The Other Wiseman
Narrator:
- You have heard the story of the Three Magi from the East who followed the great star to worship the baby king Jesus, but have you heard the story of the other Magi—the fourth Wise man—Arjan? Let me tell you his story.
- There lived in ancient Persia, in the city of Ecbatana, a certain man named Arjan. He was a member of the elite community of Zoroastrian scholars called Magi. Magi were astrologers as well as physicians who believed in the search for goodness and light.
One day a new star rose. According to the prophets this was the star that foretold of the birth of the King of the Jews. Arjan and three of his Magi colleges planed to go on a pilrimage together to search for the promised one to be born King of Israel. 
Selling everything he owned, Arjan bought three jewels—a sapphire, a ruby and a pearl. He would carry them as tribute to the King. - Thus begins Arajan’s journey. He had only 10 days to meet his three companions at the great mound of Mirod and the Temple of the Seven Spheres.
- But just before reaching the great mound of Mirod, Arajan came upon a dying man lying in the road. Should Arjan care for this man and restore his health or forget about him and meet his Magi friends for their important pilgrimage?
- Arjan stopped. Hour after hour he labored over the man. The man ate and regained some strength.
- Pressing on, now a day late, Artaban discovered that his collages had gone without him. Arjan could have returned home, but instead he sold the Sapphire to buy a caravan of camels and provisions for the journey. He would not give up his search for the great King that the stars foretold.
- He received a message from his fellow Magi that the child was to be born in Bethlehem.
But just as he arrived in Bethlehem, soldiers of King Herod were carrying out orders to kill all the baby boys of the town.
All the doors of the town were shut, but one room was open. A mother was singing a lullaby to her boy child. The woman told him that it was now three days after the other three magi had arrived in Bethlehem. They had found Joseph and Mary and the young child and had laid their gifts at his feet. Then they had disappeared the next day. - Then Artaban still seeking his King, went to Egypt to look for Mary and Joseph and Jesus.
Joseph had taken his wife and baby that same night and fled to Egypt—there was a rumor that he had been warned by an Angel to leave Bethlehem.
- Outside the room Arjan heard women and baby’s screams. Suddenly a soldier stood in the doorway of the room where Arjan stood. Arjan held up his Ruby and offered it for the protection of this mother and child, the mother thanked him .
- For 33 years Artaban continued looking for the King—but as news spread that he was a doctor—the sick and the helpless came to him every day and he would care for them. Then one day a man who had leprosy that Arajan had helped came running to him and said,
- Man who had Leprosy: “Arjan, Arjan, Look and my fingers.
Arjan: “Wow, What happened?
- Man: “I am whole. I am healed.
Arjan: “Who has done this?”
Man: “I have found the King you seek, Come”
Arjan jumped up and they ran to Jerusalem. It was Passover season. People where saying that Jesus, the man who had healed the Arjan’s friend of leprocy was going to be crucified. How could a great healer King be killed by the Romans? Arjan was confused.
It was crowded. Suddenly a slave girl being dragged by her master’s guard broke away and threw herself at Artaban’s feet. Taking the last of his treasures, he gave the pearl to the girl and ransomed her life. - There was an earthquake. Arjan fell to the ground. Artaban knew he was dying. He would not find the King. He had failed his quest. The randsomed slave girl took Arjan to a room to die in peace. For three days he was in and out of consciousness.
- There was a rumor that though Jesus, the King of the Jews had been killed
before the whole city he was alive and appearing to his followers. Suddenly there was a man kneeling by Arjan’s bed. Arjan recognized his King. - Artaban: “Ah, Master, I have longed sought you. Forgive me. Once I had precious gifts to give. Now I have nothing.”
- Jesus: “Artaban, you’ve already given your gifts to me.”
- Artaban: “ I don’t understand, my God.”
- Jesus: “When I was hungry, you gave me food to eat, when I was thirsty, you gave me drink. When I was naked you clothes me. When I was homeless, you took me in.”
- Artaban: “It is not so my saviour, when did I see you hungry, or thirsty, naked or homeless? And when did I do these things? Thirty-three years I have looked for you but I have never seen your face nor ministered to you, my King. I have never seen you until now.”
- Jesus: “When every you did these things for the least of my brothers or sisters—you did them for me.”
Artaban (calling to the former slave girl and the crowd)—“Did you hear Jesus say? We have found the King. We found him, and he has accepted all my gifts.”
The Week of Holi
This week is not only Holy Week, but it is also the week of Holi. Though there is a much more in depth mythology behind Holi, people think of it was the triumph of good over evil (this is interesting since in some ways that is what we celebrate on Easter). This Hindu festival is known as the festival of colors and the tradition is throwing colors on one another. A few years ago some organizations did research and found that the color being sold on the streets was toxic, so most people only throw water now. It’s like a huge water fight. The kids in the neighborhood have finished their exams and have a few weeks off, so they are very excited about Holi. They are so excited that they can’t wait. So they stand on the balconies of their houses and throw water balloons on passersby. My mom got hit today. Some people don’t even want to go out of their houses on Holi, but I think it’s kind of fun.
Christmas on the Otherside of the World
For me Christmas Eve was filled with christmas cookie baking. Here the tradition is fruit cake–for the most part we try to ‘play the game’ but we decided to stick to our American tradition of baking cookies. I think we like the cookies more than anyone else. Then came the realy exitement. We took our neighbors–the Qireshi’s out to dinner at Piccadelhi. They had never been there–but they all enjoyed it. Although Sam got a rude awakening. He was all exited about having a beer with me, but when he ordered it the server asked him if he was twenty-five. “No,” he said. My mom interjected, “But is it ok if he’s with his parents and they say yes?” The server agreed, but Sam’s Dad said no. I had no idea that the drinking age in India is 25, and was even more shocked to have it enforced. Sam sulked the rest of the evening.
I forwent the wine on the account of Sam but still ordered my Turkey dinner. We chose this Resturant to make everyone happy–they have an Indian, Chineese and Italian kitchen along with a bakery. I’m not sure how Turkey fit into that, but I was glad. The first piece of Turkey tasted so good. But by the time I got to the third piece I noticed the meat looked processed and it had postachos in it. There were no mashed potatoes, but the gravy was nice.
About half way through dinner, some program called Groove started on the stage. They had some quiz questions and they were trying to get people to go on stage to dance, sing, or do something no one eles could do–for a prize. The MC came straight over to my Dad and tried to get him to dance.
Not only are white men generally impaired when it comes to dancing–my Dad does not dance. And, he hates being made to dance. After singing a Hindi phrase and nominating me to dance, my Dad got off the hook. I was willing to go dance but only with Esther, my sixteen-year old friend. Even if she won’t admit it, she thought it was cool to go on the stage. Later my Dad was forgiven the insult of refusing to dance when he was the only person in the room to answer this question: What was the name of our Prime Minister in 1982? Everyone said, Rajiv Gandhi but it was a trick question. The answer was Manmohan Singh. Our Prime Minister has always had this name.
But that was only the beginning of Christmas. On the way home Sam’s clutch went out. Sam was so nervous to have his sister, Mom, and me in the car. He was standing outside the car on the phone and his mom was also making calls from inside, so I kept rolling down the window to keep the communication open. But, he insisted over and over bun karo, bun karo, close the window. Delhi is a dangerous place for women late at night, but I am not used to this kind of over-protection.
The next day we had people over for lunch and caroling. It was a good Christmas, but different. When you strip the holiday of the cultural traditions it is strange. But our simple worship of the Christ child and proclamation of his birth was sweet.
didi–sister
bun karo–close
niche paroise–down(stairs) neighbors
The Christians and the Pagans: Thanksgiving
This morning as I helped my mom prepare for Thanksgiving, I started humming to myself Dar Williams song “The Christians and the Pagans.” Though it is a song about a Christian family celebrating Christmas dinner with Pagan relatives, it reminded me of our dinner tonight with our neighbors. Not that I would generally refer to Hindus as pagans (because of the negative connotations), but it is a pretty unusual for Christians and Hindus to sit around a table (or living-room) together and give thanks to God.
We cooked the whole day, from dawn to dusk. Mom, Dad, and I had Big Baby Dutch Pancake with Strawberries and Blue Berries on top for breakfast.
At 3:30 we had a traditional Thanksgiving meal–Turkey and all. We actually had to pick out the live bird at the market… sorry to the vegetarians, I won’t say more. We ate this meal with a resident N.R.I. (Non-Resident Indian), otherwise called ABCD (American Born Confused Desi), or third culture family. If all those terms confuse you, let me explain. One generation of Indians worked very hard and came to settle in the U.S. There they had a son–an American citizen. He subsequently was married and had kids. Then they decided to move back to the Mother land. Sound crazy…? The reverse of the brain drain is beginning–even according to the Times of India– I read that a few weeks ago. In this case as in a few others I know of, the family feels called back to India by God to invest in the country and love the people. They were wonderful people to celebrate with not only because we like them a lot and they are enjoyable, but also because they appreciated the special food we collected from all over the city to put together a traditional Thanksgiving meal.
At 8:30 it came time for the “Christians and the Pagans sit around the table.” We put the meat away and took out each dish that had been careful prepared away from meat products and egg-less and we spread a vegetarian Thanksgiving feast. Mash potatoes, sweet potatoes (but they aren’t orange here), brown rice with fruit, stuffed bell peppers, green beans, and a few filler Indian dishes so that no one would be too scared of what they were eating. The neighbors from upstairs and downstairs came into our house as we ate as a joint family even though we all have very different backgrounds–it was beautiful.
Karva Chauth: Husband’s Day
In the U.S. we celebrate Mother’s Day and Father’s Day and recently Grandparents and Securtaries Day have been added. But in India, so far I have learned about a Daughter’s Day, a religious festival honoring and praying for single women (I liked that one because my upstairs neighbor brought me a delisious breakfast of puri, curri, and coconut), and now a day of prayer and fasting for husbands. Karva Chauth was on Monday. On the metro throughout the day I noticed that more women than usual were out wearing saris and hands stained decoratively with mahindi. Later with fire crackers interupted a dinner meeting I was having–I realized it must be a festival day. Sometimes I am clueless. Apparently the women get all done up, fast and pray from thier husbands and then when the moon comes out they go to thier husband’s family house if they don’t live there and have a huge feast. Sounds good to me.
PS. Can you guess which hand(s) is(are) mine? clue: Last week I was in South India and had my mehndi on my hands, everyone was very pleased that it came out dark because they said dark mehndi means I will have a good husband!
It’s Festival Season: Dusserha
In India, Festival Season has begun with Id and now Dusserha. It’s exciting to start “the Holidays” in mid October instead of late November (Thanksgiving). But true to form, I am clueless about these festivals. I’ve created some links on the side bar that are helping me understand what is going on.
Tonight as we were driving home from Sunday worship, we drove past festive light canopies and even witnessed the burning of the demon god Ravana. This is the climax of “Ramlila,” a nine day play or reenactment about the defeat of good over evil. The Ram (the good god) defeats Ravana (the evil god). Just as I was feeling proud of myself for knowing what was going on, we turned the corner into our own neighborhood (or colony as they call it here). We could not get through the street. Everyone was in the street. There were some stages with chairs on them lining the street. Some kids were wearing masks. It reminded me of Halloween, a little bit. Music was blaring from competing tents. As we waded through the crowd, we passed hundreds of people walking to the main street. People from the slum near by and people from our neighborhood shoulder to shoulder in the street. Why? I do not know.
We made it home. Dad had gone to a home group and he ended up having to do a lot of walking people the roads were so crowded. Life is an adventure…
