Thought I saw a Rainbow...

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jazzmanblues — Wed, 29 Oct 2014 16:32:00 GMT

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jazzmanblues — Thu, 11 Sep 2014 14:24:00 GMT

Bus Trip In Goa.....

jazzmanblues — Thu, 11 Sep 2014 14:24:00 GMT

I was headed up to the Anjuna Flea Market.Yes the World famous Anjuna Flea Market!,,Started out in the 70s as a place where the 1st hippies could sell their "stuff" and stay longer or buy a ticket home..Where ever that was..Now it is huge!!.Nepalis,Kashmiris,folks from all over India bring their unque wears for sale.Hell!..Even the western folks sell crafts here too.Leather goods,hand made jewery,colored glass.I hear you can even buy some pot here too...Me?. I have been here to long..I come for the live music.A Blues band plays here during the day

I am there just for the music.And there is a special bus to take us on a day trip.Leave from Colva at 8am,back at 5pm.Perfect.I go almost every week.Plus at one of the restros I get the steamed dumplings too.Bring extra home.This is a day trip.

One trip was pretty special.Everything is fine as we srart back.Then we have a flat tire...Driver tells us nothing.We are all siting on a hot bus,in the sun.92 degrees..Finally,we learn there is a flat tire and driver can't get the spare off,No Jack!...20 minutes,they find jack,take tire off,...spare is Flat too!!!This is India....Me? I have no worries,I quickly assess the situation:worst case:I stay in north Goa for the night.No big deal.But I stick around to see how this all plays out.(I paid for this trip, want my money's worth.)

Half hour,they find a tire,20 minutes later,we are on our way..Yea!..Out of frustration or just plain stupid,the driver punches front wind shield and it shatters!.!.It is getting dark now and we are maybe 1 hour from home.Again,I look at my options.Living here way to long,I know things can get worst and test my patience.I start looking for hotels as we drive along.

This is India..No Problem.The driver just continues to drive the bus.We go through a police checkpoint.No worries.Cops don't care....It gets better boys and girls.....The Lights Go Out!!.!!.!!.Yes,the headlights go out.The bus has No working lights.I have been looking for a place to stay for the last 5 miles.I plan to stay the night...Somewhere...

But,this is India!,!.The Driver Pulls Out A Flashlight to See The Road.!!....Yes,we have no front windshield,no headlights and running at night...What can possibly go wrong....We run into 2 more check points,,They let us drive right through...I continue to look for a good hotel and bar.I doubt we will make it back.

But...This is India..Of course we make it back!!Why in the World would I doubt the completion of our journey!..And I have this wonderful story to tell you............

My India,my Observations and Insight.

jazzmanblues — Sun, 18 May 2014 11:33:00 GMT

It took the fire trucks 2 hours to travel 1 mile to an apartment fire.Police arrived quickly and instead of clearing the road,they argued about which team had to do the work to clear the road And do the paper work....Fire hydrants did not work,,,,they haven't for 12 years...No one fixed them...And the hoses did not fit the water tanker.They tried to use buckets!!.....Yes,the apartment was a totel loss.

Every year,India has 150,000 people have complete kidney failure.4000 will get a knew kidney and 15,000 go on dialosis,and the rest simply die.(Unless you'er rich.)

A Doctor in Delhi set up 5 operating rooms,in 5 residential houses,turning them into mini hospitals.THEN,the Doc would hire a team to go around the poor villages,taking blood samples to match his client list,waiting for kidneys.The poor and uneducated matches would be brought to Delhi for some "free health care"...Many did not even know they were giving away their kidney.If they were lucky,the poor recieved $75-$100 for the kidney.The rich Indian folks had to pay $25,000-$35,000 per kidney...............

Goan politicians have been trying to sell gov.land for $3 million dollars.The land is worth $250 million.And the Indian Supreme Court stopped them.At least for now.The pols are still trying.Mainly,because they do not want to give back the 10s of millions in bribes.

Photo in newspaper,shows a cop collecting fingerprints from the crime scene.He is not wearing any gloves and he has the object in his hand.

X-Mas Eve is special here in Goa.Everyone,after midnight mass goes to these huge parties with 2 bands,booze and snacks,and they party all night.Party I went to,4000 people,30-40 white folks.Men in black 3 piece suits and the ladies in sexy evening gowns.It is a huge party.All over Goa...Many parties...Way to many drunk drivers too......My 1st x-mas in Goa,I was sideswiped by 4 drunk Indians,at 11 AM...I was on my way to a friend's house to deliver cards and candy..At once,I was quite mad,but I reminded myself it was X-mas and time to spread good cheer.........I am sure I did not think of the fact there were 4 drunk Indian men in the car....No,just good cheer.

Government worker,IAS official,was found with $850,000 cash in his house.He owned bank accounts and property worth $400 million dollars.Who knows how much in Swizerland..NOTHING will happen to him.22 years ago,he was caught stealing $225,000 met for the Bopal gas victems,50,000 dead and soon another 150,000 dead from the gas.It took them longer to die.Nothing will happen.

It's official!Goa is the 3rd most dangerous place in India.Delhi #1 and Mumbai #2.Crime,traffic,drounings.

This Scottish friend of mine,spent 2 months in prison,for over staying his visa.He lost 50 lbs in that time.He was in the infamous Arthur Road prison in Mumbai.

10 years ago,polititions gave land to the Moslems,for a grave yard.After the elections,they took it back.Well,election time again,guess who is being offered land?

Goan business men hire black Indians from North India to drive their buses.These migret workers come from towns with no paved roads and no idea how to drive.These idiots are killing people almost every day on the roads here.Last week a 16 years old girl was knocked down,she was alright,but the driver decided to flee the scene.He backs up and without a thought he drove over her head.------Some dark,stupid joker was teaching another idiot how to drive a school bus.Too bad the bus was full of kids.The bus crashes and 7 little children are dead.

8 years ago,alot of drownings here in Goa.So the pols figure out a way to steal more money by bringing in some Aussis to set up a good life guard group.1st day,146 men came to sign up,but 1st the swiming tast,145 failed the basic swim a 100 yards.34 lifeguards want-to-be had to be rescued to keep from drowning.Mostly last years lifeguards!

8 years ago,5 men,spoiled rotten,never do wells,in Goa,from Very rich families.Drugs,date rape,and casinos was their lifestyle.Well mums and dad were not giving enough money,so they kidnap an 18 year old....They beat him tp death with a cricket bat..And then call the father demanding $50,000....Big balls but not much for brains....They met the lad in public and were seen leaving with him...Kidnaped and killed him on Friday and they were all in jail by Sunday morning...Their families were so rich and powerful,the Chief Minister of Goa,(Governor)was at the police station,in the AM!, To talk to each man,one at a time....Police offer immunity to one to tell it all.The man from the riches,most powerful family got the free ride.But he is also the one who came up with the idea,made the plan,and he was the actual killer..The other 4 families raised hell,and with media help,got the deal stopped...Not a word since.....No Trial...No Convictions..Nothing..The men are out on bail and the police are continuing their "Investigation"..These men will never see prison.

In Delhi,28 year old man,(from a Super rich family,daddy and mommy have at least $2 billion dollars in the bank.)he walks into a night club,asks for a drink,when the bartender/actress refuses him service,This guy pulls out a gun and shoots her right in the face!.BAM!..Dead.25 people came forward and provided statements.as eye witnesses.It took 4 years to go to trial.In that time,all 25 witnesses were bought off.The last holdouts got $259,000-$300,000 dollars.It took 2 trials to convict him of murder.Life in prison.Happy ending.Right?...WRONG!..This is India...While in prison,even for murder,you can get a 2-3 month pass!.Can you believe it!?.YES...If you have bribe money and a good excuse,such as,"I want to go to my sisters wedding."or"Dad died."This bastard went with "Moms sick."..While out on pass,he and some goons beat the shit out of 3 cops at a night club....Sick Mom?..She was busy,flying the family jet around India,doing business deals.And giving 2 hour long speaches,in support for her family's rape and plunder of India.......65% of men who recieve a prison vacation pass,do not return to jail.They all come from families with the money to help them disappear.

I found out that female police in Laos,must stand at police check points in high heals,in Hot,sweatty,dusty conditions.The male cops ride around in jeeps.

Politicians,in Goa,keep screaming to take over a schools play ground in the city.They want that land for their rich robber baron buddies.Lots of money to be made.They propose to turn the playground into a parking lot and Mall.The school has no parking because all the middle school kids ride motorbikes to school.No room to park...It looks like a done deal,they are drawing up the papers when someone pointed out that 13-14-15 year old children should not be driving to schoolThere goes a million dollars in bribes,right out the window.

Hospital in Calcutta,17 women die during child birth.IN one Month.!..Comtaminated I.V.needle...Two months later,same hospital,used 100 watt light bulb,in a box,as a incubater.Baby dies.85% burns on the body.

Government hospital in northern Hindu country,3 day weekend coming up.There is a day off for Easter.Yes,the Hindu crazies want their holiday undesturbed,so 3 doctors perform 46 C-sections in 2 days....With no beds or no meds,patiets were left in the hallway or put two in a bed....I forgot,in their haste,our good Doctors cut off 3 fingers of one child And the left foot on the 2nd.

Again Calcutta,hospital for semi-rich,(they have AC)has a fire in underground parking.Security guards let in the fire fighters.Fire out.But the guards were forced to work 2 weeks w/out pay,for letting in fire folks who discover the underground parking is being used as a garbage dump.5 weeks later,fire in in basement,guards this time refused to let in fire fighters,they kept the iron gates closed.Smoke got into AC vents and 76 people died.

12 years ago,I walked into the government hospital in Goa...Fuck Me!!..Super dirty..I saw a Rat!!!..Cockroaches too..Stray dogs walked up and down the halls...Police brought in a man they had just kicked the shit out of...I watched from the doorway as they continued to beat him in a room.They were not to happy to see me watching...There were 2 toliets seving 160 patients,on one floor....There was 2 inches of sewage on the floor in the bathroom...I went outside and pissed against the hospital wall.2 men were already there and I joined me as we pissed against the wall.WE Were Out Front.!!! Not in the back!...

Seriously,even here in Goa,you must have protection at night,female relative,or there is a good chance the female patient will be raped...I can not make this shit up.

Kathmandu-2010

jazzmanblues — Wed, 23 Jan 2013 14:24:00 GMT

In 4 years,I have been to KTM 5 times. Now I live amoung the local people,in a residential area.I moved to about a 15 minute walk from Thamel,(the tourist area.)Big room,even bigger TV.I now live on a narrow,dead end street,with barricades to keep cars out.It is perfect,for me.This residential area of the Nepal people,is a great find.It is a small,narrow,dead end street,with a Hindu Temple at the end.

Let me describe the morning.At 3:00 AM,give or take 10 minutes,the stray dog pack starts barking,every night.I think they bark at 3AM,because they can safely do it.In day time the dogs would be hit.

I am on the 2nd floor,over looking the street.I have a very large window to solar heat my room for the chilly nights.

At 5 AM,the Hindu Temple,30 yards down the road,Rings a very,very Large and loud bell.I can not sleep through this but is does not bother me either,The music starts at 6AM,from the Temple,on loud speakers.This acts as an alarm clock for the locals.I guess.

The vegetable ladies start setting up at 5:30am,some stores open their shutters at 6am.By 7,it is quite busy,on my little street.Some mornings,I go down and sit on the steps and watch the traffic of people living their daily lives.I have a big beer mug size of black tea,with fresh mint.I pretend to read the daily paper,It gives me a sense of wellness as I watch the daily life,on this quiet little street.Both sexes walk by with freshly washed hair,still wet.Some housewives,still in their flannel night gowns,buy the daily meal.Perhaps chicken.Well dressed shop keepers and owners go by.2 ladies walk around with a tray with red powder and flower peddles.With a red smuge on their forhead and flower peddles on their hair,the locals have recieved their Gods blessing and good luck.

School kids,young and older go by.The brave younger ones come up to me and try out their english on me.The boys have also followed me into the hotel's dinning area and watched me eat.I am the only tourist here.Right now.

Sitting outside I get shy glances,some smiles,and some don't even notice me.Like I have sitting there for years.Daily chores,shopping,gossiping,and people watching are popular activities here.The vegetable ladies sell corn,beans,and many vegetables I don't know what they are.They are done with their sales by 10:30,they pack up and clean up and are gone,leaving the place spotless.Not in India.

Twice a marching band came down my street.Not sure why.But they were a big hit.The World Cup is taking place now.One night,I came home to find a large TV set up on the street,about 35-40 people gathered around.I joined them for awhile.It was nice.

P.S.:On my 1st visit to KTM,2006,it took 3 days to hit my radar that KTM is over due for "The Big One."By that,I mean a strong earthquake.I made plans on how I was going to leave my 5th floor room...The plan?..Break window and jump for a tree near by.I figure that the tree will stay upright and maybe the hotel will fall...On other visits,I keep my suitcase by the door with boots,warm coat,bandanas,candles,water,torch,(flashlight,for you americans),all of my $...,passport,a bed sheet,(to tear and make bandages),and my cell phone.

Over the years,looking around KTM,after living in different hotels,I figure 65 to 75% of all buildings will fall.Yes,70% will fall.Because they are so old.This of course will really upset me,as I have made many friends...HEY!..I have come here 5 times in 4 years...I must love the place.And I do.If they would let me,I would live here 7-10 months a years.

Kathmandu..The King's Fall..2006 (Act 3)

jazzmanblues — Tue, 22 Jan 2013 17:12:00 GMT

The day comes for me to leave this madness.The movement to over throw the King is growing bigger..Government workers,90% are on strike,in support of the King's fall...

Judges will only hear cases of illegal detentions..Doctors only work in the E.R..Nurses too...All shops still close at noon in support.(and fear)...Police and Army are the only ones on the job.And they are busy.The movement has grown.It is huge now.

The morning of my pending departure,I awake to learn from CNN,that the King has declared a 24 HOUR,SHOOT TO KILL CURFEW!..Shit. This is getting serious.I call down to confirm my free ride to the airport..Nope..Not today..Impossible they say.

After 3rd call,...they will find someone crazy enough to take me.

I shower and pack my bags..I am ready to go..And I sit down to think..Three times I pick up and put down the phone to call for taxi....I hesitate....This is getting wild,crazy..This is history in the making...The climax is near..1)The King will fall quietly.(Doubt that) or 2)There is going to be a blood bath....

How often do I get a chance to see history up close and personal?..Be right there...A witness to the fall of a tyrant king..Not sit at home on the safety of my couch,clutching a beer in one hand and my American flag in the other....No!...Be right there...Boots on the ground..Shout"I am alive"."I am a witness to history"..The King shall fall..What do I do?.Run to safety at the first sign of trouble?...No!..I will stand and watch history in the making.Yes I knew the dangers...But to be a witness,I have to go take a look..........

I throw my plane tickets in the trash can....A wieght seems to lift off of my shoulders as the tickets leave my hand..I have an spring in my step.I know what I must do.....I must try to walk the streets of Kathmandu right now...Never felt more alive than at that moment..Don't think for one second,I didn't realize the danger I was about to put myself into..I was going to bet my life,they would not shoot a white westerner..

I was thinking clearly........I Was Going To Bet My Life.....

Walking into the hotel lobby,I could see the worried looks,I quickly inform them I am not going to the airport.Shouts of joy,handshakes,I recieved hugs,general happiness..Since I was staying,would I like lunch,beer?.Free!..On the house...No I reply "I'm going out for lunch."When they saw I was serious they tried to restrain me out of concern for my safety....It was quite touching,really.

As I stepped from the hotel courtyard,the silence was deafening.I could hear no city sounds.No children are playing...I am alarmed...I am concerned..This is not good..Not sure what I was expecting.The small,2 table,hole in the wall restro was closed,never before..I had 2nd thoughts.But I was curious.And damn it.I was going to take a look.

At 30 yards,I can see the checkpoint, soldiers too,lots more..Damn!.....There is a black,iron gate blocking access to my lane..By the time I figure out how to open and close the gate,I have four soldiers charging at me,two with Rifles.

I step on to the street.I look up at the sky,....It is a pretty baby blue..."This is a good day to die."..I think to myself..I plant my feet,I square my shoulders and I wait for the soldiers to reach me.

They arrive..Two have Rifles inches from my chest..And two are screaming at me,not nicely.I catch words like hotel,go home,bastard,..Not sure how long they yelled at me......Time stands still or speeds up when you have guns pointed at your chest....I am not sure....

Finally they shut up.And I say.."No!....No Thank You!I am going for lunch and a cold beer."..And with authority,I point towards the Thamel tourist area.......

You should have seen the looks on their faces..It never occured to them I would refuse to retreat..Shit...They look at each other,at their rifles and back at me...Maybe I didn't see the rifles.This went on for a comical minute.

About now,I'm wondering how much pain I will feel if they blow my heart out....I figure,not much......I Am Betting My Life.....!

They start yelling at me again,but this time,they are poking me in the chest with their rifles...When they stop..I decide I have nothing new to say,so I just point,with conviction towards the tourist area.....We stare at each other,again my mind wanders to pain levels of a gun shot....Someone across the street calls out,the soldiers stand down,and I am allowed to pass.

Just as I feel I have won something,I look down the street for the first time....I Nearly Fucking Die!....There are 300-350 soldiers on the ground..My Knees Nearly Buckle..It took all I had not to fall on the sidewalk...It took even more not to run to my hotel...Not that my legs would work..My instinct screamed at me to drop and hug the sidewalk...My knees trembled......It took all I had to stand upright.

Rifles bouncing off of my chest?....I could handle that...Walking through 350 Rifles,not sure I can do that...This shit aint easy..I try to pull myself together.......With Very Little Sucess....

My knees nearly buckle again....It takes time to steady myself....I want to run but my knees want to buckle..Fuck Me!.I want to retreat to my hotel...I am shakened. ...Hard...Not sure I can take it....It is all I can do to simply stand upright......I have over 350 soldiers staring at me...

"You made your move,Bitch!.Go for it."

I take small steps.I try to forget the danger, It Is "Shoot To Kill",.I keep my eyes open.I head for Thamel....So many times it has been just me and the Rifles....At times,it has been hard to walk this path.I have learned I am not scared or afraid....But I am concerned....Sometimes,very concerned...Sounds easy,step up and walk through the Rifles.

I zig zag and side step my way to Thamel.Unsmiling soldiers,grim looks,lots and lots of Rifles.Some hard glares too.

Not alot of people out in Thamel's few restros still open...But My Friends were!!.They live in the Thamel area.No checkpoints.I made sure to headback well before dark.Surprisingly,I had no difficulties at all.Just checkpoints,and they did not challange me at all.I just walked through...350 rifles were all gone.

A few days later,with 1 million to march in the AM,the King stepped down the night before, in the P.M,,before that happened...Kathmandu could breathe..The King had fallen...

Enjoy oneself.I had a great time and grew to love this city above all others..Since then,I have gone to Nepal 5 times in four years.Now that has to be Love.....ha.............

I am not in Kansas anymore,Dorithy And I think I got my money's worth................

Kathmandu...Revolution/King's Fall..2006..(Act 2)

jazzmanblues — Sun, 20 Jan 2013 18:38:00 GMT

For four weeks now I have had tough days and easy ones in the weeks that followed.I could tell how hard/easy my walk would be by watching the main checkpoint and street traffic as I approached the the main road from my alley.I see Nepali walking on street--easy day...I see white folks-ok day..I see no one but rifles-....This may be a tough day.I walk through 150-400 rifles a day......

I am not in Kansas anymore,Dorithy.

When the King declared a 24 HOUR CURFEW,the Maoists declared a strike untill the King fell.The protests are picking up.

Today,250,000 people marched today.They marched right through the police and Army lines.The rifles were ordered to shoot to kill....BUT they refused!.At the front of the protesters,were the moms,dads,sisters,and brothers of soldiers and police...

The Soldiers Refused To Shoot.!.This is Huge!..The Soldiers Refused To Shoot.!!!

On my way back to my hotel,I come across a march of some 10,000 protesters marching through Thamel!.There are 80-90 police with clubs guarding the narrow street that leads to the King's Palace..

White trucks,red commie flags a waving,joyful people.General celebration!The marchers are all pretty happy..I decide to kick back and watch the general joy of the people.

I climb up on the 3 front steps of a closed and shuttered store and watch the parade.What else can I do? .To many people marching to get to the other side.I am heading down that guarded road towards the King's place.An Aussie joins me.With a glance we can tell we both appreciate the sight and the signs of the pending Kings fall...One thought crossed my mind"Why don't the protesters attack the police?".Got them way out numbered.

As the parade ends,there are 100 folks bringing up the rear.THIS is where the police attack!.75 police rush into the street and beat everybody.Man,woman,kid,no problem.At my feet,people are being beaten.It is all around me....I can reach out and touch them!!...There is Blood..Lots....Again,I am so close I could reach out and touch the people being beatened.

I have to step back to avoid back swings as they beat the people..I am that close!..Right of me!..Left of me!.My God!!..Right in front of me!.It is a madness,the cries.The sound of the clubs finding their mark.I am surounded by the beatings.

Three times a policeman rushes me,with raised club.Three times they don't hit me...The 4th time?.....Well,the 3rd time might be a charm,but the 4th time,...I was fucked..

Cop #4 decided I DID need a good beating.The blow was aimed at my head,I jump,but not fast enough,striking me on my left shoulder.No pain...yet...But my left arm,numb, hangs useless,like dead weight....

It is pure madness now and I have been invited to join the game.The cop is looking at me and I decide I can take this bastard with one good arm.....Fortunately my brain kicked in and I don't attack..The cop and I look at each other again and he runs off to join his buddies in further beatings.

To my left,my new Aussie friend is on the ground with three cops beating him badly..To dangerous to help......."Sorry Buddy".......Turn right,there are hotels near, to get me off of the street....Left is where most of the beatings are taking place...Straight...More beatings and Right into that police line,guarding the road....

I go straight for the police line...People all around me are being beaten in the road as I side step my way through the violence,..There is blood,there is broken bones,there are children bleeding..I zig zag through the violence..I walk right right up and through the line of cops...They let me pass?.....I thought for sure,I was walking into a police beating.

Cool..Home free. This is great!...The horrors behind me? I try to place out of my mind....I could not help...I Can Not Help!...But I carry a heavy burden on my honor (or lack of)I did not try to help my new Aussi friend,who I left on the road,taking a beating.........What is wrong with me?..My left arm is useless,but the pain has arrived.

Now I just have to walk the road,which opens to the 6 lane road,2 checkpoints and I am in my hotel,sharing stories and adventures with fellow travelers.Having a few beers..My guard is down.,I'm planning dinner..I'll have chicken tandoori with......

FUCK ME!! ..............FUCK ME.......................FUCK Me......................

As I step on to the main road to palace, a wide road,6 lanes wide, sidewalks,,60 yards in front of me,stands a solid,shoulder to shoulder line of combat riot police.A tire burns behind me.Rocks ,bricks,glass,at my feet..,Full shields,large clubs...Gray camo.In fromt.....Behind them is a solid line of green camo and more green camo behind them.100 gray camo..200 green camo...the green camo?..Who gives a shit?...I was focused on the gray in front of me.

This was clearly a blockade........Not a check point..NO ONE shall past....I am the only person on the riot scarred wide street,smoke rising,.Tear gas in the air.I can not take my eyes off the 1st line.There are over 300 men in uniform between me and a cold beer.(safety).I have my passport and money,I can turn left or right and be in a safe hotel,off of the mad,violent streets,for just $12usd a night....but.....

As I approached that line of clubs and guns...

I Knew I Was Betting My Life..........

*I did not know it would not be not last time..............

I ask myself,""Can I get through this massive defense of the police state?."...

I doubt it...But "Do I want to try?".....

I ask myself,"Do I feel lucky today?,.....

"No...No I don't.......But I don't feel unlucky".....

"Do you have the courage to try?"...

I think,....."Yes..Yes I do."...I start forward towards the police/army 350 strong barricade.

BRAVE?...CRAZY?...OR JUST PLAIN FUCKING STUPID?

I find myself walking now.Towards the line of gray camo,shields and clubs.Can't take my eyes off of the clubs.I decide,first mean word or angry gesture and I will flee.....I figure worst case:I get a good beating,thrown in jail and my American passport gets me out in a day or two....

(It will make for a Great story for when I get home.).......

Yes.I was actualy thinking this...............That was my game plan..........

I'm getting closer now.30 yards away...I am not happy..I thought they would have chased me away by now..I want to turn and run.But like I have told myself before and in the days to come............

"You made your move,Bitch.Go for it!".

At 25 yards from contact,my eyes finally focus on the green camo behind the police.A solid 100 strong line of Soldiers With Rifles!..I nearly fucking die right then and there..

What to do?...What to do?...There is another 150 soldiers behind the line of Rifles.I truely want to run now...Again,I tell myself..

"You made your move,Bitch.Go for it!"

RIFLES! The 2nd line has Rifles..Alot of Rifles!!...Under my breath,with every step.I say"Fuck Me.""Fuck Me".....I now hope,..no..no.... I pray the nice riot police will chase me off..I do not want to face that line of Rifles..Just yell at me..Please...Spit at me...Clear your throat...I will turn and flee..No problem.....................

If I had seen the Rifles,I never would have tried this stunt...NEVER...It's to late....Fuck me...Fuck my oversight.............

Of course.I am the only man on the street without a club or rifle,..and I am not wearing those pretty cammo outfits either..I am right in the middle of the road too..I reach the line of riot police,they move slightly and let me pass...FUCK..!..Not what I wanted..I now face a line of 100 Rifles.I am very unhappy....

As I approach Death,I think to myself........"Damn Glenn..I knew you were a brave bastard,.but I didn't think you had this much courage."....

I reach the line of Rifles,they also move slightly and let me pass...No smiles and no hand shakes,.no hugs and kisses but no gunshots or knocks up side the head either....Now I have 150 Rifles on the ground,out of formation.I zig zag my way through them,to reach the side road to my hotel.

I reach my hotel,slightly acknowledge my travel friends and go to my room.I sit down on my bed and I have a good cry.Followed by some crazy laughter and more tears.

The shit I have been doing has caught up with me and this nervious energy is being released..Ignoring 24 hour curfews..The checkpoints....The Rifles... I walk pass every day,up close and personal....The danger...The uncertainty..The wieght of it all...I needed a good laugh....And a good cry...To come here and go out and play in the streets most fear not walk....Hell..The US Embassy cleared out all personal the day before and told every American to get out of the country.

Shit...When I came to India,the USA government was warning folks,"Do Not Go To India."...Five years later,,Why would I follow their advice now?

I am not sure I know anyone who would have pulled the stunt I just tried.Perhaps I was just curious.Perhaps I was an idiot.I just wanted to try....I sometimes like a little danger in my life...Why else would I have moved to India....And come here,to KTM.knowing of the King/Maoists situation.

Am I Brave?..Crazy?..Or Just Plain Fucking Stupid?................

*Am I getting my moneys worth now? ..Dorithy?

Kathmandu,...(Act 1)..06 Mar 2006

jazzmanblues — Thu, 17 Jan 2013 18:22:00 GMT

Kathmandu or Bangkok?My 10 year visa requires I leave India every 6 months.KTM is cheaper and closer.BKK is more fun and modern.Draw backs?KTM has a 3 day Maoist strike coming up, 2 days after I land...BKK?.. to many temtations.Or so I thought.

I chose KTM,cheaper and less working girls

Night before I leave I drink to much and stay up way to late.I arrive at Goa airport at 4 AM with a terrible hangover.On the plane,I throw up twice....... Before we get off the ground..

At Delhi,they wont let me into the airport,I must go across the street to a waiting room.My plane does not leave for 6 hours,at least that's what the ticket said.Upon reaching the front door of waiting area,while I stare at a large sign,"Free Waiting"...some little brown devil demands $1 from me..I pay.I am just looking for a place to lay my head for 3 hours.I'm in luck,I find a spot.

Well,my six hour layover turned into 12 HOURS.!!!..!Compliments of Royal Nepali Air or some god damn name.Lonely Planet advised not to use them.But 3 cute travel agent girls,with bright smiles,beautiful,long black hair and 3 perfect apple asses assured me to give them a try....

I was to arrive at KTM at 6 PM but now it looks like midnight,which gives me only one day to figure out KTM before the strike...Finally,I get on the plane.It is half empty.I almost relax but when I reach my seat,I swear,there is a screaming 2 year old in my seat....IN MY SEAT!!!...(It just can't get any better than this...But it does....:(

The child and mom are moved away from me by the helpful ladies on board.Not sure out of niceness to me or they saw a murderous look in my eye.Ha.While waiting for that final push back from the terminal,I notice the plane's armrests all have ash trays.!...My God!..How old is this plane?...Is it safe??..Lonely Planet stated these planes are old,always breaking down,short of pilots,no spare parts,and no one to fix the plane...

WE Leave the Gate!..Great!. On my way..Off to Nepal..Fantastic!...Suddenly!...The plane goes dark!.The engines Fail and shut off!.No lights and no engines.It is so quiet I can hear my heart beat and panic rise as I try to think of a way to get off this plane,..(and not get arrested)...After 5-7 minutes,the Captain announces we have had a slight electrical problem,but don't worry we will be in the air very shortly...I do not want to be in the air on this plane.But I sit quiet and wait,no one else is trying to get off...

*****THIS IS HUGE!!!....For the first time on this trip I tell myself and certainly not for the last time,....

..."YOU MADE YOUR MOVE BITCH,GO FOR IT"..!!!!....

It WILL not be the last time......*

We land in KTM at 1:00AM.I forget something on the plane so I go back..When I reach the Arrival Hall,the huge place is completely empty!..Finally I spot one lone man standing at the far end,waiting for me...He is Customs.I give the form,money, and photos and with 90 day visa stamped on my passport, I head for the door.Outside,there is a lone tourist booth open,turns out they were waitng for me.That's nice.Inside the terminal everything was closed.ATM,.hotel counters,photo lab for photos, and taxi booth.All closed.

I tell what I want and how much I will pay.In Thamel tourist area,of course.The 2 chaps,after a phone call,close the booth and we all jump in a cab to who knows where,in my mind.The streets are empty,except for an occaisional soldier/police,guarding some street corner.

We pull into a simi dark,narrow side road or alley.After a 70 yard ride,we pull into a jet black,dead end I can't see anything!I have a little panic creeping into my mind..as I curse myself for leaving some weapons(knife and chilly powder) in my checked suitcase...A welcomeing light came on....Within 15 minutes,I have a room,some cold beer,TV,and the satisfaction I made it......No money,no worries,pay later.......

KTM is a great little city.two wide boulavards lead from the King's Palace.But the city is narrow crowded streets with shops,stores,food carts,and polite,friendly people..

By Western standards,it is quite crazy.....By India standards,it is calm,almost peaceful..

I'm about 1 mile from the heart of the tourist area,Thamel.Thamel has all kinds of fantastic shops,stores,bread shops,pastry shops,restros,bars,music stores,where you can buy the latest Hollywood release for $1.25usd.And lots of tourists and Expats.It is truly a great place to be.Friendly people abound here.Impossible for me sit in a bar alone.Travelers walk in and just assume the white guy in the corner wants some company.And I grow to appreciate the company.

My 1st day,I find a place to eat and drink,a large,covered,outdoor patio,became my favorite place."The Northfield Palace and Jessie James Saloon."Complete with plants,many tables,waterfall,stage for live Nepali music at night.A great place,to my liking.I guess I'm ready for the strike.I found 5-7 places to eat,three bars to drink and made a few friends in my one day in the city.

Let the strike begin!.Day 1;I noticed a difference in the air as I stepped out of my hotel.It was quiet.No car horns,no voices,less kids playing in the lane.I walk the 70 yards up the narrow lane to the main road.Along the way,a small,(2 tables)hole in the wall restro is open,but nothing else.I would stop in that little restro to give business and be nice.I AM in a city with no friends and no support,I might need people who like me...

As I reach the main road,there is a large police/army checkpoint to greet me on the other side of the road.There are about 8-10 men stationed here,with rifles.They just watch me.I did not feel the Love coming from them....

(We would get to know each other real well over the next five weeks.)

If I turn left,I have the Kings Palace 1 mile up the road.The USA embassy is across from the Palace,it looks like a fortress.I thought it was a Army base the first 3 weeks I was here...The USA Embassy sign on the surounding "prison wall"is the size of a car licence plate.If I turn right,I'm 100 yards from the begining of the Thamel area.

Day 1&2 of the strike,me and most of the tourists go about our business.The shops can stay open till noon,restos,50% are closed in the Thamel area,it is business as usual,almost.Maoists must consider letting the shop owners do some business and the tourists,you can't piss them off too.So some shops and restros are open somewhat.

Day 3;King declares 24 hour curfew.I ignore it and head out.The kids are still in the alley playing.I reach the main road and I am greeted by hard stares and more guns.They are not happy to see me.But they say nothing.I walk past many soldiers on the sidewalk.They just stare at me.If one of these boys with guns had struck me,I wouldn't be able to ID him...I can't take my eyes off of the rifles...Turns out,I will walk through 150 to 400 rifles everyday now till the end of the show.

I reach the tourist area(Thamel),most of the tourists did not leave their hotels.maybe 95% did not come out.But there were a few of us crazy bastards who did venture out and about.most restos were closed too.But "The Northfield Palace & Jessie James Saloon" was open,soon to be my favorite.I was surprised so few tourists came out.I expected more.But the few of us had fun.

As expected,I had trouble heading back to my hotel.As I left Thamel,a checkpoint called out""HEY YOU!.COME HERE..""I briefly thought of ignoring him,but my brain kicked in and I went over.He shouted something for a few minutes,I have no idea what,so I wave my hotel key and pointed..... and I was on my way.

Turns out,in the coming weeks,I was going to wave that key alot..

Day 4;sames as day 3,except a few more folks come out.At my table,2 germans and a Brit...Common topics: were of traveler type?s,best restros,cheap hotels,tips on tourist spots,taxi deals,general knowledge.Germans invite me back to their hotel for some more black hash and beers.Plus to show me what a $3 room looks like..I went.

The room is small and dirty looking.Yellowed sheets,1 plastic chair,bare light bulb hanging from ceiling,not nice..But the bathroom is brand new!...New tile,new toliet,new clean bathtub,What a shock.Western toliet too!But the bathroom itself was something to be proud of even in usa....In a piece of shit hotel!

There were 6-7 men,rough looking,hanging out at the front desk".NOT NORMAL" I observed as I entered...The Germans use a refridgerator at end of the hall for beer storage,I volunteer to get some more.While walking back down the dark,dirty run down hall,a man falls in behind me,dragging/pushing a teenage girl.He comes into the room behind me.My danger radar has been up since I entered this shithole hotel,with the fantastic bathroom.

He then offers me the girl and a room for an hour or all night if I want.The girl is about 14 years old.She is wearing a 1950's pink,frilly,nylon party dress.Upon command,the girl pulls off her dress and stands before me, completely naked.I believe it might be illegal or certainly in bad taste,if I describe the girl further....I am not happy and I sense danger coming at me from different angles....I am really not happy.

I was looking at the Sex Slave Trade right in front of me.I couldn't believe it...When I declined the girl repeatedly,the price dropped from $100 to to $7 for the night...

A few glances at my new German friends told me I had no help coming from them..I made a mental note not to associate with these jokers again.I thought briefly of trying to save this girl but I realized the 7 men at the front desk was going to stop that real quick.It was clear to me why all of the men down stairs were there.There must be other sex slaves here too.I read about this in the Indian newspapers,but to see it so close and personal.

I leave around 2 AM.I quickly get lost on the dark,narrow streets of the city.KTM closes down at 10 PM.Some bars stay open to 1 AM.The whole city closes at 10 PM....Up ahead I spot 5 "happy" Israeli girls,who point me in the right direction..I walk down the middle of the wide 6-lane road,heading towards the Palace and my alleyway...Two soldiers come out into the road to greet me,they stand,almost blocking my way and let me pass.They don't say a word.The rifles?Some form of sign language I think.~~~

Day later,still 24 hour curfew,I'm hanging at Jessie's Saloon,Army truck pulls up,in the middle of Thamel!With loud speakers,tells all westerners to get their asses in their hotels and stay there...NOW!..They were not asking nicely.All of the local men were quite worried and upset,by this unexpected event.Taking my cue from them,I was concerned.

The restro owner is peeking into the street and jumping back,like he is afraid.This man doesn't look the type to be afraid of anything.He asks me where I have to go,I tell him.He laughs and with a smile,he tells me"You're fucked."(not the words I was looking for)..."but you can stay in one of my hotel rooms,no problem,no charge."..I thank him and decide to try my luck on the street first.

I am greeted by 20 rifles as I step out on to the street.Rifles are not suppose to be here in Thamel tourist area.

They were not happy to see me at all...And made it very clear to me,by pointing their rifles at me and yelling.Of course I can't understand a word but the sign language of the Gun,...I have no problem understanding that.

Return to the safety of the bar/hotel crossed my mind,but I had "MADE MY MOVE BITCH.GO FOR IT!" and I was going to play it out.I started walking towards the soldiers and that really seemed to piss them off...ALOT!.So I pull out my hotel key and waved it.(I was useing the key like a hall pass)..The soldiers surround me,yelling some shit at me,even more agitated than before,but let me continue on my way,after an up close look at my key.....Hey!.I had my hall pass...)

Turns out,a rumor that the tourists were going to march against the King had surfaced,so the rough treatment.Of course this was just a preview of things to come....On the streets,which I continued to walk,it was going to get ugly and it was going to get dangerous.It was going to get worst......

...I think I am going to get my money's worth!

Sunita ..---2003

jazzmanblues — Tue, 15 Jan 2013 17:51:00 GMT

Sunita had a monsterous childhood.When first born,mom,over and over,would beg her dad"kill the girl child"and she would stick needles in Sunita at night to make her cry and say"See.Kill the girl"Sunita's oldest brother was 7 years old,he remembers.Family is shit dirt poor.Almost begger poor.As a baby,Sunita's father goes off to work a seven day job.He returns 3 days early and asks "Where is my Sunita?" Finally mom says she threw Sunita into a roadside garbage dump.Father rushed to the place and saved little Sunita.Barely.

It gets terribly worst when Sunita turns three,dad is hit by a bus,on his death bed,makes mom promise not to kill Sunita.Dad dies.Sunita's life goes straight into a hell hole.Mom remarries,a drunk abusive bastard,who declares "Not my kids,I will not feed them!"Same time,mom lets Sunita get hit by bus,skull fracture and skin grafts for the little 4 year old girl.She nearly dies..Oldest brother, now 11, is driven away from the home.

Sunita and her other brother,Shabeard, were never allowed to go to school.One time,Sunita went to school for two days.(you should see her eyes light up when she told me this story,I swear it was the happiest moment of her life).dad finds out and beats Sunita and the whole family for three days,as a lesson.

Dad refuses to feed Sunita and bro,they would eat banana peals and wait for neighbors to put rice out for the pigs and they would run over and eat the pig rice.Sunita would sell trickets to make money to eat.

Of course,whore mom had a boyfriend,he shows up,fights with mom and grabs Sunita by the hair,swings her around and throws her off of a cliff.Sunita dislocates her ankle and breaks her leg.carried back to hut,mom/stepdad refuse to take Sunita to the hospital untill the next day on Monday,it was cheaper.That night,mom kept hitting Sunita.for crying and accusing her of faking it.Her foot is pointed in the opposite direction than what is normal.Sunita is 7.

At hospital,mom isn't much help,( India,even today,a patient must have food brought and relatives are expected to find and give meds and take care of patients.Plus female patients, they must be protected at night from sexual assault.Still very popular in India)With no family help,Sunita tries to walk to toliet and rebreaks her leg.Now the Government hospital is talking of cutting off her leg!!! The neighbors shame mom into taking Sunita to good hospital and save her leg.

By age 5,Sunita and bro are not allowed to sleep in the hut.Hell,they are not being fed.They must sleep in the brush nearby.By 8,Sunita is working construction jobs,at half pay,it is more than drunk dad makes.Bro too,must work.Now at 8-9 Sunita is being fed,but after dinner,mom would tie Sunita to a chair and heat spoons,knives over a flame and burn Sunita,pour hot wax over her back too.She has the scars to prove it too.Mom is careful not to burn Sunita's chest,limiting the scaring to the back and arms.

Dads favorite move,was to punch Sunita right between the eyes,sending her out the door as she tried to walk into hut.A few broken noses and dislocated jaws later....Now Sunita has trouble breathing And she can pop her jaw into and out of dislocation at will....

Mom's favorite:was to put Sunita into a burlap sack,throw a hand full of chiily powder in to her eyes,tie the sack closed,and beat on her with a large club.Time and again,the neighbors would come over and stop the torture being inflicted on such a beautiful,little girl.They would beg,"Please give her to us..Please stop!You are going to kill her."

At 10-11,a Sex Trade Trafficker,came and asked to buy Sunita for the brothels of Bombay.mom refused.Sunita was a very pretty little girl..The promise to the dead dad??..maybe..Instead,she was "rented" as a house girl,for $10 a month.To work as a house servent 24 hours/7 days a week.

At 8-10,Hell,I don't know,"dad"punches Sunita in the face,as she staggers across the dark field,blood gushing from her nose,tears blinding her eyes,Sunita is bitten by a cobra.At first mom/dad were not going to take her for treatment.BUT the neighbors,once again,show up and save this little girls life.Hospital for 3 days,mom came everyday,sit by the bed and stick Sunita with a needle over and over again,cursing Sunita for the hospital bill

This shit repeated itself untill she was 16-17...Time to sell Sunita into marriage.Sunita refused the first three men...But mom/StepDAD had taken money from the 3rd man,Sunita refused,so she was beaten,taken to the trees,with arms tied behind her back,Sunita was hung from a tree by the arms tied behind her.The family would take turns beating her through the night.After 8-9-10 hours of pure torture,Sunita agreed to marriage...Say hello to husband #1...I am Sunita's husband now.

This info came to me as we were falling in love,I thought it was a good idea to share childhood memories and such.To my dismay,I was to stupid to stop at first,so I have only touched the surface.Yes,I did not share some of the events I learned from Sunita.

During this 2 month period of sharing childhood memories,Sunita said she had 10 siblings.Wait!.I only count 7 siblings...?.Where are the three I don't see?.It took me a year to work up the courage and the stomach to ask Sunita about her three missing siblings...

Well I did.between the two oldest brothers there is a five year gap,of no kids... turns out,mom had three beautiful girls.In 5 years--three girl babies...Dead..Dead..Dead...Three sisters, before Sunita,none of them lived past 2 years old.

Sunita told me these crushing stories as if she was describing a nice,happy,church picnic.It tears my heart out when we drive by a school and children and I see the look in her eyes.I can not imagine what she is thinking.And I don't have the stomach to ask,fearing I will bring up more painful memories.I have sat on this info for 10 years.I think it is time to share it.

................

We are sitting on a local bus,Sunita sees her mom a couple seats in front of us,she insists I give her money so she can give to mom..I simply refuse..I'm not going to.

Sunita insists..I look into her sad brown eyes and I ask Sunita,"Why do you want to give this woman any money?"...Sunita looks at me and replies simply,......"If I do,maybe she will love me"............................

India-Beauty 6---03

jazzmanblues — Tue, 15 Jan 2013 11:33:00 GMT

Yes,a strong heart is needed for India.If I am going to walk and live amoung the people,it is important to be able to accept the poverty,the shit,the dirt,and of course the beauty.

The beauty is a part of India.In the faces of the children,playing in the roads or fields.In the eyes of a mother,coming back from the market.In the hearts of the very poor,as they maintain their dignaty and accept their fate.It is a bit unsettling,the peaceful way the very poor have accepted their poverty.At least 5000 years of oppression,has conditioned the lower castes to accept....The ones who don't,are taught leasons by the upper castes..by means of banishment,rape of girls and women,murder is real popular too.

Sorry, I had to throw that in there because it is ever present in this society called India.So while I ramble on about the beauty,you must never forget the open sewers,cripples,homeless,death by stravation,female child murder,and so much shit I will get into in a little later.

You see the beauty in the rice patties,surrounded palm trees,with water buffalo walking down the road beside you,as you nerviously watch them.The cows and buffalos on the sandy beaches,right next to the white,western chick wearing a thong bikini.The beauty of the sunsets,all that pollution over here,makes for some great sunsets.

The flowers!.Some trees here flower year round.

I know I told everyone that I was coming for white,sandy beaches and a vacation.But that is all an American mind can understand.They are rather limited that way.

Now and then,I still go to the beach,but only to rest/retreat,to heal my heart,and gather my strenght to return to"My India."I am not on holiday.Make no mistake.What I see and do here every day is not a holiday.

I spend my days venturing further and further into India.What I see,what I feel,what I do,will last me a life time.I will never forget India.But I am no tourist.

My 1st month here,I lived in a studio apt.Had 2 English folks(not together)and a German,as nieghbors.Went to the beach with Bridget one day,as usual,she is hanging her large breasts out of a very small bikini.And gets mad when all of the Indian men stare at her chest.

So it's cold beers,some sun,dips into the Arabian Sea,lunch in a beach shack and off for home.Walking on a raised road between 2 rice patty fields,we laughingly debate if there are any cobras in there.So I mention"That's why I'm walking in the middle of the road."No sooner then I say that ,a cobra comes onto the road at Bridget's feet!!.I throw an arm into her,knocking her back,and I jump forward.Snake moves on.

But fuck!.It is so important to always be aware of your suroundings.It may be green.pretty flowers,and sunshine but Never forget You are in India......You are in India...

A Strong Heart...5----03

jazzmanblues — Mon, 14 Jan 2013 18:59:00 GMT

Poor,daily wage worker family invited me to dinner.Actually,2 families.2 sisters,their husbands and 6 small children and a 13 year old niece to tend for the children,while the 4 parents work.Their home consists of a single concrete hut,small,dark,1 bare light bulb hangs over head.1 large,semi-broken chair,small kerosene stove,on the floor and a small stool..1 small "bed",consisting of a raised sheet of plywood,covered by a thread bare sheet.Strangely,to me,there were no toys in sight.turns out,the children's toys were what ever they could lay their hands on.Plate,cup,tool,knife,these were the toys of the poor kids.Popsycle stick,with a napkin tied around it became a doll.

We had dal, chicken,and rice for dinner.They insisted I sit in the only chair,as the others sat around,on the rough,concrete floor.Given a monster helping of rice,I begged some rice to be removed from my plate,which made the others wonder about my disinterest for not eating"lots of rice".(I found this to be a concern of my Indian friends for years to come,me,not eating lots of rice.:)I was given a fork and spoon,while my hosts ate with their fingers.

After finishing my plate of Rice and chicken,with some satisfaction I handed my plate to the host wife,..she and her siser at once began to chew on the grizzle and scraps I carelessly left on the bones....I was quite embarassed...I was then brought beer,and invited to stay the night.I agreed.Of course,it was insisted I sleep on the "bed"while all others lay on a mat,on the floor.At 1 AM,I was entertained to the sounds of love making from the darkness close by.

Dispite the poverty,the family invited me into their home,gave me dinner,beer,the best chair/bed to use and they asked for nothing...I have already had interaction with the Goan middle class,and they continue to try to rip me off or cheat me,at every chance..

TWO nights in a row!.I am invited to nieghbor's 21 year old daughters B-day party.Dinner and cake.All of the relatives were there and it was quite nice.It helped that 4 collage age women were in attendance too.This family,being middle class,thought of ways I could help the family.

One week later,I was approached to start dating one of the 20ish women.which one?..Take my pick!This too,incourageing me to date the young women of various families happened alot.Not for sex,mind you,but for marriage.

Of course one man,a bar owner, did tell me his 13 and 15 year old daughters would visit me often,if I rented a flat from him.He told me these details,as we walked down a residential road to his house/flat...As we walked,he had has arm around the neck of his 13 year old daughter,hand firmly grabbing her breast,...I broke off all contact with this man after that.Simply,I didn't want such a bastard man/family so close to me.

To travel and live in India,you must harden but open your Heart.Yes,a contradiction of terms.You must accept the suffering and poverty,realize there is nothing you can do about it,but look for ways you can make one person or one family's life easier and better.This is how I can sleep at night and not go a bit crazy from what I see,feel and do..

I think I understand why I have been crying lately.It's the poverty.The poverty is all around me.I cannot escape it.I try,but I can not ignore it.The poverty does not overwhelm me but it seems to engulf me.It is affecting me in many,many ways.Tears from Nowhere...I am not depressed but to see such struggle and heartbreak.....My God,thats it!!...Maybe this describes India,...

"Tears From Nowhere,A Strong Heart In Between."

Take yesterday,walking to the pay phone,I spot a crippled puppy in the road,do I pick him up and move him?.No.Do I kick him off the road?.No...Instead,I reckonize Life's Suffering and I step around him,leaving him to his Fate,and most probably the end of his suffering.Before India?.I never would have done that....(When I came back,he was out of the road.)

It is so much to bare,to see so many struggle,so many suffer,hear of so many dying.I must pick and choose what I see,.What I feel..What I do.I walk pass 30 beggers and stop for one simply because I chose to feel as I passed this person.It is all random.And the death here is random too.

I try to give back to India as India has given me so much,?I must give what I can afford,to help one family/person.I am sure I will know when I meet that person(s),I will reconize the moment...It is and will be my way of giving back to India for the insights India is shoving down my throat..

The poverty,it is not overwhelming but it is engulfing.To see so much,feel so overwhelmed and do nothing.To walk past bare foot begger kids,blind old men and women,legless,living bodies,...You can not feel it..You must not feel it..But it catches you when you least expect it.

To visit India you must have a Strong Heart.

Perhaps I wanted to test my heart,to see if it is strong.I certainly am testing my heart,my mind,my very Soul.Nothing prepares you for India...You must have a strong and compassionate heart to come here.

I did not realize India would test me so..I did come here to develop my inner soul..To grow as a person.As a man..As a gentle man.But the lessons I recieve here almost everyday stagger me...I walked away from sandy beaches and sunshine and ventured into India and to find my own piece of India...My India!..My mind has been bombarded with thoughts of suffering,thoughts of filth and pain,...And also thoughts of incredable beauty,glimpes of a strong loving spirit in the people of India...In the travelers around me..Some kind of Universal Bond of Love and Acceptance.I can not walk away from such feelings of Love...I will not...I embrace my feelings,my thoughts,and My India!

Before India,I would not have come if I knew what I was in for.I would not have felt I was strong enough for India.now that I am here,I don't know if I am strong enough for India,but I am o.k. with that.I accept it.

Now that I am here,I will find out if I am strong enough for India.The courage to walk this path is merely my acceptance of what shall be.Perhaps I will live ten years in India and not know if I am strong enough.I think often of my family,to gather strength and purpose for my journey.To gather my will to return to them.But I am in India now.And it is so important to;"Be Here Now."a famous book on Eastern thought.

Be Here Now......Here Now Be.......Now Be Here......This is India.You decide your Path.Your goals.Your Life.Maybe your death.This is India!.................Am I Strong Enough For India?.....Well.We shall see.............

Beach Tears...3--2003

jazzmanblues — Thu, 10 Jan 2013 19:46:00 GMT

My 3rd or 4th day I start going to the beach in the early morning.Leave my AC studio,grab an oversized coffee from the nosey,polite owner and head to the beach.I am in Betalbatim,just north of Colva,Goa.The path I take leaves me away from all beach shacks by at least 100 meters/yards.I watch the fishermen drag their nets along the shoreline,the nets at least 100 meters long.

I sit.And I think of what was..I understand what is..And I dream of what might be....And I cry..Not tears of sorrow or plight.But tears of what was,is and shall be. Tears drawn up from the suffering I see all around me.

The tears run down my cheeks and drop into the dry,white,thirsty sand.But I am not unhappy.I am shocked at the poverty of India.I am overwhelmed at the sheer number of the poor around me.The bone thin children.The hideously groteous bodies of the beggers on most pathways.The smell of death as I walk the various roads.(pig,dog,people?) My visits into Margao,a city,has opened my eyes to the tremendous suffering of India's poor.And I can not get use to it.

"One of the reasons we crave Love so much and seek it so desparately,is that Love is the only cure for Loneliness;and Shame;and Sorrow.But some feelings sink so deep into your heart that only Loneliness can help you find them again..Some truths about yourself are so painful that only Shame can help you live with them...And some things are just so sad that only your Soul can do the crying for you..."

In Margao,I walk past 3 little sisters,standing in an open sewer,ankle deep,looking for sticks and cardboard,to cook the rice for their next meal,if they get one.The girls are 7,5,and 4.The sisters have been abandoned by their parents(I find out later)One little girl holds out her hand to the rich white devil walking past,(me),I simply look the other way and continue to a restro...Later,after enjoying a meal of kingfisher beer,butter chicken and nan,I am quite content..Then I see the 3 sisters walk past the restro...I burst into quiet tears...I never know when the poverty and suffering are going to overwhelm me..To make me break down..To cry over the plight of the Human Race.

This is almost a daily routine for me.Perhaps the tears are a sign of me saying goodbye to the old way of how I looked at Life.Perhaps I am saying goodbye to Me and the way I use to see the World through the eyes of Me.I am so overwhelmed by the suffering,at times,I just can't take it,it seems.But some how I do..I laugh..I cry..I am...Nothing could have prepared me for this.

Years later,talking to ex-pat friends,we all agreed,the hardest part of India was coming to personal grips with the poverty and suffering.It can really mess you up.Of course you get semi use to it,you try not to see it,and you simply ignore suffering.But it catches you when you least expect it,when you are feeling at your best.....Suddenly your heart sinks,your spirit fails,and you are engulfed in the despair that you are powerless to help.

The movie "The Razor's Edge"w/Bill Murrey,had a great telling interaction about India and a future traveler was advised;...,

"YOU CAN READ ALL OF THE BOOKS YOU WANT,BUT YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO GO THERE.''....

This is by far the best advice for any India traveler.You are going to have to go there..Read the guide books..Plot your adventure..Get on a plane..And go!...The first thing you will lose is a Plan of places to visit..Next you may start to question your values you hold dear..And finally you may walk a Path in India with a whole new persective of yourself and your World....Or you may just lose your f*cking mind............

Finally,if you venture into India,you must bring a Strong Heart....Gadgets,money,intelligence are nice to possess.But you need a Strong Heart.

A Strong Heart will come in quite handy in this place called India....... A Strong Heart!

One

jazzmanblues — Wed, 9 Jan 2013 18:30:00 GMT

One....-1979

I saw

amoung the multitude

of faces,

a kind and gentle face.

I knew

our paths would cross.

We reached,

amoung the multitude

of Stars,

to the heights of our Faith.

With Time.

we would laugh,we would cry.

And now,

amoung the multitude

of endings,

I see a new begining,

of two lives

in Love and Becoming One......g

Why come?.....2--2003

jazzmanblues — Thu, 3 Jan 2013 19:26:00 GMT

"Why come to India?"a famous yoga teacher was once asked."There is no reason to come to India"he replied."Then why do they keep coming?"we asked."Because they are mad!"he answered.

Perhaps it takes a touch of insanity to set out on a spiritual quest to India.If it is meditation or yoga you want,you can find it in the States.Plus you can drink the water...It takes a special kind of person to come to India.Intelligent.fearless,lucky,( it helps alot,if you are prone to Luck)...

And yet,a journey to India is its own kind of practice.offering it's own unique insights and risks.And no one coming here seeking wisdom will leave empty handed,

Although the gifts of insight may not be the ones you thought you wanted..Just as in an India resteraunt,the dishes that actually arrive may bear only a tangential relationship to the ones you thought you ordered.In India,the menu is not the meal.The menu are simply plans;the meal is what India wishes for you to recieve,like it or not..

There are many and varied reasons to come to India,sights,people,sounds,birth place of 4 major religions(Hindu,Jain,Sikh,and Buddhism).

But ultimatly,the reasonable reasons to come to India,are not why I came...As I prepared for India,I had no clear,understandable reason to come to India...As my departure date came closer,my reasons to go became more and more unclear.

At 1st,I lied and told everyone I was going on holiday...white sandy beaches,weather,you know,vacation stuff...Americans,they can understand that bullshit...But I knew,when I came,that India was going to slap the shit out of me,test me,and maybe kill me.

I tried the tourist stuff,lay on the beach,having brown men bringing me drinks,saying "yes sir,thank you sir"to me....I lasted 3 hours...I couldn't do it..

Seemed simple..Lay on beach.Tan.Drink..Did not sound to hard to me....It drove me crazy with boredom.I arose from my beach bed and said "Not for me."And I began my plans for my assault on finding "My Real India."Make no mistake here,everybody is going to come away with a different opinion of India.Even travel buddies.So I ventured into My India........

After 3 days,India has knocked me back on my heels...To be quite honest,I am not sure I would have come if I knew what was waiting for me..I can feel a pending change in me,in my thinking,the way I approach life,my perceptions of my world around me.And I am O.K. with that.I fear not the future.I fear not the change.I fear not...I live...I am...That is enough.

...

......

.........

....... (MY INDIA)

"But I don't want to go amoung

mad people."Alice remarked.

"Oh you can't heip that."said the Cat,

"We are all mad here. I'm mad. Your mad."

"How do you know I'm mad?"asked Alice.

"You must be"said the Cat,"Or you would not have come here...............Lewis Carrol

Nature.....Dec.1977-By Glenn Harris

jazzmanblues — Thu, 3 Jan 2013 19:00:00 GMT

NATURE

I touched her,

but did not disturb her.

I embraced her.

but did not posess her.

I hungered for her,

but did not consume her.

I smelled her freshness,

but did not classify her.

I gazed at her beauty,

but did not frame her.

I lived her,I loved her,

soon to realize,

We were One.

But My Heart Told Me To Go......1..Nov.2002

jazzmanblues — Tue, 1 Jan 2013 07:14:00 GMT

I stepped off the plane and was engulfed in the stench/smell of Mumbai.The tenative plans I had made on the plane were quickly forgotten and discarded,as I disembarked on a journey to a World I wasn't all that sure I was prepared for.

I had no friends here,no safety net,just my good luck,which has usually been enough for me over the years.Now I was stepping into a 3rd World country alone.I was a little concerned.Hell,I was Real concerned...

I started with baby steps.1)Get off the plane.See how hard this one is,when you fly into a strange country,at 11pm.2)Go through Customs,I was asleep when they passed out the paperwork.Which I was informed of as I neared the front of the line.3)Collect luggage and say"Now what the fuck do I do now?".4)Pull my Luck out of my pocket,buy AM ticket to Goa,book hotel for the night,call home and have a cold beer.Well, cold beer by India standards.

I fly to Goa.house owner's 20ish year old daughter meets me at the airport,with flowers and a smile.30 minutes later,I am sitting in my studio flat enjoying the satisfaction that my luck still works,even in India...Two English folks,not together,offer me many invalueable travel tips,My first day.

Steve and Bridget were my new and instint friends.They took me to the good restros.They told me what to be afraid of,(the police,the traffic,and the snakes.) they took me into the madness of the city of Margao and show me around,savng me weeks of time,learning on my own.PLUS they insisted I go to the beach by myself the very first day of my arrival By Myself.They wanted me to get my moneys worth,I think.

I found my way to the beach,white sandy beach as far as I could see.And I took my 1st walk on the Goan beaches.Not alot of people around,in many places I had the beach to myself for 80 yards in either direction.

Then I met Sunita,working at a beach shack as a cook/bartender,her boss ordered her to invite the White Devil,(me)into the beach shack.I refused but went there the next day and the rest is history.

But seriously,do not think for one second I was not concerned about coming to India.The more I read,the less I wanted to come.The poverty.the terrorists bombs,the Pakis are going to nuke India,the crime,no sanitation,the snakes,the mosquitoes of death.....,

But a Voice In My Heart told me to come here.A voice in my heart.... for years the voice has told me to come to India.I tried in "86"but I got hurt in London...I have arrived!.Now we shall see what India has for me.What I have for India and what we have for each other

When I use the word"concerned" I mean"scared" Don't forget that little bit of knowledge....Through my life I have been Very Lucky.And I plan on that luck holding.