Tuesday, September 19 Bhimbetka Caves, Bhojpur, Muslim Family

I took the bus back to Bhopal. From there, I transferred to a bus to Bhimbetka, packed with people. Bhimbetka is a small camp (not even a town), famous for its paleolithic rock shelters and cave paintings. I walked down a small deserted path in the blistering heat. I had to walk 2 km up a hill in the searing sunlight with no shade in the 90-degree midday heat. It was pretty unbearable, and I was cursing the entire way up. I legitimately thought I was going to pass out of heatstroke. My shirt was completely soaked with sweat, and sweat was even seeping through my nylon waterproof pants. In addition, half my water spilled out of the bottle. My bag kept getting heavier and heavier. So, was it worth it? Hell No! When I got there, all I saw were a bunch of faded-out stick figures drawn from colored dirt. Just kidding, actually it was pretty cool. It was actually really creepy because you have to walk through dark deserted prehistoric caves, so I quickly opted for a guide. At least it was more to make me feel safe than for a history lesson, because he knew as little English as I knew Hindi. And to make matters worse, his English vocabulary was the same as mine in Hindi, meaning there was virtually no exchange of ideas. The caves were naturally-made, but underground until the 1930’s when they were re-discovered. The rocks scooped living space out of the landscape, and red and white paintings depicted humans performing rituals and conducting warfare, buffalo, tiger, boars, and horses. The paintings were from 5,000 to 12,000 years old, making it one of the oldest places of human history. I walked to a beautiful Durga temple built into the rock, but all of a sudden the monsoon with heavy rains and thunder came, so I had to duck under a rock shelter, just as prehistoric man did thousands of years ago. I descended back to reality and had a bite to eat at a Punjabi Dhaba before catching a bus back to Bhopal. Actually, I got off at Bhojpur to see the famous unfinished Bhojeshwar Temple of the 11th century. A ramp for hauling stones and ancient blueprints etched into the ground still remain. Inside the temple is a 2.5 meter tall Shiva lingam, the largest in India. The lingam represents creative powers of Shiva with a phallic symbol, and at 2.5 meters it’s probably the biggest penis in India. And most Hindus worship it. Getting restless waiting for the bus in the tiny town, I began to walk down the endless road towards Bhopal, 29 km away. I stopped at a little stand, and wanted to watch the men play a dice game, but they motioned for me to sit away. So I instead stood up and kept walking. Although not weird in our culture, it seemed rude and inhospitable of them. Two old guys in a nice Tata Safari SUV picked me up (I think they felt bad for me). They were rich businessmen from Bhopal, into electricity and gas. The driver, a Muslim named ‘Papu Moustache’ invited me over for dinner at his home. The whole day I hadn’t eaten or planned on eating because in 1984 Bhopal had experienced a massive chemical leak at a careless American company plant, polluting all the groundwater. Although I was starving I didn’t really feel like growing three hands anytime soon. However, in my now delirious state I accepted the invitation. Papu Moustache is, simply put, a baller. His four-story house sits on half a city block, and five cars were parked in his driveway. Like most Bhopal residents, he’s a Sunni Muslim. I sat in the living room of his joint-family household. I talked to his daughter, who spoke fluent English. She said that we’re fine talking together in front of the family, but if her and I wanted to have a private conversation, it is strictly forbidden in Islam. She prays five times a day, but women are not allowed in the mosque, so she conducts prayers (with cupped hands). She’s not allowed to excel in school, at her parents’ command, because her only purpose in going to a good school is to get a good husband, not a good job. Their family has enough money so they don’t have to worry about it. But her husband must be in an equal or better social position than she is; not the other way around. She only has female friends, and does not go out for fun. While men play sports for fun and do whatever they want, she has to stay in the house. She tells me her life would be so much better if she were a man. But, as many Muslims have told me before, she justifies the situation by saying, it is God’s will. The food was really good; fried dal, spicy chicken, potatoes, curd, and huge chapati. Not many people in Bhopal are this welcoming, but her family is very open and accepting. After a round of pictures, I was driven to Bhopal Junction Station, where I caught my 9:30 train to Delhi.