September 30-October 7: Eurostar Paris to London, Incredible India, and our hosts Jag and Pam Trana

BLOG ENTRY: September 30-October 7: Eurostar Paris to London, Incredible India, and our hosts Jag and Pam Trana.

LEAVING OUR PARIS HOTEL

Wednesday the 30th Rose was up at 2 and I was up at 4 – bed bugs – and we didn’t go back to bed. It was a good lesson to learn. We were paying a reasonable price I thought at 90Euro, ~$150 for a 2 star room in Paris, but regardless of the price it isn’t worth it if there are bed bugs. We will be changing our unknown B&B in Rome at 90 Euro to a 3 star North American chain at around 145 Euro, ~$240/night. By 7:15 we were waiting with all our luggage for the McDonalds beside the Paris North train station to open at 7:30. We could not check in for the Eurostar train until 11:00. We had what we now consider a good breakfast for 11 Euro ~$18 at McDonalds, put our luggage in a locker for a few hours and further explored the area around the station – still packed like a sardine can with grungy narrow streets of people, buildings, cars, trains and the metro. Smokers and cigarette buts are ubiquitous – adding to the generally smelly, dirty experience.

A RIDE ON THE EUROSTAR

The fast Eurostar train from Paris to London, which goes under the English Channel, was interesting and clean but a disappointment. We found ourselves booking the train because our travel agent informed us that our best travel plan was to use London as a base for major flights. Arriving a little before 11:00 we found the departure area on a mezzanine floor was somewhat like an airport. We passed through security and inside were greeted with bathrooms (free at last, free at last), snack shops, a few stores including a duty free, and waiting areas – with seats (contrary to the train station itself).

As the boarding process started at 12:15 we went to the ‘gate’, showed our tickets, walked out onto a platform on the side of the station and down a ramp to the train. We were in car number 4 seats 26 and 27. Walking along beside the train there were smartly dressed attendants at each car, but there where no numbers on the cars. On asking, one told us the car number was printed on the platform in front of each door – it was but it had faded. We found our car and our second class seats. The car was clean but the seats were no better than a good bus seat.

Soon the train started. It was smooth and fast, by my guess, judging by the rate at which we passed vehicles on the sometimes nearby highway, about 140-160km/hr. We scooted out of the city, past towns, farms and country side. I was fascinated to see the entrance to the tunnel under the channel. Would I see the ocean just before we entered? Even though we were tired and Rose fell asleep immediately, I was looking out at the country side, expecting to see the tunnel entrance at any moment, surely after the next rolling hill, or the next hazy area which might denote the upcoming ocean. We were facing backwards so I had to twist and turn to see the upcoming landscape. Due to a time change in Britain we lost an hour. By 1:15 UK time my neck was getting sore and there was no sign of the tunnel. I went to the cafe car for a snack. It was more open and the big windows gave a better view. The attendant said said we would be entering the tunnel in 15 minutes so I hung around. Suddenly, there it was. It looked like a little hole in the side of a hill. No sign of the ocean.

The rest of the Eurostar trip was a letdown. I bought a peppermint tea for Rose, and a Panini snack for the both us. We were through the tunnel in about 20 minutes, and after a few more we arrived in the London station by 2pm, nearly a three hour train wide.

LONDON

Immediately we noticed a difference between London and Paris. The station was clean. There were no smokers and no cigarette butts. The car numbers on the platform were sharply outlined and bordered in brass. The station itself was nicely modernised. Entering the station we found smiling welcoming attendants, doing their best to help us along our way. Toilets were free and clean, and everyone spoke English.

We found our way to the ‘Tube’ Picadilly (Blue) metro line and left for Heathrow Airport. The Tube was not as modern as that in France, and the rails were noisy, but everything worked well. Forty-five minutes later we were at Heathrow. We hoped to be able to get to our hotel and back without having to get any cash but we learned that the shuttle bus to our hotel required cash. We found a Barclays ATM, with whom our bank, Scotiabank, has an agreement which allowed us to take out 50 Pounds, enough to buy our return shuttle tickets for 16 Pounds, ~32$. Our hotel, the Comfort Inn Heathrow, $70/night, booked site unseen through Expedia.ca was like a good modern Canadian 3 star hotel. Our room was small and the bathroom only had a small shower with a curtain that was impossible to keep inside the shower, meaning we had to wipe up the floor after a shower. But we had a kettle and coffee/tea in our room, and it was clean. Meals were another question. The specials were 15-17 Euros, ~$23-35 for two limited choice courses, ie starter and entre or entre and dessert. We had a late breakfast the next morning - the English Breakfast and a pot of tea for 13 Euro ~$22, and shared.

Heathrow airport is another pleasant experience – modern, all sorts of friendly helpers, lots of shops and restaurants. We left for the airport right after we had to leave the hotel at noon. We had to hang out, visit shops and read until 3:30 when we were allowed to check in for our 5:30pm flight to India. Then we had to hang out again. We found the perfect carry on bag for Rose, a nice smallish bag with rollers and which could be used also as a back pack, but it cost 239 Euro, ~$370. I said to the salesman, ‘Thank you. Good bye’. He smiled as we walked away. We picked up 4 bottles of wine at the duty free for our India hosts, Jag and Pam Trana.

ARRIVING IN INDIA

At 5:30pm October 1 our flight took off on time. A supporting air stream meant we were arriving in New Delhi 40 minutes early at 5:55am October 2, 7.5 hours later (5 hr time change). As we were taxiing to the terminal I noticed what looked like a jet plane parking lot, seemingly a hundred or so planes parked. Arriving we had to wait 20 minutes while until a gate became clear. Then we entered an airport very similar to anything we know, but the air was warm and moist. We went through customs and found our luggage. As we were going into the public area our good friend Jag was waiting, to greet and give us a warm welcome to India.

As we left the terminal for the car, the hot heat of India enveloped us. We had a short wait before the driver arrived in our air conditioned rented van and driver, which we agreed with Jag to rent for the duration of our stay. By 7:30am we drove off to Chandigarh, a 6 hour drive for 250 kms, much of it at 70-90kms/hr. Leaving the city on a modern freeway, sometimes a toll road, we saw many construction cranes, large office buildings for major companies like Reebok, raised traffic interchanges, and a small above ground section of New Delhi’s renowned new metro system. Traffic was different. It moved rather slowly, about 70kms/hr, and the freeway sometimes had streets crossing it. At these points we were introduced to India’s traffic melees. We saw hundreds of bicycles, a lot of scooters and small motor bikes, human and motorized rickshaws, cars, trucks, and occasionally a horse drawn cart, or a free roaming cow or cows (called buffalo). We also saw what I now recognize from my 1990 visit, bits of the organic mass of India. People everywhere, even living in tents at the side of the street as ‘Daddy works on the manual labor part of the road building crew’.

Twenty minutes later we were coming to the edge of Delhi, and the countryside started to appear. Still the traffic on the divided highway was heavy with this melee of traffic moving haphazardly across the lanes and honking at each other, and every so often an intersection, a crossing of the organic mass of India. All the cars honk a lot. I realized that the honking is necessary since you have no knowledge of when people will be moving towards you to get a better position in the jostling traffic. Rickshaws on the road have no signal lights or mirrors, so honking is a necessary part of life. Jag says they will be banned in Chandigarh in 2010.

There is really no way to describe the experience of India. India is an assault on our sanitized western senses. The climate, culture, history, architecture, economic situation, massive population are so different from Canada that words, at least my words, fail to convey the reality.

ARRIVING IN CHANDIGARH

We finally arrived in Chandigarh, “CITY BEAUTIFUL” as it proclaims on welcoming signs, around 1:30pm. In the 1950s a world famous French Architect, Le Corbusier, was given the contract to design a new capital city for Punjab. He created a design for a modern city (giving me memories of Brazilia in Brazil), which has since been integrated into ancient India with interesting results, as we came to see and experience over the next few days. Again I struggle to convey a sense of this reality. The travel guide, Lonely Planet, says “Chandigarh is India’s greenest, cleanest, and most prosperous city, and has more ATMs than cows, and more mobile phones than beggars.” I don’t know about the ATMs – we haven’t found one yet that will accept my Scotia Bank debit card (we found one in Gorodek Ukraine). But the cows, the beggars and the mobile phones are true. It is a beautiful and prosperous city in many ways, but right along side of the beauty are many un-kept areas, and a bustling population of very poor people. They are poor but they are also entrepreneurial. It only takes a few crafts, or bananas for someone to set up a tent for their family on the side of a dirty road and offer their products for sale.

As soon as we stepped out of our air conditioned van we were hit again by the hot heat and started to sweat – a lot, dripping sweat, onto our clothes, and into our eyes. The smell of open fires was in the air, and there was an odour, not a strong or bad odour, somewhat like chickens were running around outside. We entered the elevator of Jag and Pams condo block with our luggage and rose to the 3rd floor. Entering their condo there were cooling fans but no air conditioning. We were again warmly welcomed, this time by Pam and Jag together, into their spacious 4 bedroom, 1500 sq ft - 250 sq meter, condo in the Mohali Cooperative Housing development, a modern housing complex of several 4 floor buildings in a gated community. Middle class: professionals, managers, entrepreneurs, retirees like Jag, Pam, Rose and I, live here. They have all the conveniences of a condo in Canada – water and sewer, satellite TV, internet, electricity etc., but not as fully or completely. Electricity is shut off for 7 hours a day, and water is also shut off for a period, but both are done by a schedule and life revolves around the schedule. They have a propane gas stove. The temperature was 37 degrees Celsius, and with the humidity it was like 42 degrees. After tea, Chi, and a brief visit, we were tired so went to our spacious room to rest, ie try to rest in the heat. Even Jag and Pam were uncomfortable.

OUR TIME IN CHANDIGARH WITH GENEROUS FRIENDS

We can’t say enough about the generosity of our friends Jag and Pam Trana. Even though I had visited India as the agricultural technical expert on a diplomatic mission in 1990, I could not begin to personally arrange a visit to India myself. Jag and Pam welcomed us into their large condo, fed us, and are touring us around.

After our rest, we visited more and were served supper. Later around 9pm, because of the heat, we had a shower and went to bed. While Jag and Pam’s condo is newly built, it was built as a stock item, ie everything in the 100’s of condos in the complex is very similar and according to Indian building norms. Plug-ins and light switches are all together up where light switches are at home. The switches are like toggle switches in the middle of a large metal plate attached to the wall. There are three shower/bathrooms in the condo, but the shower just sprays over the floor in a corner of our bathroom. After the shower you squeegee the floor and wipe up water which has sprayed on the toilet and other areas. The shower head doesn’t work, so we took it off (later we learned that we could scrap out the calcium with the head of our cuticle scissors). The water is not heated, ie not by gas, but by the ambient temperature, so it is warm. So we are safe and sound and being well looked after but it is stressful adapting to this new environment. On top of all this Rose has many welts from the Paris bed bugs which are making her itchy and uncomfortable.

THE SITES OF CHANDIGARH

Saturday October 3, were got up about 7:30. Jag and Pam made us breakfast of an omelette for me, and Rose had a type of Nan bread with a light filling of onions. A maid comes about 9am to do the dishes, and light cleaning for a couple of hours. After a leisurely breakfast we visited the Nek Chand theme park. Nek Chand of Chandigarh, was a labourer but a man with a dream. Why do we throw away so much useful garbage and jink? He began collecting it and making it into pieces art: birds out of bottle caps, doors out of old cans and barrels, walls out of discarded pieces of ceramic and toilets, statues out of miscellaneous pieces of junk. The government recognized his talent and his environmentally friendly approach to art, and created a park site with staff for him to further develop his dream. His work has now been recognised by the United Nations.

His dream has been turned into a theme park, with several water falls at various points around paths through crevices in mountain like hills made of natural rock, lava rock and junk. The park is decorated with sculptures and scenes all based on the use of junk. A large open area, with platforms tiled in pieces of ceramic, has become a favourite area for weddings, entertainment for children, and snack shops. We visited the small ‘laughing mirrors’ pavilion, and we took Rose’s photo beside a camel on which rides are offered to children. Pam, who can’t walk a lot, stayed at the entrance to the park. When we returned she had arranged a meeting with the 84 year old Nek Chand, who is now the Director of the park, and has a small private area for himself and his assistants inside the park. He was a humble man, fulfilling his dream, and meeting him was humbling for us.

After visiting Nek Chand’s park we returned home for lunch and an afternoon sweat removal shower and nap. Later in the evening Jag and Pam took us to Sukna Lake, a man made lake in Chandigarh which has become a park for the public. The visit also offered some relief from the heat, as the water, which also was warm, slightly cooled off the air. The lake as beautiful with people on its paddle boats, and greenery.

ROPAR, PUNJAB & ONKARJOT’S FAMILY

Sunday, October 4, was another remarkable day. In the morning we visited the Rose garden, a park created by another man with a dream for the beauty of Chandigarh. Later we drove through the organic mass of India, about 80kms to Ropar, Punjab, located on the banks of the Sutluj river, to visit the family of Onkarjot Singh. Onkar had boarded with us for three weeks in September 2008 when he tried to enter the University of Saskatchewan. Unfortunately for Onkar the University is not very supportive of foreign students, despite charging them double the tuition fees Canadians pay. I worked hard with Onkarjot to get him set up in a study program, but it became clear than an acceptable program was not going to be developed. With my advice he decided to leave before the deadline for paying tuition. He went to Toronto where there were more options for him to study. The long fingers of bureaucracy didn’t let go completely, and Onkar found himself having to pay cancellation fees.

On the way to Ropar we stopped at a Sikh temple on the Sutluj river, one of the major rivers in India. The temple is in contrast to the surrounding area of life, bustling life, in the midst of dirt and grime. Supporting walls have been constructed to hold the river bank in place, and the gleaming temple is built on the top. It is an impressive structure to see as you pass over the dilapidated river bridge. Jag and I entered the temple while Pam and Rose used the nearby bathroom. It was a Turkish toilet, and the smell was so gross that Rose actually threw up. Luckily I did not need a toilet at that time. We had to remove our shoes to enter the temple (a bit yucky since it there had been a rain shower in the morning, and while generally clean, the marble floors were somewhat gritty). Inside a priest and several women were sitting in the lotus position, in front of microphones, carrying out a long incessant chant, which was being amplified inside and out by large speakers. We both bowed on our knees in front of the priest, and then went onto the deck outside, where Pam and Rose met us, to view the massive river.

We also saw, from the road, the 7 acre farm, just small fields on which Jag was raised up to age 17, in a home of two multipurpose rooms. They lived in a small village of only a 1000 or so people. As the only boy in a family of three Jag inherited the farm. The home no longer exists in the same form and the farm is ‘rented’ from Jag free of charge.

Onkarjot’s family, friends of Jag and Pam, had been talking to Jag about arranging a visit of Rose and I, Onkar’s host family in Canada. When we arrived the whole family was there to meet us. It was a festive occasion. They live in a strip mall, above the local DHL office, which they run. Onkarjot’s siblings are all professionals. The oldest, Tripat Kaur, was recently appointed a judge. Her husband Ravinder Singh is a business man in the retail sector. Onkar’s, Dipanjot Singh, who owns the condo, is a lawyer. His proud parents live with his brother, his wife who runs the DHL business, and their 3 young children. They have 2 servants, a nanny/servant, and a male servant, who both do general household duties.

I continue to be amazed at the situation in India. Onkarjot’s family is a family of very bright professionals. To get to Onkar’s family’s place we drove through what would be alleys in Canada. They are paved but often covered with a layer of dirt. The strip mall is a mixture of private companies and retailers. The area in front is not well finished and is dirty, although photos do not show it. We walk through the small DHL office, clean but drab, and climb a small stair a few short flights to their flat. There we find a humbly and sparsely furnished and decorated large room, with kitchen, bedroom and bathroom through doors in the room. There is apparently an upstairs with another bedroom, and on leaving I saw a large patio on the upstairs floor. The bathroom like all in India it seems, is very utilitiarian; a marble floor, with a toilet, sink, and shower head over it all – no decoration or design. It seems that the people of India are so focussed on life itself, that the stuff of life in the west: decoration and quality, is just not important.

Onkarjot’s family is charming and intelligent from the youngest to the oldest. Despite Jag telling them we would only visit for an hour, they had not only arranged appetizers but also a complete meal. We were offered our choice of wine, scotch, or more juice to drink. We chose scotch and they brought out a bottle of Chivas Regal. Onkarjot, who is still in Canada in the Toronto area, is always in touch with his family by phone, email and internet chat. He had obviously been making our likes and dislikes known well ahead of our visit. Not only that, but he telephoned from Canada shortly after we arrived.

We were surprised to find this family, in the heart of the organic teaming life of India, so knowledgeable of our likes and dislikes and full of gratitude for our support during the short time Onkarjot was with us in Saskatoon.

BACKGROUND OF OUR HOSTS – JAG AND PAM (KAUR) TRANA

Over the week to date of our visit we have come to know more about our generous and gracious hosts. Jag and Pam have interesting backgrounds. The farm work on Jag’s farm was done by hired workers so Jag was free to study. At age 17, 1956, Jag graduated and began teaching Punjabi. Later he went away to college where he earned a Master’s degree in History, became a professor, had an arranged marriage with Pam and together they had two children. Pam’s parents were both teachers. She grew up in a large home where each of her six sisters and her brother had their own bedrooms. They were all well educated. Pam has also has a Masters degree in history. Her first degree, though, was in Phys Ed and she became a sports officer in New Delhi. Their children are now both very successful and living in the USA. Their daughter Aman, single, works in a senior role with the World Bank, and was recently appointed regional representative for India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh. She is moving from the Washington headquarters of the World Bank to New Delhi. Their son Greg, is married with 2 children. He teaches at a community college. His wife Simran works for Dow Agriculture. Jag and Pam, and Greg and his wife all had arranged marriages.

This background sure puts a new light on the claims of my parents as I grew up – eat your food, people are starving in India. Of course people may have been starving in India, but the comment ignores the many millions who live much like we do in Canada.

THE SIKH GOLDEN TEMPLE IN AMRITSAR

Monday, October 5, Jag and Pam took us to Amritsar, another 5 hour drive for about 250 kms (the distance from Regina to Saskatoon), through the ever bustling, teaming, incessant life of India. Major highway construction activity seems to be taking place throughout India (according to Jag India has loans from the World Bank to improve infrastructure), so you might drive a short stretch on a beautiful 4 lane highway, and then be struggling through a 2 lane or gravel stretch. A problem in road building in India is that the land is valuable, like $3000 per acre, and in small cities it is easier to raise the highway over the teaming squalor of the city than to try to negotiate expropriation. These raised highways are built by the private sector. Often there is a short toll road, and since nothing is automatic, we encounter yet another line-up to pay. The highways are always full of cars, trucks, bikes, rickshaws, people, animals, and in rural areas, tractors and horse or buffalo drawn wagons. It never stops and the driver is incessantly weaving around the road to find the best path forward, honking, slowing, passing, and narrowly missing other vehicles. No wonder people hire their drivers here.

On the way we stopped for lunch in a beautifully constructed, decorated, and air conditioned restaurant, the Haveli. The theme was traditional Sikh living and dress. Displays were around the inside and outside, and the waiters wore traditional clothing. It was an oasis in a roaring sea.

Arriving in Amritsar around 2pm we wove through the congested streets looking for a new parking garage a friend had told Jag about, near the Golden Temple, stopping every so often to ask for directions, with the traffic behind immediately honking their frustration. There is no roadside at which to stop, just people everywhere in the street amoung the traffic; because the shops use up the sidewalk space to display their wares . Arriving near the parking garage we were met by the brother-in-law of a friend of Jag’s in their Mohali condo complex. We exited the car into the heat of the day as he escorted us, beggars at our heals, and the driver into the garage. Then we all walked over to the temple guest rooms which had also been arranged by Jag’s friend, the best ones available. Both couples had their own bedrooms with private bathrooms. After Jag paid for the rooms were led up a couple of flights of stairs, down a wide stark hallway to our rooms. On entering we found our rooms large, but stark and spartan. Our large double beds had a firm mattress with a dirty sheet on them, and the private bathroom was a concrete room with toilet, sink, water taps and bucket. Rose announced that she could not stay in the room because it was dirty and she had open sores from the Paris bed bugs. Once that situation was absorbed we went back to the entrance. They gave us our money back, and we headed back to the car, as always in the heat and incessantly bustling, dirty streets, squeezing through the traffic.

As we neared the parking garage we saw a hotel with large clean glass windows and doors, and even a bit of clean tiled sidewalk in front; the CityHeart Hotel. On entering we found it nicely air conditioned, clean marble floors, smartly dressed staff, and an oasis in this sea of dense human life. We asked if they had rooms and whether we could see them. ‘Of course’, they said and showed us what would be good 4star rooms in Canada: working showers, LED TV (grainy from poor satellite reception), large North American style soft beds with white cotton sheets, air conditioning, and beautifully decorated and designed. The teaming traffic noise below in the street was still there but muted. We took a two bedroom suite for the four of us, had a nice supper in the restaurant and breakfast the next morning for 6132 Rupees, ~$133. No bed bugs. Match that Paris!

To over simplify, and using the Lonely Planet and Wikipedia as resources, Amritsar (Population 1.5 million in 2007), was founded in 1577 by the fourth Sikh Guru, Ram Das, with permission of the Mugal Emporer Akbar (the Mughals from Northern China rulled much of the world for centuries). Back in the 15th century, ie the 1400s, around the time that Columbus discovered America, Guru Nanak, from Lahore in present day Pakistan, decided that the Hindu and Muslim religious practices were not appropriate. He started the Sikh religion, focussed on family life, hard work, sharing, and equality for all. Over the century’s various religious leaders and Maharajas built an amazing temple complex in Amritsar – the Golden Temple.

In the early 1980s a group of extremists intent on creating a Sikh homeland, by violence if necessary, occupied the Golden Temple. The government of the day, led by Indira Gandhi saw this as a pivotal time to stop the movement, and after long negotiations failed, attacked the temple with military force, destroying much of the temple, killing hundreds, and quelling the occupation. However, Sikhs were so enraged by this attack, that later in 1984 Indira Ghandi’s Sikh bodyguards killed her. The destruction has been completely repaired.

The temple is a remarkable place, visited by millions each year, and no money is requested. We had to remove our shoes, don head coverings (used ones were in a canister), walk through a pool of disinfectant (I hope), and then proceed toward the large marble walkway around a large sacred pool, maybe 100 yards square. As we walked in the evening the scene was serene, and filled with people. It is called Amrit Sarovar, pool of nectar, from which Amritsar gets is name. The main temple, covered in gold, is an inverted lotus flower, a symbol of the goal of a pure life, placed in the middle of the sacred pool, which can be visited by all. A causeway leads to the two story temple in which several priests chant continuously in Punjabi from the Sikh holy book. The chanting is broadcast through loudspeakers throughout the temple. We passed hundreds of people sleeping on a larger area of the marble walkway; they have no money and simply lay there to rest. Leaving the temple we passed a large kitchen/dining area, the Guru-Ka-Langar, in which visitors are offered a complete meal free.

According to the Lonely Planet, The original copy of the Sikh ‘bible’, the Guru Granth Sahib, is kept in the temple and taken to and from the Sikh Parliament, the Akal Takhat, also heavily damaged during the army attack in 1984, each morning and evening. There is also a Sikh Museum, the Baba Atal Tower, part of the parliament building. We did not see these and many other sites given our short stay and the confusion and tension over the hotel rooms.

JALLIANWALLA BAGH

At breakfast on Tuesday the 5th, eaten in the nicely appointed eating area of the hotel overlooking the dirty grimy street below, we decided to cancel our visit to the changing of the guard between the Pakistan and India armies at the Wagah border crossing. It is apparently quite a spectacle as the two sides have developed macho rituals to show their discipline and power. The spectacle takes place at 4:30 in the afternoon so that would mean staying another night. Jag also had some business to transact on the way home. After breakfast we visited the nearby Jallianwala Bagh (Park). This is the site of a 1919 massacre of 2000 unarmed Indians by the British rulers of India, who feared protests asking for independence. The massacre became a pivotal event in history which led to India’s independence August 15, 1947. In the midst of a beautifully designed and maintained park, the story is told, graphically and with evidence and signs of how the, arrogant and powerful British occupiers of India slaughtered their helpless victims in a walled area were none could escape.

Many jumped into a large well in the area, now called the Martyrs’s Well, to escape the barrage of bullets mowing down everyone – 200 bodies were later removed from that pitiful site. As you look into it today the bottom looks like a cesspool of human blood.

After visiting the Jallianwalla Bagh we headed home, stopping at Jag’s HDFC bank in Ropar to conduct business. I was surprised to be able to take out money from the ATM there, so I took out 20,000 Rupees, giving 15,000 to Jag, $328 as a contribution to the cost of the rented Toyota Innova van and driver, about $50/day, during our stay.

Wednesday, October 7 we managed to convince Jag to leave as a day of rest, and to conduct personal business. The history of this nation seems to be one of the mass of humanity overcoming itself and all who would seek to rule it. As well plan to leave Chandigarh for Delhi tomorrow, we are eternally grateful for this experience of India. We have new respect for this densely populated bustling nation, a major part of the humanity of the world. We are humbled.