It has been over a month since I have returned from India and I am still processing all that I learned and experienced there. On the 9th of February we went to visit a small town called Lohardaga about 1.5 hours west of Ranchi. This is where Ferdiand and Doris Hahn spent 20 of their years. As was the case with everywhere we went we were met with great hospitality.

Our first visit was the old mission compound where the schools and the church still stand. Though the original church literally collapsed one day and a new one was built next to the old foundation.

It was so facinating to be in the house where the Hahn family had lived and talk about what life must have been like with others who had also lived in the same house just a few decades ago. Today it is portioned off into several smaller apartments and parts of it are in need of much repair.

The church women who greeted us were excited about talking about the history of the place. In particula Eren Minz, who remembers hearing stories about Ferdiand Hahn from her grandfather, DharamDas Minz who had been the chawkidar (security gaurd). She took me by the hand down the back street where those with Leprosy once had lived in view of the bungalow's back veranda. She showed me the field that use to be a fruit orchard and the fields where they had grown their own food. I couldn't understand her completely, but she was so full of stories to tell. It is for this reason that I hope to have a chance to return there when I go back to Jharkhand in November.

We visited the small graveyard that had unmarked graves. One we knew would have been for two year old Helene who died at the age of 2 in 1891.

Ferdinand and Doris moved to Lohardaga in 1878. Primarily because it is higher elevation than Chaibassa where they had been stationed for 3-4 years.  Years that had hit the mission hard with a cholora epidemic. Ferdinand had become so ill that he almost died, so it was agreed that a milder climate would help him regain his health.

While Lohardaga had been one of the Gossner Missions earliest centers, it really had dminished over the years. There was however a congregation of about 700 souls.  The leadership of the church had been a little neglected so at that time there was a leader named ManmasihDas Birsa who was setting himself up as the new Raja of the Oraons. Lohardaga is a dominantly Oraon area and were rapidaly losing their land and power to the outsider landlords called zamindars. Some how Ferdinand Hahn, who was just learning the language of the Oraon, was able to win over the hearts of the people and the church rapidly grew during his tenure. During these years Ferdinand Hahn got to know the people well. He wrote down their language and published a dictionary and grammar book that are still used today. He came to know the people well enough that they shared with him their oral stories, which he also wrote down. This work is remembered with much gratitude and it is for this reason that we were received with such honor. What he accomplished in Lohardaga alone is an important part of the history of the original people's of the land, the Adivasi.

After visiting the schools, church, old bungalow and graveyard, we went to the Mayor's house and was told that after lunch we would go to the town hall. It was then that I learned that he had been the founder of the town council and its first president in 1888. I had seen this picture of Ferdinand Hahn sitting with the town council, but did not know he was the leader of this group.  I am curious to find out if the formation of this city council, which like most governing structures in India has not changed since India gained its Independence from the British, is unique in that it was started by a German person and may have used a different model then the British used. Or was Ferdinand simply the first to be placed in charge of this district. How it seems to be remembered is that Hahn organized the natural leaders of the region to create their own civil government. Hahn, I learned, is remembered for being a fair and just advocate for the concerns of the citizens, so that even when he was not the president the citizens of the area would turn to him for advise or request his assistance.

When we arrived at the town hall I was surprised to see the huge reception we had and asked to participate in a ceremony that they already had going that day to distribute sewing machines to a women's group. We were shown the old meeting room and where the leader of the council would sit.

In respect it was an honor to garland the bust of the local legend and hero Birsa Munda. This was a freedom fighter who was personally known by my anscestors. 

We were also shown a safe that was in the floor and told that it hasn't been open for a long time. No one knows how long. The key has not been available.

I told the people there, jokingly, that when I go to Germany to do more research on the family  will see if I can find the key there. 

​

As you know the reason for my visit to Jharkhand was to learn more about my great great grandparents and the legacy they left. It was a remarkable trip to connect with the people who were also interested in learning more about this missionary that had contributed so much to the preservation of their language, for establishing education systems, and strengthening their church.

On one of the first days there was a celebration for the 150 years of the Seminary where Ferdiand Hahn had been ordained and also taught there. At the service was one of my first opportunities to speak to a large group of people.  I shared that I felt that we shared a common legacy through this man, here in this church where he had been married in 1871.

The dedication ceremony was followed by a cultural event where seminary students from both GTC and NDTC shared Adivasi dance.

I came to fully appreciate this event later in my stay as I learned more about the reasons for the split of the Gossner Evangelical Lutheran church into GEL and Northwest GEL.  The split had occured in the 1970s however in recent years a reconciliation process is underway.

Now 3rd of May is the anniversary of Ferdinand Hahn's death. I wrote an obituary as if it had been written in 1910 as a tribute in his memory

Ferdinand Hahn OBITUARY 1910
The death on the 3d of May 1910 of Rev Ferdinand P Hahn came as a heavy loss to his family, friends and colleagues. As one of the Gossner Mission’s oldest and most able missionaries Hahn served in India for 42 years living in Purulia, Lohardaga, Chaibassa and Ranchi, and influencing several other smaller towns throughout Chotanagpur and Assam. He died in Mussoorie in the Himalaya Mountains where he had gone for recuperation.

Of that day, his wife wrote:
“The funeral was set for 5 pm. A little meditation was spoken in English at the casket, on the porch where a small band of missionaries mourned along with myself and my two youngest daughters. Then began the heavy, heavy walk to the cemetery – through the bazaar, along the road called Camel’s Back, past strollers and shoppers, horses and carts, etc. – without singing, without bells ringing – only with a heart filled with pain. We walked on the same path which the dear Papa had loved to walk among the pine forests. Our sorrowful procession walked on towards the entrance of the cemetery. It is difficult to recall that only two weeks earlier he sat on that bench at its gate longing to get recover, live and return to his people in Chotanagpur. Oh, I could hardly walk, and it was good that someone offered me a dandy (bench carried by four coolies). I was carried the rest of the way. Chaplain Law, a slender man, stepped in front of the casket and guided the small procession down the sloping path, reading Psalms. Down the cascading stares, past three or four tiers where laid the graves of British soldiers, government officials, and perhaps a few missionaries. Maybe there lies also a fellow German? Down to the lowest terrace of the picturesquely arranged cemetery of Mussoorie. Looking out above, snowcapped mountains soar up in the cobalt sky. Looking down, rising from the valley, the patchwork emerald fields. But my heavy heart could now only see the four gentlemen lay the casket down into the tomb. Now there, my dear, dear husband is laid to rest until the great resurrection day. Resting from all his struggles, worries and works of this poor life. Now he sees the One in whom he has believed and whom he has loved above all. But we mourn after him and will never, never forget him.”

He was laid to rest far from family, work, and home in the northeast region of India referred to as ChotaNagpur. He served his God by pouring his life and devotion into the betterment of the indigenous people of that land. Despite minimal education his mission work included teaching at the seminary, administering schools and hospitals and equipping the ever growing German Evangelical Lutheran church of Chotanagpur and Assam. For most of his years of service he was the Secretary of the Gossner Mission. He had a reputation for keeping the grounds of all the mission stations where he lived orderly and full of beautiful flowers and gardens.

The centrality of his focus when he died was the leper asylum in Purulia. In 1884 with the help of the Mission to Lepers in India and the East he founded a leper asylum in Lohardaga. When later he and his family transferred to Purulia Bengal, the Scottish mission provided further assistance for the maintenance and expansion of a model asylum. This leper asylum, run as a community rather than an institution is unquestionably the largest in India and contained nearly 800 residents. Rev. Hahn was considered an authority on leper work.

He furthermore distinguished himself as a linguist in the investigation and publication of several of the aboriginal languages, primarily Kurukh, the language of the Oraon. The British Government, recognizing the valuable services he had rendered as a linguist and Good Samaritan, conferred upon him in the year of 1906 the golden medal of the first order of Kaiser-e-Hind. He was also recognized for assistance with relief efforts across Chotanagpur during several famines in the region. He is also remembered for his civil responsibilities, particularly in Lohardaga where he helped establish the town council, serving as its president in 1888 and 1898. His deep concern for the people was demonstrated in advocating on behalf of the community over legal matters. The fact that he was able to collect the folk tales of the people, was evidence that he lived so closely among them. In many ways he proved to be the original field worker for emergent Indian Anthropology.

Serving India from 1868, Ferdinand Hahn returned to his homeland in Germany only three times (1883, 1894 and 1906). Here Hahn was successful in stimulating the organization of an auxiliary branch for medical missionary work within the Gossner society and another branch for what is known in Germany as the Schwestern Arbeit, work for female nurses. He also traveled throughout England and Scotland and America, promoting and fundraising for the work of the Gossner Mission in India.
 In addition to contributions to the Asiatic Society and various journals on Missions Hahn also wrote:

• Sagen und Märchen der Kols (Legends and Tales of the Kols)
• Einführung in das Gebiet der Kolsmission  (Introduction to the field of Kol's mission)
• Grammar of Kuruk (the language of the Oraons)
• View into the Spirit World
• Kuruk Dictionary
• Introductory to New Testament (in Kurukh and Hindi)
• Translation of some of the books of the Bible into Kurukh

While his mother and father and one daughter and son passed on before him, he left behind a large family:  beloved wife, Catherine Dorthea (Doris) Hahn (nee Voss) continues on in India with three daughters, Gushie, Dora and Lieble; their oldest daughter Louis, and her husband K.W Nottrott, are American Evangelical Missionaries in nearby Chatisghar; Marie, suffers much with lung disease, and lives mostly in Almora, but her husband Paul Wagner continues Ferdinand’s work in Purulia; Theo, Frieda, Albert and Gottried live in America; only their middle son Johannes and his sister Louise remain in Germany.

One of the biggest surprises for me, was to find in Jharkhand a keen interest in Ferdinand Hahn, my great great grandfather. Initially I thought it was an interest only among a few scholars of the Gossner Evangelical Luther (GEL) church and the Northwest GEL as a founding missionary of the church. However, when I went to Lohardaga (45 miles from Ranchi) I further discovered that he was remembered for his civic and advocacy leadership. He had layed a legacy of civil participation in the Church that continues on till today. Anyone studying the Jharkhand Adivasi history, language and culture would come across the name of Ferdinand Hahn. The fact is that they share a historical connection as part of their heritage with my family through our ancestor, Ferdinand Hahn. 

It was encouraging and humbling to find the recognition of Hahn's significant contribution in preserving Adivasi (tribal) language, culture, and identity. With the Jharkhand movement and the creation of the state in 2000 there is a growing awareness and interest in the unique history. While visiting several colleges and Universities in Ranchi of extensive efforts to promote tribal languages. The Central government had just passed a law permitting students to take exams in their mother tongue.

​Two of the missionaries recognized among Adivasis for their work in preserving language are my anscestors. In addition to Ferdinand Hahn's work among the Oraon (language Kurukh),  Alfred Nottrott worked among the Munda. He is a great great uncle.  His brother Ludwig Nottrott, my great great grandfather, also did some writing from Germany on the history of the Adivasi in this region.

Along with my father and cousin everywhere we went we were received with overwhelming hospitality. The fact that the descendents of these important figures in Adivasi history had come to visit was a great honor. Mutually we shared a common interest in the contributions of these anscestors. Together we share a rich heritage that these anscestors passed on to this generation.

Despite the fact that I am not researching this heritage as an academition I was greatly honored that they asked me to Give a lecture on Ferdinand Hahn at the First Public Lecture on Adivasi culture and language.

I've already wasted some time in trying to figure out how to edit the video and power poin presentation. Since I lack the technical skills I've decided to submit the raw footage of most of the lecture if anyone is that interested in hearing the talk. I am not a public speaker, and find it very ackward. So I apologize ahead of time.  In regards to the content, I  have found that even over the past two months I have learned still more about Ferdinand Hahn's work and impact.  I will be now turning my attention to writing an upadated biography on his life, that I hope to complete within this year while I continue the historical novel based on the life of his wife.

During our visit in Jharkhand we learned that our ancestor, Ferdinand Hahn, was well remembered in the region for his part in establishing the church and seminary, his civic engagement and advocacy for the people, and mostly for having written the grammar of Kurukh, the language of the Oraon tribe. The family spent 25 years in Lohardaga where Hahn lived so closely among the Oraon that he was able to compile the oral traditions and stoiries and begin tos translate the Bible into the native language.

However for the last 10 years of his life he lived and worked in a predominantly Santal region of Purulia, which is now in West Bengal,1901-1915. The Gossner Mission in Chotanagpur had started a tribal church, schools and Leprosy Asylum in the mid 19th century.

The work among the lepers in Purulia was started by a Heinrich Uffman and his wife Catherine. In around 1870 Purulia was a market crossroads. Where people would gather, lepers would gather. They were outcaste from society reduced to relying completely on alms for their livelihood. On market days they would be arrive from far and wide and line up along the side of the road, hoping for enough to sustain themselves. While they were a crowd of lepers, most of them sat in isolation even amongst each other. Showing their wounds aand deformaties in hopes of eliciting enough pity to be thrown a few small coins or crumbs. 

​I visited Purulia with my father and cousin and a guide, the Professor of Bengali at the Gossner College. We found few in Purulia or the Gossner Evangelical Lutheran Church (GEL) remember this beginning history of the Leprosy Mission. Even the plaque on the church next to the Leprosy Hospital had Ferdinand's name written incorrectly. Much of this is due to the fact that in WWI the leprosy mission work was handed over to the Anglican Church and the Mission to Lepers (based in Scotland).

The self-sufficiency of the community of Lepers made it possible for the community to survive on its own independent of the church.

Still we were able to see the big bungalow, still called Uffman house, but the other mission homes had been torn down.

Both the Uffman and Hahn widows, Catherine and Doris continue on in Purulia after their husband's died.  To me this indicated that they were more involved in the running of the mission than anyone has ever recognized.

I wanted to share a brief description from Doris' Diary (translated By Ilse Nottrott Peetz) of where they stayed in Purulia. As I was finding the spot in the Diary i discovered that it was April 12th, 1910 that Ferdinand left Purulia and Chotanagpur for the last time.  He was ill and went to Mussoorie to recuperate, but instead died there, far from his people,  family and home in Chotanagpur. It was 106 years ago when things, not just for the Hahn family, but for the Mission started to unravel.  What would come out of the following difficult years for the Gossner Mission would eventually lead to the authonomy of the Adivasi church. In the transition there was much "forgetting" and yet the seeds of remembrance are sprouting again.  People are interested in their history. They recognize that a legacy was passed on to them through men like Ferdinand Hahn. The stories, including this one I tell, are beginning again to be told

The houses that Doris mentions below are the "big House", the "police  bangalow" may be same as the "red bangalow" (we saw the site which is now just rubble). The only problem is that there is no evidence of elevation nor a pipal tree. Perhaps there is yet another house I did not find, or in the course of history even the landscape is altered.  None of the grounds are kept today in the same fastideous manner the old missionaries kept their homes, walkways and gardens.To imagine those days in the early 20th century takes imagination.

She wrote:
"All together, we celebrated a very happy Christmas (1908) in the large house in Purulia. Soon after New Years, Wagners moved into the red bungalow which the Wenzlaffs had vacated in order to move to Lobardaga. Sister Marie lived in the small house at the lake where Beckmann’s had lived earlier."
And,
"At the end of May(1909) Paul (son-in-law) let us know by chance that the physician in Purulia had declared that Mariechen’s lungs were affected. Even then, we did not understand it as the beginning of the consumption. Only when we returned to Purulia in July and witnessed her breakdown, her deep suffering became clear to us, and also that something radical had to be done for her health. First we managed the move. We moved into the so-called Police Bungalow which had been renovated recently and stood at the quiet, separate south corner of the Mission compound, and Wagners moved into the large house close to the church. So it was convenient for our respective work. Paul was close to school and church, and father, who had given up congregational work and wanted to concentrate on his Secretarial (for Gossner Mission) and Asylum work, had it quieter. How pleasant and homey it was for us in this dear “senior home”, which seemed to be a better place to be in its elevated position under the large, glorious pipal trees and more healthful than those of the other missionaries in Purulia. Father recovered here more and more from his cough and was rather well, even into the cold season."

Thanks to all who followed my photoessay documentation of my Heritige Trip on FaceBook.  I had every intention of posting on this blog, but unfortunately the strength of WiFi coverage was not so good and so there were extreme limits to what weebly could do.  Now that I am fully on line I hope to do a summary of the trip which was only partly about researching my family roots in India, partly connecting to my own connections, and discovering India as it is today.

In regards to the research I would have to say that a primary theme underscoring the whole experience was "Where are the women's voices?" It began on one of the first days in Ranchi when I was shown a very treasured book of the 50th anniversary of the Gossner Mission in what was then called Chotanagpur (today Jharkhand). I was glad to find this photo of the missionaries in 1871, soon after Doris and Ferdinand were married in Christ Church in Ranchi.  They are on the far right of the picture. Doris brother, who had not yet married is the 4th from the left man standing. And then 4th man to the right of him is Alfred Nottrott, who also may still have been single.  All these men are part of the story that i will be telling.  Note that all the men are named in the picutre, but not their wives. There were a few pictures of women clearly doing some of the mission work, but with little discription.

This discovery pointed to me early that I would be hard pressed in India to find more information about the story of the missionary women. I am hoping that I will have better luck in Germany.  It also is a matter that much is in old German and I am limited in my comprehension of what is written.

I would also discover that the story of the adivasi people, both men and women, also are hard to find.  Here the matter is primarily due to an oral tradition. Within families, I am told the stories of their family and clan are passed on. But with a generation being raised in the age of mass media those stories, are at risk of being loss. 

Whereever I went in Jharkhand, people were very happy that I was writing a history of their early history. They were even more inspired when I encouraged them in the art of storytelling and in the preservation of their stories. I tell the youth to record the stories of their mothers and grandmothers. For there will be a unique telling through their eyes. When I had opportunity I encouraged the recording of stories, and sharing of stories to revive a greater understanding of the hisorical legacy for future generations. I discovered many writers who are in the process, and I hope to be part of creating an anthology to bring these stories together.

Despite the pull and tug of modernization I was grateful to see how dance, drum, and song continued to be reinforced in the churches. [1/2 of Adivasi in the region are Christians].and the schools. Even while we were in Ranchi, the central government passed a law that permitted students to take exams in their native tongues  In rural areas the tribal languages are still spoken.  But many are having to learn the tongue of their ancestors in college. Still there is a push now to make sure songs and dances are known and led by the young people

The first sunday in Ranchi was Women's Sunday.  The significance of that wasn't lost on me.  As I watched the Hindu and Muslim boys play cricket in the maidan (open field) behind the church I wondered what impression they had hearing the voices of women cast over their game from the loud speakers.  Every religious group blasts over loudspeakers their call to worship, songs and sermons. On particular days when there is a cross over of important ceremonies the sound in the air can become quite a cocophany. But typically they take turns.  So on Sunday there are five services coming from the big red church in the center of town.  On Woman's sunday all the songs and sermons were given by women.  No other religious group has the voice of women on the loud speakers, except occassionally some woman's voices are amidst the singing chants of the devoted from a Hindu or Jain temple. Still even in the church, that permits women pastors and preachers, I often pointed out that the women working behind the scenes are often over looked.

The Heritage journey is coming to a close. If I am able to summarize the experience, I will try. I apologize that I was unable to post as much as I had hoped on this blog because to upload pictures takes more than the 2g that I had most of the time. It still is challemging.

If you were on FB you had a chance to see my daily photo portrayals of India. Lets see if I can get a few more pictures up of the past 2.5 months? In my photo essaying I attempted to communicate several things about India: diversity, color, vibrancy, and chaos.

One cannot actually truth fully portray this country. Just little glimpses that give a partial portrayal of a vastly diverse region. Clearly the smells and sounds don't come across. I noticed even the colors in any photo I took were never like the color I saw with my naked eye. It is clearly a place to be experienced. Portrayal must be understood just as that.

I may add that even a movie will fall short, as much as movies a central part of India. I remember years ago going with friends to see Salaam Bombay in the US, and I was asked if it was authentic. For the part of Mumbai, which was the red light district, yes, I thought so, but for the smells. If people could only smell those scenes of cramped humanity. I wondered if anyone would ask if the red light district anywhere in the US was representative of America? Many people have thought they understood India better after watching Slumdog Millionaire. To that , I would have to say, with a big sigh, hardly! Though it had some wonderful glimpses.

Essentially the only real misconception of India is that it's all the same. Its not all Hindu, or, even any One kind of Hinduism. The number of Muslims is larger than most muslim nations. One must be settled with the possibility for all conceptions being partially true. It doesn't mean that you can't hold fast to one particular view, it makes for interesting conversation.  Furthermore, any minority of 2%, for instance, is still several billion people.

With technical difficulties I can only post this much today.

I have thoroughly enjoyed my time up in the mountains where I spent my formative years from 8 to 18 years old. Today I went to visit the school and then afterwards found some less-traveled paths to take. Despite my bad knees and poorer sense of balance I managed my way up the hill. It reminded me of how I use to wander those hills when I was young. It also reminded me of how often in life I take the paths less travelled.

I've been been taking this time to do some writing. Perhaps not as much as I had planned. I think about the long hard task ahead of me. Most of the time it is daunting. How will I ever manage? But just like these roads I just plod on forward. Yes, there are times, quite challenging, when it takes a while to gain a sure footing. I nearly fell off the side when I stopped to take a picture of Rhodadendrens high overhead. But I made it to the top. I reached the destination.

And while it may be a lonely road and less traveled -- in the sense that I utilize my organic intuitive processes to express in story historical, economic, political, and religious themes -- I have full confidence that somehow I will get to the top, to the end. My way less traveled is strewn with the foliage of openess, reflection, attentiveness, and vision.

The fact is that these paths through the mountains have been forged by others that have gone before. It may be less travelled, but if there is a road or path, even ever so primitive, someone has taken it before you, and likely with alarming regularity. And this is what makes me sure-footed, having the evidence that the way is possible.

May you find freedom in those rugged paths of you life. Enjoy the scenery and don't fear. Once in a while look up to the skies and see what lies ahead.

So I have arrived to that one place hid in my heart as home and, yes, it feels like home. The plan is to spend at least a good solid week writing. My room with a view is idylic.

The plan also is to walk around. I arrived at the Ivy Bank guest house mid day, unpacked, and then headed out for a walk. The back path up to Chaar Dhukhaan is very steep, and I realized it would take a while to get my lung capacity up to the 7000+ feet altitude. You just plug along at a steady plod and eventually you arrive at one of the oldest crossroads of town in front of St Paul's church. Every time I come there are more cafes. So no longer four (chaar) stores (dhukhaan). I sit down at Tip Top and its good to see a familiar face.

After chai and fried momo I got my second wind and walked on. The steepness of a path is always relative. As a youth here I never realised how steep the road was between St Paul and Kellogs. But not anywhere as steep as to Char Dukhaan. The weather was very comfortable for walking. I walked the path that ribbons the top of the mountain ridge in the secluded "suburb" called Landaur. Due to the government taking over most of the hill, and strict building restrictions, this part of town is pretty much the same. I don't know how many times I walked this road when I was young. To walk it again, after all these years, did feel like a homecoming.

Arriving at Prakash's I just went in and ordered some basic survival supplies, as if I had been shopping there last week. I couldn't remember if it was Anil or Sunil who had taken over the shop.  I asked. He told me he was Sunil and then he instantly remembered that I use to live just up the hill in Buena Vista. He asked about my parents.

Now to head back home, This time around the back of the mountain, where few live. The path goes under what use to be our house, but that was torn down long ago and taken over by All India Radio. Its a quiet. path with pines that must be twice the size as 40 years ago.

The walk down any gradient proved to be very difficult on my knees. Just before the guest house where I am staying is possibly the very steepest road. I did my best to criss cross down or go sideways, as people rushed pass me with no problem. There is another road I can take that is a little more gradual, though three times longer.

So tomorrow I wanted to see the snows early in the morning, before smog and clouds come in. It may be that the best way to treat myself on my birthday is to stay home and rest my knees. Or I will go down Mullingar early in the day, and get the tension on my knees over with early, and see the snows from the Camels back road.

I am so grateful that wind has blown the smog away. Delhi is the most polluted city in the world, but not while I was here. And rather than being the predicted 90° it is cool and lovely! I only hope that all the smog didn't blow up to the mountains where I am headed now.

I had to try to get on line before leaving Delhi. Theoretically the WiFi should be better here, but who knows what factors are preventing my connectivity today. For those who think that technology will revolutionize societies around the world by providing easy information and education, the infrastructure still needs to be built. In a country where infrastructure for roads, water, and housing is lagging behind, putting emphasis on technical infrastructure may only reinforce the disparities of opportunity.

That is the extent of my assessment of this country. I might only add that it is unfortunate that in the present political environment the wealth of diversity is being undermined, not recognizing the multiple minorities that make this such a vibrant country. My hope has been that I have opened some eyes in America to the fact that the face of India and its cultures are very diverse. A minority may still equal a higher population than in other countries. More Muslims in India than in Pakistan, for instance. Over 2 million Christians constitutes a minority. The other wonder of India is that this diversity typically lives in harmony, side by side. It is only politics that divides people, using religion as a divisive tool to destroy the peaceful coexistence. But this evil is pervasive all around the world. This is why I am inspired by grassroots movements that help build community and collaboration. We do not have to succumb to the powers and principalities in the air.

So in Delhi I said farewell to my fellow travelers, my Dad, Kay and Wolfram. The next 4 weeks and 4 days I will travel alone. Not really alone; staying with friends who live in India. Five days in Dehra Dun, 2 weeks in Mussoorie, 5 days in Ranchi again, and a final week in Mumbai. Much of that time will be to process and write about the information gathered.

Last night I had a wonderful visit with Leyla, a distant relative. She is the great great grand daughter of Doris'cousin. The branch of the family that went to St Petersburg, Russia. She came with an Indian friend who is also researchIng his great great grandparents, Sikhs from pre-partition Pakistan. It was interesting sharing our common heritage journeys. It is facinating to me how wonderful it is to meet and hug a distant relative for the first time, and feel like we have known each other a long time.

it is hard to believe I have only been here for half of my time. My fellow travelers are at the end of their trip. The second half will be more processing all I have learned here and doing some writing.

I've changed my plans slightly. Instead of going to SattalAshram I will go to Mussoorie to have 2 full weeks of writing.

While I am in Darjeeling I am trying to imagine what it was like in 1910.

Doris writes in her diary:

" Father, Libele and I traveled quite calmly to Darjeeling, in early May, where we had reserved our lodging already much earlier with Miss MacIntosh’s Clover Cot, for two months. We had a very nice time of recreation there."

I cannot find where this cottage may have been. But I have taken pictures of old buildings to spark my imagination of what might have been.

Internet is not strong enough here so I apologize to my non-FB followers, the bulk of my pictures are there.