Musings
The slickest salesperson I've ever seen is at the Nirula Cottage Industry Bazaar in Old Delhi. My English-speaking tour guide for the day, Ashish, took me to the Bazaar as I mentioned I wanted to buy a pashmina shawl (it's colder here than I anticipated). He introduces me to Butt (I'm not kidding; though he pronounces it "pot"), who is a Kashmiri operating a carpet/rug outpost business in Delhi. I thought I was simply getting an education on Kashmiri rugs while sipping Kashmiri tea: before I recognized it, the lessons of goat wool-on-wool and silk-on-cotton turned into a sell. A hard sell. "Look at this," he would say in a soothing, enchanting tone, upon the view of each of the 17 rugs he and his rug-boys showed me. Many of them were really beautiful: hmmm, one might even look good in my bedroom. Butt asked lots of questions, all were directing me toward the purchase of a 146,000 rupees rug. Just as I was doing the conversion to US Dollars in my head (about $3,200), I snapped out of a potentially insane impulse buy. Indeed, I had been lured by the sirens' call, had been a slave to the Jedi Mind Trick. Luckily I managed to utter "no." He kept coming back with minimally lower offers, continually asking questions designed to overcome my objections. And all pretty compelling arguments, I'll admit. I started to sweat, feeling the pressure. "No, thank you; I need to leave now." I thanked him a few more times, as I felt myself being pulled back into the room. I left the room . . . but where was I? Ashish was nowhere to be found. Before me was a labyrinth of more salespeople offering saris, handicrafts, more rugs . . . I couldn't get out! What floor was I on? How many floors are there in this place? No, I don't want any crappy hand-carved wooden camel! I can't breathe! Lemme out! Finally found the checkout area and there was the light . . . that wonderful, wonderful light of day coming from the front doors. Ashish was outside waiting for me with a big grin: "Did you purchase a beautiful rug?" Turns out that tour guides, rickshaw or cab drivers will take tourists to hotels, restaurants and especially stores where they will receive a fat commission. "Let's just say we couldn't come to an agreement," I replied. Never did get a shawl.

Eternal Flame
Ashish was a good tour guide, inasmuch as he really knew his history. New Delhi was built mostly by the British, with nicer, more modern buildings and homes than in Old Delhi. Apparently England never "invaded" India which resulted in its colonial rule: the Moghul kings of India, who had been ruling their individual kingdoms began in-fighting, and several turned to the British for protection against other Moghul kings (the British were already in India, via the East India Company). And, like the boiled-frog effect, one day people woke up and the British were in charge of all of India. After a failed Indian uprising in the 1880's, many Indians' thoughts turned more and more to independence. The movement gained steam in the 1930's with the efforts of Mohandas Gandhi. He worked tirelessly through his "non-violence" approach. A man of great intelligence, tremendous heart and engaging words, he drew wide support. The British began serious talks with Indian leaders regarding an independent India. Good, bad or indifferent, the Muslims of Northern India wanted their own nation, and this caused a serious split among Indians. Gandhi fought a partition vigorously, but to keep peace he was willing to work with the Muslim leadership, much to the chagrin of fundamentalist Hindus. India and Pakistan became independent nations in 1947; one predominately Hindu, one Muslim. Gandhi was rewarded for his efforts and peaceful worldview by being shot in the chest by a Hindu radical, on January 30, 1948.

I visited the place where Gandhi was assassinated. It was outside the home of some friends, where he was going to dine. In addition, I visited the strikingly simple Gandhi Memorial. It's a huge recessed area in the ground, about 50 yards wide by 50 yards long by 20 yards deep. In the middle of this grass-covered area is a memorial stone casket flanked by saffron and deep red colored flowers, and atop the stone is an eternal flame: a flame that is lit 24 hours a day. It is a simple, beautiful memorial, dedicated to a man that every Indian I talk to reveres and respects.

Siteseeing
Delhi is chock full of temples and memorials. The Lakshminarayan temple is a spectacular piece of architecture, and of color. The main colors are rust, a light mustard yellow, and cream. Inside this temple, dedicated to Lakshmi (the consort of the Hindu god Vishnu), there are beautiful marble floors and ornate décor. Paintings and statues of other Hindu gods Shiva, Kali, Durga, and my personal favorite, Ganesh, are all around. Ashish spent time educating me about Hinduism, shared stories about the gods that he and other Hindu children have known since childhood (there are only 3 gods, really, and a large number of incarnations of those three).

Then we went to the Humayan Memorial, which is an enormous building dedicated to King Humayan, a Moghul king who died not by the sword in a valiant battle, not from poison slipped secretly from an evil palace insider, but by falling down some stairs. Lattice windows and "onion" domes, which are typical in Muslim architecture, were beautiful. The huge building has fallen into a bit of disrepair, but the Indian government is working to restore the once grand memorial.

So what is Delhi like? It definitely has its ugliness and beauty. It's crowded and traffic is hideous. Everywhere I go in Old Delhi there are hawkers and beggars, some very aggressive. Days are hazy, with the sun poking out every once in awhile. There are the rubbish-strewn streets that I saw when I first went from the airport to my hotel. There are laundry drying on lines and tents for shelter almost everywhere. Delhi does have charm: I have enjoyed walking up and down the streets seeing the vendors and the activity. New Delhi, where the Parliament buildings stand and the members reside, is relatively new and tidy. Every mile or so one encounters a cricket match, which is a very big deal in India and quite an enjoyable sport to watch. Indians have great smiles. Every Indian baby is beautiful: big sparkly eyes, sweet little giggles, dark gorgeous skin.

The one thing I haven't encountered that everyone told me was overwhelming is the smell. I don't smell anything stronger than curry spices. Oh, and car exhaust . . . that's pretty bad. Hopefully the dozens of conceivably bad smells are not all being saved up in One Big Smell for me somewhere.

TB or Not TB
I've had kind of a nagging cough now for about a week. It's not consistent and not particularly violent, just unusual in the mornings and evenings. I think I have tuberculosis. Fortunately for me, right across from my hotel is the India Tuberculosis Center. In India about 14 million people are estimated to be suffering from active tuberculosis and about a half million die of the disease each year. Upon further investigation and some Tylenol Cold pills, I feel better. Perhaps it was just the 24-hour strain of TB.

Peter and Cornelius
I read Acts 10 in the Bible, per the suggestion of my friend Steve. It's the story of Cornelius, a captain in the Roman army. He is described as "a religious man who worships god," who had done much for the Jewish poor. God appears to him in a vision, saying how pleased He is with Cornelius, and for him to send for a man named Simon Peter. Peter, at the time, is praying and he too receives a vision. A sheet containing animals and wild birds falls before him, and a voice tells Peter to kill and eat his food. Peter refuses, saying "Lord, you know I don't eat anything ritually unclean." The voice tells him to eat, that he should not consider anything unclean that God has made clean. This vision comes to Peter three times (perhaps shadowing back to his denial of Jesus three times?)

Cornelius's men come for Peter, but right beforehand Peter hears the spirit again as He tells Peter of the men coming, that he is to go with them. So Peter goes with the men to the house of Cornelius. Cornelius does something I gather may have surprised Peter: he kneels at Peter's feet. Peter responds, "Arise, as I am only just a man." He goes on to say something that frankly sounds a little snotty to me: "Cornelius, you know that Jews are not allowed by religion to associate with Gentiles. But God has showed me that I must not consider anyone ritually unclean." It seems as if Peter "gets" the vision in his head and probably recognizes what he's supposed to do and how he should act, but perhaps it hasn't yet registered in his heart.

Cornelius tells Peter of his vision. He graciously and humbly entreats Peter to speak, as he is "ready to hear anything the Lord has instructed you to say." Then Peter gets it not only in his head but also in his heart. He know realizes "it is true that God treats everyone on the same basis, that whoever fears Him and does what is right is acceptable to Him, no matter his race." Peter began to share the story of the Good News of Jesus. The Holy Spirit came down on all those who were listening, and that the Jewish believers who came with Peter were amazed that God poured out His Holy Spirit on the Gentiles also, just as He had done with the Jews. Peter goes on to say in Acts 11 that "I remembered what the Lord has said: John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit." The Lord gave the Gentiles the same gift to the Jews. "Who was I, then, to try to stop God?" Peter concluded.

I'm like Peter sometimes. I see things and understand in my head, filing truths and concepts away for reference. Or at least I think I'm so smart that I understand. But it doesn't register in my heart, where a response is formed. And that's part of the reason I'm in India: to better understand God's love for us, for me. "How high, how long, how deep and wide is God's love?" the Scriptures ask. My answer: I don't know. I've read that Jesus loves us and died for us. I read that, yeah yeah yeah, but do I get it? Does it register deep in my heart, where a peace-producing, thirst-quenching love relationship with God occurs? Are these just words and warm thoughts, or do they have teeth and guts?

There are several lessons that pop out to me in this story: spiritual pride, racial tolerance, simple obedience, etc. But what stands out to me is that I'm like Peter: maybe I "get" Jesus's love in my head because I've read scripture, have done Bible studies, have close friends who are believers; but it often doesn't register in my heart. For some concepts that Jesus wants us to know, maybe I've been a "cultural Christian" without enjoying, owning and living out the victory, the true good news of God's love for us, a love that overpowered death on a cross.

Who will be my Cornelius? Or, perhaps God will make me like Cornelius, where I'm at a place to genuinely say "I am waiting, really waiting, and ready to hear whatever God has to say."