CULTURE, LEARNING and TEACHING

February 5, 2010

At 6 am the world is such a canvas of tranquility. Outside my Malè window the calm pale blue seas stretch as far as the eyes can see; the skies blush with a hint of rose in the east; and azure ripples waltz gently with the white of light surf, speckled with the gold from the just-rising slant of sunlight.

As on all mornings the music to this beautiful backdrop is provided by the melodious call of the koel in the solitary mango tree that grows underneath my hotel window. I can’t see the koel but I can hear her. The plaintive sound cuts through time and space and takes me into childhood’s backyard when I heard a different koel sing in a different mango tree; and when lazy days were spent in a cloud of comfort that came from just knowing that I was loved beyond all else. The koel’s song this morning unearths those memories which speak of happy times and yet still manage to evoke a feeling of deep sadness - for the loss of childhood, the loss of innocence, and the loss of those who loved me. Yes, the koel’s song is beautiful yet fringed with pain.
 
Another sound that I have become used to is the call for prayer. Here in Malè there are mosques everywhere – in blues that match the sea and sky, and golds that match the light of the sun. There is a mosque right by my hotel and every day I hear the call for people to come to prayer – to remind them even in the midst of busy diurnal schedules of the bigger force that permeates the universe. Again there is that plaintive quality to the sound of the call – a promise of bliss in whichever form you might be searching for it, a promise of love and hope but also a reminder of loss and pain.

Joy and sorrow – the basics of human emotions - without one we can’t appreciate the other. In journeying through life we perhaps strive for both in our need to know both – just as in this moment I find myself listening for notes of love and loss in the song of the koel and the call of the muezzin.

I had found a street map of Malè with great difficulty on the internet, having been surprised at the scarcity of a city map in most of the tourist centers or hotels. The general outline map of Malè is available but not a detailed street map. I soon realized that maps are not a way of life in Malè, and street signs are not always displayed and when they are they are not easily visible. Street names seemed not to be important to local Maldivians. They use a more general sense of direction of where buildings and landmarks are and can take you to a destination but they cannot give you directions using street names to help you find your own way there.

Heading west on Bodhuthakurufaanu Magu my walk took me right along the waterfront since I wanted to catch the sunset over the Indian Ocean. I went past the various jetties for the island ferries, the island tour boats, the Coast Guard and police vessels, the fishing boats; and other supply boats that bring in most items sold in the markets because the country has to pretty much import everything. I walked past the bustling local vegetable and fruit market which obtained its produce even as it was being off-loaded from the boats; the fish market where there were pails of fish so fresh that they were still gasping for breath and struggling to get back into water; past the Customs building, the Port building, the warehouses and tiny stores all the way around until I came upon the west end of Majidhee Magu, the main artery in Malè. Right on the corner was the Vilingili hotel with its terrace-top restaurant the Raaveriya. I went up to the restaurant, got a table overlooking the ocean and the setting sun, ordered a fresh lime soda and spicy grilled tuna and sat down to enjoy the quiet transition of day into dark , marveling at the clean ocean just fifty feet from me, the boats on the sea and the sun sinking lower behind a distant island. When I left the restaurant I crossed the island in the darkening dusk, walking east on Majidhee Magu until I got to Sosun Magu where I turned left toward my hotel.

On one of my walks along the jetties I turned left onto Chandhanee Magu and passed the souvenir stores. There are some really interesting shops on Chandhanee Magu between Majidhee Magu and Bodhuthakurufaanu Magu, but closer to the latter. I went into one of the stores and ended up buying some coral and shell jewelry. After all, the entire country of The Maldives consists of coral islands and this was the place to buy coral! Apart from coral the country is also the tuna capital of the world.

On another day my walk along Fareedhee Magu took me through a very historical and political section of the city: Some of the landmarks I saw were: the Mulee-Aage, the President’s official residence which was built by Sultan Shamsuddeen III just before the first world war; the Hukuru Miskiiy, or Friday Mosque built in 1656 whose walls are made of coral stones and whose grounds hold several ancient tombstones in memory of past nobles and sultans; the Munnaaru, a white minaret built in 1675 from where the chief muezzin of Malè called the faithful to prayer; the Medhu Ziyaarath which is the shrine of Abu al Barakaath Yusuf al Barbari who is believed to be responsible for converting Maldives to Islam in 1153; the Islamic Center, opened in 1984, with its grandiose shining golden dome and a mosque that can hold 5000 worshippers; and the Sultan Park and National Museum. It was interesting to see that one of the buildings on the street housed the 100-year old Scouts Club of The Maldives!

Malè may be tiny but it is a uniquely historical, urban, thriving, busy port in its own right, with a large dose of friendly hospitality, youthful energy, and much optimism for the future…

February 1, 2010

As the plane approached Malè International Airport it seemed as though it would land in the water itself when suddenly the runway appeared from almost within the sea...

The waters here are so blue in every possible shade – sky blue, sea blue, deep ocean blue, azure, turquoise, aquamarine, sea green, jade, teale, sapphire blue, blue green. The shallower the water the lighter it is in color, with little black fish darting around just under its transparent surface. The dhoni or the water taxi carried us from the airport - which is essentially only an island with a runway and the terminal - to the city island of Malè about half a mile away. Even close to the jetty the waters were crystal clear and an amazing pale pearly turquoise in color.

The people are friendly and helpful and very conversant in English and even in Hindi. There is more English on the streets here than in Sri Lanka because the medium of instruction in schools is English whereas in Sri Lanka it is Sinhala. The Maldives were never colonized and the underlying currents of colonialism that are so prevalent in India and Sri Lanka are not experienced here.  The Maldives is as Muslim as Sri Lanka is Buddhist and India is Hindu. If the temples in India and the shrines in Sri Lanka were profuse and beautifully constructed, then the mosques in the Maldives are no fewer in number and no less beautiful. My travels have been interesting from the perspective of spirituality and religion as I have tried to understand the influences of Hinduism, Buddhism and Islam on society and schools in each of these three countries – India, Sri Lanka and the Maldives.

For photos click here.

Established in the 1st century BC as the capital of Sri Lanka at the time when Buddhism from India spread southwards, Anuradhapura is home to the Sri Maha Bodhi tree – the oldest known uncloned tree in the world with a definite date of planting. This tree was planted in 249 BC from a cutting from the Bodhi tree in Bodh Gaya in India under which the Buddha found enlightenment, and which was brought to Sri Lanka by the daughter of Emperor Ashoka.This large bo or bodhi tree is closely guarded and protected by a shrine built all around it.

On the evening that I went to see the tree there were hundreds of visitors -mostly Buddhist monks, nuns and civilians. I offered the pink lotus flowers I had bought outside and added them to the heaps of water lily, lotus and jasmine blooms already there. There was a special feeling in being so close to one of Buddhism’s oldest legacies. Amidst the quiet hum of chanting and praying I walked around the circular path trying to take in the significance of this experience. I couldn’t help but send up my own fervent prayers, earnestly believing that the collective vibrations of this peaceful and positive moment were undoubtedly impacting the vibrations of the larger universe in some way.

Not wanting to leave but having to – such are the pressures we bring upon ourselves when we deal with deadlines and the time-money equation – I walked to the beautiful temple that stood close to the tree, the Ruwanwelisaya which is another very sacred site in Anuradhapura. This stupa is an incredibly tall monument, standing at 300 ft (92 m) and with a circumference of 950 ft (292 m). I stood below it and marveled at the enormity and perfection of the simple yet massive white dome that towered above me. It was dusk and the evening prayers were in session and once again the peaceful chanting of the monk rendered a meditative stance in those who were present. There was an almost involuntary willingness on my part to set aside thoughts of my material life in this material world, allowing my mind to dwell upon the hardest question we choose to ignore - was I doing with my life what I was supposed to be doing with it in regard to its relationship with the universe?

I got into Anuradhapura around 4pm and went straight to the guesthouse. My camera battery had died down and I needed to recharge it before doing any more touring. The guesthouse was beautifully designed and situated right on the edge of a huge lake. It was run by a Sri Lankan woman who has lived in Canada for several years. After a long time I met someone on my travels who spoke like I did and thought like I did and felt like I did – a woman who looked South Asian but thought North American - a refreshing touch of home in the middle of rural Sri Lanka. We chatted over a cup of tea and she shared with me the book she was currently reading - Ekhart’s The Power of Now - and I shared with her the book I had been carrying with me - Hawkins’ Transcending Levels of Consciousness…

It’s 6am. I’m sitting in bed and writing. Daylight is just beginning to appear and through the french doors in my room the lake becomes visible in the pale light of dawn. My balcony overlooks this beautiful and peaceful sight – the large lake surrounded by trees, the morning call of birds that I cannot yet see, the grey slightly overcast sky whose color exactly matches that of the lake waters blurring the boundaries between earth and ether, the absence of any sounds that are the result of human inventions. I can clearly visualize the meditative auras of a thousand Buddhist monks who might have sat in these gentle forests and along this peaceful lake a thousand years ago in pensive silence. I am in Anuradhapura, one of the most sacred sites for all Buddhists, one of the ancient capitals of the Buddhist world in Sri Lanka.

Anuradhapura – flat lush land covered with ancient lake-like reservoirs and emerald green paddy fields, lake after lake teeming with water lilies and lotuses, and countryside dotted with hundreds of white-domed stupas. Huge buddhas rise up suddenly and unexpectedly from behind clumps of  bo trees and atop rocky mounds, towering above the mostly flat landscape, appearing to be levitating high above the human world, occupying that in-between space between heaven and earth which always seems so serene, so spiritual, so peaceful.