<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099</id><updated>2011-04-21T13:13:09.478-07:00</updated><category term='Some views of Jalandhar'/><title type='text'>India Culture &amp; Music</title><subtitle type='html'>Navjot Sandhu is visiting India on a Fulbright Grant and writes about his experiences.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-3993961320911296516</id><published>2009-05-26T22:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T00:01:20.111-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Timeline since January</title><content type='html'>Hi there, champs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Jamie, Navjot's wife.  I've been a bit bothered by the neglected state of this blog, so in addition to finishing up my blog, I am going to add a few posts to this blog, where I will try to give some more info about Navjot's musical experiences here in India.  Although it is best to get Navjot's perspective, I will work to convey his unique perspectives, though I already know I'll be including some of my own impressions too! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I'll give a timeline of events since January:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Late December: Navjot attended the Harballabh Festival in Jalandhar City with his friend, an American tabla student/percussionist Mike List.   This festival, which is known as the oldest Indian classical music festival, has been held annually for 133 years.  My impressions is that it is a little Woodstock-ish, with continuous performances day and night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;October to January, intermittently:  Navjot would host musical gatherings at his flat in Jalandhar.  His teacher would play tabla, his co-worker at the TV Station named Doordarshan, would sing and play harmonium, and a couple other musicians-but-have-day-jobs also sang and discussed music.  These boisterous evenings were accompanied with lots of chicken curry, mutton, and scotch.  Strangely, these gatherings ceased after my arrival, even though I would have liked to have been part of one of these parties.   I think that visiting the home of a married couple automatically brings about all kinds of proper behavior, implicitly, which put a wet blanket on the idea of these parties.  Ummm....sorry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;February: We attended the wedding of a close family friend, Neha, a doctor in Philadelphia.  This wedding was Hindu, and wow, there were several ceremonies, including the final ceremony which lasted until 5 am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;March:  Navjot and I traveled to Calcutta to attend a Fulbright Conference.  Navjot gave a presentation titled: The Role of Kayda in North Indian tabla music.  He talked for about 5 minutes, then demonstrated a kayda.  I recorded it and felt the presentation went very well! Go Navjot!  The next night Navjot and other Fulbright artists put together a pre-dinner performance which was a hurried fusion of a North Indian percussionist (Navjot) playing South Indian music for the dancers, topped with Navjot grooving with some South-Indian rhythm-speak from an ethnomusicologist, then a great dance professor from Wisconsin danced a very good interpretation of some hip-hop 'spoken word' (read on)...and finally ended with Navjot accompanying a zoologist(same guy) who also was a hip-hop spoken-word poet.  The performances were interesting and entertaining, especially since this group of Fulbrighters bonded well, and everyone liked seeing the artists shine.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the conference we visited a few places in Calcutta, took a memorable overnight train called the Doon Express, and visited Varanasi, the Hindu/Buddhist/Muslim/Jain ancient holy city.  We spent most of our time walking the ghats, or the steps to the river, and since we were nearing the Hindu festival of Holi, we got to see a festive *drink* called Bhaang Lassi, which is cannabis blended with watery yogurt.  From Varanasi, we took a plane to New Delhi, then a train back to Jalandhar, and once we reached home we both fell ill: Navjot for around 5 days and me for a week and a half.  Oh well, better then than during the trip! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we were sick, we attended a performance of his Guru's at a swanky club in Jalandhar.  Guruji played ghazals with his singer friend, and a few other musicians played keyboard, dhol (another drum--he was never heard) and another harmonium (?).  I enjoyed the music, but the singer's stage presence put me off a little:  he made a couple of snappy comments to his musicians onstage if they praised him "ki-ah bot hai" for singing well, which is SO natural for Indians listening to a good performer.   I don't know why he didn't want to hear it, but he didn't, I feel, need to express it onstage in front of anyone.  He didn't full-out humiliate anyone by any means....I guess I am just sensitive to this kind of thing.  So much for getting Navjot's impression of this! OOPS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April:  Navjot went to New Delhi to meet a student of Abbas Khan, a tabla player Navjot is gathering a history on as a part of his grant.  Navjot got a good sense of this player's style--my impression is that it is smoother than his guru's, but there is so much more than style that differentiates one tabla player from another.  Navjot told me that he could not even take one lesson from this player (something we could easily do in the States, I feel) because he would have to change his "hand" or his fundamental approach to producing sound with this right hand on the smaller drum.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another interesting aspect of this interview was the clashing of "respectful traditions" of meeting an established musician of a similar gharana (musical style) and the businessman wanting to earn money for giving an interview.  The tabla player tried to combine the two in this manner: he specified the amount of 'gift money' that Navjot was already bound to bring by custom.  The gift price tag was fairly hefty, a big no-no in Navjot's world.  Navjot complied, but he felt (as others in our circle did) offended by this move, and he let the player know his feelings at the end of the interview.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My own thought is that one shouldn't be greedy when meeting someone who wants to make you more known in the world through scholarly means, but again, I'm looking through the glass at the ops of Indian culture.   If it were Zakir Hussain, fine....because he is already known in the world, and Navjot woujldn't be doing him any favors, it'd be the other way around....but this guy isn't known world-wide, and he still chose to be greedy.  In contrast, Nav did meet Zakir at the Wharton Center a year or so ago, and while it wasn't a half-hour interview, they chatted and took photos; it was a great experience for Navjot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May:  I dragged Navjot along on my trip to Himachal Pradesh.  He could've left when we reached Dharmasala, but we were welcoming friends Heather Borden and Cailin Shannon, so Navjot stuck around now that we were a party.  Nonetheless, we were away for 12 days, and the latter days were stressful for Navjot because he wanted to be back home playing more (he played some on the trip--he brought his tablas) and taking lessons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise Navjot's routine is: Wake up early, go exercise with his Guru, and maybe hear a raag or a ghazal from him, then come home, sleep a bit, practice, listen, sing, practice, then return to Guruji's flat for playing and a lesson in the evening.  It is more like a musical apprenticeship, but this something I'd like to write more on later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-3993961320911296516?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/3993961320911296516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=3993961320911296516' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/3993961320911296516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/3993961320911296516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2009/05/timeline-since-january.html' title='Timeline since January'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-1625751130817936269</id><published>2009-01-15T18:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T19:40:40.559-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So there I was</title><content type='html'>So there I was, standing butt-naked with a resolve, on a cold marble floor, with the water running out of the bucket only a foot and a half away from my feet.  The temperature was supposedly 9 degrees Celcius i.e. 48.2 degree Fahrenheit.  I was warmish having come back from my walk.  I was going to to do it. I gingerly, while psyching myself, stepped into the puddle of the water that was running away and then quickly stepped out.  A sudden breeze from outside came in from the open window. I felt my hair tingle and stand up to proctect my bare skin and they would have succeeded a few million years ago, when I was still hanging out in the trees and eating bananas. But now there were too few of them, and there gesture was like an old dog snarling without teeth, pitiful.&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't going to back down. I filled up a large plastic cup with the cold water and held it high above my head and said aaaaaaahhh! &lt;br /&gt;Then I brought it back down realizing how freaking cold it probably was.  I decided I needed to yell something as I did it. The non-specific aaaahhh! wasn't cutting it.  Most people take the name of their respective lords. But I am not most people, so I decided on something else. The cup was held at belly-button level. &lt;br /&gt;With a single motion I dumped the water on myself screaming, "Arthropods!" Second cup, "Trilobites!!". Third Cup, "Darwin!!" and so on...&lt;br /&gt;If you have ever jumped into Lake Michigan on an october morning, you can get close to the feeling.  If you haven't try it. You would either thank me or the paramedics afterwards. &lt;br /&gt;But the feeling afterwards when I emptied the whole bucket on myself was great.  I am going to&lt;br /&gt;try this whenever I feel things are a bit slow. It sure peps up the morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-1625751130817936269?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/1625751130817936269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=1625751130817936269' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/1625751130817936269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/1625751130817936269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2009/01/so-there-i-was.html' title='So there I was'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-6582629882169537415</id><published>2008-12-25T20:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T21:32:02.424-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Some photos.</title><content type='html'>Couple of waterfowl of some kind.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry don't have my bird book and there were no labels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SVRhc4KGufI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/cZE8W6UxR6I/s1600-h/storks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SVRhc4KGufI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/cZE8W6UxR6I/s320/storks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283955411551435250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parrot very colorful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SVRhcDlOWYI/AAAAAAAAAVw/denCO9lKdeI/s1600-h/colored+parrot.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 198px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SVRhcDlOWYI/AAAAAAAAAVw/denCO9lKdeI/s320/colored+parrot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283955397438101890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A red bird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SVRrxxcOZPI/AAAAAAAAAWY/7JcqgGTTYck/s1600-h/red+bird.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SVRrxxcOZPI/AAAAAAAAAWY/7JcqgGTTYck/s320/red+bird.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283966765641917682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SVRhcdt-yKI/AAAAAAAAAV4/8CWQD62hwJo/s1600-h/bride.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SVRhcdt-yKI/AAAAAAAAAV4/8CWQD62hwJo/s320/bride.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283955404454152354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A garden at the resort&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SVRhcmA5LZI/AAAAAAAAAWI/YRtF3zTETN0/s1600-h/resort.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SVRhcmA5LZI/AAAAAAAAAWI/YRtF3zTETN0/s320/resort.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283955406680960402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reception venue another look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SVRhclMELdI/AAAAAAAAAWA/mVz8DuoiEW0/s1600-h/reception+venue.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SVRhclMELdI/AAAAAAAAAWA/mVz8DuoiEW0/s320/reception+venue.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283955406459383250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-6582629882169537415?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/6582629882169537415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=6582629882169537415' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/6582629882169537415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/6582629882169537415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2008/12/some-photos.html' title='Some photos.'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SVRhc4KGufI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/cZE8W6UxR6I/s72-c/storks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-7184923213617423544</id><published>2008-12-19T02:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T21:44:48.515-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trip to Bombay area - part I</title><content type='html'>All of a sudden near the 8th of this month, I decided to go attend a friend's wedding near Bombay (Mumbai) on the 12th and then a music festival in Pune.  It was a fun time although getting there was a little challenging.  You might think because of the recent terrorism in Bombay there would be less travel to that part but you would be wrong.  I was in the waiting list in the second position for the train from Chandigarh straight to Panvel where the wedding was being held.  This was the only train where I was that close, other waiting lines were much longer.&lt;br /&gt;I was hoping that the place would open up and I would have a easy time getting there in the train, while checking out the landscape on the way.  On the 10th I showed up at the railway station and found out that there was no room anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;So, I decided to fly and booked my ticket for the 11th with return on the 16th.  Flying is faster but more expensive.  On the 11th I was off. I landed in Mumbai and got a taxi to Panvel from the airport.  After 2 hours or so I was at the resort.&lt;br /&gt;On the way traffic was heavy in the city. Mumbai is very crowded. As soon as we got just a little bit on the outskirts, I noticed the awful smell of burning things in the air. The stuff that was burning was most likely of industrial origin.  The street lights had their lightpath made visible by the dark particulate matter in the air. If you have ever seen street lights on a foggy night you will have an idea of what it looked like except that the dark floating matter in the air made everything look dingy.  If you can afford it get an ac taxi. Its expensive, but you will be spared the humid heat and pollution of the city to some extent.&lt;br /&gt;When I got there, the dinner party was going on. I was assigned a room in a "cottage", I went and freshened up and then came to the party.  The food was great. I did some dancing and introduced myself to the family.  The arrangements for the wedding were made by the parents of both my friend and her husband, although how the various events were divvied up, I have no idea.  The whole thing had been going on since the day before. Many of the relatives from both sides were staying at the resort.&lt;br /&gt;Next day wedding ceremony was held.  The breakfast was south indian style: coffee, idli, some fried dough stuff etc.  Very nice.  Lunch was also excellent.  There was fish curry in Goan style and other vegetarian stuff.  I was  moved by the dessert preparation of wheat flour mixed with some other kind of flour, almonds, pistacchio, raisins etc. called 'Halwa'. The flour is cooked in clarified butter then sugar and water and other stuff is added. The resulting texture and flavor of this dish, which was floating in this clarfied butter called ghee, was heavenly.&lt;br /&gt;Afterward, I checked out the zoo that was built inside the resort.  There were a several birds, a lot of peacocks, some turkeys etc.  A little boy followed me along on this expedition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turkeys in our path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SUyFWiPwu1I/AAAAAAAAAVo/hmkQLMXMRkM/s1600-h/turkies.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SUyFWiPwu1I/AAAAAAAAAVo/hmkQLMXMRkM/s320/turkies.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281743085195279186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, the main dinner was in the evening at the reception after the marriage. During the day I performed on Tabla for my friend's family during one of the ceremonies, which was fun.  I had never met her family only her brother.  Everyone was extra nice and wonderful. I liked the family very much.  Their ways were punjabi, very hospitable.  Her husband-to-be,  was also quite welcoming and seemed to be a very nice person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reception venue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SUyEfqcjKFI/AAAAAAAAAVg/wvuZGWC7bR0/s1600-h/prep2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SUyEfqcjKFI/AAAAAAAAAVg/wvuZGWC7bR0/s320/prep2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281742142503594066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So back to food, I do apologise for not taking photos of all this great stuff but I was too busy eating. Dinner was grand to say the least. It was all vegetarian, (their particular customs forbid them to eat meat or drink alcohol on the day of the wedding) but what a spread. There was punjabi food, moghlai food, mongolian barbequed veggies, chinese noodles etc, snacks of many varieties, ice creams, juices, mixed non alcoholic drinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Non-alcoholic shots of which I imbibed this one called chilli shot several times along with the bride's brother. It was a mixture of tabasco and mango juice and the shot glass was dipped in some salt and crushed chillies. I tried a little of many things and still there was so much more I could have tried.&lt;br /&gt;So after this mega feast the next morning I took my leave from this very nice family and headed to lonavala.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-7184923213617423544?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/7184923213617423544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=7184923213617423544' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/7184923213617423544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/7184923213617423544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2008/12/trip-to-bombay-area-part-i.html' title='Trip to Bombay area - part I'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SUyFWiPwu1I/AAAAAAAAAVo/hmkQLMXMRkM/s72-c/turkies.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-3472048891756801521</id><published>2008-11-21T22:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T22:52:49.035-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The culture of walking</title><content type='html'>So recently I have started running and walking in the mornings with my teacher. It is taking a bit to get adjusted to waking up, but if I know he will be there, I can do it.  I get up around 5 am and then put on warm clothes  and shoes and then quietly lock my door and head downstairs.  Everyone in the landlord's house is asleep at that time. I usually hear snoring.  Then I do a complicated unlocking and re-locking of the exterior gate while trying to be gentle because it is an iron gate and it can make nice ringing noises.  &lt;br /&gt;I walk out and across the end of the street there is a Sikh temple (Gurudwara) very close to where I live and they have already been awake for a little while and doing their thing.  A few people are usually going there.  Then as I walk towards the park where I run I see a few people out walking. Some middle-aged couples, some older couples and several middle-aged men.  Usually they are the same people everyday.  People don't smile at you as they do in US. If they know you they will greet you but otherwise you just keep on walking and do some staring.  Shops are all closed and it is fairly quite. Practically no one is on the roads.  I pass the other Hospital/gurudwara that I had pictured in the previous Diwali photos post as well.&lt;br /&gt;When I get to the park, I don't go straight in to the park but rather walk on the road next to the park that goes away from it in a different direction. A couple of laps of that road and then I enter the park.  Sometimes people bring their dogs. Then the local road-dogs  usually follow that person and the dog all around the area to make sure that no claim to their property is laid by the visitor.&lt;br /&gt;This park is called D.C. ground which stands for Deputy Commissioner Ground because it is near the D.C.'s house. All around us are buildings built probably from British times to house the officers. Most of these are occupied by high ranking police and other administrative officers.  They have security guards posted outside.  These are large properties and have a lot of grass and trees  and space, a luxury to which most modern Indians have little access.  &lt;br /&gt;It is still dark but the area lighting is good. Some men and women are usually walking on the elliptical concrete path in the park. A group of middle aged, younger and older men is usually sitting under the gazebo as well and they do some chanting and hand clapping and other things to get themselves going.  Even in the cold winter days most of these people will show up and talk and laugh and do some walking and chanting.  Many of these people are businessmen and they start talking business and news and other topics of discussion that interest them.&lt;br /&gt;The park is well maintained.  There are nice ornamental trees and shrubs. The scene becomes beautiful when the dawn appraoches. There is light in the sky and birds go about their morning rituals.  The dew makes things feel fresh. I look forward to seeing some fog soon. &lt;br /&gt;My teacher does his exercises and I run on the grass getting my shoes dirty with wet grass and dirt.  After this I usually stretch a little and then go walking with my teacher towards his home and we walk in the bigger park near his house. We usually talk about music or other interests.   Lot more people are out and about at  this time and the park is full of people walking and exercising and talking. Some of the men move from their previous gazebo to this park's gazebo to continue their chants and chatter.&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards, I head home and fall asleep after breakfast. &lt;br /&gt;It is a nice culture of walking and associating  that helps keep many of the elderly going and makes them feel socially connected.  I enjoy getting up and talking music with my teacher in the mornings, the peace and quiet and also exercising.    If only I had the discipline to do this on my own all the time.  But I am hoping that by doing it here I will create the habit that will surely serve me well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-3472048891756801521?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/3472048891756801521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=3472048891756801521' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/3472048891756801521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/3472048891756801521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2008/11/culture-of-walking.html' title='The culture of walking'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-146119287482673852</id><published>2008-11-21T19:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T21:07:49.195-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Making it easier to post comments</title><content type='html'>I just changed settings so that  posting comments is easier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-146119287482673852?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/146119287482673852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=146119287482673852' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/146119287482673852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/146119287482673852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2008/11/making-it-easier-to-post-comments.html' title='Making it easier to post comments'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-5652740574560271742</id><published>2008-11-14T02:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T02:57:17.067-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What I had for breakfast.</title><content type='html'>I had a fun beginning today. I went to sleep at 1:30 at night then woke up around 4:50 am to go for a walk and a run with my teacher. Came back home and then had a breakfast of pranthas(bread preparation) of cheese with sweet yogurt and butter as sides.  I almost had a glass of milk to fill out the dairy ensemble, except that I had to go to sleep.  Good times. I better go for a run tomorrow as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-5652740574560271742?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/5652740574560271742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=5652740574560271742' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/5652740574560271742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/5652740574560271742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2008/11/what-i-had-for-breakfast.html' title='What I had for breakfast.'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-831064496681394892</id><published>2008-11-07T02:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T03:05:01.815-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Few diwali views.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQgdxJy-4I/AAAAAAAAAVY/AMnu0jg0UtI/s1600-h/nightview.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQgdxJy-4I/AAAAAAAAAVY/AMnu0jg0UtI/s320/nightview.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265869560085674882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diwali nightview from top an apartment building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQgJkImY6I/AAAAAAAAAVQ/EU1u4dDllWY/s1600-h/lonely+lamp.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQgJkImY6I/AAAAAAAAAVQ/EU1u4dDllWY/s320/lonely+lamp.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265869212993610658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone left a lonely lamp by the side of street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQfcN43kYI/AAAAAAAAAVI/_WgOnqbZ9o8/s1600-h/pup+on+diwali.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQfcN43kYI/AAAAAAAAAVI/_WgOnqbZ9o8/s320/pup+on+diwali.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265868433927934338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little artistic photo here of a puppy on the diwali night.&lt;br /&gt;Almost like an oil painting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQfCqAAMoI/AAAAAAAAAVA/B3oSLmMLWbw/s1600-h/rangoli+on+the+floor2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQfCqAAMoI/AAAAAAAAAVA/B3oSLmMLWbw/s320/rangoli+on+the+floor2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265867994797453954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Floor decoration with powdered colors called Rangoli.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQev5RzxbI/AAAAAAAAAU4/viIsWakJGsA/s1600-h/rangoli+on+the+floor1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQev5RzxbI/AAAAAAAAAU4/viIsWakJGsA/s320/rangoli+on+the+floor1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265867672481154482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQeP3UKEwI/AAAAAAAAAUw/5RpmOSbP41A/s1600-h/shops+diwali.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQeP3UKEwI/AAAAAAAAAUw/5RpmOSbP41A/s320/shops+diwali.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265867122198319874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shops&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQdvyJ24yI/AAAAAAAAAUo/LKgE90EHXw0/s1600-h/gurudwara+diwali.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQdvyJ24yI/AAAAAAAAAUo/LKgE90EHXw0/s320/gurudwara+diwali.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265866571057128226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gurudwara (sikh temple). This one has a hospital in it as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-831064496681394892?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/831064496681394892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=831064496681394892' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/831064496681394892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/831064496681394892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2008/11/few-diwali-views.html' title='Few diwali views.'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SRQgdxJy-4I/AAAAAAAAAVY/AMnu0jg0UtI/s72-c/nightview.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-2898390274630699544</id><published>2008-10-27T18:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T22:42:07.811-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Season of festivities</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SQaE8SKFQZI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/hipNNWAe60E/s1600-h/house+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SQaE8SKFQZI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/hipNNWAe60E/s320/house+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262039385830146450" border="2" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry to all the people who wanted a new post sooner.  I finally have a residence  in Jalandhar.  But I must say it is perhaps the nicest place I could have found.   It has two bedrooms with attached bathrooms, a kitchen, and a drawing/dining room.  Then there is the roof above which has servant's quarters.  The floors are all marble.  I also have a cook. He has been cooking well so far.  So I am doing quite well. If anyone who knows me would like to come visit,  let me know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So about the SEASON OF FESTIVITIES.&lt;br /&gt;Well first there was dushehra(du as in do, sheh as in shell and ra as in rastafari), the festival where the effigy of ten-headed king of demons &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ravana&lt;/span&gt; from the hindu epic &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ramayana&lt;/span&gt; is filled with fireworks and set on fire to celebrate the good conquering evil theme.  I wonder if it is not the inspiration for the burning man festival in US.  Anyways, I didn't see the actual thing because I had a viral fever.&lt;br /&gt;Actually before that there was the fast season for the hindus.  It is like 9 days of fasting but it is the kind of fasting where you can eat fried stuff and fruits so it is actually not much of real deprivation. Then on a particular days people gather little girls from the neighbourhood and feed them and give them sweets.  I think the magic number is nine. But these days there are more boys than girls in Punjab so little boys are having to be substitutes.  The food is great though. Dry cooked black chickpeas, a sweet halwa of suji(somewhat like oatmeal), and puris (thin puffballs of fried dough).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SQaUu6ASsiI/AAAAAAAAAUY/QdrcD2KdlDs/s1600-h/ginny2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SQaUu6ASsiI/AAAAAAAAAUY/QdrcD2KdlDs/s320/ginny2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262056748194378274" border="2" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways great food that day. Then there is karavachauth when hindu women get mehndi (see below, also known as henna) on their hands and buy new bangles and other stuff and keep a fast for the whole day where even water is not allowed and they can break the fast only when the moon becomes visible. This is done to increase the lifespan of their husbands. Some unmarried women also keep this fast for their future husbands. The most interesting thing is that even though these celebrations are of Hindu origin, many of the Sikhs also participate. Culture blends these religions.  More likely people practice what their neighbours practice.  Hindus often go to sikh religious places and vice-versa.  Especially since religions are something of book thing for most indians. They follow the overt practices, but religion as a philosophical way of life is not how they actually practice.  They are quite practical in practical matters of life and not terribly idealistic. Idealists of any kind usually don't fit in well with Indian way of life because all the contradictions are present here and all are often held up equally within the same person.  They may get revered, if not ridiculed,  or both, but they are not understood as practical. Anyways back to the festivities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SQaXSs4H0gI/AAAAAAAAAUg/rJFYxA6fScs/s1600-h/karva003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SQaXSs4H0gI/AAAAAAAAAUg/rJFYxA6fScs/s320/karva003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262059562168996354" border="2" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is the festival of festivals for Hindus and Sikhs. The festival of Diwali.  You can read about it on wikipedia  http://&lt;cite&gt;en.&lt;b&gt;wikipedia&lt;/b&gt;.org/&lt;b&gt;wiki&lt;/b&gt;/&lt;b&gt;Diwali&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/cite&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was one of my favorite festivals growing up.  My fun usually started days earlier when the fireworks became available. Often times we would just roam around with matches setting off fireworks or when out of fireworks making little figures of matches and paper and setting those on fire. Once we unintentionally set a whole grass field on fire. It wasn't very high grass, but it was dry and that was a lot of fun and a bit risky because we didn't want to be caught.&lt;br /&gt;The memories of those childhood days are full of free happiness. The weather used to be cooler and there was much less pollution  than now.  The fireworks used to be small. No huge displays or anything like that.  But it was a lot of fun.&lt;br /&gt;Also my parents and grandparents had to buy us something for Diwali. There would usually be some article of clothing and toys. There would also be a lot of sweets.  People exchanged sweets as gifts. So, we ate lots of sweet stuff. Then on the evening of Diwali we would  set up and light candles, and little lamps outside the house.  Then later just about everyone was outside setting off fireworks and  enjoying the spectacle.&lt;br /&gt;We set off our fireworks and also went over to our friends' houses and to the market to buy more fireworks.  It was a great time.&lt;br /&gt;So I'll check out the changes in the festival today and report back to let you if it is any different now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-2898390274630699544?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/2898390274630699544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=2898390274630699544' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/2898390274630699544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/2898390274630699544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2008/10/season-of-festivities.html' title='Season of festivities'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SQaE8SKFQZI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/hipNNWAe60E/s72-c/house+004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-3288743532373002602</id><published>2008-10-13T03:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T03:34:25.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A photo of our friendship.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SPMiq-FTM0I/AAAAAAAAAUI/4YXu3feA2D8/s1600-h/A+Photo+of+our+friendship.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SPMiq-FTM0I/AAAAAAAAAUI/4YXu3feA2D8/s320/A+Photo+of+our+friendship.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256583311686579010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;These two little neighborhood girls were playing around me during the evening.  The one in white frock with the orange borders came to me dragging her playmate and told me boisterously to take a photo of their friendship.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-3288743532373002602?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/3288743532373002602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=3288743532373002602' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/3288743532373002602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/3288743532373002602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2008/10/photo-of-our-friendship.html' title='A photo of our friendship.'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SPMiq-FTM0I/AAAAAAAAAUI/4YXu3feA2D8/s72-c/A+Photo+of+our+friendship.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-131342580155093312</id><published>2008-10-04T23:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T23:31:53.534-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The changes that I notice</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I am a fairly rational person in general but as I get more involved in my practice, I find myself changing where my emotional states become more vivid. It is as if art and the narcissism involved with the details in it, makes me more human. The focus turns inward and the responses to life are deeper regardless of the the emotions associated with them. Perhaps some of this also comes from dealing with difficult changes in surroundings and harmonizing with new ideas and people. &lt;br /&gt;A little bit about music as well.  Tabla playing is an improvisational art.  It requires a great deal of control over spans of time or cycles.  This part of music, for now, seems to me to be almost magical. How do you teach someone to control time?  How do you learn it? It seems that for now this knowledge is part of what may be called the informal culture of tabla playing. As I develop this sense, maybe I will be able to shed some light on how to bring it into a more technical realm. Most of the tabla artists that have this ability did not acquire it by any kind of technical training but rather acquired it informally, organically. But, that requires years of being lost in the atmosphere of this music and putting that informal work into practice.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways I would love to hear other people's thoughts about any of this or how involvement with art changes them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-131342580155093312?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/131342580155093312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=131342580155093312' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/131342580155093312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/131342580155093312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2008/10/changes-that-i-notice.html' title='The changes that I notice'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-3857059687715385416</id><published>2008-10-04T00:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T02:30:31.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Searching for a house</title><content type='html'>I have been having an interesting time searching for houses.  Okay, so how hard could it be to find an independent apartment type rental housing. Well, first of all no such housing exists in this town. So, I asked property dealers to show me independent housing in the area.  Well, most of the time they kept on taking me to a place where the access to the living area is through the landlord's house. &lt;br /&gt;I asked one property dealer if he can find me a flat(apartment), he said he knows of one and he will get the keys, when I want to see it. I called him several times and his phone was switched off. Once I got through and I said I get the keys and I will call him around 4 so that I can see the flat. At 4 no one picked up the phone. So, I went to his shop and met with his son. He said he will get the keys next time and to give him a call on his mobile phone.&lt;br /&gt;I set up an appointment time and called him twice to make sure he has the keys for the flat.  When I reached his shop, he starts calling some guys who knows the guy who has the flat to check whether it is still up for rent. Of course he has no keys, but instead of telling me he says to follow him and he takes me to a property that was nice, but of little use to me.  Then he said he will call me tomorrow when he has the keys to the flat.  That was a couple weeks ago. I am still waiting.&lt;br /&gt;Episode 2.  Another property dealer excitedly tells me to wait a couple days while a flat becomes vacant. They show me the flat and I say okay to the price and everything else.  They say they will call me as soon as it is ready.  Few days go by and no word from them. So I try to find out what is happening with the flat.  Apparently the owner rented the flat to someone else.   But for some hidden reason, which I am working on figuring out, the property dealer never thought it necessary to let me know. &lt;br /&gt;Episode 3.  A lady that knows my teacher's wife tells her that her second house which is next to her main house is vacant and I can have the upstairs.  Well, wonderful, perfect location, nice neighborhood. So we check out the place, I say, " great it will work. Just install the taps and install the toilet(apparently the previous stuff was stolen).  She says okay and that she will get it done soon. She also impresses me with how awesome her family is and how money does not matter only good name and deeds matter.  She tells me how all the chief ministers have visited their house and how her husband and her son get things done for other people without taking a dime.&lt;br /&gt;Then a couple days later, she asks me to talk with her son.  Her son asks me about my project and how long will I be here.  We talk of rent and if he can get the work done soon, so I can move in and he says yes they will get right on it.  I think their prediction was few days. But the work keeps stretching.  I check every couple days whether the work has started but they say they haven't around to it.&lt;br /&gt;I checked another house. Nice people but house gates are locked at 9pm and they preferred that I was rarely late and no alcohol. I can deal with no alcohol but 9 pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I am going to go look, once again, elsewhere.  I can't quite figure it out,  I am thinking perhaps the commission for finding rentals is not worth the time (it's good 50-70 dollars or more depending on the rent).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta keep looking....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-3857059687715385416?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/3857059687715385416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=3857059687715385416' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/3857059687715385416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/3857059687715385416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2008/10/searching-for-house.html' title='Searching for a house'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-2746856188351321089</id><published>2008-09-29T07:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T07:51:12.455-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Photos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SODqb54nGmI/AAAAAAAAAUA/TIiWgivFwYg/s1600-h/Blog10.jpg"&gt;Delhi street view&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SODqb54nGmI/AAAAAAAAAUA/TIiWgivFwYg/s320/Blog10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251454930629630562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SODjpMtBajI/AAAAAAAAATg/5Rra4ImocjQ/s1600-h/Blog6.jpg"&gt;Moon view &lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px ; display: block;text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SODjpMtBajI/AAAAAAAAATg/5Rra4ImocjQ/s320/Blog6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251447462438201906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SODp1sE-fNI/AAAAAAAAAT4/D0RQuVEVaBU/s1600-h/Blog8.jpg"&gt;Guruji&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SODp1sE-fNI/AAAAAAAAAT4/D0RQuVEVaBU/s320/Blog8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251454274088369362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-2746856188351321089?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/2746856188351321089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=2746856188351321089' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/2746856188351321089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/2746856188351321089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2008/09/more-photos.html' title='More Photos'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SODqb54nGmI/AAAAAAAAAUA/TIiWgivFwYg/s72-c/Blog10.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-6666273225763601024</id><published>2008-09-28T01:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T09:18:35.767-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Some views of Jalandhar'/><title type='text'>Some Views of Jalandhar</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9H53UWIPI/AAAAAAAAAS0/y0rJold3Y-w/s1600-h/Blog1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9H53UWIPI/AAAAAAAAAS0/y0rJold3Y-w/s320/Blog1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250994749964689650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mother and Daughter&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9H53CouLI/AAAAAAAAAS8/R1cRHRXyYhk/s1600-h/blog2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9H53CouLI/AAAAAAAAAS8/R1cRHRXyYhk/s320/blog2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250994749890410674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Electric Pigeons&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9H6PSaT3I/AAAAAAAAATE/2hhZr9MplDQ/s1600-h/Blog3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9H6PSaT3I/AAAAAAAAATE/2hhZr9MplDQ/s320/Blog3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250994756399026034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Waiting for Roti&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9H6PX_OmI/AAAAAAAAATM/foc3DnSOCXs/s1600-h/Blog4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9H6PX_OmI/AAAAAAAAATM/foc3DnSOCXs/s320/Blog4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250994756422416994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Rooftop view left&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9H6JLCSmI/AAAAAAAAATU/dSzWa2Pu4X0/s1600-h/Blog5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9H6JLCSmI/AAAAAAAAATU/dSzWa2Pu4X0/s320/Blog5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250994754757479010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Rooftop view right&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-6666273225763601024?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/6666273225763601024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=6666273225763601024' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/6666273225763601024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/6666273225763601024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2008/09/some-views-of-jalandhar.html' title='Some Views of Jalandhar'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9H53UWIPI/AAAAAAAAAS0/y0rJold3Y-w/s72-c/Blog1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1438543763409255099.post-6976380320867827604</id><published>2008-09-23T03:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T02:20:02.984-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to India</title><content type='html'>I have been in India for 13 days now and I am learning to cope with the flow of life here. In this short period I have met some interesting people with different perspectives on India and its progress. I have also been living like a king since I came from New Delhi to Jalandhar. I have not had to cook or clean, and life is like when I was a child except for the sheer fun of childhood. But slowly, I am also starting my focus on music and other changes are soon coming.&lt;br /&gt;Since I arrived in Delhi, I have talked with several different people regarding the progress of India and the changes that are happening. Indians seemed to be locally and regionally oriented, when they considered progress. The "metro", which is a subway system under construction for Delhi area, is the talk of the town. It is supposed to become a solution to the problem of traffic congestion in Delhi. Everyone I spoke with seemed impressed by the amount of work that is getting done and how quickly it is proceeding. Everyone seemed to think that this will actually work. The owner of the guesthouse where I stayed was not so impressed. His chief complaint was that anybody and everybody will be able to ride the metro and that is going to turn it into filthy and unsafe means of transport. He was especially unhappy with the uneducated migrant workers that come in large numbers to the city. He thought that they were the source of many problems of the city. He did not want his daughter to be riding in close contact with such people.&lt;br /&gt;This of course reminded me of the situation with migrant workers in USA. The major difference was that economic class and education were the factors for this person and not so much race and reduction in economic opportunity as is the case in US. But not everyone had this perspective. My dad's friend who lived in one of Delhi's suburb thought that all people should have the equal right to use this transportation. He was also rather impressed with the strongman approach that was working well in the building of this metro. Apparently, the person in charge has such authority that even the rich and connected people could not make him change his planned sites and the government supported his authority.&lt;br /&gt;The owner of the guesthouse had a negative view of the progress which he thought was superficial. He held the view that India at its root will never change, and he wanted his daughter to leave the country as soon as she was capable.&lt;br /&gt;Indian culture is also very hospitable culture. For example, I am living currently at my Aunt's friend's childhood home. She lives in a different town, but her sister-in-laws take care of me. All of them were complete strangers a few days ago. Their daughter helped me get my cell phone connection, and is generally helpful. I am treated as part of the family, and I get great meals, all cooked to perfection. At least two different dishes with every meal. It is very tempting to stay here, but it will be easier for me if I had a place close to my teacher's location. The nice thing about such lodgings is the feeling of belonging.&lt;br /&gt;My other Aunt's Son's friend who also lives in town has been helping me with house search and helped me get registered at the police station. So, these connections have been source of great help and comfort.  People at the USIEF(United States India Educational Foundation), who sponsored my Fulbright award, were also very informative and kind. I had great time chatting with all of them.  They were enthusiastic, encouraging and helpful, which is a refreshing thing in India because it is very different from dealing with people entrenched in the old bureaucracies. &lt;br /&gt;Search for a place to live goes on, especially since the nice opportunity that I thought was settled has slipped away..... more about that later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1438543763409255099-6976380320867827604?l=navjotmuses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/feeds/6976380320867827604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1438543763409255099&amp;postID=6976380320867827604' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/6976380320867827604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1438543763409255099/posts/default/6976380320867827604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://navjotmuses.blogspot.com/2008/09/welcome-to-india.html' title='Welcome to India'/><author><name>Navjot Sandhu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11792380567969135810</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DvLgCQlEpxA/SN9GcT_Yj5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-Ljy_PLn-RA/S220/Blog7.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
