I don't mind taking tiring red-eye flights. I love sunrises. By the way, the guy sitting next to me at the internet cafe in Delhi just let out a loud fart.
On Saturday, October 15th, I left Rome in the evening and arrived in Mumbai on Sunday at 8:00am (had a short layover in Cairo). I had another flight to Hubli, a small city in southwest India, at 6:30pm. While I was waiting and watching men resting their shoeless feet on the chairs, a security guard made everyone move to another section because of a suspicious package left in my area.
The squad came out in full gear and with their dogs. They thoroughly checked the packages and determined that they were harmless. I felt a bit safer so I took a nap. After I woke up, I spent the next three hours talking to an Indian man sitting next to me who was also waiting for an evening flight. He works in Abu Dhabi for an offshore drilling company. He works for 48 days and goes home to visit his wife and son for 21 days. We talked about a variety of things, including about life and death. He told me one of the most memorable lines from my trip: "Love isn't about expecting it in return. Love is about giving, and if all you do is give, you won't be sad if you lose that person."
My family has a close relationship with monks at a Tibetan monastery and I've been sponsoring and writing letters to a monk for several years so I came to Mundgod to spend time with them and to meet my pen pal. The monastery is in the middle of a forest that was cleared out for Tibetans who resettled in India following the 1959 Tibetan uprising against China. One of the older monks who is now deceased fled Tibet in 1959 and spent three months traveling on foot from Tibet into India. He didn't have a map or compass and used divination rituals to determine the path. Carrying only enough food to last him one month, he relied on food donated from the villages that he passed through.
The bathrooms are like the ones I used in Vietnam. There are no tubs or shower stalls so the water gets the entire bathroom wet. I used the bucket to hand wash my clothes.
Housing for monks.
Older houses.
The street by my guesthouse and monks' houses.
Cows roam freely and enter the monastery grounds from time to time to search for food. The cows belong to Indian locals who are too poor to feed them so the monks feed the cows everyday. I saw a lot of cows eating trash so I avoided eating meat the rest of my time in India.
The area I stayed in has several monasteries that house a total of 13,000 monks of all ages and Indian background. Younger monks attend school to learn the Tibetan language and grammar, English, math and dharma.
The interior of a prayer hall.
Every prayer hall contains a Buddha statue in the middle of the back wall.
In Tibetan Buddhism, the prayer hall contains a room for the protector of the hall who wards off evil spirits.
The library of the school for younger monks.
Monks take off their flip flops before entering class and other rooms.
They practice writing in Tibetan using wood sticks dipped in ink.
The kitchen has ginormous cooking equipment.
Monks eat this bread everyday.
Shanu, my tour guide.
Mari, the pet dog at Ngari monastery. Many stray dogs walk around India. All of them are sad looking.
Monks debate the dharma at night.
Everyday I sprayed myself with insect repellent. I was tempted to kill the insects in my room but I held back since I was on Buddhist grounds.
Several Tibetan camps housing refugees and Tibetan Indians are near the monastery. I visited a housing area for old people. They spend most of their days sitting around and praying. Above, a woman spins a prayer wheel.
Indians live in the same space as Tibetans.
A seven-year-old monk reciting prayers. Many families send their second born sons into the monastery at a young age so they could learn Tibetan or because they can't afford to raise their sons. This monk wanted to know why my hair is long.
A teacher checking the students' work. Many adult monks are responsible for caring for three to four younger monks. It's basically like being a single father.
I tried asking in Tibetan the names of the children but they just look at me blankly and run away. The only reason they're posing for me is because I bribed them with candy.
After they're done with school, they spend time running around and playing tag. They don't have any toys so I bought them balloons and their faces lit up.
I arm wrestled a 5-year-old. Later that night he was running around and fell and broke his arm.
The monks always eat on the floor.
Kunchuk and Lobsang cooked all of my meals. They didn't want me to eat monastery food and insisted that I eat the food that they cooked.
The kids nicknamed this monk Rambo. He is bigger than most monks.
I spent most of time with Tashi, talking about dharma.
I miss these kids. Some will grow up and stay in the monastery while others will return to become lay people again. I'm not sure if I will ever see them again, but I will never forget their smiles.
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