A month in the life of Woodstock: The Dalai Lama, human log fluming, and cross country (not all at the same time)

The Dalai Lama at Woodstock


The DL laughing at Woodstock on Sunday
Pic: Phuriwat Chirapisit (Fuse)

After weeks of planning in my department and to-ing and fro-ing, His Holiness the Dalai Lama came to Woodstock on Sunday (September 16). It was his fourth visit to the school since he was exiled from Tibet in 1959, and he has long term links with the area, as Mussoorie was his first port of call after he left Tibet before moving to Dharamsala.

As communications associate at the school I had the job of welcoming press and chaperoning our student photographer Fuse during the event, so we got a great view of his arrival, while the rest of the school was locked up in the gym. Surrounded by a huge security entourage, the video below shows him coming up the school ramp, and you can see me shaking his hand and saying "a very warm welcome" (sorry it's on its side but when I rotate it I lose the sound).

I also got to ask him a question later during the Q&A session, what does he feel about the current situation in Tibet's capital Lhasa, which is being rapidly China-fied, to which he gave a very diplomatic answer, at one point thanking the Communists for helping Tibetans develop more character as a result of their struggles.


HH the DL with WS Principal Dr Long

As for the second part of my question, does he still work out (I read he uses a treadmill everyday), I did not get an answer! Perhaps it got lost in translation.

My orginal question was going to be "What football team do you support", but much to Kirsten's relief I didn't ask this. My sources tell me he supports Manchester United (boo).


He is certainly quite a character and had us all in fits of laughter at times. He's a bit like a cuddly grandfather. His speech was at times interesting, at times hilarious (at one point he turned round to ask his assistant what he was supposed to be talking about!), at times difficult to understand because of his accent, but the overriding themes seemed to be show love and compassion, don't view people through the lens of race or religion but look for our common humanity, and develop a positive mental attitude. All good things.

From a Christian perspective it was interesting he admitted he had no special powers to heal or bless. Ultimately he said one has the power within oneself to change, a difficult concept for Christians who believe in an relational creator God and the inherent sin inside us which we cannot ever overcome apart from Christ.

All in all a fantastic, slightly surreal day, and certainly a once-in-a-lifetime experience. There is a great piece by a visiting journalist Joanna Sugden on the day here: The Dalai Lama does Woodstock



Log blog

It was Kirsten's birthday earlier this month, which coincided with our two-thirds of a year wedding anniversary, so I whisked her away to a lovely hotel for the weekend. We were staying just outside Dehradun near the Tons River, an area which we soon discovered was a birdspotters paradise, with numerous species flying around the beautiful gardens of the hotel, including a...er...red bird, a yellow bird, and a green and blue one (ornithology never was my strong point!).

We walked down to the river on both days which were sunny, and were able to swim, despite it being quite shallow.



Being an adventurous soul making the most of the great outdoors, and inspired by the thought that my absent bros-in-law would have done it (Marks Bradby and Oden take a bow), I decided to brave the strong current and get up close and personal with the river. Sadly I didn't have a surf board, but I found human log fluming was quite fun, particularly when my butt wasn't scraping against the stones on the bottom.

Kirsten had a go too, and although our wedding rings got quite battered, my wife assures me this is all testament "to the rich tapestry of our marriage". Watch me go on the video (above)!


Cross country challenge: I've still got it!



Still got it: Ed running in the red of Merlins

It was the school interhouse cross country tournament earlier this month, and almost 20 years after my last cross country run, I was determined to take part and rack up some points for my house Merlins (a bird, the other houses are Condors and Eagles).

I decided to run with the Grade 9 boys, the year we are advisers to, so that meant a two-mile trek round the chukkars (circles) at the top of the hill here.

It's fair to say my wife didn't have the utmost confidence in me, particularly as my earlier attempt to run at altitude had ended with my lungs almost exploding.

It is really tough running at this altitude, and I did have to stop and walk a few times, but I was pleased to finish the course in just under 25 minutes.

Amazingly Merlins, who in recent years have underachieved in the sporting arena, won the entire tournament, so my efforts were not in vain.

Now I just have to decide whether to run the Mussoorie half marathon in November...if so I really better start training sharpish!

 

Jai Hind! Indian Independence Day

Jai Hind! (Victory to India!) My first Indian Independence Day

The Indian flag is raised during the ceremony in the school gym

Two years ago I was a singleton in London stuck in the daily grind of the rat race, and wasn't even in touch with Kirsten. On Wednesday I stood in the school gym next to Kirsten, my wife, wearing a kurta (long shirt/dress that Indian men wear) singing the Indian national anthem, as part of the flag raising ceremony for the 65th year of Indian independence!! It felt surreal how quickly things have changed...who'd have thought I'd have ended up the foothills of the Himalaya in India!

It was a great day, and you can read more about it and see photos in the article I wrote for the school website here.

The Indian national anthem, entitled Jana Gana Mana, is rather challenging for an Englishman to learn, but I've just about mastered the first line. It was composed and scored by Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore in Sankritised Bengali. I've put the words below with a translation, it basically goes through different regions of India...why not have a go at singing it...this YouTube video should help you sing along, it sounds like someone singing it accompanied by their Casio keyboard in their bedroom.

What's funny about the anthem is that the end note seems to leave it hanging...I'm informed by a musician here it ends on a fourth...so it sounds unfinished...like it needs a final line which never comes. It's a bit like ending God Save the Queen on "long to reign over us". Have a listen to the link above and see if you agree.

National Anthem of India

Jana gaṇa mana adhināyaka jaya he
Bhārata bhāgya vidhātā
Pañjāb Sindhu Gujarāṭa Marāṭhā
Drāviḍa Utkala Baṅga
Vindhya Himāchala Jamunā Gaṅgā
Uchhala jaladhi taraṅga
Tava śubha nāme jāge
Tava śubha āśhiṣa māge
Gāhe tava jaya gāthā
Jana gaṇa maṅgala dhāyaka jaya he
Bhārata bhāgya vidhāta
Jaya he, jaya he, jaya he
Jaya jaya jaya, jaya he.

English translation

Thou art the ruler of the minds of all people,
Dispenser of India's destiny.
Thy name rouses the hearts of Punjab, Shindu,
Gujarat and Maratha,
Of the Dravida and Orissa and Bangla;
It echoes in the hills of the Vindhyas and Himalayas,
mingles in the music of Jamuna and Ganges and is
chanted by the waves of the Indian Ocean.
They pray for thy blessings and sing thy praise.
The saving of all people waits in thy hand,
Thou dispenser of India's destiny.
victory forever!

Greetings of the day! I love Indian English!

Dear Sir/Ma'am,

Greetings of the day! I saw that fellow last week and he has told me to do the needful. Trust you will be able to tell me your timings for the train to Delhi. I must warn you there is a bifurcation at Saharanpur where the train will change direction. What to do? If you can avail yourself of the itinerary and tell me the good name of your wife I will proceed to make the booking, otherwise you may need to prepone, as I'll be out of station next week.

I'm pushing off shortly so kindly revert.

Thanks and regards,

Ranjeet Singh

I've made up the above but it is similar to some of the communications I've received from our travel agent in Delhi. Indian English still uses a number of archaic or unusual words which are delightful to the ear. My father in law tells me "good name" is a direct translation of the Urdu word for name. It certainly makes some conversations feel like a throwback to a bygone era!

Kirsten also receives some interesting communications in her role as admissions director at the school, this is one that came from Thailand recently...looks like it came straight through Google Translate!

hello! yes i giel foe fungus my name is *&^%$ please as i haers to have a person say that the school where India study excellent i will feel like to go to the school if the teacher will come to Thailand helps to contach with seek me bot to letter at I want to go to school very there the will teacher come to speak or feeshness that have interesting substance about the education pleasa now istays mookdahan is studyying the primary school level studies yere that 5 me will go to while 6 graduate of theolongies are help answer with Thank yes


Where is the Monsoon?

We've had a bit more rain in recent days but the Monsoon is still light compared to previous years. Everywhere is green and mossy which is beautiful, and when the mist lifts there are great views of the hills around, with clouds floating in the valleys. Below are some great shots of the Monsoon by two of my colleagues Amy and Abe.




Great shot of mist in the rainforest PIC: ABE OKIE

Mist hangs over the valley looking down from Mussoorie PIC: AMY SEEFELDT

Mossy walls on the chukka PIC: MY DARLING WIFE



Bethany, Kirsten and me holding packet of cornflakes, in atmospheric Monsoon mist Pic: ABE OKIE

More Olympic spirit please footballers

The English football season started this weekend; it seems a bit too soon after the Olympics, when we were all inspired by the fantastic spirit, determination and guts displayed by the Olympic athletes, many of whom had been training for years for this one shot at glory. We were inspired by Mo Farah and Jessica Ennis, and also enjoyed the gymnastics and diving. London did us proud!

Such a refreshing change from the lying, cheating and overpaid footballers in the Premier League, they really could learn a lot about sportsmanships from their Olympic counterparts. Saying that though I still watched the Liverpool - West Brom game with the boys at school. Thanks to the school we all have satellite TV, and I can watch five Premier League games a weekend, a couple from the Championship, live French, Spanish and German games (happily for Kirsten, I don't!).

I also watched the Test Match from a blazing Lords as the Monsoon rain fell. Very bizarre watching the cricket in sun-drenched England as we shiver in the rain here in India.

Landslides and the Monsoon

Workers inspect the damage after the landslide outside our house

Slip land-sliding away!

So we arrived back in Mussoorie a week ago (gosh I'm becoming Americanised by Woodstock starting sentences with so!). It is Monsoon season for the next couple of months, which effectively means we are living in a cloud, and it rains incessantly. Apparently though this is a very light Monsoon compared to previous years, and we have had some clear periods and even some sun. But it is still very damp, difficult to dry clothes, and miserable for sun worshippers (such as my wife). It also means there are more spiders, scorpions and leeches sharing our humble abode.

Talking of our house, the other night at about 5am we were awoken by a huge rumbling which seemed very close to our home. We thought it was strange but were too tired to go and investigate, so turned over and went back to sleep. The next morning we got up and found a group of men in our garden area (I use the term garden loosely). I groaned and went outside to complain, fearing more disturbances from builders who had plagued our lives last semester. I was politely requested to look at a large landslide which had occured, stopping just metres from our house. That shut me up pretty sharpish!

Last term a huge amount of earth was dumped in our garden to fill a hole, this was then saturated with the Monsoon rain. This earth was pushing against a holding wall which could not take the weight...hence the landslide. The good news is that noone was hurt, and our house has strong foundations and should be fine (famous last words). But as the photo below shows, it was a bit close for comfort!

The view from our window!

Not pret-a-porter

You know you are back in India when red-uniformed porters try and carry your luggage at railway stations. These guys have an irritating tendency to board a train just as it arrives at your destination thereby precluding all passengers from alighting. They then try and grab your suitcase and carry it for a fee. Getting on or off a train is already tricky as often the whole extended family of Indian passengers board a train to say goodbye, clogging up the corridor, even though they are not travelling. These porters do offer a useful service but will often try and charge foreigners an inflated fee. On this occasion I gave them a firm "nehi donyevard" ("no thanks") as we did not require their services, although my conscience was piqued when one of them opined: "If you people do not use us how will we survive?"

Indian bookworm

I am enjoying reading Indian novels and books on the country while being here. Anything by William Dalrymple is great, currently I am reading Kirsten The Age of Kali which is very informative. We were interested to read that the city of Lucknow used to be one of the cultural centres of India, but sadly has been in decline over the last 50 years. Some of the religious violence which has taken place in recent years is also shocking to read about.

I enjoyed White Tiger by Aravind Adiga and I'm loving A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. Set in 1970s Mumbai during the Emergency period, when the Government ruled by decree, it paints an illuminating portrait of India as the four characters from different backgrounds struggle to survive in a modernising India. The book captures the ghastly injustice and violence of the caste system, the grim reality of life in a slum, and the values and priorities of Indian families. It is still remarkably pertinent to Indian life today, and I would heartily recommend it.

I also read One Hundred Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseni, the follow up to the Kite Runner, but that is set in Afghanistan. It's a great, but somewhat depressing, read.

Power problems

Some of you have asked if we have been affected by the recent power cuts affecting most of northern India. Fortunately Woodstock has generators so we have not been had any blackouts, but the nearby town of Mussoorie has been. My brother-in-law pointed out that while many well-off Delhi dwellers were complaining their air conditioning was not working, hundreds of millions of Indians still do not have access to electricity. Makes you realise how lucky we are.

Highway On My Plate

Last term as part of my job I helped facilitate* the visit of a film crew from popular Indian food show Highway On My Plate to the school. You can watch the 20-minute programme online, it gives a great snapshot of Woodstock life and the beautiful campus, and if you watch carefully, you may spot me lurking in the background!

*I use this term ironically. Obviously in my job I also stovepipe out our key messages to our relevant stakeholders etc etc...

Random observations from India

My first semester at Woodstock School in India is almost over. Here, in no particular order, are some observations on life in India.

Incessant car horns

As I write this every minute or so the peaceful mountain air is punctuated by the sound of a car hooting. This is because hooting is an inherent and normal part of driving in India, as normal as indicating or checking one's rear view mirror (although incidentally those driving disciplines don't get much of a look in here). Drivers basically use the horn as a warning to other drivers as they approach a bend: why bother slowing down when you can just "blow horn", words which emblazon many a truck. I'm always amazed there aren't more accidents on bends as one sees two cars or the numerous scooters approaching one another at breakneck speed, but somehow it seems to work out, and I've yet to see a crash.

Blow horn: Oh OK if you insist. A typical message on an Indian lorry.

Lack of personal space

Personal space as a concept doesn't seem to exist in India. This can be difficult for the westerner, particularly on a train journey, when playing Bollywood movie music at full volume in a crowded carriage is positively encouraged. Or if you try and sit on your own in a park people will come and sit right next to you. I guess many people here have grown up in large families in cramped homes, and personal space is not an option. I guess it highlights how cossetted some of us have become.

Hot work for coolies

Coolies are the men here who carry and transport stuff around on their backs. They deliever anything from shopping to fridges, which make them look like giant ants as they lug items much bigger than their body weight. They work extremely hard and often walk long distances with their heavy loads, which they tie round their heads to help ease the burden. What's depressing is the tip we sometimes give them for the delivery is probably larger than the sum they're paid to do this gruelling job.

Workmen watching on

It's felt like we've lived on a building site this semester as work has gone on for months in our garden. Most days we have a team of workmen turn up to shift earth from one side of the house to the other; then the next day they come back and move it back to where it was before. What I've noticed is that while one or two guys do some work, there will always be another two, three, four or five men just looking on (see photo below for example). This seems to be the case in the majority of labouring situations I've seen. Why work when you can watch on?

Workmen ratio of 2:5 of those working:sitting around

Doesn't matter if you're brown or white

There are adverts everywhere for skin whitening cream; it seems many Indians want to be whiter as lighter skin is considered more attractive. Meanwhile us white folk always want to be browner. Funny eh, and somewhat tragic none of us are happy in the skin we are in.

Cheeky monkeys

I rang my sister the other day and she was paying a fortune to take her family to Colchester Zoo. Here we don't need to pay for the wildlife, most days we see rhesus and langur monkeys on the way in to work. They are often very cheeky monkeys, trying to steal food and even swimming in the school pool. Contrary to my wife's advice, I try and stand up to the monkeys if they are being aggressive, insisting we assert the natural order of man versus beast. So far this policy seems to be working, and hopefully I won't get beaten up by a marauding monkey anytime soon.

I'm heading back to Blighty soon so this'll be my last blog for a while. All the very best, look after yourselves, and take great care. Edster

Dog blog from India

Dog blog from India

A mass of mutts in Mussoorie. Photo: My dear wife

Wherever you go in India there are dogs everywhere. Scrawny, emaciated mutts lie on the edge of the road or scavenge around in rubbish.

You can't help but feel sorry for the dejected-looking dogs, frequently told to "Hut" ("Go away") by all and sundry as they struggle to survive.

Many of them limp around and are injured, probably from being hit by vehicles, but there is little hope any of them will receive veterinary care.

It's a far cry from the pampered pooches in the west who have the luxury of a daily walk, regular feeds and a kennel. It makes you realise just how ridiculous and extravagant the whole concept of designer dogs in the west is - where celebrities give them pedicures or put them up in luxury pet hotels.

Some of the kids here at Woodstock have helped to set up a dog shelter to look after stray dogs in the vicinty, which will also have a sterilisation programme to stop the increase in strays. It's a worthy scheme but feels like something of a drop in the ocean for the whole country.

I guess in a country when so many people go hungry and eke out an existence it's not surprising dogs are left to roam the streets, and there's little sentimental attachment to such animals.

The coolest dog in India

In the meantime I'll try and give big dog love to any canines I encounter on my travels. The other day we almost ran over one of the downcast dogs as we tried to park the scooter, so I gave him some leftovers from our meal that night.

But I won't be stroking any of these dogs I'm afraid to say. Having just read that a woman in the UK died from rabies after being bitten by a dog in south east Asia, I'll just toss them the odd morsel and avoid any dog dentures.


Finally: my wife gets footy

On a totally unrelated subject I can confirm my wife has finally understood my passion for football. After years of incomprehension as to why I could spend so much time, money and emotional energy on perennial underachievers Southend United and 22 men chasing a cow's bladder around a field, Kirsten finally experienced the wonder and amazement of football.

To be fair the Southend games she's accompanied me to have been two of the worst football matches I've ever experienced (most recently Southend 0-1 Bradford, Dec 2011 - a result that cost us automatic promotion).

But football fell into place for her during the culmination of the English Premier League season when Manchester City won the title in extraordinary circumstances.

As you probably saw, City were trailing QPR 2-1 with just four minutes to go, needing two goals to win the title. It looked like they had blown what should have been an easy win, and their chance to win their first title in 44 years, and get one over Manchester United. Kirsten was in tears as she saw all the crying Man City fans on the TV.

Then incredibly Dzecko and Aguero scored two goals in the final few minutes, and in an incredible finale City had come back from the dead. We were jumping around embracing each other in the most amazing climax to a league season in years, possibly ever.

At long last Kirsten had experienced the joy and despair football can bring, and that Sunday night she finally got a glimpse of that rush of emotion when the ball hits the back of the net, gaining an insight into the profound and somewhat eccentric mind of the football fan.

India's uneven platforms

Many of you will know I'm a bit of a trainspotter, so I've enjoyed travelling round India on its excellent and efficient railway system.

My wife Kirsten and I took the sleeper train from Mumbai to Goa for our honeymoon which was a very cheap alternative to flying, and gives you a far better snapshot of Indian life than taking to the skies.

As you travel through both cities and rural areas there is never a dull moment, as you see people (often women) working in the fields, kids playing cricket on any scrap of open space, or even in the middle of a busy road, and others going about their daily ablutions (the luxury of privacy is not an option for them).



Indian railway stations are a microcosm of society. There are people everywhere, many sleeping on the platforms waiting hours for a connection. But many sleeping there because that is their home. Railway platforms are a magnet for the crippled and disabled in Indian society. This makes waiting at a station an uncomfortable experience for the western traveller.

You are frequently approached by the poor and lame, begging for money or food. Sometimes there are men walking on their hands in a scrunched up crouching position because they cannot use their legs. They also live on the station, rejected by a system where they cannot afford healthcare. Seeing people like this makes you want to cry.

This is when you face the difficult decisions on how to respond. Do I engage with the person, compared to whom I have riches beyond their imagination? Do I ignore them and not make eye contact, because I'm fed up with being hassled in India?



It's a difficult dilemma for every westerner in India. We had an excellent devotion at Woodstock School recently, where former teacher Andy Matheson, who is international director for Christian charity Oasis, and has a wealth of experience of working with the urban poor in India, urged us to try and personalise the situation. Ask the person their name, engage them in a conversation, and try and communicate Christ's love through a chat. This could be the only positive interaction they have had in days.

But I won't say I have always been able to do this, after long, tiring train journeys, the default position is often to try and ignore the immense poverty that is all around. It's something which challenges one's philosophical and spiritual convictions.

I try and have a bunch of bananas with me when travelling, as these serve as a useful thing to give out. But I realise this will not solve this person's long term predicament.

So even for an avid trainspotter like me, it's not always a laugh a minute travelling around this amazing and diverse country on the train.

Pretentious, moi? Evidemment, oui.

In a past life I used to criticise anyone who started a blog. "It's so pretentious", was my plaintiff cry, yet here I am years later, starting one of my own.

Anyway, apologies for the hypocrisy, I hope you will find this interesting and an insightful insight (did I really just write that?!) into our life here at Woodstock in the amazing country of India.

Anyway, my first post is one I did for the school which I'm just going to copy and paste here, enjoy.

New Kid on the Block

I felt a sickness in the pit of my stomach last month as I arrived for the first day of the new school semester. Eighteen years after I left high school in the UK, once again I was the new kid on the block, this time at Woodstock School, India’s top international boarding school situated in the foothills of the Himalayas.

Like many of the students at Woodstock, I was far from home in a new country and a foreign culture. It all seemed a long way from the frenetic scenes of the Church Times newsroom in London, where as a journalist I used to ply my trade.

But there was no need to be nervous. I received an extremely warm welcome at the school which prides itself in its student diversity, joining students and staff from almost 30 different countries, including Afghanistan and America, Germany and Japan, Italy and India.

Students come from far and wide to take advantage of the unique educational experience offered at Woodstock, rooted in its Christian values.

It is a community which seeks to develop in students a lifelong passion for learning which will have a positive impact on both India and the world in years to come.

This vision of lifelong learning is not just limited to students, but applies to staff as well, and I am relishing this amazing opportunity to be back at school.

After years in the intellectual wilderness, I’m enjoying sitting in on history classes, learning Hindi, and shooting hoops in the school’s fantastic Win Mumby gym. I have also joined the staff choir and picked up my clarinet for the first time in years in the staff orchestra.

Going back to school has never felt so good!

For more information about Woodstock go to http://www.woodstockschool.in/

Ed Beavan with his wife Kirsten at Woodstock School