Category Archives: Business

Varanasi tours

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I recently worked with a travel agency as a mute guide for an Italian group. The group already had an escort who knew Varanasi very well, but he didn’t have a tourist guide license, so I was hired to accompany the group as their mute guide. I had previously worked with many tourists as a tour guide in Varanasi, all of whom were my direct clients, but I had no experience working with a group traveling through a travel agency, so I was excited to take on this opportunity.

I was asked to meet the group at Sarnath, where they would arrive directly from the airport. When I met them, the escort instructed me to stay with him at all the entrance points of the monuments. The group first visited the Sarnath ruins, and I saw the escort explaining something in Italian for about 10-15 minutes. Then he gave the clients free time and came back to me. The clients were left to wander around the ruins on their own, which seemed like a nice idea to me.

After the ruins, we headed to the museum, where the escort explained only four statues before giving the clients more free time and returning to me. Once again, the clients were alone. I asked him if he had checked with the clients about whether they wanted his company or preferred to explore on their own. He replied that he never asks; he just tells them in a very professional way to go explore the place independently. This sounded a little strange to me. I also give my clients free time, but I ask them first. Still, I wasn’t sure if my approach was better than his, especially since the clients never seemed to complain.

After visiting the museum, we headed straight to the hotel, which surprised me because the clients did not get to visit the Buddha Temple and the Bodhi Tree—both significant places for Buddhists and Hindus. In fact, these are the only places where you see people actively participating in rituals, which seemed more interesting than visiting a museum or ruins. Nonetheless, the clients didn’t complain, likely because they were unaware of these important sites.

After checking in at the hotel, the clients had an hour to get ready for their visit to Dashashwamedh Ghat. I finally met them again at Dashashwamedh Ghat, where a boat was waiting for us. We took the boat to Manikarnika Ghat to see the cremation ground. We spent hardly ten minutes there before heading back to Dashashwamedh Ghat for the evening ceremony. After the ceremony, the clients returned to the hotel, and I went home.

The next morning, I met them again for a boat ride at 5 AM. We enjoyed about an hour on the river before walking through the narrow alleys of Varanasi and visiting Vishwanath Temple (The Golden Temple). The clients entered the temple with the escort while I waited outside. After their visit, the tour concluded. It was a unique experience for me, but I couldn’t help but think about those poor clients who spent only 20 hours in Varanasi—12 of which were in the hotel, 3 in the bus, and hardly 5 exploring a city where one could easily spend three to four days, and even that might not be enough.

After the tour, one of the clients asked the escort to take him to the old city because he wanted to photograph the people and their daily lives. The escort asked me to take him to the Dashashwamedh Ghat area but instructed me not to take the client further away and to give him some free time. We took an autorickshaw to the area, but as soon as I got off the vehicle, I asked the client if he wanted to go alone or if he wanted me to accompany him. I could see he was confused.

He asked me to come along, so I took him to Dashashwamedh Ghat, then to the vegetable market, and finally walked through the alleys where the real life of Varanasi was happening. The client was surprised, shocked, and happy. He told me he had never seen a place like the one I showed him. He took many pictures and asked a lot of innocent questions, making it clear that he didn’t know much about India. When we reached the vegetable market, he asked if it was for people living in the slums. I told him that this is how our vegetable markets are everywhere, and he said he hadn’t seen anything like it during his entire trip.

Once, I asked the escort how much the travel agency charged the clients, and I was shocked to hear that they paid about Rs. 20,000 ($500) per day per person. With six people in the group, that totaled Rs. 1,20,000 ($3,000) for just 5 hours of travel and accommodation in a Taj hotel. They didn’t even visit the Buddha Temple, the Bodhi Tree, or see people going about their daily lives along the river—experiences that I think are the most interesting for foreign visitors to Varanasi. I feel sorry for tourists like that, but maybe they prefer it that way; who knows? Nonetheless, it was a valuable experience for me to work with them.

Widows in Vrindavan

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I worked again with Irene, a graduate student from Ca’ Foscari University of Venice, whose research topic was Hindu widows. I had already assisted her in October 2009 in Varanasi, but this time she wanted to visit Vrindavan. She had heard a lot about the widows from Bengal who live there, and about the city’s importance for Hindu widows. Since I did not know much about Vrindavan myself, I contacted my friend Yashu, who lives there, and he kindly promised to help. In fact, he arranged everything for us — hotel, food, and even many interviews.

Irene had already heard about the Bhajan Ashrams (ashrams where chanting sessions are organized) and wanted to visit them to see if it was possible to interview the women there. I had also heard about widows working in these ashrams, but I had no idea how many there were or how large they could be. To my surprise, there seemed to be at least one in every alley, and some were extremely large, housing three to four thousand widows under the same roof. These ashrams are generally run by wealthy religious people. Each widow who chants for three hours receives Rs. 2, along with a small portion of rice and lentils.

The ashrams usually run two or three shifts a day — the first beginning around 8:00 a.m. and the last ending around 6:00 p.m. However, not just any widow can join. They must first register with the ashram, after which their chanting time is scheduled. There are thousands of widows in Vrindavan, most of them — over 90% — from Bengal. Many do not speak Hindi. Some live in government ashrams, some in private ones, some rent small rooms, while others sleep on the streets or along the Yamuna River. Over 95% make a living by working in Bhajan Ashrams and begging. Most widows chant during the day and then beg in the mornings and evenings, when pilgrims are on their way to temples.

Vrindavan, known as the “city of temples,” has nearly 5,000 temples and is considered one of Hinduism’s holiest places. Each year, hundreds of thousands of pilgrims visit. Because of the religious devotion of visitors, donations are common — which makes Vrindavan an unfortunate hub for begging. It was painful to see how many widows depended on it for survival. When we asked the widows why they chose Vrindavan instead of other sacred cities like Varanasi or Haridwar, most said that Vrindavan is particularly popular among Bengalis. However, few knew the reason behind this. One non-widow woman shared a fascinating story:

She said that long ago, two brothers worked as cashiers in a king’s palace. One day, while busy with their work, they ordered water with sugar. By mistake, the servant mixed salt instead of sugar. The brothers drank it without noticing, so absorbed were they in their work. When the servant confessed his mistake, they were astonished that they hadn’t realized the difference. This made them reflect: If they could be so devoted to their worldly duty, why not apply the same devotion to God?

The brothers abandoned material life and came to Vrindavan, then a forest, to meditate. Their devotion was so powerful that even the king came to meet them. When he offered them any reward, they only asked him to repair the broken stones at the ghat where they meditated. To the king’s shock, the ghat was made of precious stones that were rarer than anything in his own palace. Realizing their spiritual greatness, the king then offered them as much land as their eyes could see from one spot — and that land became Vrindavan. This, people say, is why Vrindavan is so popular among Bengalis.

Despite Irene’s efforts, we managed to interview only about ten women. Most did not speak Hindi, which limited communication. We also visited two government-run widow ashrams: one by the central government and one by the state of Uttar Pradesh. The central government ashram was more organized, a new building with 500–600 rooms and about 2,700 widows living there. At first, a government helper allowed us to sit and talk with the women. But soon, another official stopped us, insisting we needed permission from the district magistrate. A similar thing happened at the largest Bhajan Ashram. Finally, when we reached the state-run ashram, a kind security guard let us conduct interviews discreetly. He warned us not to let the officers find out, explaining that both officers there were corrupt.

According to him, officers steal from the widows’ pensions. They first demand Rs. 300 from each widow to issue a pension registration card, which is supposed to be free. Then they claim the pension takes a year to start, when in fact it begins within days. This way, they pocket the widows’ entire first-year pension. Even afterward, they keep half of the monthly pension for themselves. With about 300 widows in the ashram, he estimated that they steal around Rs. 90,000 every month, while also bribing higher officials to remain silent. I was shocked and saddened to hear this. How could anyone exploit poor widows who survive on Rs. 2 and a handful of grains?

It also explained why officials at the central ashram had tried to stop us from interviewing women — they didn’t want their corruption exposed. Because of these obstacles, we shifted focus to interviewing widows who lived independently. Many shared heartbreaking stories. Most were married very young, lost their husbands early, were denied education, and eventually came to Vrindavan. Some left home because their own children neglected them. A few Bengali women told us they stay in Vrindavan for 11 months, save money and grains, and then return home briefly to give everything to their children.

We also noticed cultural differences. Many Bengali widows did not strongly believe that widowhood was punishment for sins in past lives, while most North Indian widows did. Curiously, although North Indians often say Bengal discriminates most against widows, the Bengali women we spoke with did not feel this way. Perhaps, sadly, they have normalized discrimination to the point where they no longer recognize it as injustice. We asked about widow remarriage. Interestingly, older widows (around 70) supported remarriage, while younger widows (40–50) believed it was a sin. Younger widows felt that widowhood was divine punishment, and if they tried to escape it by remarrying, they would be punished further — even becoming widows again in the next life. Perhaps older widows, having faced loneliness, understood the value of companionship more deeply.

Later, we spoke with a Sanskrit scholar and katha speaker to learn what Hindu texts say about widowhood. She explained that scriptures list several causes for widowhood: disrupting another couple’s marriage, engaging in extramarital relationships, or even physical relations during the menstrual cycle. She insisted these rules applied equally to men and women. Interestingly, this also suggests that love marriages were accepted in Hinduism, since forcing someone into an unwanted marriage is condemned.

After spending time in Vrindavan and Varanasi, I reached one strong conclusion: widows who stay with their families and find some work, however small, live far happier lives than those who depend on ashrams or begging. The situation in ashrams is tragic, worsened by corruption and lack of accountability. In my view, the only real solution is education. If women are educated and skilled, they can seek employment, support themselves, and live with dignity. The question is: when will the Indian government finally take women’s education seriously?

Josh Massad’s World Through Music

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I’m working with a musician named Josh Massad on a project called “World Through Music,” which focuses on teaching music and other subjects through music. Josh travels globally, teaching music to children in various regions. In the U.S., he introduces American kids to African and Indian music. In Africa, he teaches Indian and American music to African kids, and currently, in India, he’s teaching African, American, and Asian music to children in Varanasi. About a month ago, Josh contacted me to see if I would be interested in collaborating on this project.

Josh with village kids

The project intrigued me, so I agreed to assist him. My role involves organizing his performances at schools throughout Varanasi. To give Josh and his project broad exposure, I arranged for him to perform at a variety of schools, including city schools, village schools, private schools, government schools, play schools, and schools run by NGOs. In total, we planned around 50 performances over 25 days, with 25 performances at village schools where children come from very poor families, 10 at NGO-run training centers for girls, 10 at city schools, and about 5 at schools run by NGOs.

Josh teaching Kanjira

One of the performances is scheduled at a school for children of sex workers in Varanasi. These children often face difficulties gaining admission to traditional schools due to a lack of residential proof and documentation about their parents. An NGO in Varanasi has started a school specifically for these children, and we will be working with them as well. Additionally, we’ve organized performances with children from my educational program and with daytime child laborers in Mehdiganj, where Lok Samiti runs evening classes for them.

Dancing with a kid

Josh carries a map and various instruments from around the world. He starts by discussing geography, teaching about the seven continents and the countries within them. He then shows these locations on a map and introduces the instruments, explaining where each one originates. It was surprising to see that many village kids had little knowledge of geography; some didn’t even know which continent India is on or could name its states. I hope Josh’s lessons will spark their curiosity and expand their knowledge.

Josh teaching map

After introducing his instruments, Josh plays them for the kids and teaches them African songs. One song, in particular, is a favorite: “Fanga Alafia, Ashe Ashe,” a welcome song from Africa. The kids love singing it and joining in with Josh. He also teaches various clapping styles and occasionally introduces basic yoga techniques. The project is progressing well, and seeing the children’s enjoyment makes me happy. However, a few teachers have questioned the relevance of teaching African songs, expressing doubt about their impact.

showing an Indonesian instrument

I don’t expect the children to master all of Josh’s instruments or geography in a single day, but I am confident that his performances will ignite an interest in world geography and music. If they glance at a map even once at home, I’ll consider the project a success. Josh is planning to make a documentary about his work next year and wants me to organize the details. He is also considering starting a mobile school in India and again hopes I can help with the arrangements. He envisions bringing musicians from various places to travel with him and teach music and geography. It sounds incredibly exciting, and I’m looking forward to being part of it.

Kids also love to play the instruments

Finally received tour guide license

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I finally received my tour guide license on the 30th, marking the end of a three-year wait. I had initially applied for it in 2006. I began preparing for the entrance exam shortly after my application, but had to halt my preparations when the Tour Guide Association of India sued the Indian government over the licensing process. The association was resistant to new entrants, fearing that their established positions were at risk. Many of the existing guides had obtained their licenses when the process was simpler, and now that the requirements were stricter, the association was obstructing the changes to protect their interests.

My brother Chandan, who works as an escort, shared a humorous anecdote with me. On his last visit to Benares, he hired a government-approved tour guide for a morning boat ride. The guide spoke at length about Benares, Hinduism, and the Ganges River, emphasizing that the Ganges is revered as a mother by Hindus. However, shortly after his talk, the guide began chewing betel and spat it out into the Ganges in front of his clients. This understandably upset the clients, who questioned whether Hindus spit on their mother. The guide had no response, which reflects the kind of professionalism that should be avoided. I hope that the training I received will prevent such unprofessional behavior.

The certificate

The tour guide training program faced numerous delays due to ongoing legal battles between the Tour Guide Association of India and the government. The association initially sued as soon as the application forms were released, causing several months of delays. After the government managed to resolve the first legal issue, they conducted the entrance exam, only for the association to sue again, leading to further delays as the case was heard in the Delhi High Court. Ultimately, the government won, and the High Court directed them to resume the training program, which finally started in August 2009 after a three-year delay.

Sana and I at convocation hall

The training was conducted at IITTM in Gwalior and lasted for 16 weeks—6 weeks of classroom instruction and 10 weeks of fieldwork. The curriculum included over 75 lectures, and I wrote a research paper focusing on the cultural diversity of Benares. The program concluded with a written exam and an interview, both of which I successfully passed. I received my certificate and now need to visit the India Tourism office in Delhi with a police verification certificate to obtain a provisional license, which will be valid for two months. After this period, I should receive my permanent license (red card). I hope there will be no further issues in Delhi.

Happy moment

Widows in Varanasi

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I worked with a student named Irine from the University of Venice who wanted to study widows in Varanasi, focusing specifically on the issue of prostitution among widows in widow ashrams. She explained that her interest was sparked by the film *Water*. Although I found the subject compelling, I was initially uncertain about finding widows to interview about prostitution. Nevertheless, the topic intrigued me, so I agreed to collaborate with her. I conducted some research and discovered a government-run widow ashram near my home.

Upon visiting, we found about 18 widows living at the ashram. The facility was in poor condition: while there was a garden and open space, the building itself appeared to be from the early 1900s and was not well maintained. An office staff member informed us that a wealthy pilgrim from Kolkata had once visited Varanasi, met a widow at a ghat, and was moved by her story. This encounter led him to fund the construction of the ashram, which was later handed over to the government. It is currently managed by the Department of Women Welfare for Uttar Pradesh.

This is the only government-run widow ashram in the entire state of Uttar Pradesh. The woman in charge of the office was receptive to Irine’s project and allowed us to interview the widows. The ashram is divided into two sections: one for widows who are able to care for themselves and another for those who are physically unfit. Each widow receives only Rs. 550 (US$ 12) per month from the government. We were told by both the widows and the office in charge that no government funds had been received for the past three months, leaving the widows without any financial support.

The office in charge mentioned that local donors, who regularly contribute to the ashram, are essential for the widows’ survival. Without these donations, the government stipend alone would be insufficient. It is difficult to imagine how one could survive on Rs. 550 a month. The widows who are capable of managing on their own live on the ground floor, while those who are older or in poor health reside on the first floor. The government provides each widow with a small gas stove for cooking, but they must prepare their own meals. The ashram has a kitchen where food is prepared for those who cannot cook for themselves, with the cooking done by office staff. There is also a washing machine for laundry, though I am unsure who operates it.

The rooms are spacious, with four beds in each. Irine was particularly interested in exploring the issue of prostitution among widows, but I was uncertain how to approach this sensitive topic with women who were all over 65, with some over 80. We decided to visit the ashram multiple times, building rapport with the widows and staff to see if any information might emerge. We also inquired about other widow ashrams in Varanasi and were directed to two additional locations. One was very close to my place, called Mata Anandmayi Ashram.

At Mata Anandmayi Ashram, we discovered that it primarily functions as a religious school for girls. The peon mentioned that there were over 20 widows there as well, but the manager was extremely uncooperative. He denied that they housed any widows, which was puzzling. We were unable to speak with anyone other than the rude manager and peon. We then visited Birla Ashram at Chowk, Varanasi, which was established by the Birla family. There were around 20 widows residing there, but we couldn’t speak with any of them on our first visit.

We encountered a woman who was not a widow but was staying there thanks to her IAS officer husband, who had arranged a room for her due to her religious interests. She was uncooperative and prevented us from speaking with the widows. She asked us to return after a few days as she wanted to consult someone in Kolkata first. We returned after a few days and fortunately, the woman was not present. We managed to speak with a widow, but she was busy at the time. She told us that most of the widows at Birla Ashram work as cooks in various households and that the ashram only provides them with a room.

The disparity in support and conditions between the ashrams was striking. Some widows, particularly those who were unable to work, seemed to receive little more than a place to stay. When a widow dies, the ashram informs the family; if no one comes, the body is cremated, sometimes traditionally and sometimes using an electric burner. The stories of the widows were both heartbreaking and enlightening. Many were forced to leave their homes due to harsh circumstances: some were expelled by their own children or daughters-in-law, while others chose to leave to avoid being a burden. A common thread among them was early marriage, with some married as young as 6 or 7 years old.

I met several women married at such a young age, and many lost their husbands by the time they were only 10, never having lived with them. One remarkable woman from Chennai, who was the most educated and articulate of all the widows we met, shared a particularly poignant story. Married at seven, she spent four years living with her parents before moving in with her husband at eleven, only to be separated from him for a year due to family traditions. After her husband’s death, she lived with her parents and later with her sister. Feeling like a burden, she initially came to Varanasi to commit suicide but was saved by a boat rower and sent to the ashram. Her story was deeply moving and highlighted her resilience.

She described South Indian widow traditions, which differ somewhat from North Indian practices. For instance, after a husband’s death, a South Indian widow’s head is shaved, and she is separated from others while sarees are thrown at her from a distance. In South India, widows are permitted to wear either white or red sarees, whereas in North India, only white is allowed. The practice of throwing sarees is not something I have heard of in North India, but considering the conditions faced by widows, it’s not entirely inconceivable.

When we asked all the widows why someone becomes a widow, they all agreed with the belief that it is due to some sin from their past life. However, they felt that the sins of widowers are not as severe. Widows are expected to follow stringent rules, such as abstaining from tasty food, not interacting with men, not going out, not wearing colorful clothes, and avoiding celebrations. Most widows believed these restrictions were necessary to atone for their sins and avoid punishment in the afterlife.

Regarding remarriage, only a few widows felt it was acceptable; most viewed contemporary widows who remarry or dress in colorful clothes negatively. The general sentiment was that widows should adhere strictly to traditional practices. The prevailing view among the widows was that they were marginalized and discriminated against, particularly in Varanasi. They are often excluded from weddings and considered bad luck. It is disheartening to see such practices, which seem disconnected from the core values of Hinduism, which I believe should emphasize equality and respect for all individuals.

This experience has taught me a great deal. The systemic issues and historical practices that have contributed to the plight of women in India are profound. While education is crucial for addressing these problems, the current state of educational and social reform suggests that change may be slow. It is clear that addressing these deep-seated issues requires not only better education but also comprehensive social and policy reforms.

Child sponsorship in Varanasi

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I recently connected with a Hungarian individual named Attila, who is a computer engineer in Hungary and volunteers with a Hungarian NGO (www.afroaid.hu). This NGO operates a child sponsorship program in Africa. Attila expressed his desire to volunteer in Varanasi, India, with plans to come next year with his wife for a year. He was particularly interested in NGOs focused on children’s education programs. I introduced him to various NGOs in the area, and he showed interest in several of them. Given my own interest in similar initiatives, I suggested to Attila that we consider starting our own program in Varanasi.

Attila was enthusiastic about this idea. He shared that he had a great experience working with children in Africa and was eager to apply his expertise to establish a similar program in Varanasi. We discussed how to initiate the program and decided to begin with some preliminary research. We visited several local schools to estimate the cost of education per child. Attila was also keen on providing one meal a day to the children to alleviate the burden of meal preparation at home. We decided to start with 30 children: 10 from the city area and 20 from the village area.

We made a trip to Mehndiganj to visit Lok Samiti, which runs an education program that Attila wanted to see. We toured Lok Samiti’s school and training centers, interacted with the children, and heard some heart-wrenching stories. Lok Samiti offers evening classes for children who work during the day, which is my favorite program among their offerings. It was striking to see children working 12-hour shifts and still attending evening classes. There were more than 30 children at the evening center.

The children were incredibly innocent and curious. They asked Attila questions about his life in Hungary, such as whether he had goats, what he grew on his farm, how he came to India, and how much money he earned. Given that these children earn about Rs. 1,000 per month, Attila found it challenging to answer their questions. We also visited some of Lok Samiti’s training centers for girls over 14, where they receive training in sewing, embroidery, dance, and basic education. The aim of these programs is to empower the girls to become self-sufficient.

We asked Nandlal Master, the president of Lok Samiti, to select 20 children from his program who are both impoverished and eager to continue their education, with supportive parents. We conducted a similar search in the city and identified 10 children from impoverished families who were interested in learning. One of them was a 12-year-old girl named Rashmi, who had previously attended an English-medium private school but had to quit due to financial constraints.

Rashmi impressed me deeply. She had attended school up to the 6th standard, and my niece, who was also a student at Rashmi’s former school, told me that Rashmi was well-regarded by her teachers. Rashmi was the only child who clearly articulated her future goals. When Attila asked her what she wanted to become, she replied, “an engineer,” and specifically, “a computer engineer.” Rashmi explained that she wanted to develop computer programs to help poor people. Both Attila and I were taken aback by such a thoughtful response from a 12-year-old.

All the children we met were eager to attend school, but many faced obstacles. Some had already stopped attending school due to financial difficulties, while others who were capable of attending better schools were stuck in government schools that offered only minimal education. We have selected a few schools and plan to enroll the children in the nearest quality school to their homes starting in March 2010. Some of the children will need basic English language training to thrive in English-medium schools. We are organizing two-hour evening classes for the selected children. With this initiative, thirty families now have hope, and I feel a strong responsibility as a local supporter.

Attila has returned to Hungary but has already secured some supporters and hopes to find more for all the children. We have decided to keep office expenses minimal until we reach 50 children. Attila and his wife will be living in Varanasi for a year and managing the program’s administrative work. We aim to forgo formal office space to ensure that all funds directly benefit the program. I am excited to be involved in this project and look forward to working closely with Attila.

Mumbai Gay Pride 2009

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I attended Mumbai Gay Pride on August 16th. This date was chosen because the organizers of the event, from the gay community, decided to celebrate their freedom one day after India’s Independence Day on August 15th. They felt that while India gained freedom on that day, the gay community had yet to achieve their own freedom. The event was organized by an NGO called Humsafar, which works with the gay community in Mumbai. I had already been in touch with Humsafar about my project, and they were very welcoming. Although I was in Gwalior for training, I took a 4-day leave and flew to Mumbai, arriving on the night of the 14th.

 

I had attended this year’s Delhi Pride on June 26th and missed having a video camera. This time, I arranged for one to record the Mumbai Gay Pride. I asked my friend Yogesh, who works in Bollywood, to help me get a camera, and he provided everything I needed. On the 16th, I went to Humsafar with a cameraman and a friend from the US named Ryan, whom I had invited to join me at Mumbai Pride. My goals were to cover the parade preparations, interview a few people at Humsafar and at the parade, participate in the event, enjoy the party, and make new contacts for future collaborations.

I was scheduled to start interviews at Humsafar at noon, but upon arrival, I found several media personnel already interviewing their team. However, they arranged for someone to show me around their office, which was impressive. They had an HIV and AIDS testing center, which I had not seen in other NGOs before. The Humsafar representative took me to the second floor where preparations for the next day’s parade were underway. About 20 people, including some hijras, were practicing dances. They had a drummer playing Punjabi dhol and a large sound system. I was surprised to see them practicing traditional hijra dance.

I spent some time observing the preparations; the enthusiasm and hard work of the performers were evident. The performers were either homosexuals or hijras who sought assistance from Humsafar. The office representative informed me that the CEO of Humsafar, Mr. Vivek Raj Anand, had just arrived and offered me the opportunity to interview him. I felt fortunate to have a 15-minute interview with him, during which he demonstrated his deep knowledge and commitment to the issues.

I believe the gay community has always existed in India, but many view it as a foreign concept. Therefore, when interviewing people about gay culture, I ask about its history in India and its presence in Hindu religious texts. I believe that understanding its historical and religious context can make it easier for people to accept and support it. My goal was to interview people and share these interviews online. I conducted the interviews in Hindi to ensure that people in India could understand them. During the interviews, one interviewee shared stories from the Ramayana and other Hindu texts that indicated the presence of gay culture even during Ram’s time.

He discussed the challenges he faced, societal discrimination, and his hopes for the future. It was enlightening to learn about the history of gay culture in India, especially within Hinduism. Mr. Anand expressed interest in having me work with the MSM (men who have sex with men) community in Benares. He offered to help with funding or projects through the UP government, which was something I was eager to pursue. However, he mentioned that Humsafar does not operate outside Mumbai and Thane districts. They could provide support such as funding or training but would not extend their work beyond these areas.

Since my NGO, Sanjeevani Booti, was not yet registered under section 12A, I would not be able to collaborate with him soon. However, Sanjeevani Booti has now completed its first year, so I can apply for this registration. Mr. Anand also mentioned his gratitude to Baba Ramdev on behalf of the gay community. Baba Ramdev challenged the Delhi High Court’s judgment on Section 377 in the Supreme Court of India. Mr. Anand believed the Supreme Court would soon rule in favor of the gay community, leading to equal rights. I share his appreciation for Baba Ramdev’s efforts.

I interviewed Mr. Anand, the manager of Humsafar, one bisexual individual, two hijras, and a few gay men. It was a valuable experience hearing their stories. Despite their different backgrounds, they faced similar issues, primarily discrimination. The Humsafar manager shared his struggle to obtain a passport with a gender marker reflecting his identity as a female or hijra. Government officials were unfamiliar with the concept of transgender identities, and he had sued the government over this issue. He is currently preparing for a gender change operation but faces obstacles due to the lack of a passport.

I also interviewed a Muslim gay man with two hijras. This was my first interview with a Muslim gay individual. He shared that his family would never accept his desire to marry a man, leaving him with the choice to either escape or remain unmarried. The hijras provided fascinating insights into their community, revealing that there are two types of hijras, each with different customs and levels of respect. I had always been confused about the distinction between “hijra” and “gay.” The hijras explained that educated people use the term “gay,” while uneducated people use “hijra.” They also discussed the challenges faced by the hijra community in India, which mirrored those faced by others I interviewed.

They mentioned the existence of two types of hijras: those who marry a hijra goddess and can live with their families, and those who bless and dance at weddings. One of the bisexual interviewees was a male sex worker. It was my first encounter with a male sex worker, and our conversation was eye-opening. He recounted his experiences and challenges, including an amusing story about mistakenly offering condoms to a policeman. The first day focused on observing preparations and conducting interviews at Humsafar. After finishing the interviews, we waited for an auto-rickshaw when I met Sourendra, a 25-26-year-old who was also gay and frequented Humsafar. We went to a litti-chokha (a famous Bihari food) party with my friend and interviewed Sourendra over dinner at 1 a.m.

I regretted bringing Sourendra to the party because his presence attracted unwanted attention from other guests. Despite the discomfort, Sourendra was open and energetic, discussing his experiences with discrimination and societal expectations. He shared an intriguing story about the existence of gays and hijras during Krishna’s time, which I had never heard before. After the parade, my friend Bijay took me to a renowned restaurant near August Kranti Marg. Following a few beers, we went to Bijay’s hotel and later to a party at a disco. The Mumbai party was distinct from the Delhi party, being organized by participants rather than the parade organizers.

Despite the Rs. 500 entry fee, the party was lively and had a larger turnout, including more lesbian couples. I drank too much and got drunk, witnessing many gay couples showing affection. The Mumbai Gay Pride seemed more organized compared to Delhi’s. There was a van with banners, posters, masks, and t-shirts, though the t-shirts sold out quickly. They also distributed bottled water and had volunteers collecting trash, making it a cleaner event. Many people watched the parade from their balconies, and some joined spontaneously. The Mumbai parade featured more transgenders and hijras than Delhi’s, with a group performing traditional hijra dance.

The parade ended at August Kranti Marg with speeches from social workers and NGO members about gay rights and future plans. I also interviewed a gay couple at the beach nearby. Regarding Section 377’s repeal, I found that everyone I spoke to was happy about it. A participant explained that such laws are crucial for societal change, and while Section 377 did not directly impact gay culture, it altered societal attitudes over time. With its repeal, there is hope for equal rights in the future, even if it may take decades. After the parade, Bijay and I went to a disco party. The Mumbai party, organized by participants, had a higher turnout and was different from Delhi’s.

Although I had to leave early for a 6 a.m. flight back to Bhopal, the party was memorable. Ryan helped me pack and get to the airport. Despite the craziness, I thoroughly enjoyed the trip, meeting new people, learning about their experiences, and establishing connections with Humsafar. They have invited me to the parade next year, and I plan to attend. My friend Sanjay, who initially thought my project was crazy, changed his perspective after hearing the interviews. He now supports equal rights for gays.

The stories I shared about gay culture in Hindu religion helped shift his view. I believe that if more people learn about the historical presence of gays in Hindu culture, acceptance will grow. The main issue behind discrimination against gays in India is a communication gap, especially regarding sex practices, compounded by the 150 years of Section 377. This law deeply affected societal attitudes, but historically, gay practices were part of Hindu culture. The British altered everything, and as we slowly address the issues they left behind, I hope we can also overcome this outdated system.

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Project for the guide training program

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After completing the classroom teaching and orientation tour, I’m now set to begin fieldwork in my local town for the next two months. Initially, I was eager to explore LGBT tourism as my project because it’s a relatively untapped area in India and would allow me to connect my NGO work and research on the LGBT community with this project. However, I had to reconsider due to advice from friends and others who cautioned against it. They pointed out that a professor’s approval can often depend on personal preferences.

Given that LGBT tourism is a new and controversial concept in India and faces significant opposition, there was a risk that my professor might not support it. This seemed plausible given the widespread negativity toward the LGBT community in India. So, I decided to shift my focus to ecotourism. I initially planned to promote the rock paintings and waterfalls in Mirzapur district. My research showed that Mirzapur, with its untapped potential for ecotourism, had no existing tours being marketed. However, just two days before I was supposed to finalize my project with the institute, I read a news article about three foreigners being robbed at a well-known waterfall in Mirzapur.

Since some parts of Mirzapur are Naxalite-affected, this raised significant concerns about safety. Promoting a destination with such risks would be irresponsible. With my initial plan off the table, my only remaining option was to focus on Benares, which I had hoped to avoid. Previous projects on Benares have mainly covered heritage, culture, and mythology—topics I wasn’t particularly excited about. Tourists today are different from those of the past; they’re more interested in social issues, society, and politics rather than just history. Thus, I chose to focus on Benares with the topic “Benares: A Place for Everyone.” My professor approved of this subject, noting that it was unique and more engaging than a history-focused project.

My interest in this subject stems from Varanasi’s remarkable diversity. Although I’m not entirely sure if it’s the most diverse city in India, it certainly has a rich mix of cultures and religions. I plan to explore how Benares serves as a significant place for Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, Jains, Sikhs, and Christians. Despite the small Christian population, there are several old churches that deserve attention. I also want to highlight how Benares, traditionally known as a city where Hindus come to die, has transformed into a vibrant hub for migrants seeking employment and a new life. This shift from a city of death to a city of life is a fascinating development that I want to investigate.

I have a lot of ideas for this project, but I’m unsure about the scope and how well I can incorporate my thoughts into the report. Nonetheless, I’m excited about the opportunity and looking forward to diving into this diverse and dynamic subject.

Guide training program – week 7

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The seventh week of the guide training program wrapped up with an orientation tour through Agra, Jaipur, and Delhi. Our first stop was Agra, where we visited four major monuments: the Taj Mahal, the Red Fort, Sikandara (the Tomb of Akbar), and Itmad-ud-Daula. With one guide for fifty participants, navigating Agra was quite the experience. The water there was notably sour, so we were advised to stick to bottled water. The city was bustling with touts constantly trying to sell something near the monuments, and we were taken to several tourist shops that were impressively large.

These shops, which also provided our meals, saw the tour as an opportunity to showcase their products. Although the items were significantly overpriced—often ten times the market rate—the quality was excellent. It was a lucrative deal for them to host two hundred tour guides at once. In Jaipur, we visited Jaigarh Fort, Amber Fort, City Palace, and Jantar Mantar. The water quality in Jaipur was as poor as in Agra. While I enjoyed most of the monuments, the City Palace stood out as particularly commercial. Only a small part of the palace was open to visitors; access to other areas required extra fees, which varied based on the visitor’s profile.

The City Palace also had its own licensing system, which meant that even government-approved tour guides had to either hire a City Palace guide or pay additional fees. The City Palace allowed various events, including birthday celebrations, for a price, and even offered the option to have the king himself welcome guests. Delhi, as expected, was chaotic. I learned that TGFI (Tour Guide Federation of India) had instructed local guides not to train us during our Delhi visit. Consequently, our institute struggled to find a guide, eventually having to hire a monument guide. TGFI’s opposition to our training program was evident, as they had previously sued the government over it. Their protest was a clear sign of their dissatisfaction.

The shops in Delhi, unlike those in Jaipur and Agra, were less accommodating. Although they organized our meals, the overall experience did not match the quality and hospitality we encountered in the other cities. Despite the challenges, the tour was valuable. I did not gain extensive knowledge due to the high guide-to-participant ratio, but the experience was still worthwhile. Looking ahead, I plan to start my career in Varanasi after obtaining my license. I intend to study the city thoroughly before considering work in other locations. Eventually, I may explore other cities, hire guides, and expand my knowledge to enhance my proficiency as a tour guide.

Guide training program – week 6

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The final week of classroom teaching has concluded, and it was a diverse and insightful week. We covered a range of topics including Jaipur, Indo-Islamic architecture, emergency procedures, gems and jewelry, Jainism, the business history of India, and project report preparation. While all the classes were informative, the one on “Things to Do in Any Emergency” stood out as the most memorable. The class was delivered by a retired Air India air hostess, and her approach was refreshingly candid.

She covered essential topics such as medical emergencies, sex, homosexuality, HIV/AIDS, and other STIs. Her openness about these subjects was unprecedented in our training. She provided practical advice on what to do if a tourist makes inappropriate sexual advances. She emphasized that while it is ultimately our choice whether to engage in such activities, if we decide to proceed, using condoms is crucial to reduce the risk of STI transmission. Her focus on HIV/AIDS was particularly notable; she shared her own experiences from her career in the service sector, highlighting the importance of safe practices.

Her discussion on homosexuality was equally enlightening. Although I was already familiar with the basics, many in the class found it new and eye-opening. She encouraged participants to embrace their sexuality and communicate openly with their families. She also discussed recent legal advancements, such as the High Court judgment supporting LGBTQ+ rights in India. She criticized the outdated belief that homosexuality is a disease and debunked the misconception that marriage to an opposite-sex partner could “cure” it.

The air hostess’s candidness about such sensitive topics was striking. In a setting where discussing sex and sexuality is often taboo, her willingness to address these issues was both bold and appreciated. The lecture was engaging and left a significant impact on everyone. On the final day of the week, all participants gathered in the institute’s auditorium for a certificate presentation. This certificate will be useful for engaging with government officials regarding our projects. Female participants were specially acknowledged on stage to encourage their participation, with the institute stressing the need for more female tour guides in the Indian tourism industry.

Overall, the week was both educational and inspiring, providing us with valuable knowledge and practical skills for our future careers.