How I spent my 59th birthday.. Feb. 19, 2007

“Hey Elias. You gotta come see this. Elias! Come on out here, it is time for breakfast!” Unfortunately, I am not able to convey the sound of a southern drawl through words, but the voice calling to me was that of Jo Barrow. In a couple of minutes, I came out of my tent, turned to my left and saw my four teammates, along with Pradeep, standing in a line and listened as they sang “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” to me. Pradeep then moved forward and handed me a bouquet of yellow flowers and some white tiny furry flowers, which were like a wild growing gypsophilla (baby’s breath). “Sorry, Elias, but on short notice, this is the best we could do,” said Pradeep. There was no reason at all for an apology, and along with a card signed by the others, I knew this would be the beginning of a wonderful day.

We had breakfast and then Pradeep reinforced what we would be doing. He introduced us to Sarveer, a local shepherd, who would serve as our trekking guide. Sarveer was a man who appeared to be about seven feet tall, wearing the typical dhoti (sort of a loin cloth which provided pant legs to the ankle) and a white tightly cinched jacket vest, and of course, his dark aqua colored wrapped turban.

We would leave the campsite, climb up the hills and continue trekking for about an hour and a half. Pradeep would meet us in the jeep at that time, at one of the local villages, and then we could choose to continue trekking or ride with him to the next point. It has been some time since I went mountain climbing, and although the air was clear and clean, it seemed I was having some difficulty breathing – probably something to do with the cold I had been trying to fight for the past few days. Following Sarveer with his steady and measured gait, we ascended a dried up riverbed, climbing over and around rounded rocks, loose gravel and sinking into fine dessert sand. Darlene and Jay both said they had a good deal of experience in trekking and stayed close behind Sarveer. Joan, Jo and I formed the second tier of the group. The beauty of the surrounding hills was magnificent. We had been told that these hills most likely had been submerged under water – either lakes or the sea – for many centuries, as the rocks were not pointed or jagged, but rounded and some areas, almost eaten away by constant wave action. Faces and animal heads were easy to detect among the formations and stark beauty surrounded us on all sides.

What seemed quite remarkable is the fact that within one or two minutes, although feeling ourselves totally alone in the wilderness, another person or persons would appear from out of nowhere, just walking, or carrying sticks on their heads, but silently and almost reverently walking through these hills and valleys. We noticed a Hindu temple built into the one of the hills – a spiritual outpost of sorts. After about an hour and three quarters, we arrived at a tiny group of huts, some with thatched roofs, some with just sticks for walls, but one or two with brick and mortar for walls. There was one stick enclosure which housed a small flock of goats. Most of the attention of the few villagers was focused upon the repair of a single-cycle engine (what some have referred to as a one-lunger) which had thrown the belt, thereby shutting down the pumping of the well. Meanwhile, a tiny woman, with her head covered in a reddish-orange veil, stood at the other side of the well, and hooked her one gallon bucket to the rope, and cranked as the rope was lowered deep into the well, hit the water, filled and then cranked the opposite direction to raise the bucket, so she could fill her own jardinière to carry on her head, back to her hut. A few of us peered over the edge of the well opening and I, for one, was amazed at the depth of the hole – a conservative estimate is the surface of the water was at least 100 feet down from where we stood.

The belt was replaced onto the wheels, and a young man picked up the crank, connected it to the engine, and began cranking it. After a few strong turns, a giant cough and a sputter, the engine caught and began turning over on its own. The sound was one I remember hearing as a youngster, while attending a county fair, where farmers brought their “one-lungers” to compete against one another. One belt turned the fly wheel, which then turned another wheel, which began the pumping action, and water was drawn up into the hose and then out and spread through the sluice system into the fields of castor, wheat, hemp and cumin. In a few minutes, however, the engine coughed and ceased to breathe, and another repair and fine-tuning was required.

We continued our trek and met Pradeep as he arrived at the edge of the village. We rested a bit and some went on with the trek, while others rode in the jeep to the village where we would be having lunch. Pradeep explained to us that his family had owned property in this area for some fifteen generations. The family had overseen some twelve villages, and the manner in which folks from the villages and outlying areas greeted Pradeep, it was obvious he and his family were almost venerated. We drove into the tiny village of Nabi. We were told that the children were not in school because the teacher had not shown up that day. There are checks and balances on the system, however, and if it happened with any regularity, the teacher would be replaced by someone who would be more responsible.

Pradeep, Joan and I waited for the others to arrive, and when they did, we were directed to the home of one of the shepherds of the village. At first, we thought we would be eating at Sarveer’s home, but although he knew them, this was not his home. Lunch had actually been prepared by Pradeep’s wife and then sent along with another driver, bringing it to where we were waiting, under a sleeping shelter in the yard. We were all sitting on some woven “spring-mattresses” on three bed frames that were nestled together beneath the sleeping roof, and could easily have settled down for a short nap! Dinesh, one of the servers who works for Pradeep, both at his farm, his cottage colony and the campsite, arrived wearing his pastel multi-colored turban, and opened up the multi-level packed lunch. Included in the containers were roti, rice, dal, palek paneer, aloo and a mutton dish. Since we were on a picnic, we were eating off melmac plates, rather than china! Following lunch, we reclined on the beds, and watched as one child and then another tried sneaking up behind the back of one hut, inching closer and closer to us, until we discovered them and they retreated, only to make another stealthy attempt in a minute or two.

One little boy was singing a song very softly, and when we encouraged him to sing it louder, and closer to us, he showed his bashful side and declined our offer. In a few minutes, we asked Pradeep to tell these women and children that we would really like to hear them sing, and perhaps if we sang, they would also. In a few minutes, about a dozen women, and a few children gathered up near the sleeping shelter where we had eaten our lunch, and sat down in a tight circle, some of them not facing us and others simply covering their faces with the red or yellow veils. Some seemed fascinated with sitting as closely to white westerners as they were. One older woman, seemingly the leader of the group, began chanting, and the others joined her. What a privilege to hear these very shy women and girls, sharing with us their own special native songs, presumably ones that had been passed on from generation to generation, and songs that the average tourist would never hear. They sang two or three songs and then we offered our own rendition of “I’ve been workin’ on the railroad” which seemed to delight them. We finally departed the yard and the village, and returned to the campsite.

Since I had been fighting a respiratory upset, I decided it would be wise to take a short nap. The rest chose either to write in their journals, wander around the site, read or just enjoy the scenery. I was awakened by my mobile phone ringing, and when I answered it, I heard another rendition of “Happy Birthday, to you!” sung by my sister and her husband. She told me she had tried and tried to call me on other occasions, but the numbers I had provided were more than she needed and it took the assistance of an operator in the US to put the call through to me. She brought me up to date on the snowfall of the past few days, and a few other tidbits, and we said goodbye. I came outside my tent, and everyone seemed to be gathering, as we had been promised to go out on a leopard safari, as one had been sighted earlier in the afternoon, and we might catch a glimpse of him.

Pradeep climbed into the driver’s seat, we all piled into the back of the jeep, and Sarveer joined us. Out we set on this next chapter of our adventure. We had driven a few kilometers and then my mobile phone rang again. This time, it was my wife, who sang a shortened version of “Happy Birthday, to you!” and I could hear her then ask our five-year-old grandson, “J.T.” if he wanted to speak to me. I could hear sadness in his voice as he said, “Happy Birthday, Papa.” He told me he was sad because I was not there for him to be able to give me a birthday hug. I told him I would see him in a week, but he still sounded sad. Then I said, “J.T., guess what Papa is doing right now?” He kind of whimpered, “What, Papa?” Then I said, “Papa and his friends are going out into the hills to look for a leopard!” Well this seemed to really peak his interest, and he and I had several minutes of excited and animated conversation, while he sort of translated every few words or thoughts to my wife. Finally, I told him I loved him and he passed the phone back to my wife. We caught up on a few family and office matters, and then said goodbye.

Now to the task at hand… to spot the leopard in the hills. One might think this would be a relatively simple task, but not so. We traversed back and forth along a soft sandy road-path, constantly maintaining our focus upon the hills above. I believe it was Pradeep who first called our attention to the cat who was half hidden behind a large boulder, just below and to the right of a scrubby bush, to the right of the rock with the big nose! It took several minutes for each of us to zero in on him with the shared set of binoculars. The leopard was obviously more content watching us than he was to move from his location, so we left that area for a few minutes, enough time for darkness ot begin to surround us, thereby making it possible to catch a reflection of his eyes with a spotlight we would shine in his general direction when we returned to that same site in a few minutes. We did just that, and were able to locate him, right where we had left him – another sign that he was not on the prowl, at least not then.

We returned to the campsite, where another campfire welcomed us, and we sat around it enjoying the light and the warmth, before being summoned to the table for dinner. Another delicious meal, which prompted Jo Barrow to ask Pradeep if he had published a campsite cookbook. He said they had not, and we all encouraged him to do so and to allow us to market it. He agreed, but only if he had the 50% advance of the royalties up front! We all laughed and finished dinner, some fruit for desert and then retired to bed. The generator whined on for another hour or so, but that did not keep me from falling asleep before it did.

What an amazing day… spent on the other side of the world from home, camped out in the dessert looking for leopards, seeing natural wonders all around us, meeting villagers along out trek and then eating in their yard, hearing native women and girls sing songs to which we would never know the meaning, searching for a leopard, and enjoying a dinner around a campfire with friends… but the best of all hearing family several times during the day, singing “Happy Birthday, to you!”

SUNDAY, so it must be church??? Feb. 18, 2007

Following breakfast at Rajputana, we met our driver and Shakti Singh, and departed for the next leg of our journey – Ranakpur. After driving for about two and a half hours, and climbing and then descending some rather steep small mountains – still part of the Aravali hills – we really came to appreciate the skills of our driver, Krishan. Turn after turn was narrow, sharp, and precipitously close to the edge of the road, where on one side or the other the drop-off was steep and without a perceptible bottom.

At one point along the way, we came upon a parade in a tiny village - a celebration for one of the gods, and we were able to get out of the coach, take photographs and actually gave out some "goodies" from what Roy Wise had left on the bus the previous week. The children loved the bracelets and candies, and we moved on toward Ranakpur. To this, one must add the fact that we were not the only vehicle traveling this road, but rather every few minutes, we would encounter large tour buses or huge trucks loaded with stone, either trying to pass us from behind, or meeting them head-on. Sprinkled intermittently throughout this drama was the occasional goatherd doing his best to control his flock which would much rather walk down the center of the road instead of wandering off into the wooded areas alongside it.

When we finally arrived in the region of Ranakpur, we decided to have lunch first and then to tour the 15th century Jain temple, which was nestled in the shade along one of the hills. We pulled off to the left side of the road and slowly proceeded down a dirt road leading to a parking lot, disembarked our coach, and were greeted by two young Rajasthani boys, one playing a small drum, while the other smashed a brass cymbal with a stick – all to greet us and welcome us to an oasis for lunch. Patrons were sitting beneath small tent roofed areas at rudimentary tables, and we were led to our table, which was situated right in the center of the eating area. A small stream that originated in the hills tumbled over rocks, spilling down under the eating area. We enjoyed a great meal and checked out the restrooms before boarding the coach.

On the way back to the Jain temple, we stopped to observe how Dhourry carpets are made – these woven by a very skilled and well-spoken young man, who worked with his two brothers, his wife and little boy. The designs are simple, geometric and often referred to as tribal in nature. The colors are beautiful, being created by use of only natural dyes, produced from seeds or leaves. Following his demonstration, we looked over his carpets, and purchased a few of them, each one being folded into a small package, about the size of a Michener novel.

As we left the Dhourry carpet shop, we met a group of young ladies carrying bundles of tree limbs on their heads; each dressed more colorfully than the other. The bright red head coverings, being the only common color among them. We proceeded back up the road a few kilometers and entered through the gates of the Jain temple property. After some confusion regarding proper clothing, we finally were able to enter, meeting the Brahmin of the temple, a handsome young man of about twenty-five years, who would show us the temple. His name was Sandeep and he had been the Brahmin since he was twelve years old, which to me was quite impressive and astounding. His knowledge was extensive and to think this young man had been leading the prayers and worship since the age of twelve??? He explained the differences between the two sects of Jainism, and indicated that this sect was not as strict as the other, with respect to decoration and adornment. There were 1444 pillars which supported the roofs of the temple and each one is carved and no two are alike! The designer of the temple was a man who had a vision which corresponded to the patron, but who was illiterate, and had no formal schooling, but was able to nonetheless conceive the design and draw it out to a sufficient degree that the craftsmen could follow his plans and erect this magnificent edifice. Statue after statue of the god sitting in the lotus position were sheltered in niches throughout the temple, each one with adornment of the eyes, so it appeared in the light that the god was looking back at you! The simple yet ornate beauty was breathtaking. Once finishing our tour of the temple, we checked out the restrooms (this seems to be an ongoing study for our group!) we boarded the coach, bid farewell to Shakti and settled in for a ride of another few hours to our next destination – Siana.

By early evening, we arrived in the town of Siana – population of 10,000 – and were greeted by our host, Pradeep Singh. He had begun Siana Camps and Safaris a few years ago, and has two separate and distinct parts – the cottages (stone and marble condo-type units, complete with porch, sitting room, sleeping area and full bathroom and then the other part, where we would be staying for three nights. After being welcomed with garlands of marigolds placed around our necks, we had some refreshment and then piled into an open jeep, our bags placed into a trailer hauled behind the jeep, and departed from the cottages for a half-hour drive out into the dessert at the base of the Aisrana hills. Winding our way through the narrow streets and alleys, we eventually were moving further away from the town on roads which disappeared into sand dunes and scrub growth.

Arriving at the campsite, we got out of the jeep and each of us simply looked up at the magnificence of the heavens above, sparkling with the stars of night. We heard the sounds of distant birds and animals, dulled somewhat by the sound of the generator that was providing power for the two lights in each of our sleeping tents, and the two lights in the eating tent. A crackling campfire provided additional light, as well as warmth after the chilly ride. We were then all shown our accommodations – tents having two beds, two chairs, a small table and then a bath tent, connected to each sleeping area, containing a flush toilet, a platform with a makeshift shower (using the same apparatus as we have at our kitchen sinks at home for spraying dishes) and a sink. Behind each tent was a five gallon pail filled with water and propped up by a tree limb, to create a gravity feed for our water supply, either for flushing or for washing. The only thing missing seemed to be Joan’s hairdryer! “I HAVE to have my hairdryer!”

When we came back to the eating tent area, Pradeep said, “The first drink is on me, so what would you like?” Red wine seemed to be the choice of each of us, and we sat around the campfire, sipping red wine and enjoying some snacks of nuts. We then entered the eating tent, sat down for a delightful meal and shared some stories from the day and from other parts of our journey. Pradeep explained our itinerary for the following morning and we went to our tents, to get rest before our morning trek. Although we had not attended church, we certainly had been immersed in religion today.

Friday into Saturday– A travel adventure… Feb. 16 & 17

Up early and repacking, to reduce the number of bags we were going to each carry with us to one… not an easy task, when one does not know exactly what will be required, but each of us succeeded, at least to some degree.

One final breakfast, but this time, I took the coach ride down to the motel where the others had been staying. We met and headed to the rooftop dining area, enjoyed laughter and omelets and toast and loaded the coach for our trip into Delhi. We wanted to get on the road by 9:15, and actually pulled out of the parking lot of the motel at 9:16. THIS was going to be an auspicious day!

We headed east, towards the town of Sohna, and then continued on to Gurgaon, where once again, I feel each of us was rather astounded to witness the incredible level of construction of high-rise condominium projects, one after another, for quite some distance. I have learned since that trip that due to the arrival of multi-national corporations, including automotive manufacturers, automotive parts manufacturers and others, the need to provide upscale housing has increased exponentially,

As we neared Delhi, the traffic was heavier, slower, grinding to a standstill. At one point, we were more or less parked on the direct flight landing pattern for the airport! Every two or three minutes, a jumbo jet would roar above our heads as it headed to land.

We had all anticipated being able to meet our friend, Roy Wise, who had been hospitalized with a minor stroke, but along the way, I received a telephone call from Sanjiv, who told me the physician in charge of Roy’s case would not allow him to leave the hospital, even for a few hours. We continued on to Hi-Points Expeditions, Sanjiv’s office, where we were met by Vijay and Bahne, Sanjiv’s two assistants, as well as Pallavi, his daughter. For me it was a family reunion, since I had not seen Pallavi for nearly a year.

We settled our accounts at the office and then proceeded to the Red Fort, where we would tour. The Red Fort was also constructed under Shajahan – the builder of the Taj Mahal. The massive structure, once standing as a fortress against enemies, serves now as a tourist attraction, as well as the location from which the Prime Minister delivers his annual “State of the Union” address. Even though we were on a rather tight schedule, we were all impressed with the fort and what it must have taken to even conceive of it, let alone carrying out the actual construction.

From the Red Fort, we exited and were met by six men, each of whom was a bicycle rickshaw driver. We boarded our new mode of transportation, and ventured out into traffic. Into the market areas, where one can purchase just about anything. Although there are defined areas for silver, silks, tires, padlocks, poultry, bicycles, etc., it also seemed as if these items were all available in stalls, located side by side in the bazaar. We pushed forward to the gate to one of the largest Muslim mosques, and climbed the dozens of steps to the entrance, where we removed our shoes and paid our entry fee. Literally thousands of the faithful had come for prayers, from the oldest to infants, people had come to pray, or just to meditate. We had time to take some photos, and then moved on to where we were going to have lunch – a traditional South Indian meal.
The restaurant was one where I had eaten in the past, and each of us enjoyed the different tastes and level of spice.

Following lunch, we then drove to Dilli Haat – a market established by the government, where crafts people from all over India are able to bring their products and set up stalls for a few weeks, only to be replaced by others after their term had elapsed. Each of us was able to find fabrics, or clothing items, toys, jewelry, pashminas, works of art, in a rather abbreviated amount of time allotted to us. We gathered at the gate at about 5:15, to be driven to the train station for our next adventure – first class accommodations on the overnight train to Udaipur.

Of the members of the Team, I was the only one who had experienced a train ride in India, to say nothing of an overnight train ride. Our First Class accommodations were not what any of the others had expected – each compartment containing six bunks. Each bunk being supplied with a blanket, two sheets and a pillow. Basic does not even come close to describing what would be our “home” for the next twelve hours. It was our hope that although we had been assigned to two different compartments, we would be able to remain together in one. The train pulled out, the conductor came through several times and we were on our way. When left at the station, we had been given packed “lunch” – a term which we need to redefine, one we find our Webster’s Collegiate Dictionaries!

Others had boarded the train, and one family had been divided into two compartments, but we were able to convey our desire to remain together, thereby giving them the same opportunity. Jo was incredulous why we had our packed “lunches”, while these folks were enjoying Kentucky Fried Chicken. She even considered trading one of her breakfast bars for two French Fries or a scoop of the Colonel’s famous gravy! One of the children was a little boy, who was five years old – the same age as my grandson. He was very cute and full of energy, although very well behaved. ”Dinner” concluded, it was time for lights out and an attempt to get some sleep, being rocked back and forth as we moved along the tracks to our next destination. Everything was relatively quiet, until we stopped at Koda – a town along the route. This was at about 2:30 a.m. and quite a number of new passengers boarded the train. I looked out our window to watch as vendors began to open their stalls for pastries and tea. Several people were sleeping on the platforms. When the train began to move again, there was a good deal of commotion in our compartment. I had left the compartment to use the toilet facilities, only to return to find my pillow had gone missing and a total stranger had moved to the bunk above mine! Our entire group was now wide-awake and Joan said someone had come and taken her extra pillow. We solved the mystery, realizing that since we were only five in a compartment that slept six, each of us may have taken liberties with the extra bed linens and pillows. I guess the conductor thought I was de-boarding, so he took my pillow, gave it to the man upstairs, and then when he saw me return, inquiring about the whereabouts of my pillow, simply reached beneath Joan’s head, and removed the extra pillow and passed it across to my bunk! We got a lot of laughs about this, and tried to settle back to sleep, for another five hours. I had great trouble falling back to sleep, and especially so when I noticed at each subsequent stop that we seemed to start up again, but going the opposite direction we had been going when we arrived at these stops. A bit puzzling and unsettling in one’s state of slumber, but I had to trust the train was on the right course.

We arrived in Udaipur and were met by Shakti Singh, a subcontractor from Hi-Points, and were taken to our hotel – the Rajputana. We had breakfast and then were brought to our rooms. The contrast between our First Class train accommodations and those of this Four-Star Hotel were remarkable, to say the very least! Fashioned after some of the oldest fortresses in Rajasthan, with towers and tents, we all felt perhaps the stark surroundings of the previous twelve hours had been worth it.

We were introduced to Uma, a gentleman who would serve as our guide for the day in Udaipur, and we began to explore this beautiful city. The City Palace was magnificent, and although there are several palaces all beside one another, appearing to be connected, some of them are occupied by the royal family, while others have been converted into hotels. These overlook the lake below, where there is yet another palace on an island in the middle of the lake. We would later take a boat ride to another small palace, on another island. This one is currently available for private parties and small weddings, and was the site of the scene in the movie Octopussy, the James Bond thriller, where Roger Moore wrestled with alligators.

Since lunch was included with our hotel, we returned there, ate and then left for the afternoon of more touring. We visited a school of find painting, where artists follow the traditions of painting with brushes, some of which have only one camel hair! We visited public gardens where the fountains were quite beautiful. We visited a shop where traditional block printing is practiced, as well as the sale of nearly every type of clothing or fabric. Uma had to leave us, as he was attending a wedding for eighteen couples that evening – one groom being a cousin.

Dinner that evening was out in the garden area of the Rajputana Hotel, complete with musical and dancing entertainment. Up again, bright and early for breakfast and then a rather long Sunday drive to our next destination.

Thursday for the finish… Feb. 15, 2007

Today would be our last day working at the site, and we agreed to arrive at the farm bright and early, to be able to get over to the site and accomplish as much as possible before bringing our phase of the project to a close. In addition, we were all of us excited for another reason – we were finally going to be able to distribute the many gifts and trinkets we had brought along with us to the children of the village.

Sanjiv had discussed the best plan with the school teachers, and it was decided that ONLY if a child attended school – at least that day, if not regularly, would he or she be given a “prize”. Furthermore, we would set up a distribution table and in an “orderly?” fashion, the children would file forward to the table and have one or two gifts handed to them by the members of the Team.

First, however, we had to get busy and try to accomplish as much as we could before winding down. We disembarked from our coach and immediately went to the back where the conductor opened the storage area, where our filthy, muddy boots had been kept, after each time we had worked. Now, complete with our work gloves (again, thanks to the generosity of Springvale Hardware) we moved toward the large piles of sand and broken rock which had been dumped there during the previous night. It was felt that if we could again move sand into the enclosure, and also pass bricks to Ramesh, we could really make a dent on this second platform. It seemed as though we were working at a feverous pace, although at times we honestly felt we were working at a snail’s pace.

Sanjiv had told us that Ravi Dayal and his wife, Jyotsna, as well as the Delhi-West Club president and his wife, were going to be working alongside us for a good part of the morning. It had been a year since I had seen Jyotsna (Ravi’s wife) and it was a wonderful, albeit brief reunion. She arrived wearing a beautiful sari, with a sweater to take away the chill, and we chatted briefly at the coach, where I gave her a CHIA PET! Of all things… but I felt it would be a possible marketing idea for Jyotsna to use in her interior landscaping business.

As Jyotsna and I walked toward the first platform, she noticed that about seventy-five men had gathered and were not squatting on top of the wall – their favorite observation perch. She asked if they had been working with us and I told her they had been with us, but only to observe what we were doing, rather than actually assisting in what we were doing. Without a word (but I guessed she was thinking to herself, “Not if I have anything to do with this!”) she climbed up onto the platform and faced the group of onlookers. In Hindi, Jyotsna told them just what she thought of them, and how it was shameful of them to be sitting there. On no uncertain terms, she scolded them harshly and asked them how they could possibly sit there, while our group from America had crossed seven seas to get to Chahalka, and furthermore that we had left our families and our homes, and traveled at our own expense, and left our jobs to be here to build these platforms in order to save the entire village from drinking polluted water – to provide the ladies a place for them to wash their dishes and their clothing, and even to use as a bathing facility – and yet they sit on their bums and watch. Well, this tiny woman, who has a personality larger than life elicited a response, but possibly not the one she had aimed to achieve. Although a half dozen younger men, and two older men, climbed down from the wall to help us, evidently there was an emergency Mosque call, because the remaining team of observers disappeared over the back of the wall, and walked across the street to go to the Mosque for prayers (possibly to have this woman removed from their world).

We all got a good laugh from Jyotsna’s forthright dressing down of the wall warriors, but we were also inspired to work just as hard, if not harder, to accomplish our goal and at the same time to give out a few “atta boys” to those who decided to help us. Although without the strength of a colony of ants, we nevertheless worked with the same determination. Ramesh was still slopping concrete mixture onto the top of a layer of bricks, while Jayne Britton and I handed bricks to him, or even set some down ourselves.

Work began to wind down and although we were reluctant to leave the labor, we also wanted to be able to bring some smiles to the faces of the children with the distribution of our trinkets. We changed out of our boots at the bus and walked over to the schoolyard, where the teacher had set up a table for us. Many of the children followed us over to the school, but they were told unless they were IN school, they could not receive any of the gifts we had brought. Nevertheless, they crowded us from behind us, as we attempted to empty out several bags of goodies onto the table and to gain some idea as to what we had and how many.

The process of distribution began with the smallest children, and as expected by us, pandemonium ensued and the teacher was forced to use his switch on the tops of heads of a few of the most unruly of the class. Dave and Darlene decided to act as paparazzi for the group and mingled among the teeming multitude of children, while Magda, Darlene, Jayne, Jo and I remained behind the table. Jay seated himself at the end of the table, for placing stickers on the shirt of each child. I had brought about one hundred tiny bottles of bubbles to not only give to the children, but to teach them how to create magic by blowing through the tiny wand inside each bottle. Joan took a few bottles out into the midst of the kids and began blowing streams of bubbles much to the delight of the kids. The six or seven members of the Delhi – West Rotary Club also joined in the excitement. To say there was a modicum of order to this process would be a gross overstatement, but by and large each of the children received at least three or four items. These included Beanie Babies, Tootsie Pops, bracelets, balls, crayons, pens, stickers, and much more. Although some children seemed to get passed over, if for no other reason than they were shorter or tinier than the rest of the students, we felt pretty good about having brought smiles to so many faces. With mixed emotions, we finished the gifting process and returned to our bus to drive to the farm for lunch – another amazing creation of Jyotsna Saran, Ollie (her sister) and the boys in the kitchen. This would be a garden lunch and the president of the Delhi – West Rotary Club, his wife and a few other folks, joined us.

When we returned to the farm, we were met by Dr. Nischal Pandy, a young man who was an active member of Rotaract, whom I had met on my first visit to India in 2001. Dr. Pandy and others from Rotary Clubs around the Delhi area are working with Rotarians from India and Pakistan, to bring children with heart defects from Pakistan for free surgeries and treatment. Their program is known as GIFT OF LIFE. This is not so dissimilar from the GIFT OF LIFE program that several Rotary Clubs in the northeastern United States are promoting, and have been for many years. He brought with him some summaries of case histories and as each of us read through them, we once again realized how very fortunate each of us is, to have our health, and to be a part of the wonderful organization ROTARY INTERNATIONAL is, and what it is able to accomplish to make a positive difference in the lives of literally millions of people around the world. Imagine this, for a moment, that for $150 a child is brought from Pakistan, along with a guardian, has the open heart surgery performed, remains in hospital until he or she is ready to safely travel back home – literally, the GIFT OF LIFE. And the program does not stop here – for ten more years, each patient is guaranteed free medical care in the event they experience complications from the heart surgery. Wow… what a gift!

Once we finished lunch, we returned to do some of what we could to finish up at the construction site. We were waiting for the arrival of the Imam for a very special honor. Since there was not really sufficient time for us to begin another phase of the project, several of us decided to take a walking tour of the village. Once more, we were the object of great excitement and curiosity, as dozens of children and some who were not children, gathered around us and walked along with us, up the narrow streets and into various tiny shops. A few of us began with meeting the local tailor. On walls, he proudly displayed his many creations – kameez (a long shirt) and matching Punjabi pajama bottoms, various shawls, and some children’s clothing, as well. One or two of us spotted what appeared to be a type of prayer shawl – white with red embroidered pattern, as well as woven red stripes. We negotiated to purchase all three he had, and then moved on up the street. Dave and I wandered up the street and I noticed two gentlemen walking in the other direction. I commented to Dave that one of the men appeared to me to be a holy man, and perhaps might be the Imam we were waiting to meet.

About a half hour passed, and we all returned to the site. Evidently, the Imam had come and gone, and since we had not been there when he arrived, he returned to the Mosque. Eventually, he returned and a great amount of excitement permeated the crowd of villagers. The Imam and his assistant instructed some of the others to sweep the surface of the first platform, and then to sweep it again. He then spread out a prayer rug, and then sat down cross-legged. His assistant and two other men sat down to his side. He then set a bag containing what appeared to be quarter ears of corn in front to him, opened two containers of incense, took one full bunch of sticks of incense, lighted the entire bunch, and set them into the bag, standing them up on an angle, with only one standing straight upright. Everyone became quiet and the Imam began chanting some prayers. The two men who sat at his left, also added some phrases, and then the chanting concluded. Meanwhile, the incense sticks had burned down quite a bit, and there was a most pleasant aroma surrounding this platform, where each of us had been asked to remove our shoes and to enter this space, which was about to be dedicated, with prayers to Allah. The ceremony ended with the Imam passing out bundi – small balls, about the size of a doughnut hole, but yellow in color and made of many tiny balls, stuck together – almost like what I remember my mother used to make as a dessert from rice krispies. Each of us was given one bundi, and then encouraged to break it apart and pass pieces of it to others from the village who were standing outside the enclosure, very reverently. This gesture seemed to have great meaning to the villagers, and it seemed to us that perhaps the full meaning of our being there, working as laborers to construct these two platforms was finally realized by everyone. Even several of the “wall perchers” came to us, held out their hands for a piece of bundi, and smiled as they popped it into their mouths.

One last time… back into our coach to return to the farm for a final dinner. In reflection, we had really accomplished a good deal, while lending impetus to the entire project, initially with the two washing platforms, to be followed by sanitary toilets and other amenities in the coming years for our adopted village of Chahalka.

Saint Valentine's Day - Feb. 14, 2007

After a VERY long and arduous ride back from Delhi, from the reception with the president, the group decided to go straight to their motel and Sanjiv and I drove together in his car, stopping by the hospital to see Roy Wise, a member of our group from Georgia. A few days prior, Roy had been taken ill, and we determined that the best possible course of action was to have him taken to the hospital for observation and treatment. It was determined that he had suffered a small stroke – possible days before flying to India, or even during the flight. That much still remains unknown. Roy was very pleased to see Sanjiv and me and so disappointed that he could not continue on with the group in the work project.

Once we left the hospital, Sanjiv and I continued the drive west, through Gurgaon, passing several wedding celebrations, one even had a fireworks show, that would have put some small town 4th of July celebrations to shame. We could see the fireworks at least ten minutes out before arriving at the scene! Not bad for a wedding.

There were severe storms, as well, and to say that we may have gotten twisted and turned onto wrong roads would be an understatement. At one point, I observed that some of the potholes were large enough to swallow up a good-sized dog! And there was no avoiding them. Swerving back and forth from side to side and then dipping into one hole and another made us feel as though we were like a pinball, being buffeted around a heated game. We finally arrived at the farm, and had a very light dinner before retiring at 1:15 in the morning.

Shortly before getting out of bed, I heard the caretaker start up the generator, so once more, we had lost power from the electric company. Imagine serving meals to a dozen people three times a day, and doing it, being forced to use a generator and a four-burner gas cook stove (a glorified Coleman camping unit). I touched my feet down onto the marble floor and decided smart money would be to put on my socks before venturing too far. I found some Valentine’s Day cards I had brought and filled them out for all of the members of the Team and then distributed them around the table places. Showered and saved and dressed, I then went out onto the porch area to greet the members of the Team, as they arrived from their motel. Magda Baggett had brought some boxes of candy hearts, also distributing them to our places. Since Dave and Magda are celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary later this year, we raised our juice glasses and teacups in a toast to their continued happiness.

We finished breakfast and boarded the bus for another full day of work. Since most of us had brought several toys and goodies for the village children, we were anxious to distribute them. However, we had determined that in order to avoid total chaos and mayhem, we should wait until the following day and work in cooperation with the teachers at the school to maintain some semblance of order and organization. Arriving at the work site, we donned our rubber boots and looked over the project to see where we were needed. Through the generosity of several members of the Team, sufficient funds were raised in order to pay for and construct the second washing platform, so we began to work on that one, while Ramesh worked on putting some finishing touches on the one we had nearly completed. We began by forming another brick line, passing some five hundred bricks from one side of the site to the other. The only difficulty with this was the condition of the soil around where we would be piling up the bricks into a sort of wall. For years now, the waste water from the ladies washing of pots, pans, utensils and clothing had cascaded down over the wall of the reservoir, creating a stinking sopping mess, and we were passing the bricks directly through this area. Jo Barrow, being the smallest was perched precariously on two bricks we had placed beneath her feet, teetering back and forth when the bricks were passed carelessly.

Several times during the passing of bricks, we were concerned that Jo might simply sink down into the depths of this disgusting slurry of mud and flip-flops and clothes and heaven only knows what else, never to be seen or heard from again! Two of us were able to borrow a broken-handled pick-ax and a wide bladed hoe and proceeded to dig a trench to relieve some of the back water, but had to pause often to catch a breath of cleaner air, trying to hold back from gagging on the stench we were uncovering as we dug our trench. Eventually, the trickle turned into a steady flow of filthy water and with some encouragement from a few of the elders, the ladies moved to the other side of the reservoir cover, spilling their waste water away from where we were working. Having said this, however, our progress was occasionally interrupted by a woman or girl guiding her water buffalos to a spot right behind us for washing them down and giving them a bucket or two of water to drink.

We returned to the farm for an outside lunch, and while waiting for it to be brought from the kitchen (still with no power from the electric company) I wandered through Jyotsna’s wonderful rose gardens, cutting several stems of roses and aloe blooms, some wild mustard and put them together for a colorful centerpiece for our table. Following lunch, we returned to the site for our next assignment.

Once the pile of bricks had been built, we moved on to the next part of the new platform construction, and passed hundreds of hods of sand, dumping them into the enclosure to created a base upon which we would later pour the floor for the second platform. A few of us, namely Dave Baggett and Jayne Britton worked alongside Ramesh, serving as tenders for him, as he laid the bricks to form the two new walls. The temperature was rising as we worked through the noon hour, but we were really intent upon completing as much of this second platform as we could before leaving on Thursday afternoon. With tired muscles and sunburned faces and necks, we once again boarded the bus for the farm. A local camel driver, who had been entertaining us with his skill at whistling asked if we wanted to ride his camel back to the farm, or at least part way. Dave Baggett, complete with a hip replacement took the first ride – watching the camel bow down and fall onto his knees to allow David to get onto the saddle was quite a sight. However, he was up and on and the camel was commanded to rise and in a giant undulating motion, stood proudly with David on his back. He rode a few times around the schoolyard and then Jay Kapner and Jo Barrow took their turn. It was out the gate and around the corner and up the road for them. The rest of us followed in the bus until we had reached a point fairly far up the road, where we awaited their arrival. The children from the village followed us as though we had turned into THE Pied Piper. Jay and Jo dismounted and now it was my turn to go with Darlene Beal. The camel driver instructed me to get onto the rear part of the saddle and to grab hold of the hair on the camel’s hump and NOT to let go. Well, I took him at his word and a mile or so up the road, I looked more like a white-knuckled flyer than a confident camel rider. The group decided it would be great entertainment if they could encourage the bus driver to move along the road to a point where Darlene and I could not see the bus, and to park it and wait to see if our faces showed expression of concern that we might have to ride this beast all the way back to the farm! Everyone had a good laugh about it and we enjoyed yet another wonderful dinner at the farm.

We called it a night somewhat earlier than usual, and I am confident that each of us slipped into deep slumber after a particularly strenuous day at the site.

DAY OFF FROM HARD LABOR (Feb. 13. 2007)

As I probably mentioned before, flexibility seems to be the rule of the day… with one scheduled duty or activity being “adjusted” to another time or priority. Originally, the TEAM had been advised that we would be attending the Rotary South Asia Goodwill Summit, being hosted in Delhi, and this would be followed by the opportunity to attend an event hosted at the Presidential Palace, by India’s President A.P.J. Abdul Kalam. Well, all of this did, in fact occur, but a day earlier than we had understood.

The TEAM all arrived at Sanjiv’s farm for breakfast, kitted out in our finery – a sharp contrast from the muddy, smelly work clothes and boots from the previous two days of working at the site. We enjoyed yet another wonderful breakfast at the hands of the two lads in the kitchen, who seem to be able to produce an endless variety of very tasty and hearty meals from the kitchen. To the best of my knowledge, we have only enjoyed “normal” electrical power for possibly one full day since our arrival. With horrendous thunder and lightning storms each day or night, power has been lost and the generator was called into duty. The two in the kitchen have been cooking on top of a four unit gas burner – for twelve people each meal.

Once fed, we boarded our coach to travel the two hours into Delhi. We encountered trucks filled to the brim with rocks collected from the unforgiving landscape nearby Sanjiv’s farm and the village site. Traffic jams slowed down the progress into the city, particularly from one side of Gurgaon to the other, and we had the opportunity of being “parked” directly on the flight path for the airport, watching as jumbo jets came in for landing directly over our heads!

When we arrived in Delhi, we were dropped off at the ASHOK HOTEL, where the Summit was being held. This event marked the 25th anniversary of the first such event, held in December 1981. At this Summit, issues such as powerty alleviation, unemployment, empowerment of women, rural credit, literacy, primary health care, nutrition and immunization, the strengthening of democratic institutions, and the role of NGOs in the development process.

Nobel Prize recipients from the region were among those addressing the 600 attendees, which came from the principal countries of India, Pakistan, Nepal, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh, as well as Canada, the United States and several others. Rotary International President-elect Wilf Wilkinson presided over the Summit. Government officials from India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka also addressed the Summit, including the former president of Sri Lanka, Chandrika Kumaratunge.

The Summit had already been in session for the previous day, but the issues being discussed today were of particular interest to us – POLIO ERADICATION. The executive Director from the World Health Organization, the chairman for Polio Plus in India and others addressed the group, urging us not to relent in our efforts to once and for all succeed in killing this maming demon from the face of the earth.

When we arrived, I was pleased to renew my acquaintance with President-elect Wilf Wilkinson, who was being escorted by District Governor Damanjit Singh of District 3010. He recalled the two occasions when he had been to Maine, once for a Zone Institute held at The Cliff House in Ogunquit, and the second when he addressed the District Assembly, the year Michael McGovern was incoming District Governor for District 7780. We had a few minutes to chat, and Jayne Britton joined the conversation, also recalling having met the incoming President in Ogunquit. This being my sixth journey to India, there were many opportunities for me to renew friendships with club members, district leaders and other friends in Rotary.

We sat in on several speeches before the Summit was adjourned for luncheon, and then returned for the major addresses of the afternoon. First to speak was Mr. Mani Shankar Aiyar – Union Minister of panchayati Raj, Youth Affairs and Sports and the Development of the Northeast Region in India. His address touched on the rich history of south Asia, and how through following the philosophy espoused by Rotary International, we hold the possibility of realizing world peace, through greater tolerance and understanding.

President-elect Wilf Wilkinson was then introduced, and again, reinforced the basic tenets of Rotary – those of SERVICE ABOVE SELF, and all the honors and responsibilities inherent therein. If each of us moves to serve others, with less attention paid to our own needs, how can we fail?

The Summit concluded with the unanimous passing of a resolution of rededication to the principles of unity and peace and the commitment, specific to the region of south Asia, with the goal of reaching beyond the geographical borders of this region to extend across the planet.

Shortly following the conclusion of the Summit, we all boarded buses to be driven to the reception. We were not allowed to take any pens, cameras, liquids, mobile phones, briefcases or purses, automatic car door openers, automatic car starters, etc. These would be confiscated, should we arrive and go through security and such items were to be found. Off we set in our buses, across Delhi, until we reached the Rashtrapati Bhawan – the official residence of the President, as well as the houses of parliament and other government offices.

The red carpet welcomed us all, with clay pots of yellow and orange marigolds on each ascending step. We were processed through security, and then escorted to reception hall, where we were all seated and waited for the arrival of the President. The security was very high, and quite evident. We were all seated in the first six or seven rows of what appeared to be twenty or thirty rows of chairs, extending about forty chairs across. The Governor of Uttaranchal, Mr. Argawall, himself a prominent Rotarian, had arranged for this reception, and along with the former President of Sri Lanka, was seated on the small stage at the front of the room. Two attendants pulled the long velvet drapes back, and President A.P.J. Abdul Kalam entered the hall. Several introductions were made of the various dignitaries in attendance, including President-elect Wilf Wilkinson, and then President Kalam began his remarks. He is very slight in stature, but as India’s foremost leader in space research, himself a nuclear expert, he easily held more than six hundred people in the palm of his hand. He told a story about his guru of many years ago, and then proceeded to discuss what he believed to be the center of the Summit – the seeking of world peace through greater cooperation and understanding. He concluded with a moral lesson, and then we adjourned to a very long reception hall, where tea, water, soft drinks and several different types of food were served.

As we stood to move to the other hall, I was pleased to see my good friend, past Rotary International Director Sushil Gupta. He and I caught up on the events which had occurred since the last time we were together at his home in Delhi, one year ago. We walked (or should I say moved along with the crowd) into the other hall, and Sushil introduced me to several other Rotarian friends. At one point, it appeared that the equivalent of the secret service was attempting to move the President through the crowds, leaving us to enjoy the hospitality of the evening. I was most fortunate to have the opportunity to meet the President, as were a number of the other members of the Team. President Kalam asked me where I lived in the USA, and was particularly intrigued with the fact that as Rotarians who had come to India at their own expense, to first participate in the National Immunization Day (NID), that we had moved west to serve as laborers in the tiny village of Chahalka. Being Muslim himself, he seemed very grateful that we had undertaken this project, along with members of the Rotary Club of Delhi-West. He wished me well and moved along through the crowd.

We finally returned to the hotel, where we located our coach (traveling home for the past several days) and all of the members of the Team climbed aboard to head for Sanjiv’s farm for dinner. Sanjiv named the property Dera Aravali (Camp Aravali) as it is more or less of an outpost in the rugged terrain of the Aravali mountains. Sanjiv had explained to us earlier that the Himalayas are the newest mountains on earth and the highest and most pointed, while the Aravali mountains were perhaps the oldest chain in India, if not the entire world.

DAY TWO AT THE SITE (Feb. 12, 2007)

Following a wonderful breakfast at the farm, we boarded the van, complete with our boots, extra socks, an extra shirt or two, and bottled water. Reaching the village, it is always uncertain what one might encounter. Today was no exception. We followed roads, which in some cases are mere paths through the unforgiving rocky terrain, and down into the village. Along the way, we passed a goatherd with his flock, which served as a speed deterrent – as if that were necessary in the first place! We also passed by mining sites which have been closed within the past year or so. It was determined that not only was such mining damaging the topography, but also possibly altering the water table for this area. An occasional motor cycle would weave around us, trying to stay on the path, avoiding puddles and rock outcroppings. Large dump trucks passed us, sometimes coming dangerously close to our van, filled to the brim with yet more rocks – big ones that had to be pounded and shattered into smaller ones, that could be used at our site, and others.

Probably the most photogenic of all the “vehicles” we encountered along the way was a camel-drawn cart. The driver had stopped the cart along the way, to pick up rocks. All the while, the camel held a rather regal pose for all on our van to admire and snap photos.

Our van rounded the corner in Chahalka, and then turned into the school yard. Already, at the far end of this enclosure, the women and girls were washing their dishes and clothes atop the reservoir cover. Strangely, it was only women and girls who inhabited that space. Not another person was to be seen. However, we took wagers on the van as to how many minutes it would take before word would be telegraphed throughout the village that the Rotarians had arrived, and literally scores of young men and boys would descend upon the school yard, many climbing to the top of the stone wall to serve as “sidewalk supervisors” for our project.

Today, however, there seemed to be a higher level of excitement. There was a pile of reddish sand, positioned close to a pile of crushed stone. Buckets of water had been placed next to the sand pile, and two lads of about fourteen years of age, wearing flip-flops on their feet, climbed onto the sand pile, cut open several bags of cement mix and began cutting the cement into the sand, occasionally adding a bucket or two of water, until the right consistency was reached. In the meanwhile, our group formed a few brick lines, to move the a few hundred bricks from the pile to various strategic points around the perimeter of the washing platform area. A few times we broke into choruses of, “What do we want? MORE BRICKS! When do we want ‘em? NOW!”
or a mostly in-tune version of “I’ve been working on the railroad”, to the delight of the gathered crowd.

One of the local men – Ramesh – joined us, bringing his trowel, his plumb bob and cloth tape measure. He is a Hindu man who lives about three kilometers away from Chahalka, and had been hired as the chief mason to supervise our project. It did not take long for all of us to fall into place, either assisting Ramesh as a tender, passing bricks along to him, as he slopped more mortar onto the top of the wall, of bringing hods of crushed stone and dumping them into the center of the walled off area, to create a stable base upon which we would then dump hod after hod of concrete mix, to form the platform floor. Others of us were back in brick lines, but always being observed by the "sidewalk supervisors" who had gathered on top of the wall, adjacent to where we were working. literally dozens of men, of all ages, sqautted atop the wall, beneficently smiling, but having absolutely NO intention of joining us in our endeavors. I asked Sanjiv if these gentlemen had any idea as to what we were doing, and why. He told me the village elders with whom he and Ravi Dayal had met, indicated they would inform the entire commuity as to our purpose. Culturally, however, imagine how you would feel if ten or a dozen total strangers - many of them white westerners - moved into your village and began passing bricks, carrying hods of sand or concrete, all the while singing songs, such as "I've been working on the Railroad" or "She'll be coming 'round the mountain, when she comes"! Furthermore, at least in this village, the culture was that it was the women and girls who worked, rather than the men. Hour after hour, women and girls came to the reservoir site, climbed atop the cover and either dipped down to fill their jugs (about five gallons each) or their buckets, which they then balanced on top of their heads, to carry back to their houses. Girls, who seemed barely ten or twelve years of age would have at least one, if not two of these earthenware jars balanced on their heads, seldom reaching up to steady them. Many of them had taken fabric or plastic bags and crocheted "doughnuts" to place on top of their heads, where then they rested the jugs or buckets of water, or basins of washed laundry. Again, all the while, the men of the village perched atop the wall, contemplated the ongoing work, pausing only occasionally to answer a ringing mobile phone! In addition, the women or girls, who had water buffalo(s) would bring them over to the reservoir to wash them down and to provide them with a drink from a bucket. A few times, it seemed as though the mother water buffalo got concerned with our close proximity to her calf and swung her hind end around to keep herself between us and her calf.

Today was very successful, in that we finished laying the bricks for the wall surrounding the washing platform, as well as pouring the first layer of the floor for it. Following a very full day of work, only interrupted by traveling back to the farm for lunch, we asked if we might enter the mosque located across the street from our work site. We were granted permission, and as we departed from the site and walked across the street, it seemed as if EVERYONE in the village knew we were going to the mosque, and turned out in force to watch us enter the holy place. An old gentleman proudly described the fact that relatives had paid for the construction of the walls and ceiling. When we entered the grounds, we all removed our shoes or boots and left them outside. This being a totally new experience for most of us, I am sure the occasional doubt entered minds, as to whether or not the shoes would still be there when we departed. No problem! Although these folks might have been a bit stand-offish, they were most likely shy, but all the while maintaining their respect for us.

The children and men were still outside when we departed the mosque, and walked alongside us back to the school yard, and escorted us to our waiting coach. I think as we climbed in, each of us realized we had been using and testing muscles which had not been used for some time. Tomorrow would be a good time for a rest!

NATIONAL IMMUNIZATION DAY AND THEN SOME - (Feb. 11, 2007)

February 11, 2007

There is no doubt in my mind that each of us slept briefly but soundly, as we all anticipated joining local Rotarians and other volunteers to participate in what is hoped will be one of the last NIDs necessary in India. Two other members of our Team had arrived a day before us, having other commitments requiring them to travel with another carrier. Dave and Magda Baggett were registered at the same hotel, and I rang their room, introduced myself and took them each a shirt, especially made for the NID, the cost for which was partially underwritten by the folks at the Portsmouth, New Hampshire Wells-Fargo Home Mortgage division. We had our bags brought to the lobby, enjoyed breakfast and were again met by the High Points representative, as well as Ravi Dayal. Once finished with breakfast and check-out, we left the hotel, checked our luggage as it was loaded onto the van and proceeded to a central distribution center in one of the oldest and poorest sections of Old Delhi. This is the same area where I had immunized children the very first time I came to India for an NID, in January 2001. The streets and alleys began to look familiar to me, as we bumped and jostled over the torn up and puddled road. The city was beginning to stir, with a few children playing marbles, a few carried cricket bats (it seems EVERYONE in India plays cricket!) and vendors pushed carts or pedaled their cycle rickshaws, all trying to avoid being “nudged” by an car or auto-rickshaw, being navigated by sleepy or sometimes impatient drivers.

From the parking area, we were divided into smaller groups, each headed by a member of the Delhi-West Rotary Club. We then arrived at the distribution center and climbed the two flights of stairs and were then introduced to the physician who was overseeing that center. This gentleman had been participating in the Polio Plus Campaigns and NIDs for well over fifteen years! His dedication and attention to detail both contribute to the success of the program in this section of Delhi. Ravi Dayal also explained more about the program and the plans for the day. Literally hundreds of vials of the polio vaccine are brought to distribution centers, like this one, a few days before the NID. The cases of vaccine are kept in freezers, in order to maintain a temperature for viability. The night before the NID, the physician and other volunteers gather to divide the boxes of vaccine into smaller lots, which would be taken to the “booths” for distribution to the children.

Following our briefing, each smaller group went with one or two local Rotarians and took the “cold packs” containing vaccine, to the booths which had been set up in schools or training centers or even a small medical clinic. Sometimes the local volunteers who would be immunizing the children, even willing to pose for a photo opportunity with our Team members, met us. We worked our way through the back streets and neighborhood play areas, and eventually back to the paring area, where we had left the van. Each of us had the opportunity to administer those “TWO TINY DROPS OF LIFE-SAVING VACCINE” to the children who had arrived at the nearby booth.

Since we were on a very busy schedule, we left that area, to be driven to another section of Delhi, where the Delhi-West Rotary Club would be working on the NID.

A few years ago, then president of the Rotary Club of Delhi-West, Ashok Kantoor, through his prior meetings with three members of my own Rotary Club of South Berwick, Maine (our Club president, Helen Goransson, myself and Bonnie Richardson) had successfully written a Matching Grant proposal for the establishing of a vocational training center, to be funded partially by The Rotary Foundation and partially by Sarvarth Foundation (which would take care of funding the actually construction of the building addition). Our Team arrived, and each of us was “garlanded” by a young girl – a traditional greeting where garlands of colorful marigolds are placed around the neck of the visitors. Also on hand to welcome us were Ashok Kantoor, as well as several members of the Delhi-West Club, and a local politician or two.

When I had visited this site only one year ago, I had been pleased with the progress the project had enjoyed. Sewing machines had been purchased through a donation of Anne Russell of the Rotary Club of Hampton, New Hampshire (another member of the Team from 2004). Computers had been donated and children were learning computer science, cosmetology and sewing skills. However, this year, a second story has been constructed through funding from the Sarvarth Foundation in cooperation with the local government’s district collector.

While there at Sarvarth, each of us had the opportunity to immunize a number of other children, as well as to distribute two dozen pair of reading glasses, which had been donated by the Delhi-West Rotary Club, as a part of the many Eye Camps they sponsor throughout the year. These Eye Camps are conducted in order to screen people with cataracts, as well as other disorders. Once identified, some of the people receive corrective surgeries, while others receive glasses to help correct the problem. Looking into the faces of these folks reminded each one of us just how very fortunate, even blessed, we are.

We departed the Sarvarth project and then rode two hours to Sohna, to meet with still more of the members of the Delhi-West Rotary Club, as well as leaders from Rotary District 3010. Sanjiv Saran, incoming president of the Delhi-West Rotary Club was hosting a luncheon at his farm and weekend retreat. When we arrived, District Governor Damanjit Singh, whom I had met six years ago, as well as the District Governor from Sri Lanka, and others greeted us. They had come not only to enjoy a luncheon, but also to help launch the work project we would call “home” for the coming week.

Following lunch, our driver took us to the village of Chahalka, a few kilometers from Sanjiv’s farm, where we met some of the elders of the village, as well as many, many children. For some, I am sure we were the first Americans they had ever seen, so we were quite the attraction. At the site, Sanjiv explained the basics of the project. We would be constructing a washing stand, so that once completed, the ladies and girls of Chahalka would be able to wash their eating utensils and their laundry items, away from the reservoir of drinking water, with the waste water being drained properly, to avoid polluting the water supply. Currently, these women and girls climb atop the cover for the reservoir, and scrub their pots and pans, as well as their clothing and towels and tablecloths, right on top of the concrete cover, dumping the soiled water over the side. In addition, some of the children bring their water buffalos to the same site to wash them. All of this wastewater then seeps into the ground and back into the reservoir, thereby polluting the drinking water, as well as trickling into a stream directing stinking polluted water into the playground for the local school.

Once the project was explained, we took a few moments to observe an initiation of the project. I was invited forward to the corner of where some bricks had been laid, marking the outline of the platform we would be constructing. I would learn later that this corner is the one which would face Mecca – the holiest site for Muslims. I was handed a coconut that one of the men in the town had just picked from a nearby tree, and was directed to smash open the coconut at this corner. In so doing, we were all offering prayers that this construction project would be auspicious. On the first try, I cracked open the coconut, the milk inside drizzled down onto the bricks, and all of the people in the village applauded. Work began!

We all joined together to carry broken rocks into the enclosed area, which would form the base for the new washing platform. Some of us were in “rock lines”, while others carried hods or basins of rocks, which we dumped into the enclosure. Ravi, Sanjiv and others had laid the beginnings of the brick wall the previous week. When we had the entire area covered with the broken rocks, we then had to remove some along the perimeter, in order to establish the area for proper draining. The size of the rock pile had been seriously diminished, and we eventually left to return to the farm. Members of the Team would be staying at the Sohna Motel, just a short distance from Sanjiv’s farm. We were driven there, offloaded the luggage and rooms were assigned.

A short while later, the Team returned for dinner at Sanjiv’s farm – this would serve as the base for all of our meals over the coming week. It had been quite a first day and recalling Robert Frost’s poem – we had miles to go before we sleep, and promises to keep! Knowing that with some strenuous labor, funding, as well as some moments for entertaining the locals with our songs and antics, we could actually permanently affect the lives of these five hundred families, all began to sink in and encourage us to return on Monday morning.

SUCH A DAY… (Feb. 10, 2007)

It is difficult to know where to begin, but I will start with how my day began. Since I had an early flight from Boston to Newark on Friday, I decided to drive to the Boston area Thursday afternoon and stay at one of the local motels that offers the “stay and park package”, since I would be leaving my car there for the duration of my trip. Had dinner, and then returned to my room to unpack and then repack all three of my bags. Weight distribution was crucial, since I was taking along with me thirty shirts – one for each member of the team from the USA, as well as the Rotarians from India who would be joining our team. In addition, I had sufficient numbers of First Aid kits for the team members.

Friday morning – February 9th, and I awoke bright an early – about 4:00 a.m. Took a shower, carried the excess clothing out to my car in the parking garage at the hotel and then went down for breakfast, before catching the shuttle bus to the airport. At Logan Airport, at 5:30 in the morning is amazingly bustling, and it appeared that most of the population of New England was departing for warmer climates for their mid-winter re-charging of batteries!

I checked in at the Continental ticket counter and proceeded to the gate for boarding. Our flight was uneventful and when I arrived at Newark airport, I gathered my bags and then checked them at a storage booth, so I would not have to lug them around all day. I settled in to have some breakfast and then worked on some paperwork for the rest of the morning. I was to have lunch with Rotary District Governor-Elect Joe Laureni from New Jersey. He had been attending a conference at the United Nations most of the morning, but came and met me and we had a great luncheon meeting, and then he dropped me off at the airport, where I would wait to meet the members of the team as they arrived from all parts of the Eastern seaboard late in the afternoon.

The first arrivals were Darlene Beal from Haverhill, Massachusetts and District Governor Jay Kapner from North Carolina. They had both allowed a bit of room for me to offload some of the shirts and other items, to lighten my load and get my bags to within the allowed limits. David and Magda Baggett, also from North Carolina, had already flown over to India the day before, as Magda would be traveling on behalf of the college where she works with foreign exchange students. Next to arrive was Roy Wise, a retired Lutheran minister from Atlanta, Georgia. We all got know one another for the next hour or so, as none of us had ever met before. While we were waiting, I received a telephone call on my mobile phone, and I did not recognize the number which popped up on my screen – I did not even recognize the area code! The voice on the other end was that of Joan Nickell, from Portsmouth, New Hampshire, telling me that she and Jayne Britton (who claims New Hampshire as her residence, but is a member of the Fryeburg, Maine Rotary Club) had arrived and were already checked in and down at the boarding gate. I told Joan we were waiting for Jo Barrow from North Carolina to arrive and then we would check in and proceed down through security and meet them for having something to eat. However, there was no Jo Barrow!

In checking with the arrival board at Continental, we saw that the flight bringing Jo Barrow had been seriously delayed, and in my mind there was question as to whether she would arrive in time to catch our flight to India. We decided to check in with Continental and proceed through security to meet Jayne and Joan. This process was reasonably uneventful, although I was asked to step into a side area to be “wanded” and “patted” to check me for being a security risk! Well, I passed muster and we all moved toward the restaurant area to meet up with Joan and Jayne. Again, my mobile phone rang and yet another unknown area code and number popped up on my screen! It was Jo Barrow on the other end, saying that her flight had just landed and that she would get to us as soon as she could, hopefully to grab a bite to eat before having to board the flight.

We met up with Joan and Jayne and had a light meal and some drinks. As time appeared that we might not meet up with Jo Barrow, we turned and saw a rather frazzled woman approaching the restaurant. I got up and said, “You MUST be Jo Barrow!” “Yes, I am and it would be great if I could get something to drink and maybe a bite to eat before boarding. We shared some chips and a beer and then moved on to the gate for boarding. As we were standing, waiting for out row numbers to be called, we heard the disappointing announcement that if we had not already checked in AGAIN at the ticket counter, we would not be allowed to board. So, it was back into another line, to stand and wait for processing. We all got checked again, and returned to the line at the gate. As each of our sections was called, we moved forward to board the plane – 777 which we were told was packed! True enough, there was only one empty seat for the flight.

Once seated, we awaited to taxi, but that was not about to happen, at least not for another hour. Eventually, the captain spoke over the address system and informed us that there was a “minor” mechanical issue – there was one tiny switch that did not seem to operate properly, so he had summoned the mechanic to come out to the plane and service it. We finally were able to depart at about 10:45 p.m.

Basically, our flight was uneventful, and relatively smooth – at least for the first ten hours! Some of our team read, while others tried to get some sleep. It seems that taking such a lengthy flight is no so unlike being hospitalized – just about when you have dozed off into dreamland, a flight attendant comes by, shakes your shoulder and tells you she or he is bringing a meal to you (sort of like, waking you to take your medicine so you can sleep better!) The food was typical of in-flight rations, but certainly acceptable. I was able to get to know some of the flight attendants, and several of them seemed quite interested in our Team and where we were going and what we would be doing and why. After some discussion, I learned that almost all of this flight crew will be flying us home, when we leave late in the evening on the 25th, so they said they will be anxious to hear of our experiences.

As I mentioned, about two hours out from New Delhi, we began to hit some serious turbulence and were advised to return to our seats, buckle our seat belts and pull them TIGHT! Bumper cars and roller coaster were two amusement park rides which came to mind. The head of the flight attendants announced they would be coming through to serve us breakfast (at 11:00 at night) but that we would have to eat quickly as the turbulence was going to shorten the time for eating and then clearing, prior to landing. I believe it took about eleven minutes to serve all the passengers and to clear the trays. Never had I seen a more efficient crew than this one on Continental Flight 32.

We finally touched down in Delhi – Indira Ghandi International Airport at about 11:40 on Saturday night (our new time zone being 10.5 hours ahead of home) and were processed through Immigration and then moved along to baggage claim. Jo Barrow was pleased that although she had been the last to meet us in Newark, that her bags were the first of our group’s to tumble along the conveyor belt. All bags were finally collected and we moved together out through customs and then up the long ramp where literally hundreds of people awaited the arrival of loved ones, friends, or business associates. The representative from High Points Expeditions was there holding a sign WELCOME ROTARY INTERNATIONAL – a most welcome sight! Ravi Dayal, my dear friend and past president of the Rotary Club of Delhi-West also greeted us. After loading our bags into the back of the van, we boarded and were driven into the city – about a forty-five minute drive at that hour – and registered at the Hotel Marina, located in Connaught Circus, in the center of Delhi.

Finally, a bed beckoned each of us to sleep the few hours before we would have to rise and shine, shower, dress and get our bags to the lobby, before eating our breakfast at 7:30. PLEASANT DREAMS…