  كان غازي يسمي تلك اللوحة باللوحة الناقصة، ولكن بعد زيارة الإبنة والحديث الذي تم عن صاحب اللوحة بات المشهد مكتملًا، وصارت اللوحة تعرف لاحقًا باللوحة الكاملة.

بعد أن ذاعت شهره المتحف صار الناس يتسابقون في إهداء اللوحات المختلفة له، ومن وجهة نظر السيد غازي فإن أغلى اللوحات قيمة وأعزها على قلبه هي تلك اللوحات المهداة للمتحف من أصحابها.

أما آخر إضافة للمتحف فهي يافطة لمحل أعتز به شخصيا.. فعلى هذا العنوان بدوار الحاووز كنت أرسل الخطابات لصديقة عمري على مدار العديد من السنوات.. إنها (بقالة الهنا) المملوكة لوالدها وتحمل اسم والدتها و(بقالة الهنا) يعود تاريخها الى عام ١٩٥٩ حين هاجر صاحبها السيد خليل أبو منة من فلسطين، وظل يقدم خدمة مميزة لزبائنه حتى وفاته عام ١٩٩٧، وأغلق المحل عام ٢٠٠٣ تاركًا ذكراه العطرة حتى الآن لسكان المنطقة. 

كل لوحة لها حكاية مع السيد غازي، تروي كيف حصل عليها، بداية من معرفة الجد، إلى أن وصلت للإبن فالحفيد من خلال بناء علاقة وتاريخ يثبت أن مكان اللوحة في المتحف يعطيها قيمتها الحقيقية باعتبارها كنزًا من كنوز مدينة عمان التي لا تنضب.

تترك اللوحات كما هي بلا رتوش، حتى الغبرة (التراب)، فتبقى عالقة على أي لوحة، فهي ليست غبرة ولكنها ذكريات من عبق الماضي. 

لا يعرف عدد اللوحات على وجه الدقة، فالفكرة ليست في عددها ولكن في قيمة تاريخ كل لوحة.

يقول غازي: أتمنى أن يستمر الناس في زيارة المتحف، صحيح أنه صغير في مساحته، ولكن بزيارته يتسع الخيال.. 

إنها سحابة ذكريات فوق سماء عمان.

Oh, My Friend!

Omar Aly Shafey 1930 – 1991/ E. Harper Johnson 1916 – 2016

“Oh, my friend!”
That was the response of uncle Harper when he called our home in Alexandria, Egypt from his home in the US, after he asked for my Dad, only to learn from me that he had passed away a few days earlier. Just those three words, sounding like a cry of pain … just those three words, and we both choked on our tears … just those three words, and he hung up …

I could still hear the long O in his voice today, 28 years later, stabbed with the agony of the sudden loss of a friend.

But let me go back to the beginning of a story of sincere friendship. My father was a member of a medical caravan to African countries in his capacity as a prominent surgeon and staff member of the Alexandria Faculty of Medicine in the mid seventies when he first met Dr. Harper Johnson* in Kenya. Johnson was commissioned by President Jomo Kenyatta to paint about nationalism in Kenya. Both gentlemen found a lot to talk about and enjoyed each other’s company immensely during their stay away from their homelands. And as usual, my father invited his new friend to visit Egypt as a houseguest.
Upon my father’s return, luggage filled with fine carvings of ivory, heavy ebony statues and hides of different animals, each with an amusing story, I remember him carefully unfolding a huge, full size zebra hide. He went on to tell us that he tried to bargain his way around the 500 sterling pound hide, but had to let go of the valuable piece. It was just before his trip back that his friend Harper presented him with that precious farewell gift that adorned our living room for many years.
Dr. Harper took my dad on his word and visited Egypt with his lovely Kenyan wife, Salma, a barrister. I have rich memories of the couple, especially the stories uncle Harper had to share about how he documented the coronation of the Shah of Iran in the 60s through his immense, life-size paintings which he showed us pictures of. There were more pictures of paintings of Africa, the details of costumes and features on faces are still engraved in my mind. I was amazed when he told me that he was once a cartoon artist, one of which was my favorite Dennis the Menace!
My Mom remembers how she drove uncle Harper on another visit to the Egyptian Museum in Cairo from our flat there daily for four or five days. He said no one could ever take in more than two hours of any museum per day to fully appreciate the art presented there.
Our families continued to be friends till the fateful day I answered his call … then we lost contact. Later with internet access I tried to find anything about him but was unfortunate, till just a few days ago when I found his business card in my father’s address book; Dr. E. Harper Johnson, Pictorial Historian. It was my mistake all along, looking for Harper Johnson. And it was then that I discovered that he had passed away in 2016 at the ripe age of one hundred.
I’ve been reading so much about his achievements throughout his rich life, unfortunately I found only one of his paintings which I am sharing here.

Twenty-eight years to the date today, Thursday, November 28th 1991 my father passed away. In loving memory to Omar Shafey, my dad, I would like to pay homage to their friendship, and to shed the light on an artist whom I believe not many people in my circle know of.
May your Friendship continue in Heaven.

Dr. E. Harper Johnson with Sultan Qabus of Oman

*.Eugene Harper Johnson was an internationally acclaimed pictorial historian, writer and one of the most prolific book illustrators of the 20th century. Dr. Johnson was blessed at an early age with remarkable artistic skills. Before the age of 10 in the city of his birth, Birmingham, Alabama in the US, Harper Johnson sowed the first seeds of his artistic genius and went on to illustrate for one of the local newspapers political cartoons. His artistic genius did not go unnoticed and he was sponsored to further his studies in France and later at the National Academy of Design and Pratt Institute in the United States. He is considered as one of the world’s most versatile artists and scholars

During the last 50 years, Harper Johnson devoted his life to pictorially recording the history of a number of countries, including the US, various nations in Africa, Iran and for over a quarter of a century in the Sultanate of Oman. Dr. Harper Johnson was granted with the Omani nationality by His Majesty Sultan Qaboos. Since then, his heart largely engaged with the Omani community. He also expressed that he finally found his homeland after a long, tiring life full of travel and work.

INDIA – Final Day (9)

Taj Mahal. That’s where we were heading today. A two hour drive from Delhi to Agra on the expressway and we were there. No matter how much you read or heard about it, its magnificence surpasses it all. I won’t be telling any facts or doing any description, as those could be found everywhere, but I will be sharing my feelings, the story told by our young guide – some of which I haven’t come across, yet he says his sources are reliable. So come along and live the dream of love.

You can reach the premises by walking, camel or rikshaw, we opted for the latter, and once we were at the gate we were bombarded by professional photographers, no, not because we are famous 😉 but because ever since late Princess Diana visited Taj Mahal every visitor wanted the exact same poses, and thus started the annoying business. We didn’t want someone to distract us by asking us to pose in every corner and our guide was willing to take up that task as well.

Southern Gate to Taj Mahal

Dwellings for serfs 

Once you are inside the gate, and if you center yourself exactly in the middle, you will be able to experience the beauty of symmetry and the splendid white marble mausoleum reflected in the pool dividing the vast garden.

 

A long walk and many pictures later, we sat on a bench in the shade of a tree while our guide told us the story of Mumtaz Mahal, the favored wife of Shah Jahan’s three. She fell seriously ill after giving birth to their fourteenth child, and on her deathbed she asked her husband to commemorate their love. After her demise, the grief stricken emperor locked himself for three days, then came out with a plan to build his wife a resting place that would be remembered for eternity. He chose a spot where the Yamuna River curved, and ordered the construction of the mausoleum with translucent marble, inlaid with semi precious stones. The four minarets at its corners tilt slightly towards the outside in case there is an earthquake they would collapse outwards and not on the outstanding building. A mosque was erected on the left hand side, and to keep symmetry, an identical one was built on the right hand side but not for worshipping.

Reflection of Taj Mahl in my sunglasses, cleverly captured by our guide

 

According to our guide, and unlike it is believed, Shah Jahan did not cut off the workers and builders hands, nor did he poke out their eyes so they would not be able to build anything of equal magnificence. What he did was compensate whoever worked there handsomely so they would not want for anything in their entire lives. They would not need to work, and thus would not replicate the Taj.

The story goes on that one of the emperor’s sons was astounded to learn that his father was thinking of building another mausoleum for himself, in black marble this time. Taj Mahal had cost 32 million rupees in the 17^th century and his son found it wise to put his father under house arrest to prevent him from going through with such a mad plan. Had his son known the value of his father’s “folly”, and what recognition it had brought along as being one of Seven Wonders of the World, would he have gone through with his plan? I can’t help picturing what a black Taj Mahal would look like … a shadow of the one we know.

Monks preparing to enter the mausoleum 

Now it was time to enter mausoleum after donning overshoes. Groups of maybe one hundred are allowed in at a time and go around the replica of the tombs of the emperor and his wife. The originals are found way down beneath. We were then ushered out to the terrace overlooking the stunning view of the winding river.

Symmetrical view from the other end – Taj Mahal behind me

The final stop in Agra without which visiting Taj Mahal would be incomplete, is The Red Fort. The residence of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal … and later where the emperor was under house arrest in confined quarters.

Shah Jahan’s confinement quarters

The saddest part of their love story, at least in my opinion, was that he had a view of his wife’s resting place during his confinement. A reminder of their love, and their days of glory, when he was ruler of the land taking off to wherever he pleased and ordering whatever his heart desired. A point to ponder; was the choice of that specific spot for imprisonment a blessing or was it a form of daily torture for eight years till his death.

Just a few steps away from those quarters was their bedroom, built specially for Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal. The wanted a private area where no one had called theirs before. The vast hall had enormous windows overlooking the river. Their bed, no longer there, was set in the middle and Persian carpets were let down from hinges on the ceiling to surround them from the four sides. What a setting for true love … and the perfect end of our trip to Incredible INDIA.

 

 

 

 

INDIA – Day 8

 

         

          It was time to say our final goodbyes to the yoga group and fly to Delhi. We reached Indira Gandhi airport and admired the design made of huge hands performing Mudras, the hand gestures from classical Indian dance. It was also decorated ahead for Diwali.

Again we were met at the airport, and after checking in the Holiday Inn, extra modern and full of hi tech gadgets and buttons in our room, we met our guide for the day, Jimmy. We didn’t have enough time to visit the highlights of the city, but what he did show us was at leisure and thoroughly enjoyed. First there was the Qutb Minar.

            The 73 meter high tower of red sandstone and marble was built by Qutabuddin Aibak in 1193. It is believed to be either a tower of victory or a minaret of the Quwat el Islam Mosque present at the foot of the minaret and which was the first mosque built in India.

Alai Minar was an attempt of doubling the size of Qutb Minar by Alauddin Khiliji but was never completed.

The place that is extremely beautiful in this complex is the tomb of Shamseddin Iltutmish, Qutub’s son in law. The 800 year old tomb is the first Islamic tomb in India. Its walls are engraved with Arabic calligraphy verses from the Quran.

           

         Our next stop was the President’s Palace, or Rashtrapati Bhaven. The building was formerly the Viceroy’s House during the British administration. It was considered the largest residence of Head of State worldwide till Turkey opened the Presidential Complex in 2014.

          We could see the cavalry in their red uniform and feathered helmets, trotting in formation on the grounds of the palace. India was hosting the third India-Aftrica Forum summit while we were there in October. Fifty-four heads of states and governments of African countries were there and we proudly stood beside our flag outside the palace while President Al Sissi was maybe inside at that time.

We went around the busy streets of Delhi, notorious for its number of vehicles which are counted in lakhs (a lakh being a hundred thousand), estimated to be 90 lakhs in March 2015, and increasing by the day. Just opposite the Presidential Palace, which can be seen from the distance, is the famous 42 meter high India Gate that was built in 1921. The archway that commemorates the 70,000 Indian soldiers who lost their lives during WW1 while fighting for the British Army bears the name of the soldiers killed in the Afghan war in 1919.

Below the arch lies an eternal flame burning day and night in honor of the soldiers who lost their lives in the Indo-Pakistani War in 1971.

 

A piece of information Jimmy gave us and said we wouldn’t find a backup for is that INDIA actually stands for Independence National Day in August. Anybody care to comment?

As we walked around the spacious garden surrounding India Gate and watched it light in the evening, Jimmy pointed out the many beautifully dressed women. They were celebrating Karva Chauth by fasting from sunrise to moonrise for the safety and longevity of their husbands. The annual one-day festival is celebrated by Hindu women in North India, and Jimmy commented that he was fasting along with his wife, saying “If she can fast for my long life for a whole day, then the least I can do is refrain from eating too.”

Jimmy was wise indeed; the stories, experiences and advice he shared were entertaining as well as very useful. Let me share a couple with you, bearing in mind that our guide looked nothing close to his 70 years, but closer to 50, this is what he does daily: 1) Jump rope for 15 minutes in the morning, don’t worry if you can’t at first. Start by 1 minute and build it up. 2) Wash your face with a tablespoon full of milk and rub it onto your face and neck. Leave for 10 minutes then wash off. You will never need moisturizers or anti-aging creams.

Back at the hotel we joined the dinner buffet along with many families celebrating Karva Chauth. More ladies even more beautifully dressed, coiffed, made up and wearing all kinds of accessories were surrounded by their family members as they broke their fast and wished their husbands well.

 

 

 

 

 

INDIA – Day 7

Lord Shiva

Before leaving Chidambaram and after checking out of the charming Lakshmivila there was an important temple to visit. Actually one of the most beautiful temples you could set your eyes on. Built sometime between the 11^th and 12^th centuries the Nataraja Temple was dedicated to Lord Shiva, Lord of Dance – the cosmic dance of creation, preservation and dissolution.

 

The high walls of the entrance illustrate the tens of poses of Shiva in the form of engravings. The temple known as Chidambaram Temple referring to the sky of consciousness, which is the ultimate aim one should attain.

No words could describe the magnificence of the scene once you go through the entrance. I’ll leave you to take in the fine details of the temple with all it’s glory through the photographs below.

The Mulasthana or sacred pond – Sanskrit term meaning place of origin

Underneath a golden roof lies the sanctum sanctorum or holy of the holiest – the Cit Sabha meaning the Hall of Wisdom. We were fortunate to be allowed in there accompanying our priest friends, the Dikshitars. Through the solemn rituals we observed the richness and splendor of the place.

Our next stop was the Thillai Kali Temple, where Kali is the deity of anger. Kali had lost the dance challenge to her husband Lord Shiva. Representing angry women, this temple is understandably a favorite to many who visit for blessings and to release anger and frustration. We were warned that the temple floor was covered in red kumkum and that our bare feet would be stained for sometime. The deity herself was heavily covered in red powder. We lit Deepam purchased before entering, depicting enlightenment and the path towards wisdom.

 

After the priest tied a braided red thread around our wrists, a Kappu, meaning protection from evil eye, he handed us each a lemon. We followed Durga and watched as she slid her lemon on a pointed knife like object, on top of many other lemons. The angrier the woman the more forceful she slides the lemon. It is a purification process for cleansing the soul from impurities.

Our trip with the group was approaching its end. The last leg of the journey was the bus ride from Chidambarum to Chennai. Sanjay wisely suggested we exchange contact info to keep in touch, and to each say a word. We all agreed on one thing, how grateful we were to have crossed paths and been on a spiritual trip together.

Joining us on the ride was the priest Deekshithar Kirubakara and his daughter Swarna from the night before. A silver pendant of Shiva that my sister had bought caught his attention for its fine craftsmanship. Here, Sagy is admiring his ring of nine precious stones representing the nine planets.

Ganesha,  the Lord of success and destroyer of evils and obstacles. Bought this along with Shiva at the top after exiting from Nataraja Temple

 

Baskets of offerings, including bananas, coconuts and lotus flowers (Padma) signifies divine beauty and purity

 

For our last evening we were invited yet again at the house of Selva’s family in Chennai … more hospitality and utmost generosity, with Selva answering many questions we all had about the extra rich culture we had opened up to. More gifts were presented to us, including a sari each, rudraksha prayer beads and a few rudraksha seeds. The benefits of rudraksha beads are believed to cycle one’s positive energy thus creating a cocoon of the wearer’s own energy.

Back at the Park Hotel once more … Goodbyes were said and promises to meet soon, which we did! At least some of us at Puja’s for a home cooked Indian dinner, but we continue to be in touch.

The below interesting vintage car is a police car if you look closer, and is not vintage! The Ambassador is the pride of Indian car manufacturing and continued to take the same old fashioned design up until 2013 but with a strong motor and modern inside. So yes, it’s a functioning police car and not on display. Very popular in India!

Oh, and a mystery was solved. The Park Hotel with the 70s décor and movie posters was built after a special theme inspired by films, performances and screen sets, and is actually listed in an international record book for worldwide signature hotels. Understandably we had to take pictures in the exact spots the catalogue showed.

 

INDIA – Day 6

 

Today is to be the highlight of our trip. Today we are to wear our saris and attend a private ceremony in Chidambaram. But first there is another trip on our bus, which we call our second home now, from Thanjavur.

More relaxing scenery sweetly interrupted by a surprise. Sharmila’s keeper is taking her for the daily walk. She needs to keep in shape. Ayanar stops the bus and we go down for a last goodbye and more pictures.

Another breathtaking scene was watching peacocks in the wild. I didn’t manage to catch them spreading their tails, but I did take a picture of them flying across a rice field, much more beautiful than it appears here of course.

Something that grabbed my attention was the school-boys waiting for their ride to school. They each carried a tablet. And I remembered reading somewhere, a number of years ago, that India decided to provide students with tablets to enhance computing education. I couldn’t help thinking of other students all over the world having to carry heavy bags of books and harming their young backs.

We reached our hotel, Lakshmivilas. Built in 1855, it feels like going back in time but in style. Old fashioned setting of bathrooms, wooden windows and antique furniture but everything impeccably clean. On entering the open reception area it feels like you’re invited to a family farmhouse, there’s a wooden swing hanging with metal chains from the ceiling, bicycles, pots of colorful flowers, a wagon-cart and an old fashioned water pump. Of course Sagy and I couldn’t resist taking a spin on the double bicycle.

After lunch at the hotel we had to get ready for Kavita to dress us into our saris. We were to meet in Durga’s room, but she warned us against walking over in our petticoats, although they looked like proper ankle length skirts they are still considered undergarments. So my sister and I braided each other’s hair after wearing the short blouses and draping the saris around us. Puja, our one and only makeup artist and beautician and Durga’s roommate, volunteered to give each one in the group a glowing look, not forgetting kumkum, which was golden that day. One by one we filed into their room for makeup then Kavita skillfully draping us in our saris before we emerged not only looking fabulous, but feeling so too. The last touch was jasmine flowers attached to our hair.

There’s something serene about being dressed in a sari. I can’t really describe it, but you tend to stand with your back straight, smile more often and walk with sure steps, never rushing. A regal feeling actually.

The young receptionist was more than happy to take a picture of us when we asked her to, saying “Can I take five?” She not only took many pictures, but she too like the man on the beach, suggested poses. Charming people.

The sari was a gift from my dear Indian friend and yoga teacher, Sarisha

 

When everybody was dressed, we all posed for a group picture. This one is so dear to all of us. It captures our moment of happiness, pride and sisterhood.

We took pictures with another group of Indian ladies this time on an NGO meeting. Equally delightful, friendly and colorfully wrapped in saris.

Our bus dropped us at the entrance of a small alley where every three of us shared an auto rikshaw to the 600 year old Gayathri temple, run and administered by the S.Rajasekara Deekshithar* family who are friends of Durga through our now friend, Selva.

They were inviting us for a private ceremony of Pooja performed by Selva’s uncle, Kirubakara, to be followed by dinner at their house. His bright young daughter, Swarna helped along lighting incense sticks and making sure we kept the entrance clear. Young family members were helping along. They were being trained from a tender age and were already doing a great job.

We all quietly for the duration of more than three hours as we followed the rituals which included Abhisekam, Archana and Deeparathai. Selva, a priest himself, explains that Gayathri is a combination of three goddesses Saraswathy (Valour) in the morning, Savithri (Wealth) in noon and Lakshmi (Wisdom) in the evening. She is the consort of Sun whose rays of light showers us all with fruit of wisdom and protects us all from evil.

At one point we were asked to step out of the temple and sit on a nylon sheet facing the entrance. As we solemnly followed the rituals listening to the chanting of the younger priests and the scent of incense lingering in our nostrils we found four or five cows running from a narrow alley heading in our direction. Try to stand up quickly with a sari. Impossible but we did, except for Amma who was not worried. The herd was shooed away and we took our places one more time … to be attacked yet again. Now I think it’s funny and I laugh, but then I had to coax Amma to get up quickly before we were stampeded this time.

With the rituals over, we went back inside for the customary kumkum and the blessing of the priest who placed an elegant shawl on each of our shoulders as well. I treasure mine, as I’m sure all the other’s do. And till now it carries the scent of incense.

These twins came over and over to shake hands 🙂

Back in the auto rikshaw taking us to dinner, Sagy and I sat with the priest Deekshithar in the front beside the driver and his young nephew squeezed beside us, both still in their Veshtis . And my wise sister whispered to me, “Can you wrap your head around this? We’re both in India, wearing saris, riding a toctoc with a Hindu priest and his son.” It was surreal.

We reached the home of the generous family, left our footwear at the door and walked inside. The simplicity of the place takes you by surprise and leaves you wondering why do we stuff our homes with unnecessary items? The large hall had bookshelves, a television and a large, wooden swinging plank hanging from the ceiling, big enough to seat three adults. As we sat around on the floor waiting for dinner, young family members entertained and welcomed a number of us to join in their games. Fun has neither age nor barriers, and soon their laughter was spreading across the warm house.

Hospitality and generosity to guests is a foundation of Hinduism. The family members come around serving you, each from a different pot with warm, delicious spicy food, rice and bread. They come around again and again making sure you had enough. Looking at you to make sure you are satisfied, supplying you with water and bread. Only when they are sure you are full do they start eating, first the men, followed by the children then the women; a custom that was practiced in Egypt and still is in some remote areas.

At the end, Deekshithar Kirubakara presented us each with a gift of a frame with the picture of Gayathri.

 

* Donations are accepted through their trust Rathna Charitable Trust for Noble Services. Detailed description of their fund may be found at

www. Rathnacharitabletrust.com

 

 

 

INDIA – Day 5

 

The previous night we checked into Ideal River View Resort in Thanjavur, the spacious rooms are provided with a dressing room and huge bathroom including shower and tub. And come morning we woke up to another gorgeous view and hearty breakfast.

Today we were visiting the thousand year old Gangaikonda Cholapuram Temple, which was dedicated to Lord Shiva, one of the Hindu Trinity of Gods (Brahma, The Creator – Vishnu, The Preserver –Shiva, The Destroyer).

Upon entering the temple you are met with vendors who sell offerings to be presented to the deities including flowers, coconuts, bananas and lemons. Sanjay explained the significance of breaking a coconut at the foot of a deity, it was akin to breaking your own ego. The shell resembles a human head with its hair and the three holes are the mouth and two eyes, the shell is the skull, the white part is the brain and coconut water is blood. So by breaking the coconut fruit one is actually breaking their ego. How awesome is that!

Our group was now familiar with the rituals of visiting Hindu temples, but what made this visit special was interacting with people. As we emerged to the surrounding garden we heard angelic female voices chanting. The ladies clad in colorful saris were sitting on the steps, and welcomed us to sit beside them and get to know each other. They asked as where we came from, how we were enjoying our visit and how long we planned to stay.

Another delightful group were school girls on a trip dressed in burgundy colored uniform with their hair braided and adorned with jasmine. Honestly, why wear perfume when you could wear flowers. The smiling young girls were interested to know our names.

As my sister and I were posing for pictures, a young man came along and asked us why not pose as dancers, and he showed us how. He turned out to be a classical dancer himself and offered to dance for us! We had a private performance where he was singing and dancing as he thumped his strong feet on the ground. It was simply magical to watch him with the school girls sitting in a semi circle and the temple in the background.

In an annex to the temple we queued for a look inside another sanctum and get the customary kumkum dot on our forehead. It was there that the priest secluded Sagy and asked her name to give her a special blessing, he then gave her a small plastic bag. Seeing her confusion, Bhadrak our guide told her to take it quietly and leave. This was something rare, our guide explained as Sagy opened the bag to find flowers, a small packet of kumkum, two bananas and a picture of the temple.

Apparently they were blessed items and Sagy generously shared the bananas with Durga, Bhadrak and me.

Sagy was mistaken for an Indian on several occasions

For lunch, Puja suggested we order together and share the dishes so we get a taste of everything, and it turned out to be a brilliant idea. The meal went on for quite some time as we sampled dish after spicy dish along with my favorite bread, papadum, before we resumed our tour.

Our second stop that day was the Thanjavur Maratha Palace. Seems that my sister was in luck again. She was dreaming of meeting a Maharaja, and the only one around we had missed by a few hours as he was a businessman. On the other hand we were about to visit a Maharaja’s palace, now turned into a museum. To us, the palace itself was more import than the treasures within the museum. We were allowed to roam inside and upstairs and in the garden, imagining what life must have been like centuries ago. We came across our fellow yogis – professionals those two – Sarsawati and Devi, posing gracefully in picturesque asanas with heavenly lighting as Lakshmi took shot after shot.

For some reason there was a skeleton of a whale in the tower, facing that was a wall with inscriptions by lovers throughout the years.

Indian Beauty

Rain started to pour in buckets as we returned to our hotel. I had to pass the yoga session that evening and run for my massage appointment, the worst I’d ever had in my entire life. If I’d known I would have saved myself the trouble of wading through the rain soaked lawn to reach the pool area. Not even the shelter of the umbrella carried by one of the workers could protect me from getting drenched.

What made me stay throughout the hour-long oily torture session? Simply to wait out the rain, and that having not happened, I draped myself in a couple of pool towels, carried the umbrella and waded back through the puddles this time getting my shoe soaked too.

After a hot bath Sagy begged me to join her in the Cashmeri gift shop she had discovered, but I was adamant to stay in bed and enjoy a hot cup of tea while checking my email. Wifi wasn’t working so I called reception. “We’ll send you a person!” And indeed they did send a very helpful person, not once in that pouring rain, but twice, the other time being for Sagy later that evening. I must say I’ve never seen better service.

I was content and happy to be in bed although still stinking of that funny oil. Sagy came back and showed me her merchandise. Every single piece was beautiful, but not enough to entice me to join her.

“Tell you what, bring me back some stuff to choose from,” I said jokingly. And sure enough, she ran out in the rain and returned a short while later, and believe it or not, the young shop owner came in tow carrying a huge basket of silk scarves and other items I showed interest in! I wonder if anyone has shopped from the comfort of their bed before with the salesman standing at the door, hmmm.

INDIA – Day 4

 

An early morning yoga session by the pool on the roof of the hotel was followed by a four-hour drive to Thanjavur, also known as the Rice Bowl of Tamil Nadu for its vast rice fields. Our first stop was at the Brihadeshwara Temple, one of the largest temples in India. Over one thousand years old, the granite carved temple is part of the UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Great Living Chola Temples.

Upon entering the high walls, you can see the temple tower, the tallest in the world, at its apex is a huge spherical structure carved out of a single rock weighing eighty tons. Another huge carving out of a single rock is Nandi, or the sacred bull, facing the entrance of the temple.

Bhadrak greeted us today dressed in a typical southern Indian costume today in a shirt and a lungi which is a piece of cloth tied around the waist that reaches to the ankles, and could be folded to become of shorter length above the knee. As we gathered around him, he explained how he felt a special connection to this specific temple since he was a child. His eyes gleamed as he told us how he was now delighted to witness the once abandoned place that was crawling with snakes and insects transformed to a temple with hundreds of worshipers and visitors nowadays. Whereas the temples we had previously visited were purely monumental.

Pharaohs vs. Hindus

We were in luck, as we were about to attend Abhishekam, a solemn ritual conducted by priests where they pour libations (offerings like milk, yogurt, ghee, honey, rosewater, sandalwood paste) on the image of the deity being worshipped in the main sanctum. In this case it was the second biggest lingam in India (nine feet high), again carved out of a single stone.

Picture of lingam taken from internet

We quietly entered into the age-old temple to the chanting of mantras and instrumental music. The high ceilings, darkness within and different aromas carried us back in time as we saw the people seated on the floor on either side watching the washing of the lingam by the priests dressed in white dhoti, bare from the waist up, with their hair tied in a knot at the top of their heads.

Two young priests didn’t want to have their picture taken at first

At one point a curtain is drawn, blocking the view for a short while, then reopened to expose the lingam now covered with flowers and cloth. As we exit, we each bow as we accept a dot of kumkum on our foreheads.

Newly weds come for the blessings

Outside, we sat to rest for a short while in the vast garden before making the customary anti-clockwise walk around the main temple. Bhadrak told us the story of how Lord Shiva challenged his wife, Parvati to a duel-dance. Let’s see if I remember it properly. Parvati was the icon of perfection, but when Shiva confronted her fearing she may be losing her humbleness she became angry. He challenged her to a dance where she managed to keep up with his steps. At one point one of her earrings fell, and with a clever step, Lord Shiva picked it up with his toes and handed it to her. Parvati who was wearing a sari couldn’t imitate that step and became angry (giving her the name Kali). Shiva wins the dual and Bhadrak points the engraving on the temple wall of his look of triumph as he looks to the side. Later Lord Shiva consoles his wife. I managed to capture a picture of our guide doing the same gesture, with his face averted to the side.

Let me go back a couple days when my sister, Sagy asked our guides if there was any chance we could see an elephant. She explained that our dear brother said he would not believe we’d been to India unless we actually mounted an elephant. Our guides were surprised by the request but promised to find out if it was possible. After all, elephants were not as common as they used to be long ago when they were used as beasts of burden.

True to their promise, they had located one of the locals who had adopted a couple of elephants, along with a few horses for the benefit of renting them for weddings and other festivities. We were welcomed to visit and maybe pay a small donation to help the owner with the expenses. Every single one in the group was delighted to jump to the opportunity. And so our van went off the road to a private dwelling in the middle of the fields.

There we found lovely Sharmila waiting for us. On her head there was a beautiful white pattern drawn with a paste of rice powder and water, and small bells around her neck. Sharmila had the kindest eyes with long lashes, and true to her name, she brought us comfort and joy.

Let me tell you that climbing on top was no easy matter; leaping sideways and upwards from a ladder onto her back. Actually I was going to give it up completely hadn’t I been the first of the group to make the attempt. I was rewarded by cheers, but felt rather silly when Amma managed it quite successfully with her recent double knee replacement to even louder cheers and applause.

The sun was setting and it was time to head to our hotel but not before Sweet Sharmila gave us her blessings.

Sharmila blessing Sagy

 

Another relaxing yoga session with our amazing Durga in the garden of our hotel and we were all ready to call it a night.

 

 

 

 

 

INDIA – Day 3

This morning we would be driving to our next destination, Pondicherry, and stopping on our way in Auroville. The two-hour drive was scenic with the flat landscape reminding us again of rural Egypt. There were rice fields and en lieu of the palm trees there were coconut trees. Moderately speeding through villages and street markets we saw red vintage tractors in perfect shape, school children in uniform clustered in groups waiting for their bus ride, mud and straw huts under a warm sun all promising a busy morning for everybody.

Sanjay said that we all knew each other by name by now, but didn’t actually know each other. He suggested we each say something about ourselves and handed the microphone to my sister Sagy, his fellow tour guide, to start off. It proved to be a good idea, and moreover Sanjay gave each of us a Hindu name. Our teacher was Durga or Goddess which suited her perfectly with her blonde mane and the way she elegantly carried herself. Her aunt was Amma or Mother (a name also used in rural Egypt). Then there were the two sisters Lakshimi, goddess of wealth and fortune, and Devi or heavenly. The Lebanese member of our group was Puja, or prayer. And then there was Saraswati, goddess of knowledge and wisdom, and her mother Parvati, goddess of love. As for my sister and me we were Priya and Padma, beloved and the sacred lotus, but we were referred to as a unit called Sagy Sisters 😀

After a short stop, more of the enchanting scenery was now accompanied by Sanjay singing love songs in both Indian and English, and Puja’s angelic voice chanting in Arabic.

As we approached Auroville* or City of Dawn, Durga briefed us about the universal town where people from all over the world could live in human unity and harmony regardless of politics and nationalities. It was founded in 1968 by Mirra Alfassa, or The Mother who was the spiritual collaborator of Sri Aurobindu; a philosopher, yogi, guru and poet who joined the Indian movement for independence from the British rule before becoming a spiritual reformer.

At the Visitor’s Center we watched a short film explaining how the place the construction a golden, metallic sphere called the Matrimandir, in the center of the town which is “a symbol of the Divine’s answer to man’s aspiration for perfection”. This place is off limits for the regular visitor as silence is maintained within. It could be seen from a viewing point where you had to walk to in a shaded are for about fifteen minutes, or reserve a ride on the shuttle bus. The Matrimandir is surrounded by a Peace area to ensure even more tranquility, which is further surrounded by neatly trimmed gardens all of which you can see from a viewing point. There are four zones radiating from the center; residential, industrial, cultural and international. These are bordered by the Green belt.

As we started our walk, armed with cold water bottles to sustain us to and fro, we looked forward to seeing the hundred year old banyan tree which the Mother decided to be Auroville’s geographical center since it was a lone tree in an almost totally barren plateau at the time of construction, and also because banyan trees are regarded as sacred in India.

And sure enough, the tree stood big and proud with tens of aerial roots spanning to a diameter of fifty meters.

Along the walk we came across twelve quotes by the Mother about different qualities. They represent the meditation rooms inside the petals surrounding the Matrimandir, sincerity, peace, equality, generosity, courage, progress, receptivity, aspiration, perseverance, gratitude and humility. I will be posting pictures of the stone blocks carrying the quotes separately.

Having reached the viewing point we stood there to take in all the glory and serenity of the magnificent golden sphere. While taking many pictures, solo and en group, I couldn’t miss the couple in love oblivious to their surroundings.

 

Sagy and I were lucky to catch a ride back to the visitor’s center in our first experience on a toc-toc. The driver had one of those old fashioned horns which he honked gleefully to our incessant laughter.

The group met for lunch at restaurant where everything was available from curry to pizza before we dispersed again to do some serious shopping in the store complex of the town.

Couldn’t help taking his pic, and couldn’t help posting it 🙂

A short drive from there and we reached Pondicherry where our first stop was a solemn visit to Sri Aurobindo’s ashram, or dwelling, and final resting place. As customary, we left our footwear outside and quietly followed the queue who were paying their respects in the flower-covered marble mausoleum, and sat down in the open area for a few minutes. On the way out you get a glimpse of the rooms, but more important I got to buy a few good books; one about Sri Aurobindho’s confinement in prison and the other including quotes by the Mother.

Now was the time to enjoy the streets of Pondicherry which was a French colonial settlement and still carries that legacy in the style of architecture of villas on the tree lined street carrying French names. All this we were able to enjoy in rickshaws, two of us in each, going from the French quarter and passing by the flower market and other shops way till we finally reached our hotel. For me, it meant a well deserved massage in the spa, for Sagy … more shopping.

Wherever you point your camera in India, you will find a smiling face 🙂

 

 

You can learn more about Auroville at www.auroville.org

Quotes by The Mother in Auroville

 Auroville* or City of Dawn is a universal town in Pondicherry, India, where people from all over the world could live in human unity and harmony regardless of politics and nationalities. It was founded in 1968 by Mirra Alfassa, or The Mother who was the spiritual collaborator of Sri Aurobindu; a philosopher, yogi, guru and poet who joined the Indian movement for independence from the British rule before becoming a spiritual reformer.

 

 

Along the walk to the Matrimandir, we came across twelve quotes by the Mother about different human qualities. They represent the meditation rooms inside the petals surrounding the Matrimandir, sincerity, peace, equality, generosity, courage, progress, receptivity, aspiration, perseverance, gratitude and humility.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For more about our visit to Auroville, please see above post also auroville.org for details of the place.