Ahmedabad Medley

Tired after a long day and my best ambitions to blog about yesterday's amazing walking tour of the old walled city of Ahmedabad will not be fulfilled, not tonight in any case. However  I have put together a little collage of images from the tour. Enjoy!

Pilgrimage

We have had a simply amazing day, which began with a walking tour of the old walled city of Ahmedabad and continued with a fascinating visit to Gamthiwala, a purveyor of fabrics close to the Queen's Tomb. The Benetton like order of the tiny shop was turned to a jumbled chaos of colour as the most amazing array of shawls and fabrics were unfurled before us. Inevitably tea was served throughout and we eventually gathered up our purchases and headed for the Auto Rickshaws. Our afternoon concluded with a visit to the Step Well, one of those haunting, magical spaces that inhabit childhood dreams. The eerie beauty of the place was enhanced by the fading evening light.

However for me the highlight of the day was our visit to Ghandi's Ashram. I had been looking forward to it for weeks now and was delighted to see it on our first weekend's itinerary. Perhaps it was because I was still trying to absorb the wonders of this morning or because I was distracted by trying to choose an image from the hundreds of photographs I had taken already today as well as trying to choose a theme for today's blog, but for whatever reason I was completely unprepared for what happened when we stepped into the Mahatma's simple room at the Ashram. I found myself standing very still and choking back emotion , hoping that my colleagues would not notice that I was welling tears. 

So in the end, the image of the day chose itself, as did the closing words of this blog, which are from Ghandi's prayer:

Lord of humility, 
dwelling in the little pariah hut.
Help us to search for Thee throughout
that fair land watered by Ganges,
Brahmaputra, and Jamuna.
Give us receptiveness.
Give us openheartedness.
Give us Thy humility.
Give us the ability and willingness
to identify ourselves
with the masses of India.

O God!,
who does help only when man
feels utterly humble, grant that we
may not be isolated from the people.
We would serve as servants and friends.
Let us be embodiments of self-sacrifice,
embodiments of Godliness,
humility personified, that we may know
the land better and love it more.

Sights and Sounds

So far I have not seen a great deal of the outside world, but even from the air conditioned tower of our hotel, there are hints of what is to come. My curiosity has definitely been aroused by a glimpse through a corridor window of what I'm assuming  to be some form of palace or temple. The sound of horns is as constant as the twittering of birds, and surprisingly enough the two co exist nicely together here.

Passage to India (how could I resist?).

After an extended absence from the Blog-sphere, I'm back. The catalyst is a trip to India working with IBM's Executive Service Corps on a project in Ahmedabad in the Gujarat province. Today's contribution will be very brief , being as I am , thoroughly jet lagged after the long journey from Ireland. The adventure began, after many weeks of preparatory calls, with a stormy flight to London and a bit of a scramble to get from the tin shack that is Terminal One at Heathrow to the grandeur of T5. I boarded hot and flustered but it's amazing what an unexpected upgrade and a glass of Champagne can do to settle the nerves!

Eight hours later I was in Mumbai and fours hours after that I was in Ahmedabad to a welcome that deserves a post all of its own, perhaps when I'm rested and fed. In the mean time however, I thought I'd share a poem by the Indian poet Sarojini Naidu, which ironically speaks more to what I left behind than what lies ahead in the days and weeks ahead. Stay tuned!

Autumn Song 

Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,
The sunset hangs on a cloud;
A golden storm of glittering sheaves,
Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,
The wild wind blows in a cloud.

Hark to a voice that is calling
To my heart in the voice of the wind:
My heart is weary and sad and alone,
For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone,
And why should I stay behind?