India Journal
A Jewish Journey through India
January 2014
Rabbi Susan Talve
DAY SIX
MUMBAI - told by Rabbi James Stone Goodman (January 12, 2014)
The community of Mumbai: Bene Israel, Tiferet Israel, Magen David, we are visiting the three in
one day. The carved figure of David Sassoon looms over the door of his library; the significance
of the Sassoon family here. The patriarch David's influence is felt everywhere in Mumbai,
though he died in 1864. He came to Mumbai, then Bombay, from Baghdad when one of the
pashas imposed anti-Semitic laws on the ancient Jewish community there. His family built some
of the most dramatic buildings of Bombay, many homes, the Magen David synagogue on whose
grounds he lived so he could make the daily minyan. Though he never learned to speak English,
the British favored him as a kind of intermediary business presence and he built a textile empire
in India.
Across the street from the Magen David synagogue and school is the David Sassoon library with
his head carved in stone over the door. It looks, like many of the classic buildings of Mumbai, as
if it is being renovated. Across the street a little girl and a little boy walk a short tight-rope with
a brass bowl on their heads. They will never go to school.
At the Chabad House, called Nariman House, they are rebuilding the five stories that the terrorists from Pakistan defiled when they attacked and killed the rabbi and his wife in 2008. The
baby Moshe, two years old at the time was rescued out of the house by his nanny Sandra
Samuel whose son Martin is accompanying us on this journey. His mother now lives in Israel.
Martin assists our guide, Ralphy Jhirad, one of the leaders of the Bene Israel community of
Mumbai. Ralphy is determined to honor the noble history of Indian Jewry in his home country.
We say kaddish on the floor where the rabbi and his wife and four others were murdered.
That night we are hosted by the Bene Israel Indian community at Tiferet Israel, another one of
their synagogues, in a ceremony call Melida that the community celebrates on special occasions. It is Sunday night. Before the ceremony begins, they ask me to lead the evening prayers,
1
Arbit. I chant the holy prayers in a style approximating the nusach of the East; I hear it and try
to mimic it. Somehow, I hear this sound and it's easy for me though the order of prayers is a bit
different with a delicious addition of various kabbalistic touches in the prayers.
Tiferet Israel Synagogue (stock photo)
Susan says something about our old friend T whose wife is with us on the trip and we want to
honor his family by saying the holy kaddish. It is the time of his yahrzeit and he was dear dear to
us. It feels wonderful to say the holy kaddish for our friend in this beautiful faraway place.
That afternoon we had jumped into a cab and left the rest of the group so we could say the holy
prayers at the cemetery in Mumbai for our friend S who is also with the group and whose
mother passed recently. She is buried in Mumbai Jewish cemetery of the Bene Israel. Her death
has left a great space in S's life. S's daughter has joined us from the States and it is a tender
time around the grave in Mumbai. Susan speaks deep feelings about S and her Mom at the
graveside.
We say the holy prayers for both the mother and father of S. S will ask her Mom to accompany
her. Ask her to be a guide for you, S. Ask for guidance and strength. Make the ask. Memory may
not be enough.
We are on a journey of secret destinations.
2
DAY FIVE
Snake charmer similar to one the group encountered (stock photo)
Jeane Vogel and Marsha Grazman
3
DAY FOUR
ON TO JAIPUR FOR OUR FIRST SHABBAT
Akbar the Great, the 4th Mogul ruler reigned for 50 years. He tried to create a new religion and
surrounded himself with 9 advisors from different traditions whom he called the nine jewels.
Akbar had no son so he married a Hindu woman after he went to meet with a Sufi saint for a
blessing. Sheik Salim blessed him and told him that he would have a son. When he got back to
the palace, his Hindu wife was pregnant. Then had two more sons. Akbar was so happy with the
holy man, he asked him to live with him in his capital at Agra; but the holy man would not leave
the forest so Akbar went to live with him and he built a whole new spectacular city there in
1561 called Fatipur Sikri. There was not enough water so they only lived there for 15 years. The
city remains remarkably intact. There were a few in our group who thought this site was even
more impressive than the Taj Mahal and were also impressed by the vision of Akbar to unite all
people.
Akbar’s city
We continued on our way to Jaipur and arrived at the beautiful palace of the Maharaja turned
hotel. Turns out there are many princes in Rajastan who all have palaces, most that have been
turned into hotels. Our Jaipur guide was from a royal family and showed us pictures of him with
Obama and Clinton at different state affairs. He also had palaces that are now hotels.
4
There are no Jews in Jaipur and I knew that we would be there for Shabbat before we left. I
asked Swami Chetanananda at our Vedanta Society to set up a visit for us to the Ramakrishna
mission there. We arrived just as the evening prayers in the shrine were beginning. The sound
of the drum and chanting was much like sephardic chanting in the synagogue. At the end of the
prayers and meditation, the wonderful swami gave an inspiring talk. He spoke about finding
god within. He described the world’s religions as different vessels dipping into the same water
to fill them. His hospitality and joy and wisdom were a great gift and made for a perfect
Shabbat. They lit candles and brushed the light over us. I gave a brief teaching and Jim chanted
the shirat ha yam, this week’s Torah portion. The monks served us presad and we lit candles
and made kiddush and said the motzi over the presad. We sang and as they shared light with us
we shared our light with them. This was a taste of the world to come. The highlight of the trip
for me so far. Shabbat in the pink city of Jaipur.
Stock photo of Jaipur
5
DAY THREE
This is the first day we were all together. The last 11 arrived to the hotel after 1:00 am but we
still needed to leave by 7:00 am SO the new group would see something of Delhi and make it to
Agra and the Taj Mahal on time. (It closes at sunset and is not open on Friday.) In Delhi we saw
the ruins of an elaborate Hindu temple that was turned into a mosque at the hands of the
moguls. A spectacular pillar sits at the center covered with verses from the Koran and the 99
names of god. The faces and gods and goddesses depicted in the intricate Hindu carvings had
been destroyed but Jeane Vogel managed to find hints of a few that survived. As we entered, I
noticed a few women of our group posing as goddesses on three stands that may have held
statues of them long ago. I remembered that I had read somewhere that there were three
goddesses that protected the gates to The Kaaba in Mecca at the time that Mohammed was
giving birth to Islam. The Arabs would pay tributes (taxes) to the goddesses who would then
allow them into the holy place. As the Koran was being revealed to Mohammed he included
these three in suras, or verses, that recognized them as holy, perhaps to gain the support of the
people in power who were their devotees (and benefitted from their collections). When the
people in power rejected Mohammed and his new religion anyway, he went back and said that
Satan had fed him the verses that included the goddesses, these became known as the "Satanic
Verses." Too bad, I love the thought that Islam may have had images of god as a woman. I still
struggle with the idea that if there was more of a balance between male and female images of
god, our world might be less violent and more balanced. Hinduism does this and India is one of
the only countries where Jews have not experienced anti-Semitism. On to the Taj Mahal.
A long, long, long bumpy and fumey bus ride to crowded Agra. As we drove through this city of
2 million the poverty and slums on the side of the road was painful. Hard to believe that the
end of this part of the journey would be a tribute to a perfect love through beauty and balance
and symmetry. We drove directly to the site. Nothing is simple in India. The bus parks, you
walk, you wait, you take another bus, you wait, you walk. All the while, street hawkers and
beggars following with stories rehearsed over and over to perfection. "I am a student," "you are
my first customer," “special price for luck." This is not going to be easy but the only way to see
this wonder of the world.
Shah Jahan was said to be the richest man in the world at the time. He was the grandson of
Akbar, the first Mogul king. He spared no expense when he built a tomb for his beloved wife
Mumtaz, who died giving birth to their 14th child on the battlefield. She was nine months
pregnant, but went with him everywhere. Before she died, he made her three promises. 1. To
never marry again. 2. To take care of their children and 3. To create something that would be a
monument to their love that the world could see.
6
The first thing he did was to build areas for his craftsmen to live and work. He believed that if
they were happy they would do a better job. ( I'm thinking the same thing....tell the employers
of the fast food workers....) In fact, the same families work on the intricate inlay today as did
then. Then, the approach. You look through the gate and the Taj is framed perfectly. The walk
through the gardens are supposed to evoke paradise.
Taj Mahal (stock photo)
It is beautiful. Our group had many different reactions. Some cried at the beauty and the
expression of love. Others were not moved, too perfect. The exquisite white marble, too cold.
The opulence obscene in the midst of such poverty. One artist in the group said that art from
afar that is so beautiful often shows its flaws up close. Not so here. The closer one gets, the
more beautiful. The detail of the inlay of precious stones and the carvings infuse the sight with
wonder. No short cuts here. But the experience of going inside, wall to wall people, much too
close pushing through was a sign that as perfect as we humans try to tame the world, there is
always something "haser," something lacking. Shah Jahan was eventually imprisoned by one of
his sons who killed off his brothers. Shah Jahan died from his prison in the fort with a view of
his tribute to his beloved. His daughter had him buried alongside of Mumtaz and, ironically, his
tomb is the only aspect of the Taj that is not in perfect balance and symmetry.
7
Exhausted we dragged ourselves to a workshop where they showed us how the inlay and
carvings were done, tried to sell us everything at the "best price," and returned to the hotel for
the welcome dinner we had postponed for three nights.
It feels like we have been here for a month, not a day. Tomorrow, on to Jaipur, the pink city.....
DAY TWO
EATING IN A SOUP KITCHEN
We began the day with a bicycle rickshaw ride through the narrow alleys of Old Delhi. Each
street had a different specialty, many around all the needs for an Indian wedding. The drivers of
our 6 rickshaws soared through the market awakening to the days business without losing each
other as motorbikes-cars-small trucks-monkeys-dogs-cats and humans also raced through.
Above our heads were hundreds of knotted wires dangling. We learned that when a line died, it
was easier to add one than to find the lost connection. Colorful shrines to useful gods were
tucked into crevices alongside the poor sifting through sewage for gold flecks leftover from
tributes to the gods. Others squatted in front of soup kitchens waiting for sponsors to offer a
few rupees for them to eat.
Rabbi Susan and artist Siona Benjamin
8
The next stop was a Sikh temple where we left shoes and covered our heads to enter the sanctuary where the holy book is kept on a throne and carried to its need at night. Like the Torah,
this book is said to be living and is adorned with robes as a sign of respect. The priests played
beautiful music as they chanted the hymns and prayers. Just outside was a large room filled
with lines of people sitting cross-legged before tin trays. We were rich and poor, all faiths and
nationalities, with no distinctions between us. We first walked through the kitchen and helped
form the bread and bake it on flat stoves. 20,000 people are fed each day, and all the cooking,
serving, and cleaning is done by volunteers. It was the best meal I have had so far, the compassion and devotion surely had a part in the gentle and loving flavor.
In the evening we visited with professor Rohee Dasgupta of Jindal University. A Hindu, Professor Dasgupta specializes in Post Holocaust European history and welcomed our tired and jet
lagged group with refreshments and a seminar on Siona's Fulbright work on cross cultural
identities. Wonderful. A professor from Jindal recently came to teach at Webster. The world is
small.
The last 11 of our group finally arrived at 2:00 am, so glad Jim was with them. Jonathan
Goldberg, Marian Rosen and I are still without luggage. Hope it finds us soon. Tomorrow we are
off to the Taj Mahal, a monument to love and wonder and the desire for perfection through
beauty.
DAY ONE
Half of us have arrived in Delhi. The others will arrive tomorrow night, two full days late. I know
not to take the storm, all the delays and the challenges of re-routing, personally. In fact, there
have been some blessings. One family able to be there for a dying friend, another to nurse a
cold and yet another to be there to celebrate an anniversary. But it has been a test of staying in
the moment and letting go of what we cannot control.
And all of it is journey. I was able to help a blind woman "see" New York as we landed and help
her off the plane to her guide. Another helped a drunk stay sober. A few spent a few more
sweet unexpected moments with loved ones.
Arriving in Dehli was far more peaceful than I remembered arriving in Mumbai 12 years ago. I
arrived with what felt like thousands of Muslims returning from their Haj, the sacred pilgrimage
Muslims are required to make to Mecca. I remember being carried by a sea of people through
the airport spilling on to the street, delivering us to a car that honked its way through crowded
streets even though it was the middle of the night.
9
The Berlas and I arrived to the Indira Gandhi new third terminal in New Delhi, with few travelers and no lines. Above the international desks welcoming visitors is a colossal sculpture of the
Nine Mudras, nine metal hands. The designers say that they are arranged in delicate gestures
from yoga and classical dance to symbolize benevolence and reassurance, the oncoming of
novel things and the linkage between the individual and the "ever throbbing life force of the
universe." I could not help but think of our gentle CRC blessing hands holding these.
So far, twelve of us have crossed under these hands. Eleven more will arrive tomorrow night
(god willing).
(stock photo of the Nine Mudras)
The portion this week starts out with the plagues but ends with us singing at the shores of the
sea. As soon as we are all here, I will share more of the song!
10