Buddhism

Buddhism Through American Women’s Eyes

brittany — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Buddhism Through American Women’s Eyes, a collection of thirteen essays edited by Karma Lekshe Tsomo, offers an introspective exploration of Buddhist philosophy and practices. First published in 1995 and re-issued in 2010, these works are written by women who attended a California retreat in August 1989.

The last chapter of the book, “Continuing the Conversation,” discusses the diverse experience of this retreat: “There was a mix of women, some of whom had been practicing for ten, twenty, or thirty years, and some who were brand-new to meditation, providing both depth and freshness, tradition, and innovation.”

This information could have been placed at the start rather than the end of the book to add context. For example, a few essays are interspersed with “Response” sections where the writer interacts with questions or comments from other participants. Without knowledge of the retreat, these sections may disorient readers.

There is some context—the introduction, “Openings,” addresses the patriarchy found within several Buddhist traditions, particularly how the texts teach enlightenment for all beings, yet give preference to men as the true spiritual conduits and teachers. One noted exception is the Vajrayana tradition of Buddhism with its female figure of enlightenment, Tara. Not surprisingly, this empowering representation doesn’t often extend to “actual living traditions in Buddhist society.” Buddhism Through American Women’s Eyes proves that women’s interpretations can transform Buddhist practice.

“Forging a Kind Heart in an Age of Alienation” and “Reflections on Impermanence” explore reconciliation and grief—subject matters for any practitioner. Yet these works also show that meditative practice can be imbued by women’s experiences. One writer narrates her difficult relationship with a terminally ill father and her decision to be open and honest with him instead of falling into the habit of “play[ing] the co-dependent role of ‘Mary Sunshine.’ ”

In “Mothering and Meditation,” Jacqueline Mandell shares how when her twins are born, a friend shows up for a week to help with housework and take care of the children. This prompts Mandell to consider the concept of “mother care.” Her Buddhist friends ask whether she has time to meditate, but she invites a better question: “‘Now that you’re a mother, may I help you so that you can meditate?’” “Abortion: A Respectful Meeting Ground” relates Yvonne Rand’s grief after having an abortion. Eventually, the Buddhist precept of not doing harm to living beings is what motivates her anti-abortion stance. However, Rand stays resolutely pro-choice. What seems like a contradiction is Buddhism in action—it is not about judgment. “There is no easy or ‘right’ answer,” Rand concludes. Instead, Buddhism is about “the practice of awareness.”

Other practitioners consider the intersection of Buddhism with relationships and daily stress. Many of the essays expand on karma as well as the conflict between Buddhist traditions and American life. A collaborative work, “The Monastic Experience,” personalizes this conflict as several women discuss their study and practice of Buddhism in the East and West.

Readers may want to know how or if the situation has changed for Buddhist American women since 1995, so an updated foreword could have proved useful. There is an excellent glossary and suggestions for further reading, yet the philosophical discourse is leveled at experienced readers of Buddhism. The book is accessible, but this is no primer.

Buddhism Through American Women’s Eyes is at its best when it leaves behind the abstract language of philosophy and connects spiritual practices to everyday concerns. For readers interested in Buddhist women, this book provides a voice for new traditions.

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, February 9th 2011

The Wisdom of Imperfection: The Challenge of Individuation in Buddhist Life

andrea — Mon, 13 Dec 2010 12:00:00 +0000

By Rob Preece

Snow Lion Publications

Rob Preece does a convincing job of bridging Jungian psychology to Buddhist practice in The Wisdom of Imperfection. Preece explains how Carl Gustav Jung’s notion of Individuation—the process of the personality’s growth and expansion into the wider psyche towards a potential state of wholeness, coincides with Buddhist ideas of bringing the ego into greater presence and awareness into one’s life. He illustrates the similarities between these philosophical angles by using examples from his own life experience, and this sincere exploration enhances the quality of his discussion.

Not quite a page-turner, but a book that slowly carries you deep into thought page after page, offering light-bulb moments for those who already have a basic understanding of Jung’s thought and the Buddhist way. A text I’d therefore strongly suggest for those with some knowledge of the two fields—though a glossary is provided.

As a feminist thinker, I felt critical of the author’s use of western mythologist, Joseph Campbell’s study of the hero’s journey as the model for the spiritual path of gradual awakening. The hero’s adventure is a metaphor of the Individuation process in Jungian psychology. Typically in myth the hero, usually male, responds to the call to leave home, encounters a dragon he must slay and returns home with renewed perspective or enlightenment. What is troubling is that the archetypal patterns described in this quest are based on men’s experiences of the world. Women as central characters experience a different reality—one that is neglected by Campbell’s view. His study approaches the female element in the journey as either the prize or the engulfing presence. Equally disturbing is the assumption that the woman can simply model her spiritual path on male rites of passage and psychological transformation.

So, I was happy to read of Preece’s vigilant awareness of patriarchal bias in both Western and Eastern beliefs. However, the process of Individuation is mostly described here through examples of male heroes. This is understandable since he relies on thinkers who have constructed their thought around a male structure of psychological reality. Also, I was a little sceptical of the idea of the hero (the personality or ego) who must severe ties with the mother archetype in order to begin the adventure, when French feminists such as Luce Irigaray insist that this relationship be healed not broken in order for men and women to respect the feminine. The daughter should certainly not break away from the mother (psychic or real) if a woman is to develop a healthy relationship with herself.

Still, The Wisdom of Imperfection makes a great effort to marry Western psychotherapy to Eastern spiritual thinking and quite clearly informs the reader of the need to address patriarchy in both cultures when seeking one’s own truth. With engaging drawings of Buddhist deities throughout the book, Preece offers the reader insightful wisdom for those on the path to self-discovery, particularly those struggling to negotiate their Buddhist practice with Western reality.

Written by: Payal Patel, December 13th 2010

Daring Steps: Traversing the Path of the Buddha

alicia — Tue, 07 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Ringu Tulku

Snow Lion Publications

In his interview last summer with Jet Mort, Ringu Tulku—teacher, author, and Rinpoche—detailed the necessity of helping, healing, and harmony to grant meaning to otherwise meaningless lives. His book Daring Steps advances all three through its thorough and accessible description of the Buddhist path. The three vehicles—yanas—are described: Shravakayana (Theravada), Mahayana and Vajrayana, or tantra. The author emphasizes that the three are aspects of one entity at different levels, not separate. Many Western Buddhists omit the direction in the Shravakayana system, believing that knowledge of the Vajrayana is sufficient. Ringu Tulku gently disabuses novices of this notion with an amazing array of references to methods and instructions.

The characteristic of Daring Steps that I most appreciate is its consistent relevance to the reader’s life. Ringu Tulku alternates description of the Dharma with the essence of the Buddha’s enlightenment and contemporary anecdote. Shravakayana contains the foundation for all further studies: the Four Noble Truths are in the Theravada. The most simplified Western version of the Four Noble Truths tends to be written as follows:

"To live is to suffer.
Attachment brings suffering.
An end to suffering can be achieved.
There is a path to the cessation of suffering."

Shravakayana focuses on meditation and concentration, the eighth of the Eightfold Path. Its resulting emphasis on a monastic life renders it less attainable to the majority of the population, those who must live and work in the world. In the first century AD, individuals including the philosopher-monk Nagarjuna, Asanga, and Vasubandhu changed Buddhist practice to a more accessible version. This revised practice came to be called Mahayana, or “Greater Vehicle,” due to its capacity to reach a greater number of individuals in varying walks of life.

Vajrayana Buddhism is a more complicated system that formed over centuries of practice and contains many inconsistencies. A distinguishing characteristic of Vajrayana is ritual, which is utilized as a substitute for more challenging meditations. (If I have offended any readers who follow Vajrayana, I humbly beg their pardon and ask them to remember that I am a neophyte.)

Do not take this overview as an indication that Daring Steps is an esoteric history. Far from it—in example, here is a passage from Ringu Tulku’s direction regarding Right Thought: “We have to adopt the habit of being joyful. When we are very depressed and narrow, very sad, we cannot expect to become joyful just by wishfully thinking, ‘Now I am very sad, but something will happen.’ As if joy might fall from the sky.” Don’t wait for this book to fall from the sky: it is a highly recommended addition to the shelf of any library containing texts on meditation or world faiths.

Written by: Erika Mikkalo, December 6th 2010

The Three Principal Aspects of the Path

priyanka — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Ruth Sonam, Geshe Sonam Rinchen

Snow Lion Publications

Buddhist philosophy seems simple only until we attempt to implement the teachings; as any practitioner quickly realizes, as soon as we are faced with the real world, even the straightest path to enlightenment is riddled with potholes and roadblocks, not to mention those confusing road signs that seem designed to discourage us wholly from the pursuit of compassion. Emptying our minds, sitting motionless in excruciating positions, meditating on seemingly nonsensical koans—if we survive all that, we still have to maintain compassion for the jerk who cuts us off in traffic and for the rude plumber who tracks mud all over our house.

It’s a rocky road for anyone to traverse, but the going is made easier by masters like Geshe Sonam Rinchen who elucidate the wisdom and inspire us on our journey. In the introduction to this beautifully produced volume, Rinchen assures us that we can achieve “an inner transformation if we approach [the teachings] in a constructive way by avoiding three faults and fostering six attitudes.” These faults and attitudes are neatly explained within the introduction, allowing readers to prepare and remain open to the commentary that follows.

This volume, The Three Principal Aspects of the Path, is based upon an oral teaching given by Geshe Sonam Rinchen regarding the brief but insightful teaching of Je Tsongkhapa. Born in Tibet in the fourteenth century, Tsongkhapa is surrounded by legends of mystical activity and intellectual prowess. It is said that he experienced visions of the master Manjushri through which he was guided for the rest of his life. Tsongkhapa’s The Three Principal Aspects of the Path, inspired by Manjushri, is a summation of the traditional practices leading to enlightenment.

One might assume that such a work is complete and that devoted aspirants could find full wisdom through Tsongkhapa’s words. Like all apparently simple instruction, however, this summation leads to even more questions and confusion. While students should look to the source for themselves, teachers such as Geshe Sonam Rinchen do us an honor by expounding upon what others have recognized and experienced, and by sharing their own understanding of those teachings. Tsongkhapa’s root teaching is included at the end of Rinchen’s book, but I recommend to readers that they turn first to that brief summation and return to the beginning of The Three Principal Aspects of the Path after considering Tsongkhapa’s original work.

Rinchen’s attentive exploration touches on specific areas within the text that may be overlooked even by those who are deeply familiar with it. Beginning in his prologue, Rinchen addresses at length the importance of Tsongkhapa’s opening statement, “Homage to the venerable and holy teachers!” Especially in the Western world where we put great value on individual achievement, self-help, and do-it-yourself, the treasure of a human teacher is often ignored. Rinchen insists, “No one has ever gained, nor will ever gain, a state of high realization without guidance from a spiritual teacher.” He then provides us with a list of the ten most desirable qualities to be found in a teacher, drawn from Maitreya’s Ornament for the Mahayana Sutras.

As Rinchen moves through the remainder of Tsongkhapa’s work, addressing the wish for freedom, altruistic intention, and correct view, his approach is both humble and firm. Though Tsongkhapa’s three principal paths teaching contains “quintessential Buddhist practices” and is a point of reference in many talks, Geshe Rinchen’s unique and clear approach to The Three Principal Aspects of the Path is accessible for beginners while also providing thoughtful advancement for more experienced students.

Written by: Deborah Adams, October 25th 2010

Enough!: A Buddhist Approach to Finding Release from Addictive Patterns

beth — Fri, 15 Oct 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Chönyi Taylor

Snow Lions Publications

Ordained by the Dalai Lama in 1995, Chönyi Taylor is a retired psychotherapist who fuses Buddhist teachings with western psychology to assist psychotherapists and health care professionals in helping individuals to break the pattern of addiction. In Enough!: A Buddhist Approach to Finding Release from Addictive Patterns, Taylor states in her acknowledgments that the most insidious addiction is not related to drugs, but to our own self-pity and smallmindedness. In her words, addiction is primarily a state of mind, the result of an initial personal decision that is repeated until it becomes habit-forming or compulsive. The problem is not the availability of alcohol, drugs, sex, or food (pick yer poison), but our initial and subsequent choices to use these things for short-term pleasure.

Because addiction begins in the mind, this is where the addictive pattern has to be broken. The process is slow and involves, first and foremost, recognizing the existence of a problem and finding the motivation to change. The next step is to become mindful of what we are running away from or the things, people, places, and emotions that trigger our addictive pattern. This is how we uncover the causes and effects of our addiction. Being addiction-free also involves breaking the hold of selfishness, as it only enables addiction. The self-centered mind exaggerates impending disasters if our addictive need cannot be met. Dramatics and catastrophic-thinking need to be undone by equanimity or even-mindedness. The three basic steps towards breaking the pattern are mindfulness, introspection, and equanimity. Repeated practice through meditation of these three elements should make them pattern forming.

Taylor gives the basics on how to meditate and ends each chapter with a meditation. In Enough!, we learn that we are all addicted to something. Even if our addiction is only to negative thinking, it still unintentionally undermines our potential for satisfying happiness. Although I found mindfulness and introspection relatively easy to grasp, I had a hard time getting my head around equanimity or curbing the exaggerated thinking and emotion-fueled jumping to conclusions. But I guess I’m not alone, as the book has four meditations on that alone: equanimity towards our feelings, environment, people, and ourselves. There is also an inspiring chapter on managing pain, making choices, and building self-confidence.

This book is meant to be read slowly, and the meditations duly practiced, preferably with an experienced group leader to reap maximum benefit. I also recommend that you not read more than one chapter at a time or choose a chair with a very straight back, as the abundance of abstract nouns makes this book highly soporific. Although I didn’t find the real-life cases that Taylor chose to be very helpful, I found her approach to addiction extremely positive and highly enlightening.

Written by: Heather Leighton, October 14th 2010

Meredith Monk: Inner Voice

admin — Sat, 24 Jul 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Directed by Babeth M. VanLoo

Buddhist Broadcasting Foundation

Dutch Filmmaker Babeth VanLoo’s compelling tribute to sixty-seven-year-old choreographer-musician-teacher-composer-artist Meredith Monk does many things. In addition to introducing us to this enigmatic Jane of many trades, it showcases the artist’s creative processes and worldview. Along the way, it looks at the ways Buddhism has infused Monk’s work. “Silence is her source,” VanLoo explains.

The engrossing eighty-two-minute film includes footage of Monk performing, writing, and living in both upstate New York and New Mexico. The 2002 death of her life-partner, Mika, is mentioned, but this is not a film about grieving. Instead, the life force that propels Monk—she has been awarded numerous honorary degrees as well as a MacArthur “Genius” award—is both celebrated and explored.

Monk’s thought processes—and the questions that keep her up at night—are shared. "How do you practice fear?" she wonders. “So much of what we do is fear based. We’re afraid of the fear, of walking through it.” That realization led Monk to begin writing a piece of music that eventually became "Scared Song." Like everything she does, the final product was developed collaboratively. Her process is fascinating, since the massive ego of most composers is wholly absent in Monk. Instead, her colleagues describe her welcoming attitude, and site her willingness to accommodate suggestions and contributions by the musicians and actors she performs with.

Philip Bither, Senior Curator at Minneapolis’ Walker Art Center, calls her “one of the seminal people of our time. She resists categorization and has created great work in five, six areas of art. That’s really rare. We tend to categorize people as actors, singers, dancers.” Similarly, choreographer Phoebe Neville marvels at Monk’s ability to avoid what she calls “the trap of success. She has always maintained her integrity and has been able to say ‘no,’” Neville says. This, she continues, has fired Monk‘s creativity for forty-plus years, and has helped her avoid burnout and exhaustion.

In the end, it’s a question of balance—and Monk is the poster woman for this value. Whether working alone or with others, she acknowledges the need to take periodic timeouts. This has allowed her to continually recharge, think, and observe. “As a soloist,” Monk says, “I can be very precise and rigorous, but at the same time I am open and fluid to what is happening in the moment. That’s why I like to work without words. It throws the mind into a very different state.”

Indeed, listening to Monk’s vocalizations—her range is enormous—is virtually guaranteed to take listeners on a journey. Since the words are essentially nonsense—made up of sounds that have no literal meaning—you can infuse the music with significance or can simply let your mind wander and experience what you’re hearing. It’s a sensual, exciting, and unusual encounter—and VanLoo captures it brilliantly.

While the film could have used a bit more background about Monk’s early life—it does mention that a childhood eye infirmity led her to listen closely to music and notes that both her mother and maternal grandfather were successful performers—and might have included footage of Monk discussing the ways aging has impacted her efforts, it is nonetheless lovely. In the end, this short introduction to Monk’s life’s work—and the way she integrates spirituality into her artistic process—is inspiring. Van Loo’s love of Monk shines through, but the fact that she avoids fawning makes Meredith Monk: Inner Voice an insightful look at one of the most innovative and fearless artists of our time.

Written by: Eleanor J. Bader, July 23rd 2010

A Complete Guide to the Buddhist Path

admin — Sun, 16 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Khenchen Konchog Gyaltshen

Snow Lion Publications

I guess I was expecting more of a “Buddhism for idiots” type of book when I picked up A Complete Guide to the Buddhist Path by Khenchen Konchog Gyaltshen (a title which means, roughly, “great abbot”). For better or worse, that’s not what this book is. Before I read the book, I knew nothing of Buddhism except that some people call it a philosophy rather than a religion and Buddhist nuns have to shave their heads upon joining their order. I don’t know why I knew those two things and nothing else, but nevertheless I was pretty ignorant of all things Buddhist.

A Complete Guide to the Buddhist Path is commentary based on The Jewel Treasury of Advice: A Hundred Teachings From the Heart by Drikung Bhande Dharmaradza (1704-1754). Each of the 103 verses—plus some introductory verses—is taken as its own piece of wisdom and expounded upon in one to four pages by Gyaltshen. I read through it as one would a novel—not something I’d recommend since there’s a lot of material and quite a bit of repetition from one verse’s exposition to the next. (The preface by the editor warns of the repetition, but I didn’t pay much attention to that until I started thinking, “Hey, didn’t we go over this already?”) In fact, the author and editor anticipated reading the book in sections so that each verse would be contemplated fully before going on. Each verse and commentary is a complete thought and could have its own review, so writing about the entire book in such broad terms is difficult.

Most of the verses in The Jewel Treasury of Advice end with the words, “This is my heart’s advice.” Gyaltshen writes, “[Bhande Dharmaradza] is giving this advice from his heart, completely for the benefit of others. So we should sincerely take it into our heart.” I liked the Advice about the Six Perfections the most. The six perfections are: generosity, moral ethics, patience, perseverance, meditative concentration, and wisdom awareness. While I don’t think reading this book all the way through like a novel is a good idea, I also don’t think a reader should read the verses out of order. The author of the commentary mentions words like samasara, dharma, and skandha, and only defines them the first time. If the book is read out of order, those definitions are lost to the reader, although there is a glossary of terms and names at the end.

This book works better as a meditation tool for those who have already been introduced to Buddhism. It does not work well as an introductory text, despite what the title might suggest.

Written by: Viannah Duncan, May 15th 2010

Heartfelt Advice

admin — Fri, 14 May 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Lama Dudjom Dorjee

Snow Lion Publications

Heartfelt Advice is a record of ninety-five conversations between the Lama Dudjom Dorjee and his student Aaron Price. In each section, a small portion of a Tibetan text was read to Mr. Price, who then recorded both the translation and the explanation. The result is not the typical recitation of concepts one finds in most introductory writings on Buddhism. Instead, the concepts are explained via the personal experiences of Lama Dudjom Dorjee, and have a more intimate tone than only the translations would provide.

I am a sucker for books on Buddhism. I have a full shelf of books on the subject, and I find myself in the section nearly every time I visit the bookstore. I am enticed by the serene faces of the smiling monks on the covers, and the words of the sutras seem calming even if I sometimes don't understand them.

Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ve gotten past the second chapter of any of the books I’ve purchased. Usually by that point, I find myself overwhelmed, depressed, and feeling more than a little guilty. The initial chapters are always confusing, full of indecipherable imagery and vocabulary. Very early on, it begins to appear that the path to peace and enlightenment requires superhuman devotion; you must utter no bad words, think no bad thoughts, and perform no bad actions. You must accept that nothing is permanent and give up all attachment; to your life, loved ones, ideals, even the very idea of yourself as an individual. This is where I get depressed, feeling that I am just not up to the task of being that devoted. I begin to feel guilty when I contemplate that millions of people worldwide practice this religion and live by its teachings, and I can’t even manage to stop swearing.

This book is somewhat easier to handle. The conversational feeling of the sections allows you to absorb the concept at hand without having to fight so hard to understand it. That is not to say that this book sugarcoats any of the concepts; there is plenty of what Westerners term “hellfire and damnation," especially in the sections on the wheel of karma. The puzzling vocabulary is still present, but this book has the extremely helpful addition of a glossary. The book's format is also helpful, as it doesn’t require you to read the chapters in order: each section deals with a different topic, so flipping through the book is allowed, and may actually even be encouraged.

If you are anything like me, and approach Buddhism with as much attraction as apprehension, this book might just be the stepping stone for you. It shows that yes, studying Buddhism is a lifetime commitment, but it makes it seem a little less daunting than usual.

Written by: Melissa Ruiz, May 14th 2010

Amy and Gully with Aliens

admin — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 09:00:00 +0000

By W.W. Rowe

Snow Lion Publications

Amy and Gully with Aliens looks promising from the title, and the immediate jump into action makes this Buddhist children’s book a breeze. Although a quick read (108 pages with large print), the story comes packed with a heavy moral punch that is based somewhat on the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh: Amy and Gully find themselves learning from aliens about “love and kindness”—a repeated theme throughout the short book.

While the religious and moral story is compelling and resonates with the reader, the feminist aspect leaves something to be desired. In the opening pages of the book, Rowe depicts a quintessential 1950s family. Mrs. Trent (the mother) “flips a pancake.” Mr. Trent (the father) is reading his newspaper, irritated with the kids, and "needs to make some phone calls” before he can take them to school. Mrs. Clearpot is the plump, nature-nut biology teacher that kids ignore, while Mr. Wilkins, the school principal, is capable of teaching those kids a lesson.

While the gender assignments, admittedly, are not pivotal to the plot of the story, they encourage obsolete stereotypes. The easy categorizing of male and female roles in the story is not overt or malicious, but it was seemingly done without thought. It is the nonchalant way women are portrayed as existing only to fill the role of caretaker or are unable to win the respect of their students that makes these roles seem so common. Conversely, men are depicted as busy, important, and in control.

Even when Amy and Gully, the sister-brother duo, fully encompass our attention aboard the spaceship where most of the story takes place, it is Gully who thinks of clever ways to distract the Snoods, their captures, and who plans their escape. Amy is, obviously, helpless. (In W.W. Rowe’s defense, Amy possesses an admirable capacity for sympathy and love—two of the most valuable characteristics, according to the philosophy of the book—even if she is lacking in brains and brawn.) Most of the cliche gender assignments are gone by chapter six when Mala, the all-seeing, all-knowing alien of truth and light, comes to run a final “zarbite” (the Snood’s word for experiment) on the children. This is, of course, where the children are exposed to ideas of inner peace, love, and kindness.

On a moral level, Amy and Gully with Aliens is a great story for children, regardless of religion. The book offers a good option for those seeking moral literature outside traditional Bible stories. At the same time, if you have the goal of teaching non-traditional gender roles, this may not be best book to convince your impressionable young son or daughter that women are just as capable as men.

Written by: Tatiana Ryckman, February 20th 2010

Yasodharā, the Wife of the Bōdhisattva: The Sinhala Yasodharavata (The Story of Yasodhara) and the Sinhala Yasodharapadanaya (The Sacred Biography of

admin — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Ranjini Obeyesekere

SUNY Press

I approached Ranjini Obeyesekere’s book with slight trepidation: though the subject of Buddhism has always interested me, I was worried about my ability to write about a religion with such a long detailed history that I had only a surface knowledge of. I was well aware from the start that my Christian background would affect my interpretation of this text, and in the end this book did leave me questioning every rose-coloured, perhaps orientalist view I had of Buddhism.

As I suspected, Yasodharā, the Wife of the Bōdhisattva, is not a light read. This book will be really popular with those already familiar with SUNY Press’ challenging and progressive publications, but will probably never touch the trade market. The writing style is heavy on facts and descriptions, and less so on interpretation and theorization. The reader doesn’t get much of a sense of Obeyesekere’s thesis, which is unfortunate as she is such an experienced scholar. But perhaps this was done on purpose, as the book leaves the reader with no choice but to form their own interpretation; and with the fantastical, bizarre story presented in her translations, it is almost impossible not to.

Women in most major religions are delegated to a life of suffering, whether as punishment or reward. Yasodharā’s life is no exception. Born into a rich class, she was married to Siddhartha when she was 16 years old. They were happy until Siddhartha decided to pursue a holy life, two days after the birth of their only child. Yasodharā then lives out her life in pious denial, eventually becoming a nun with superpowers, which would be cool if she allowed to use them. Her story so far was basically what I was expected, similar to the role of the Virgin Mother in Christianity: a life lived in perfect accordance to the rules that is rewarded with silent suffering.

What I was not prepared for was the violence Yasodharā was subjected to. She and Buddha spend countless lives together as partners, and throughout these lives Buddha allowed her to be eaten by animals, gave away her children, sold her, lost her in a bet, and abandoned her in the middle of the night after she gave birth to their child. What is most disturbing is that Buddha’s actions were considered progression through samsara (the human condition) and necessary to achievement enlightenment. As Yasodharā is considered Buddha’s property, giving her away or letting her be taken was an act of charity. The fact that Yasodharā puts up with this abuse in each life proves she is an ideal wife and will eventually reach nirvana.

Obeyesekere’s text is straight-forward historical reference; however, I found myself often making connections between Yasodharā’s story and the way our culture still perceives violence against women. Viewed from a feminist perspective, a reader of Yasodharā’s story can’t help but wonder if she should have been the Buddha. While Siddhartha may have lived an ascetic life of charity and poverty, his horrific treatment of his wife and children suggests he is far from obtaining enlightenment. Yasodharā, on the other hand, did nothing but sacrifice herself for the betterment of another person and follow the rules of being a perfect Buddhist woman. It is not only Yasodharā who has met this fate—as much as we hate to admit it, men we as a culture admire, like Martin Luther King Jr. or Gandhi, were no saints when it came to their treatment of women.

This book is a challenging and eye-opening read, and the retelling and sharing of Yasodharā’s story is the most fundamental type of feminist act.

Written by: Jennifer Burgess, February 10th 2010

Destroying Mara Forever: Buddhist Ethics Essays in Honor of Damien Keown

admin — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 08:59:00 +0000

By John Powers, Charles S. Prebish

Snow Lion

Destroying Mara Forever is by no means a leisurely read. Reading this collection of rigorously researched essays, I found myself personally engaged with the questions raised by these great scholars and I am grateful to have had such rich food for thought. The collection honors the work of Damien Keown, now retired Professor of Buddhist Ethics at London’s Goldsmith College. Keown’s body of work has significantly shaped the field of Buddhist studies and has greatly advanced its progress into the twenty-first century.

Applying traditional Buddhist ethical principles and the arguments found in myriad texts both ancient and contemporary, the essays explore issues central to our lives today. Contributor Ian Harris states that “[traditional Buddhism] is incapable, without modification, of responding to the present environmental crisis” and as I think this collection superbly demonstrates it is not just the environmental crisis that traditional Buddhism must evolve to address, but most of today’s pressing issues. In this volume, Buddhism is called upon to take a stance on contemporary issues like capital punishment, the environment, valuation of physical appearance, consumerism, technology, and war.

My attraction to Buddhist philosophy is largely due to the principle of compassion at the heart of Buddha’s teachings, and it was with great interest that I turned to "Buddhist Perspectives on Crime and Punishment." In this essay, author Peter Harvey examines the history of torture and the death penalty in Buddhist societies and what early Buddhist texts have to say on this controversial matter.

In this and other essays, debate arises from the finer points of translation and in many cases, from individual scholars applying interpretation to more elusive words. For instance: did the renowned Indian Buddhist emperor Aśoka apply the death penalty? Some translations indicate he may have tolerated it, though there is also evidence that he was the “first [known] ruler in history recorded to have abolished the death penalty.”

Careful and critical examination of the multiple sides of an issue is consistent throughout this collection. Some fundamental precepts become obsolete as argued in one of the most thought-provoking essays, "In Search of a Green Dharma: Philosophical Issues in Buddhist Environmental Ethics." Christopher Ives examines the arguments of the great Buddhist thinkers, from Keown to Gary Snyder on topics including interdependence, responsibility, identification with nature, intrinsic value, equality, animal rights, and the sacredness of nature as they relate to the current environmental crisis.

We see how examining contemporary environmental issues through a lens of traditional Buddhist doctrine can quickly create absolutes and even hold the wrong parties responsible. For example the doctrine of pratītya-samutpāda "conveys that nothing has a soul or unchanging essence" and therefore we are all interdependent parts of a single greater self. Zen teacher Joan Halifax calls this the greater "ecological self". To follow this line of thinking, Ian Harris says "then the black rhino depends on the hydrogen bomb, the rainforest on the waste dump."

The essays collected in Destroying Mara Forever do not shy away from questioning the relevance of foundational doctrine to answer today's greatest ethical dilemmas, and do so in pointed and respectful debate that leads one to continue that questioning and apply it to other issues.

Written by: Matsya Siosal, February 7th 2010

The Courage to Feel: Buddhist Practices for Opening to Others

admin — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Rob Preece

Snow Lion Publications

As someone who recently developed an interest in Buddhism, I feel like a walking cliché. It seems almost inevitable that one will explore an alternative religion at some point in their life. We have become a society of seekers. Maybe it started when the Beatles visited an Indian ashram back in the early '70s and returned to record a number of psychedelic tracks featuring sitar music in the background, thus introducing Eastern religion and music to a whole new generation, or maybe it’s just part of our collective psyche to be explorers of both the material world and unseen spiritual realms.

As part of my process of discovery, I found myself intrigued by the title of Rob Preece’s book The Courage to Feel. Preece is a psychotherapist and longtime practitioner of Buddhism who looks at Tibetan Buddhist meditation and practice through a Western psychoanalytic lens. He begins his introduction by asking readers to think about their approach to suffering—both their own, and suffering on a global scale. He suggests that our natural human tendency is to contract into a fearful and self-preoccupied place when we are going through challenging circumstances, but there is an alternative: to open up your heart and identify with the suffering of others.

In Tibetan Buddhism there is a term called the Bodhisattva, or “the awakening warrior.” The Boddhisattva “cultivates the capacity to live within the raw reality of suffering on the ground and transform life’s adverse circumstances into a path of awakening.” Preece draws a parallel between the Tibetan word for awakened mind, “Bodhichitta,” and Carl Jung’s theory of individuation. Jung believed that individuation takes us beyond the ego to a more profound awakened state of wholeness, which ultimately leads us to finding a sense of purpose in our lives to serve the greater good.

Included in this book are a number of meditations, some that Preece has modified slightly for the Western practitioner. What I found especially helpful was his acknowledgment that certain Buddhist meditations and practices can be problematic for Westerners. For example, the meditation “recognizing that all beings have been our mother” requires that one believe in multiple reincarnations with various beings and species having been our mother. As Preece explains, “the process of reincarnation means that we have had a continuous stream of lives and that the beings we see around us have also had a continuous stream of incarnations. Those we have been related to in these lives are all around us, even though we do not easily recognize the connection…potentially our mother has been closer to us emotionally and physically than most other connections. She is important to us in all the different states of incarnation, whether human, animal, bird, fish or insect.”

Preece points out that meditation is not a “cure all” for everyone and that there are times when therapy or counseling is needed to work through emotional wounds from childhood or adulthood. He also stresses that Buddhist teachings on the cultivation of Boddhichitta are sometimes misinterpreted to mean self-effacement, or not setting appropriate boundaries in order to give up “self-cherishing” tendencies. Depending on one’s individual spiritual evolution, a healthier and more assertive self-orientation may actually be in order.

This is one of those books that I find myself returning to over and over again for spiritual encouragement and inspiration. If you’re looking to learn more about the theory and practice of Buddhism, this is a great book to read to start the new year.

Written by: Gita Tewari, January 21st 2010

A Garland of Feminist Reflections: Forty Years of Religious Exploration

admin — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 09:35:00 +0000

By Rita M. Gross

University of California Press

Preeminent feminist Buddhism scholar Rita M. Gross’ A Garland of Feminist Reflections is an indispensable collection of her best collected writing from the past forty years. Drawing together theory, philosophy, and religious exploration, Gross’ self-selected anthology is deeply thought provoking and can serve as an introduction to her vital scholarship, or a necessary refresher on important concepts and ideas. Among the pieces she chose, Gross included several groundbreaking essays on methodology and theory. The collection also includes large sections of Gross’ writing on feminist theology and Buddhist feminism.

Gross’ writing is strikingly beautiful, though it is also a dense read—and a complicated one—for anyone not already deeply engaged with comparative religious studies or knowledgeable about Buddhism and gender in an academic framework. This isn’t a criticism, but speaks to Gross’ passionate relationship with her work. Some essays, such as “What Went Wrong? Feminism and Freedom from the Prison of Gender Roles,” offer more accessible insight into how gender affects our very existence. Thirty years after the beginning of the second wave of feminism, Gross argues that in many ways, we are no better off than we were before. Still confined to the prison of gender roles, we’ve only become more appreciative of the male gender and increasingly more competitive and materialistic than before.

While Gross’ academic work is reason enough to pick up this collection, the personal essay, which begins the book, highlights the unique challenges she continues to face as the most renowned feminist Buddhist theologian of our time. An introspective woman from a conservative home in Wisconsin, who came of age in the 1950s, Gross is the unlikeliest of comparative religious scholars. Her deeply moving personal essay, “How Did This Ever Happen To Me?” is heart wrenching and inspiring in its detail of her battles against the male-dominated academy, small school academics uninterested in intellectual debate, and a world simply unable to understand a radically peaceful woman much more interested in cultivating her mind than anything that could grow in her womb.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, June 22nd 2009

Impermanence: Embracing Change

admin — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 23:44:00 +0000

By David Hodge, Ha-Jin Kang Hodge

Snow Lion Publications

It's day five of my computer's meltdown. This morning the dishwasher broke. My husband has no job leads. My doctor emailed me this afternoon, and there are no new answers to my health issues. As my husband flew out the door to another networking event, I couldn’t help a somewhat desperate whimper, "Are we destined for instability?" If we are, we are in good company. In the company of the whole world, according to Impermanence: Embracing Change by married multimedia artists David Hodge and Hi-Jin Kang Hodge. Impermanence focuses on the Buddhist concept of change which teaches that instability, change, impermanence, call it what you will, is a fact of life. Accepting that sands inevitably shift is a necessary path to stability and peace of mind. Impermanence is a valuable way station on this rocky, cliff-hugging journey.

While Impermanence is packaged as a book and DVD set, it is so much more. It is an art exhibit you hold in your hand. And view on your DVD player. Its first incarnation was as part of the traveling art installation, The Missing Peace, a celebration of the Dalai Lama’s life and work. The Hodges filmed a diverse group of 108 women and men discussing impermanence. The interviews played on sixteen iPods arranged in a circle and set to play at both timed intervals and simultaneously.

Transferred to DVD, the exhibit feels like a friendly cocktail party where the host has banned superficial chitchat and commanded guests to talk only about life’s enduring matters. It starts as a mosaic of faces and a soft cacophony of voices. It is interactive. Let the film take control as it moves between mosaic and individual or click on arrows which arrange the interviews into themes such as "awareness," "message to the world," and "presence." Either way, just like that, you are launched into the exhibit as if you were there.

The interviewees each speak for several minutes about impermanence. Is it a source of dread? A harbinger of death and loss? The other shoe dropping?

Or is it proof that one is alive? Nature’s way of making us appreciate the here and now? Promise of a better tomorrow?

Yes.

Impermanence is all of this. Several interviewees also emphasize its potential to unite: we all have impermanence in common. In addition, letting go of our own little corner of status quo leaves us open to new connections.

The book adds even more depth. It is arranged into the same themes as the DVD, each introduced by an enlightening and thoughtful essay or poem. Photographs of the participants and snippets of their interviews follow.

Impermanence is uplifting and depressing, energizing and draining. In fact, it feels a lot like life. While I thought women might struggle more with change as we seem disproportionately affected by it during life events such as marriage, childbirth and divorce, this turned out not to be so. Women and men equally expressed hope and trepidation.

Impermanence would have been an even more absorbing experience had it included less philosophy and more anecdote. But its overall message of accepting impermanence without fighting it, of refusing to feel defeated by change even when it's in the wrong direction and of remembering that impermanence allows for the possibility of better times, not just worse, is invaluable. In the time since I began this review, the computer and dishwasher were fixed. And Impermanence has persuaded me to focus on what is, instead of lamenting what will surely be the continuing ebb and flow of life.

Written by: T. Tamara Weinstein, April 24th 2009

Slumdog Millionaire (or I Want to Sue the Indian Government: Memories of Gods, Lovers, and Slumdogs)

admin — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 10:29:00 +0000

Directed by Danny Boyle

Fox Searchlight Pictures

An old Native American curse goes like this, “May all your dreams come true!”

For many years, I had a dream; I wanted very badly to visit mysterious India. Last month my wish unexpectedly came true. Forbidden Sun Dance, my most recent documentary, was selected to compete in the Tri-Continental Human Rights Film Festival in India. This was a great opportunity to discover the land of my dreams.

While on tour with the festival, I was invited to watch Danny Boyle’s Slumdog Millionaire in a fancy movie theatre in the dazzling and enormous city of Mumbai by a lovely Bollywood moviemaking couple.

I had never seen such a theatre anywhere in North America! For double the ticket price, you get a seat in which you can actually lie down! Superbly comfortable, they were a bit like those huge massage chairs that I had seen in shopping malls in Canada.

I felt very strange sitting in that chair, munching on popcorn and watching not a fantasy-filled Bollywood movie, but a somewhat more realistic portrayal of life in India...

Bollywood – My Childhood Love

As a little girl growing up in Iran, and like millions of others living in Eastern countries, I loved Bollywood movies. They were all colour and glamour and rosy pictures of India, that heaven on earth; the country of love and flowers.

In my childish imagination, Bollywood’s India was the best place on the planet to live and be in love. For hours, my cousins and I would sit watching Bollywood movies and later try to imitate those gorgeous Indian actresses.

We would draw moles between our eyebrows and put on lots of makeup stolen from our mothers. We would wrap Granny’s colourful hijab around our bodies and pretend it was a sari while dancing along with the actresses and lip syncing all the songs that we knew by heart without understanding more than few words!

We all wanted to steal the heart of the main actor, Amitabh Bachchan. He was the most gorgeous man ever: tall, handsome, and an amazing dancer, he was our superbly passionate romantic hero who would do anything for love and justice—at the same time! A true prince charming. I would have done anything (and I mean anything) to get his attention if he ever showed up in my neighbourhood in Tehran!

In that way, I was just like little Jamal in Slumdog Millionaire.

The end of happiness

Our happy days didn’t last long. The new Islamic regime in Iran robbed us of our childhood joys and fantasies. For girls to sing and dance became a crime against humanity, akin to adultery. Being seen to be in love, like those pretty Bollywood actresses, was to risk being stoned to death in the name of their angry and misogynist god.

Although owning a video player was a crime with a harsh punishment, we continued to keep our player and watch Bollywood movies in our basements. But this couldn’t help us to forget the cruel realities taking place outside our doors. Thousands of young Iranian revolutionaries were massacred by the new Islamic regime, which conducted a never-ending war with neighbouring Iraq, using the war as a tool to quell internal political dissent.

My childhood became nothing more than blood and hopelessness. Even Bollywood movies were powerless to bring the colour back to the dark reality that Iran had become.

I wanted a way out, something to offer the hope and fantasy that a lost teenager like me craved. Again India came through, this time with books not movies, and with a rational for what we went through. Apparently, this was our karma. We should not complain; we should accept the life that we had and be thankful in order to come back in a better situation, for instance in Switzerland or even the India as we pictured it from Bollywood movies.

I envied Indians, with their hundreds of gods. But they were more than happy to offer them to the world even a hopeless Iranian teenage girl like me. I could actually choose to believe or worship whatever god I wanted. To my surprise, the Indian gods could not change my life; they only could help me to live it more happily by changing my thoughts! In the darkness that was Iran, I was looking for a god who was less furious and violent than the one imposed on us by force after the 1979 revolution, the god of lashing, killing, stoning, war and absolute control over all, especially the guiltiest—women!

I longed to discover a happier god, a less harmful god, a god with more forgiveness and compassion. Above all, I longed for the god who would let us sing and dance—so I chose Krishna. After all, a god who would steal butter as a child couldn’t be so hard on others, right? So I chanted for Krishna: hare Krishna hare Krishna Krishna Krishna hare hare. Unfortunately our relationship didn’t last long; Krishna seemed simple to follow at first, but was too restrictive for women, even more restrict than the god at home to whom granny would pray three times a day.

As I flowered into a young woman, I found an Indian guru named Osho whose philosophies amazed me. The sexual liberty that he encouraged his followers to experience in the name of spirituality would attract any young woman living in a restricted Muslim country!

Then along came Buddha, a very popular figure with my generation. The Buddha’s philosophy was to meditate to find both internal and external peace, even while living in a violent society. My friends adored him, but I always had my reservations. Experiencing inner and outer peace in a country that hanged people in front of us on the way back from school simply wasn’t an option for me. Buddhism was too hard to understand or practice during the violent, horrifying times we were experiencing in Iran.

No, Buddha wouldn’t work for me. I couldn’t accept the misery that I had been living in for most of my life in exchange for the hope for a better life in my next body.

Losing Faith in All My Lovers

Sadly, I was losing my faith in the Indian gods. I felt like they were old lovers. I still liked to carry their pictures and had a wish to meet them in India one day, but I could not follow them anymore. We were too different, we had grown apart, and our paths were no longer the same.

I needed to get out, to have some space, to leave my childhood neighbourhood behind. The place that I had lived for so many years, the place where I had my dreams and thoughts about Amitabh Bachchan, Krishna, Osho, and Buddha for many nights, no longer felt like my home...

Finding Them in a New Home

I was surprised to find out how popular Eastern spirituality was among the middle- and upper classes in Western countries, including the country that I entered as a refugee: Canada. The lost generation found themselves in a modern, hectic world, and were critical of churches. This generation was looking towards the unknown for answers, looking for the devil they didn’t know to replace the one they knew. No doubt the countless Indian gods provided a rich buffet of choice for Westerners with wide-ranging appetites who loved to keep their "options open".

Most of my Canadian friends, and even some Iranian old leftists, would follow some new age spiritual path, god, guru or lama. They would always report a flawless image of their newfound system of old Eastern beliefs. Hundreds of dollars would be spent buying books, going to retreats and workshops, and attending the speeches of a guru or lama visiting from India who were willing to receive their offerings. Generous donations would be made for building a new ashram or temple under the names of their masters somewhere in their own city or back in the motherland. Of course, the structure had to be better and more glamorous than those consecrated to competing deities.

In all honesty, I have always been very impressed by Indians. Their brain really works in any area that they focus; perhaps it’s something in their tasty spicy food! What is clear is that they have succeeded well at selling their gods, gurus, and lamas to Westerners as they have been in selling Bollywood pictures to Easterners for generations. But I had my own confusions about India. Exposed for years to India through their successful movie marketing and convincing spirituality, I always thought that there must be more to the land of my dreams than that—a real India to discover with my own eyes.

Arriving in My Land of Dreams

Leaving the crowded Delhi airport, which had been placed on a high security alert after the terrorist attacks of a few days previously, the first thing which struck me was all the poverty that I saw. I couldn’t believe my eyes! Hundreds of people living on the streets of Delhi; babies crawling dusty roads, eating garbage alongside of dogs, cats, and cows, and ignored by ordinary people who would walk right by them pretending they didn’t exist.

No Escape from Reality

Delhi was nightmare become reality; there was no escape. Unlike many other countries where you would see poverty only in ghettos, the poor in India are everywhere. Slums full of people exist even within the wealthy neighbourhoods. There was not a moment I was able to pretend that the poor didn’t exist, except places like the unbelievably beautiful academic buildings built during British colonial era or the Western-style shopping malls and restaurants where the poor are not allowed to enter. Even there, it didn’t matter that I couldn’t see them. The poor were with me and I couldn’t ignore their presence even for a moment.

It’s not that I was completely naive before going to India. Deepa Mehta’s Elements trilogy Trilogy had introduced me to the terrible poverty, the inhumane discrimination against women, the injustice, the hypocrisy, and the corruption. But what I encountered in person was beyond what I had seen in my wildest imaginings.

A sad smile would attract many children, each begging with those beautiful eyes for some mercy. I have never felt more hopeless, and in those moments I began to understand why tourists are advised to totally ignore the people on the street. But the warnings always said it was about safety—tourists needed to be ‘safe.’

Safe? These homeless children were the safest people I have ever known. They just seemed so dehumanised and hopeless, exactly like me standing before them. They were kind, harmless, and polite. They would see my camera and were more than happy to pose for a few meagre rupees without me even asking. Their lives seemed so totally integrated with Bollywood that their reality became shaped by it.

Feeding the Temple, Forgetting the Kids

I went to a small village in Rajasthan where they were building more than seven new ashrams a short distance from each other. I couldn’t imagine how much money would be spent on those gardens and buildings and on the enormous statutes of Buddha, Shiva, or any of the other Indian gods that would stand in the front of the buildings.

I asked, and received some answers. These temples were mostly being built and paid for by Indian spiritual leaders living in Western countries using donations from their follower’s pockets.

I visited Iskan, the Hare Krishna temple to see just a few aged Western devotees chanting. Apparently the Hare Krishnas are not as popular now as during their heyday in the '60s and '70s when The Beatles had turned to them. Buddha is all the rage now in the West. Krishna has become an old fashioned, hippie god.

Many poor Indians chanted—hare Krishna hare Krishna Krishna Krishna hare hare—outside the temple, hoping to attract some rich tourist’s sympathy—and perhaps a few spare rupees. It was hurtful and shameful to read the thoughts so clearly reflected in their eyes: “Yes, you are here on a pilgrimage to find your Indian god, but I also exist in India. Please make a donation here in my bowl, and I will promise to pray on behalf of you to any of my gods that you ask. Hare Krishna!”

I couldn’t understand why, in a country where thousands of temples already exist in all different sizes, shapes, and forms, there is need for Westerners to build more temples? Could these spiritual fanatics not see all this poverty? Did they believe that they could worship these new gods from within a safe Western bubble while ignoring the people on the streets who also believe in and worship the same god? What about building schools for the millions of street kids? Or how about providing shelters for the people who are born and die in the dirt of your newfound holy land?

I always knew there was poverty in India, but I naively thought that with the huge amount of money pouring in from all over the world through the spiritual tourist market and from Bollywood into a booming and wealthy city like Mumbai (which apparently has the most millionaires on the planet) more would have been done for the poor.

Ghandi vs. Mao?

I met an Indian businessman who had traveled all over the world, but was based in China. He strangely thought that Ghandi’s democracy had done more wrong that good for India.

I fought back. I think what Ghandi had done for this country no guru, lama, or contemporary communist dictator could do—so maybe India needs another Ghandi rather than a Chinese dictator. The businessman continued to compare his country to China and decided that the Chinese had dealt with poverty better than India ever had. He used the 2008 Olympics (China had put all the poor behind a wall), as an example.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! He was suggesting that the poor should be kept behind walls to protect tourists from exposure to the reality of misery. In a country with eighty percent its population in poverty, the government would have a hell of a job building enough walls to contain them all. Of course, this would have the benefit of leaving lots of space for the minority of privileged Indians, Bollywood stars, the wealthiest of the Zoroastrian Parsis, and of course, foreigners on spiritual pilgrimages or working for NGOs while living in five-star hotels.

I thought the only thing that India might learn from the Chinese would be to change their strict adoption laws so that the thousands of childless Westerners who are in line to receive a baby from China could adopt children from the streets of Delhi instead, and give them the love that they deserve.

I Want to Sue the Indian Government

Visiting the real India, not the one you see in tourist ads at your travel agency’s office, shattered my fantasies of the mysterious country I had always dreamed of one day visiting.

Who is responsible for the injustice that is India? Is it Bollywood, for producing distorted fantasy images for the world? India’s spiritual leaders who deceive millions of ingenuous westerners? Tourist agencies with their mind blowing exotic ads?

No, it is more likely the fault of the Indian government that tolerates savage injustice and disparity of wealth. Would it be possible, I fantasize, to sue the government of India on behalf of the millions of Indian street children who receive nothing from all the fame and wealth that India receives and enjoys? Could I seek a remedy before some court requiring those who control of the amazing, sacred land of India and who exploit it for their personal interest must share the wealth by actually contributing to India’s infrastructure and the health of its people? Surely, a country of such wealth and international fame can do something to address the abysmal poverty that surely has shocked more than one visitor into a helpless, suicidal funk.

India: the Beauty Within

I saw many beautiful things in India. I experienced real multiculturalism. Millions of different cultures and religions live and work together, while most countries in the region persecute minorities and permit no freedom of religion.

I witnessed democracy and freedom of speech at work when I saw a disabled person make a claim against the film festival in which I was participating for selecting a wheelchair unfriendly building in which to show the films. His claims caused the cancelation of the festival in the city of Goa, one of the five cities to which the festival would have traveled. It was somewhat ironic that in a country populated by millions of disabled poor living on the streets, one privileged and high-caste man could stop a highly organized human rights event.

I met some of the most amazing, generous, and peaceful people that I had ever met anywhere. I met hardworking, critical, but hopeful women activists and artists with a passion for justice that I rarely see. I met village women who would work hard on farms or in brick factories, while also making beautiful handicrafts in the hope that tourists would buy them.

There were the young, promising, intelligent Indian college students who harboured great dreams for their country and rest of the world. Some talked to me about their concerns about hostility with neighbouring Pakistan. They were worried about the possibility of war between people who one day could belong to the same land; they were disappointed with a corrupt government that is more concerned with building a war machine than with fighting poverty.

Seeing Forgotten Slum Children, But Not a Slumdog Millionaire

After a few days in India, I was sad to conclude that Slumdog Millionaire portrays an India much closer to the real thing than my childhood Bollywood movies represented. Even the theatre in which I watched Danny Boyle’s film seemed to exist in a surreal and glamorous Bollywood neighbourhood that was completely outside of the orbit of India’s reality. For me, although *Slumdog Millionaire's images were closer to reality, the rags-to-riches storyline was wildly improbable for any of the millions of India’s slum-dwelling girls and boys.

In a society of caste hierarchies that have deadly effect on the 'untouchables’—the absolute lowest caste who mostly live on the street—making a superstar out of a street urchin and providing him with a happy ending was copied from the Hollywood-Bollywood models, a fantasy provided by the same image-making machine that has always fed like a parasite on human hope for love, equality, and fairness. Yet I am still pleased with the film since it actually happened in a real Indian city and not in some surreal Bollywood set that most would think to be India.

Not-Happy-Ending to My Love Story

My best friend from Canada, who was visiting her parents in Mumbai, kindly took me around her childhood neighbourhood: the Juhu Beach areas of glamour and fame. We passed by Amitabh Bachchan’s house, the childhood favourite I shared with Slumdog Millionaire's main character. It was Republic Day and a big crowd waited anxiously for the moment when the big star would show up and give autographs to his fans.

I had no desire to meet him in person anymore, feeling I had been fooled enough by his movies as a child. Worse, huge images of him on commercial billboards all over India showed him using his fame to hawk everything from designer suits to Basmati rice, the luxuries that many of his poor fans could never hope to afford, in this life at least.

We have both changed. He is much older now—still handsome, but looking very conservative. There is no sign of the passionate man as I remember him from the old days, the man who would do anything for love and justice. I have also changed. I no longer believe in Prince Charming or the sweet fantasy of India that I used to know through his films.

Written by: Lila Ghobady, March 31st 2009