I was the recipient of another cultural tradition here: that of honoring the teacher. When I was the keynote speaker at Badruka College at the graduation ceremony of a workshop for librarians learning theory and practice of automated library systems, I was treated with tremendous respect.
This was a wonderful interchange with some leaders in the library profession in Andhra Pradesh as well as the teacher of the workshop from Gujurat. Students, other faculty from the college, administrators, PhD students all participated. I was escorted in the taxi by leaders of the college who wanted more time to discuss important issues. When I gave one of the IT faculty a CD of our Focusing on Assignments project, he would not accept it until I autographed it. Several students also wanted my autograph and my "visiting card" (aka business card) after my talk. I also received flowers and a plaque from the director at the end of the ceremony. Not only do Indians honor their teachers, but they also give status to age, and in this situation, I have both. The kindness, appreciation, and understanding of my message made me very glad that this connection came up.Yesterday I expressed interest in visiting temples while I'm here, so in a couple minutes it was arranged. Smriti's grandmother was the perfect person to take me. Temples can be anywhere in India. I have seen several interspersed with stores right in the middle of traffic. Apparently, that's very common. Jyotsna first took me to the family temple in a nearby neighborhood where we made offerings, received blessings and made a final arrangement for prasad for one of the wedding events. Then the god of money and I met face to face (my first experience using the ATM in India) and after a couple of tries where I used the wrong card, then used the wrong password, it worked and prosperity (thank you Lakshmi) and I are once again linked. Then, back home to be escorted by Grandma via a hired auto-rickshaw to the beautiful marble temple for Vishnu at the top of the hill. This was quite an experience on a busy holiday, lots of people climbing the steps barefoot to the various "stations" until reaching the inner chamber.
The silence and power there were powerful. Grandma explained all the outside carvings of the 10 incarnations of Vishnu. I would have missed so much going on my own. We met someone in line from Poona who at the very end, found us again and asked to have our picture taken together. It was only at the end that it occurred to me that I was the only white person in the sea of people who were there. 
The last temple was another auto-rickshaw ride away -- grandma's temple. She had a puja done in my honor at Durga's shrine. I could feel the effect immediately in my heart and Being. This temple was just off a busy highway, but while inside, we didn't even notice the sounds of traffic. Inside is a relative word, since it is open air and there is no physical barrier that would diminish the sounds.Yesterday, we spent in the old city, the Charminar, the Muslim part of the city. It's a big shopping area -- everything from bangles to scouring pads to clothes. We got more accoutrements for the Mehendi celebration before the wedding.
The feel in this part of the city was different, still colorful and busy, but perhaps a more serious tone. My connection to today's theme is this: it's the first time I've experienced beggars who were persistent. My "gods" were my family who flanked me on all sides to protect me as we moved through the streets. May you also feel the divine in yourself and everyone.
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