I’ve gotten use to biking into town on a regular basis. It’s not your typical workout, that’s for sure, but it definitely does the trick. Plus, getting into town provides a good change of pace. Visthar is serene, quite, and for the most part comfortable. Going into town on the other hand is always a harrowing experience -- to put it lightly. If you’re planning on biking into town I can make some suggestions that might save you some hassle, as well as some broken bones, potentially.

Selecting a bike from among Visthar’s exquisite selection is perhaps one of the most important discussions you’ll make during your life. Personally I would rank it up there with those life altering decisions like: will I get married? Should I go to college? What career should I go into? And, do I really need this extra large cookie-dough blizzard?

The bikes all have a nifty little key operated self-locking mechanism, and should you be doing any shopping while in town you will probably need to use this. Subsequently, if you are doing anything more substantial than just riding into town, then turning around and riding back out you will not be able to take bikes #3 and #4 as their keys have gone missing.

Of the remaining four I recommend avoiding #1 and #6, if at all possible. The seats on both of these beauts’ are detaching from the rest of the bicycle in one way or another. If you are riding on #1 you are likely to get dumped off the back; in fact I don’t think there is anyway to avoid that eventuality, so on second thought, just don’t take #1.

I once made the unfortunate mistake of taking #6. The seat is falling off to one side, but hey I thought I could manage. In order to make my particular incident with #6 more understandable I feel like I should to digress briefly and talk about Indian horn honking etiquette. Apparently, in India a driver is obligated to honk every time he or comes within visual range of another living creature, whether that be another car, rickshaw, cow, dog, whatever. Also, I personally feel as though Indian drivers like to sneak up behind unsuspecting American bicyclists, and when the biker is least expecting it, to honk as loud as they possibly can and scare the masala dosa out of that poor American. That’s just a personal theory though, as I have thus far been unable to prove it definitively. Anyways, I was riding lovely #6 minding my own business, and up sneaks a sly little rickshaw driver. Of course he blows his horn when I’m least expecting it, and like always I jerked franticly as my sympathetic nervous system began to kick into gear. Well if you recall the seat of lucky #6 is slipping off to one side and when I spazzed it suddenly fell and I got a nice sharp rusty spring in the left glute. Thanks rickshaw driver.

So, in all actuality you would be best off avoiding #6 as well. You could, however take #5. But if you do happen to take #5 make sure you keep a close eye on the tire pressure as the back tire always seems to go flat. Let me spare you some headache and warn you that you will have about as much fun as a clam at a clam bake trying to get back to Visthar on a bike with a flat tire.

Really though, your safest bet is probably with bike #2. As of yet I have not seen or heard of anything going wrong with that particular bike. Of course, that could also be related to the fact that I have yet to ride #2.

There’s a sort of thickness to real-life poverty. The smell of it seeps into your clothes, it gets in your hair. Plug your nose and you can taste it. Rancid. Close your eyes and you can hear it, begging you for money. I’d turn off the TV if it didn’t have it’s hands all over my feet.

Call me an ignorant, spoiled American but I couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief when we got to that mall, away from those stifling, turbid slums. Let’s say it was the anonymity. In those slums you’re a wallet, for sure; but in the mall you’re just a wallet. But more than that, more than the anonymity, or the smells, or anything else, it’s the connectedness that I can’t stand. It’s the no longer being able to hide from the things that you have done. It’s Frankenstein’s monster crawling through you’re window, pleading, begging you to love him because he is from your own body.

It is that darkness of the Self which manifests itself in the absolute destitution of the other that I can not stomach. Why? Because I know that it is the only thing I have given of myself to this world. Listen, You are poor, so I can be wealthy. You live in filth, so that I may live in luxury. You shit in piles of garbage, in order that I should smother myself in excess. I took your house, please accept this trash. I took your money, would you like some shit? I mangled your fingers and crippled your limbs, now where is my thank you?

But in the mall, oh god yes in that mall, it simply doesn’t matter. Who cares about those bastard children, sleeping in their own filth. In the mall I can escape once again, back into those recesses of luxury with which I am so familiar and so often call my home. I can forget about the lives I’ve destroyed.

Who cares about them?
Not me.
I need some new shoes.

A Cultural Guide to Bangalore

1. Many day-to-day objects deceivingly labeled including but not limited to:
a. The Geezer in your bathroom which is not in any way shape or form an old man.
b. The booth with a sign that says “Lowest STD rates in India” which does not mean what you think it means.

2. Body language is an important aspect of cultural communication. The signature Indian head bobble is an especially nuanced and important part of communication in India. Here is a translation chart for the Indian Head Bobble:
Head bobble with a smile = Yes.
Head wiggle with a frown = No.
Head jiggle with a smile = Maybe.
Head bobble with a frown = I don’t understand.
Head wiggle with a smile = Nice pants!
Head jiggle with a frown = No, the Bus does not stop here.

Note: Please do not question Indians about what the head bobble means as they will either claim that they have no idea what you are talking about or that it means nothing.

3. Cows in the United States are timid, stupid creatures. In India, on the other hand, cows are jovial, intelligent, radical, and charismatic. These cows prefer to be called “Liberated Bovine.” These Liberated Bovine live side by side with people, and you should not be surprised if one should approach you wanting either to engage in some philosophical debate or to invite you out for a drink.

4. If you don’t want to get arrested while you are in Bangalore please follow these simple rules:
a. If you are a man, don’t sit in the women’s only section on the busses. It may not be apparent where this is at first, but it will become clear to you when people start yelling.
b. If your into dancing, don’t be. Dancing is strictly prohibited.

5. Thinking about buying a cell-phone while in Bangalore? Think again! It may only cost you $20, but you’ll need at twelve forms of identification and eight good hours just to get set up with one. If you really want to talk to people back in the US you might as well just get a plane ticket back to the States because, quite frankly, it’s easier.

6. Jesus Says:

Let me start by saying this is the second time I have typed this -- the first time I lost the entire thing before I could post it. However, I am retyping it again so that I can keep anyone who is interested up to date with what is happening with me in India.

I won’t say much about the trip here other than that it was very, very long and I spent most of it unconscious. We flew from Minneapolis to Chicago, Chicago to Frankfort, Frankfort to Bombay, Bombay to Bangalore, and from there we traveled another forty minutes in a crammed (and I mean crammed) small van.

I feel like I should digress briefly to talk about that forty minute drive, which was an exceptionally heavy and emotionally exhausting experience. As we drove down that narrow, unpaved road I saw hovels, mansion-like complexes, rice fields, garbage, temples, dogs and cows (I‘ll talk more about the cows and in a later blog). I saw people riding bikes, people gathered at storefronts, people praying, people lighting trash on fire and people herding sheep and goats; and the thing is I knew nothing about them, nothing. I didn’t know what their names were, what they did today, what they were going to do, where they came from, where they were going. The shear weight of my unknowledge was unbearable. The separation: to leave a place of definitive predictability, precision, comfort, and arrive in a place that was completely unknowable was, quite frankly, more than my psyche could handle.

Truth be told, if it had taken us a second longer to get to the Visthar campus I may have broken down completely. But Visthar (which means “expansion” in Sanskrit) is very different than the rest of Bangalore, and the campus serves a variety of purposes. Its main purpose is as a girls school and rehabilitation center for the daughters of Davidasi, which are a sub-caste of women in India which are basically the temple prostitutes (note: davi is the Sanskrit word for God and dasi is the Sanskrit word for slave, so they are literally the slaves of God). This girls run a shop on campus where they sell a variety of things that they make (cookies, journals, etc). There is also a small paper plant on campus where they make there own recycled paper -- Visthar prefers to use materials that it can make itself, for example most of the buildings are built from mud bricks constructed on campus. Visthar also serves as a facilitator for a variety of courses such as the one I’m a part of. Languages spoken on the campus include but are not limited to Hindi, Kanata, English, Tamil, French, and Urdu. Visthar also runs a small publishing company.

Visthar is not a large campus, however, and there are relatively few people here. It’s a very peaceful place, a Shambala or Shangri-La if you will. Our electricity, internet, and hot water have been in and out, but that’s alright I don’t mind. It is also quite isolated, but there are several villages within walking distance. To give you an idea of just how isolated it is (or incase you want to come visit), this is the only map with directions to Visthar that exists.

If you want to know anymore about Visthar they have a nice website at www.visthar.org

On a completely different note, there are five old bikes on the Visthar campus that we can take and ride into town or the villages. When I say old, though, I mean really old, not just your brother’s hand-me-down Schwinn. They have no gears and the brakes only occasionally work, but they do have nice little bells. Anyways, some friends and I decided to take the bikes into the village one evening, and so we hopped on them and took off. It was pretty difficult going since we were going uphill, and the road really wasn’t worthy of being called anything more than a hiking trail. I, however, felt that I was having an exceptionally difficult time, but because I have always been “athletically challenged” I just figured it was me being out of shape or something. As I was floundering in my inability to complete the simple task of peddling my bicycle an Indian man passed me walking the other direction. He grunted something incoherent at me and pointed to my back wheel. It was only then that I realized that my back tire had been flat for the entire ride.

That’s about all I’m willing to write about for now, it’s getting late and I’m tired of typing. I do, however, have this nice little picture of me giving a cliff bar to some poor children in Bangalore. *aren’t I just wonderful*

Jesse Klein

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