Notes on India

Today I am in Udaipur, India. It's been a hot day and I've gone swimming in the hotel's pool. Screeching shiny green parrots are flying in to roost. A large red sun is setting over ancient white palaces on the lake. The air humid and thick, promising the end of monsoon season.

A swarthy, black mustached Indian with a compact body and wearing a tight black Speedo is swimming laps in the pool. He appears to be (and I say ‘appears” because I never know with Indians) in his mid-forties. As he finishes his laps, he climbs out of the pool, turns to me and flatly asks, “How are you?”

“On such a lovely evening, how could anything be wrong,” I reply.

He peers through large black eyes and begins; “The moon and the sun, are lovers who are out of balance. They fight and overwhelm. It is a dishonest relationship. This fight is hurting us all. Look at the sky. It’s black. Their imbalance is sucking the oxygen out of the world and there is not enough. People are dying.”

“Hmmm” I thought. Hard to debate that one. “Anything we can do about it?”

“No”, he dismisses scornfully. “Not unless you are one of the chosen.” I apparently was not.

”What’s your name?” I ask, trying to wrap this thing up on a positive diplomatic tone.

“I am Prince Lami Khan!” Then he turns and strides off, leaving me and the sunset alone at the pool.

This popped in after he left. Americans live in time, Indians live in space. Americans are always on the move, Indians are always at rest. Americans believe in freedom of speech; we strive for articulation. Indians believe in freedom of silence; they lapse into meditation. Americans believe in science. Indians believe in metaphysics.

Taming the Tiger

Lately I've noticed a lot of anxiety and stress around me. Maybe it's the economy, or the self-inflicted wasteland of cable news, or even the recent alignment of the moon, earth and sun. I don't know. But it does feel like a lot of crazy out there, and with it a shortage of civil behavior. It seems like the speed at which people go from nothing to inflamed response is getting faster and faster. The bottom line I see is just a lot of worry, anger and expressed frustration. Calm, non-engagement is a good thing. But how do we get there? Is there a secret?

A young friend in India gives a clue. Recently he was in an open jeep with no doors, off-road driving with his uncle at his home. The land bordered the Ranthambore tiger reserve, one of the few sites in the world where tigers remain in the wild. As they pulled up to a watering hole, suddenly a large Bengal male appeared, walked up and stood next to the jeep. The tiger calmly came to a stop beside my friend. Two feet away, in an open and door-less jeep, now stood the towering Bengal.

My friend, began stammering in fear to his uncle. “There’s a tiger right there. There’s a tiger right there! What do I do?”

His uncle, calmly and quietly directed, “First. Stop talking.”

Wise advice. When taming our own tigers, the first step is always the most important. Stop talking. Little good rarely comes from our mouths when the mind is engaged in fear or negative emotion. When our inner tigers are closest, we are in a place of emotional unreliability and not at our best. The potential for attracting more trouble goes up exponentially the more we speak. The course through is what the Japanese call "noble silence". It's simple, direct and the most successful strategy for moments of inner turmoil.

Moving Through Chaos

I have just returned from two weeks in Udaipur, India. If you have never been, the driving is not to be believed. It is living chaos theory.

Imagine the following. A road of roughly three unmarked lanes. The traffic consists of overloaded trucks, buses and cars with people hanging out of all possible openings. Lots of dogs walk aimlessly, jumping aside from speeding jitney's and motorbikes (many with up to five on board including infants on sideways sitting mothers). There is lots of foot traffic as well skirting the vehicular traffic...and elephants. Add in, of course, the ubiquitous cows, which are everywhere and wander with total impunity and you have some sense of the opening scene. No one stays in their lanes, or follows a known speed limit, or even some semblance of an approximate side of the road. Everyone moves in cramped spaces around windy curves at fast speeds constantly beeping their horns to let others know their position.

The drivers come so close to everything else on the road I am left gasping and praying the entire time. My mind is a mantra of calm. “I’m going to die,” is all I keep saying over and over. It’s inhale exhale for me, close the eyes and go into denial.

My client, who is Indian-Canadian told me when she first came to Udaipur, she decided to take the plunge and learn to drive in India. When she began she of course drove the way she had been taught--that is like a defensive driving westerner. She'd check her rear view and side-view mirrors, always scanning the surrounding territory.

Her Indian friends were horrified. “What are you doing?", they shouted. "Don’t look around. The system only works if you look forward to where you are going. Don’t look to the side or back. You have to trust others will do the same and everyone will adjust.”

Somehow, of course it does, and the craziness works. The traffic develops a kind of organic pattern that allows constant adjustment. It is far from perfect, but that it works at all is a testament to the power of collective individuality.

I think this is great advice for moving through chaos. When you find yourself in an environment that doesn't make sense, when the patterns cannot be figured out, and when potential danger seems to be coming from all directions, follow the driving tips from India. Eyes forward to where you are going, do not look back, do not over react, and above all trust that others will do the same and adjust around you.