Lissa Pellicer
BLOG FOR H-FACTOR, WHERE IS YOUR HEART?
December 2006
LOCATION:
Sam’s Bagels
Brentwood, Southern California
COMPANY:
Sam’s Proprietor, Victoria, and Samara, my 3-½ month old daughter
“I am producing a film about Happiness”
It was a relatively chilly holiday morning as I anxiously awaited my flagel- a flattened bagel, thrice toasted, oozing with cream cheese, accompanied by my usual caffeine faire. My mobile rings: “Hi Lissa, it’s Lisa, how are you?” A smile is now strewn across my face as I hear my dear friends’ melodic voice. We exchange casual pleasantries of the weeks gone by; how my little one is doing, how her two angels, Kayla and Ari have been. Once we are both up to date on everything, she excitedly tells me about her latest film project geared around, about, and birthed of one solitary, magical thing: HAPPINESS.
“I am producing a film about happiness,” Lisa says. I think to myself how fitting the subject matter is to the producer; a person who not only exudes true, genuine happiness, but also leaves a bright and blazing trail of it wherever she goes.
“Let’s take this global”
When I inform her that I am to leave for India in a couple of weeks to work on a documentary and visit with friends, she immediately asks me if I would like to contribute to her film by recording interviews while there. Interestingly enough, Lisa was in fact one of the pivotal inspirations for me to go to India. Her film short, A Passage Through India, Diamonds in the Rough, presents the viewer a glimpse of an amazing country and culture of resounding beauty, wondrous history and steadfast tradition amidst modern times.
I exalt a resounding “yes!” to her inquiry on being a contributor to “H-Factor…. Where is Your Heart?”, and we make arrangements to meet in the next fortnight or so.
January 2007
LOCATION:
Starbuck’s Coffee
The Grove, Los Angeles, California
COMPANY:
Lisa Kamen and Samara
“Memorialize their joy”
At half past eleven in the morning, Lisa and I meet to discuss and finalize plans for India. “One minute, that’s all it takes. Ask each person what is their bliss; what makes their heart sing. That’s all. Record it. Memorialize their joy, give them a hug, and thank them.” How simple, how easy, I think to myself. Yet within this simple concept lies a profound and universal truth: without doubt or debate, it is all and everything in life that is effortless and endearing that makes us truly happy.
Lisa gives me scores of t-shirts, forms, cards, and camera equipment to take to the faraway land. The meeting comes to an end with a big bear hug and felicitations for a joyous journey. Lisa is genuinely excited, and I am extremely honored to have the opportunity to share and contribute to her project.
10 January 2007
LOCATION:
Los Angeles International Airport
COMPANY:
Samara, and hundreds of smiling strangers
“See you in three weeks!”
It’s late Wednesday evening, and I am patiently waiting to board what appears to be a full flight to India. I find it amusing that, having been raised in the Philippines and being quite accustomed to long voyages traveling to and fro, this trek to India is, in fact, my longest journey yet: 22 hours to be exact.
My mobile seems to be ringing every other minute: friends, business associates- everyone seems to be on cue to wish me ‘bon voyage.’ Lisa telephones amidst the stream of calls and speaks once more of the magical voyage Samara and I have in store.
Lots of love. Safe travels…
The seventeen-pound ambassador
With Samara securely cradled, face-forward, in the Baby Bjorn, a sea of smiles meets us as I walk around the busy airport. Young folks, older folks, business folk, busy folk, people chatting away on their mobiles, people eating, sitting, standing, arguing, anxious, wavering about- it seems as if everyone I pass takes a moment for themselves to look up and smile at my little one. I realize, at that moment, that I have on my person a shining example of something that brings joy on a universal scale: the innocence and elation found in a baby’s being. With pride and reverence, I hold onto her little hands as she prompted the sternest looking people to coo, make funny faces, and say “hello.” We made the acquaintance of many this evening…
12 January 2007
LOCATION:
International Airport
New Delhi, India
COMPANY:
Sanjeev, Sunita, Aakarsh, and Samara
“Welcome to India”
The cabin crew wishes Samara and I a happy visit to India. We disembark the crowded airplane to a warm and sunny New Delhi morning. It’s around 70 degrees. I’m sending texts to people on three different continents: “I’m here! I’m here!” In the replies I receive, I realize that although I mentioned to many that I was indeed traveling to India, some were confused or forgetful as to why I traveled to India. “Meeting Jois finally, are ye?” an old pal texts of the Ashtanga Master whose branch of yoga I’ve followed for a decade. Others thought it was to do a pilgrimage, some simply replied, “you’re where?”
I’m in India. We’re in India!
The customs official asks for the purpose of my visit. “Well, I’m working on a couple of films. One of them is about Happiness.” I then ask him what makes him happy. “My wife’s cooking!” He smiles and observes the interaction between my daughter and myself. “I think I know what makes you happy!” He says with a certain grin.
“Miti, Miti, Miti!”
“Lissssssaaaaaa!” Sanjeev yells across the way at the airport entrance gate. His lovely wife, Sunita, presents me with a beautiful bouquet of wild flowers. Their youngest son, nine-year-old Aakarsh, gives me a firm handshake and mutters a Hindi word that now lay like memory in my veins: “Miti,” he says, as he looks at Samara. Mi-what? “Miti. It means sweet in Hindi. Like her.” I like this young man already.
12 January 2007
LOCATION:
New Delhi, India
COMPANY:
Sanjeev, Sunita, Aakarsh, and Samara
We are now traveling from the airport to the city of Delhi. I look out the car window to the busy streets, alive and well with cars, cows, and people; each using the thoroughfare to help accomplish the days’ goals, whatever they may be.
I inform Aakarsh that I will interview him first. He excitedly looks at me and says “really?” Of course, I say. “So, off camera, but not off the record, what makes you happy, Aakarsh?” Before the young man has a chance to answer, both parents, in unison, yell “FOOD!” We all laugh…
We travel around forty minutes to our destination, and I am amazed at how, thousands of miles from family, friends, and all that it familiar, I am embraced by a feeling of welcome and peace that completely engulfs my being. This is going to be an interesting adventure…
13 January 2007
LOCATION:
Delhi, India
COMPANY:
Aakarsh, Aayush, and Samara
“The people of the world make me happy”
It is around half past four in the afternoon. Aayush, Aakarsh’ seventeen-year-old brother, has kindly offered to serve as my assistant in conducting the interviews. As we both set up the camera equipment, we hear Aakarsh, our first interviewee in Delhi, getting ready for the camera. “Ready,” the young man says as he exits the door to join us on the balcony.
I am surprised at the candor and confidence that exudes from Aakarsh, all of three-and-a-half feet tall. He speaks with wisdom of someone much older than his nine summers. He closes his minute-long synopsis of bliss with “the people of the world make me happy.” In that instant, I think of dear Kayla, a continent and half-spin of the world away. How I wish she and Lisa were here with me…
“We treat our guests like gods…”
…I am told; as I enter the house I will call home for the next three days. The aroma emanating from the bountiful kitchen as preparation for supper is underway is just shy of divine.
I am getting hungry…
Halfway between meals, a constant throughout the day, I am lavished with the most delicious chai and a generous spread of pastries. I venture into the kitchen and see Sunita lovingly prepare, from scratch, what seems to be a Pharaohs banquet. She is humming a lovely melody. She is smiling. I ask her what makes her happy. She tells me that waking up to her family every day makes her delighted to be alive. It shows.
14 January 2007
LOCATION:
Central Park
Delhi, India
COMPANY:
Aakarsh, Aayush, Sunita and Samara
I awake at around six in the morning and ask Aayush for his ideas on a good place to find ‘HAPPINESS’ subjects. He tells me that we should go to Central Park a little later in the day. There, Aayush informs me, we will find people from ALL over; and the variety will certainly serve as an interesting testament to the project.
We agree to leave the house at around two o’clock.
When shyness melts away…
We arrive at Central Park at around three in the afternoon. The sun seems to be hiding underneath a blanket of clouds; it is cool and the people around are plentiful. Great, I think to myself. We will get at least twenty interviews today, no problem.
I ask Aayush whom we should ask first. We decide to scope the place out and pick people that appear to come from different backgrounds: students, workers, and wanderers- all sitting on the short cement steps. We begin to set-up, center stage, on the exposed quadrangle. No sooner that he sets off to ask people if they would be willing to be interviewed does he come back with a solemn look on his face. “They said no,” he tells me.
You’re kidding me. No? Even THOSE students?
I look toward the south end of the park to three students. One young man, two ladies, all around the age of twenty. “I asked them. They said NO. They seem shy- they ALL seem shy.”
Fine. We will make it so that they come to us, I tell him. At this moment, I look behind me to see five men curiously observing everything that is unfolding. I ask Aayush to please approach them and tell them about the project; tell them that we can conduct the interview in Hindi, or Bengali, or whichever language they prefer. In fact, Lisa would like everyone to speak in the tongue that is most comfortable for them.
Two minutes later, Aayush is walking toward me, with a certain sense of accomplishment, five men in tow. I hit the RECORD button…
“My friends, my family”
By the time we finish with the five interviews, there is a crowd of at least thirty people around us. Everyone seems to be curious. Shy? Not one bit. In fact, I hear a lady ask if she can be next. Young and old, they line up for their minute-long interview. The answers are similar and concise: “my family, the sunrise, and friends”. People from all over this vast country leave similar threads, and soon a beautiful tapestry is born on tape.
And yes, the three students, aged around twenty, happily left, on camera, their individual HEARTPRINT.
15 January 2007
LOCATION:
Hindu Temple
Buddhist Temple
Delhi, India
COMPANY:
Aakarsh, Aayush, Sanjeev, Sunita, and Samara
“Please take off her shoes”
You’re kidding, right? “No. You MUST take off her shoes,” expresses the middle-aged, uniformed man guarding the Hindu Temple. He is glaring at Samara’s tiny feet, shrouded by tiny shoes, dangling from the Baby Bjorn. But she can’t even WALK! She has not even begun to crawl!!!
“No. You may not enter if she is wearing shoes!”
OK. I take off Samara’s shoes, dutifully worn for purely aesthetic reasons, and lay them on the tiled floor. My companions and I chuckle at the sight of my little ones’ little shoes, positioned next to mine, in reverence to the sanctuary we are about to enter.
NO CAMERAS. NO VIDEOS. No interviews…
The high ceilings and intricate architecture surround paintings and statues of many gods and goddesses. Samara smiles at the gentle man that leaves on her forehead a print of blessed, blood-red powder. It is a time of pilgrimage for all those around us.
The Buddhist Monk from Sri Lanka
Note: Pictured with Samara and I by altar
After our visit to the Hindu temple, we walk a few steps next door to the small house of worship dedicated to Buddha. As we enter the vast doorway, a tranquil monk from Sri Lanka bids us welcome. He leads us to the altar where a golden statue of Buddha is surrounded by luminous light. The scent of flowers and incense fill the senses as the monk lay five cushions on the ground, facing the altar. Each of us sits on the cushion to which we are assigned, and the monk brings out a round of white thread.
The monk begins a prayer dressed in song. He walks to me first as he circles four times around my right wrist the thin white thread. He then walks to my left to Sunita, followed by Sanjeev. By the time he reaches Aakarsh, at the opposite end of me, we are all joined by this symbolic white thread. He ends the prayers and cuts each thread and ties it with an unyielding knot.
We arise and I ask him what makes him happy. He answers by saying bringing joy to others makes him happy. I told him, at least for myself and my four companions, that he indeed did accomplish this selfless desire.
He smiled and bowed as we bid him farewell…
An Indian Wedding
My friend Ayesha presents me three stunning outfits to choose from for the wedding we are to attend in a few hours. I choose the embroidered layers of canary chiffon and silk; I am in awe of the intricate workmanship of the flowing fabric. “It is all hand-embroidered. I hope you like it.”
I LOVE it! I LOVE it! I say. She smiles.
Within a few hours we are all seated in the wedding hall, amongst two hundred guests and well-wishers. I am surrounded by the most beautiful sarees and suits I have seen in my life. I soon become lost in the age-old tradition of this ceremonial union.
All look back as the groom comes in atop a sturdy, well-mannered white horse. His party surrounds him as he dismounts. Then, moments later, the most angelic music begins to play. Underneath a white fabric net held high by four posts, a vision in red appears. It is the bride-to-be, and she is the embodiment of beauty. I witness the groom look, with a hunters’ gaze and in absolute veneration, at his life partner. And the dance of their life together now begins.
It is an evening of absolute splendor. Hours later, as I lay my head down to sleep, I vacillate on a thousand hopes for a beautiful future and memories of recent past. I am silent in my mind. I think of the beautiful bride and her strong and steadfast groom, now husband and wife. I wish for them both what they wish for themselves, and hope that those wishes never waver…
16 January 2007
LOCATION:
Delhi, India
COMPANY:
Many new friends, old friends, and Samara
“So much to see, so little time”
The next two days in Delhi are filled with much sight-seeing, much more food, and random interviews. We visit the Lotus Temple, a temple that gently unfolds like a lotus in bloom; Qutab Minar, the famous victory tower; Red Fort; and many open markets and bazaars wherein the seasoned bargainer can leave like a bandit, scores of bags ripe with merchandise in tow.
It seems that it would take me, at the very least, another month to fully explore India’s contemporary capital. I feel utterly blessed to have made the acquaintance of so many lovely people.
I look out the balcony to a setting sun. The sky seems streaked with hues of orange, magenta, and gold. This is my last day in Delhi, for now. I hold onto Samara and close my eyes. I have in my arms a part of, and all that give me true joy.
I am Happy.
SHORT BACKROUND OF DELHI
From the travel journal
“The world is the body and Delhi its soul,” penned poet Mirza Ghalib about the city he loved and lived in.
Delhi is, in both the physical and allegorical sense, the gateway of India. It has made captive its very captors, and concerted its visitors into residents.
According to the most popular belief, the earliest mention of Delhi is in the epic Mahabharata, as Indrapratha, the capital city founded by the Pandavas on the bank of river Yamuna, later the site of Purana Qila. Archaeological excavations have unearthed specimens dated to 1000 BC, and an Ashokan rock edict, which suggests that it was also part of the vast Mauryan Empire.
The story of Delhi is the story of its seven cities, the first being the capital of legendary warrior king Prithvi Raj Chauhan who built Qila Rai Pithora in the 11th century, near Mehrauli. Besides the ruins of Qila Pithora, Delhi’s pre-sultanate period also has the infamous iron pillar in the Qutab Complex, which was brought and installed by Anang Pal, a Rajput chieftain who also built the Lal Kot citadel before he lost his kingdom to the Chauhans.
Delhi slipped into the hands of Muslim conquerors from Afghanistan when Prithvi Raj Chauhan (the last Hindu King) died fighting. Muhammad Ghori, who was later succeeded by his commander Qutb-ud-din Aibek (the founder of the slave dynasty) in 1206. The famous victory tower, the Qutab Minar, the Quwwat ul Islam mosque, and the tomb of lltutmish are some of the important landmarks of the period.
Alauddin Khilji built the second city of Delhi in 1303 CE, at Siri, near the present-day Hauz Khas. Tughlaqabad, situated southeast of Qutab Minar was the third city of Delhi, built by Ghiasuddin Tughlaq, who came to power after the Khiljis in 1320 CE. Muhammad Tuglaq (1325-57) founded Jahanpanah, the fourth city of Delhi, between Qila Rai Pithora and Tuglaqabad.
After the Sayyids and Lodhis of the Sultanate period, he Mughals took over the reigns of Delhi when Babur defeated Irahim Lodhi in the battle of Panipat in 1526. While Babur’s short reign did not permit him to build a new capital for himself, his son Humayun built Dinapanah on the ancient site of Indraprastha.
Akbar and Jahangir, the next two Mughal kings preferred Agra as a state capital, though Humanyun’s widow built Humayun Tomb in Delhi during Akbar’s reign; considered a precursor to Taj Mahal in many ways. Shah Jahan revived the faded splendor and glory of Delhi when he built Shahjahanabad, whose major attractions were the majestic Red Fort, Jama Masjid and Chandni Chowk, a successful commercial center.
Sir Edward Lutyens and Sir Herbert Baker, two famous British architects created the beautiful city of New Delhi, which was inaugurated as a capital in January 1931. Situated atop Raisina Hill, the Viceroy’s house (Rashtrapati Bhawan) became the center piece around which Secretariat buildings, Parliament House, India Gate, and Connaught Place were built.
The hub of New Delhi is the great circle of Cannuaght Place and the streets that radiate from it. Nearby is Janpath, a cornucopia of erstz baubles, imitation artifacts and cheap clothes for the bargain hunter. Not far away is the fascinating row of government-run emporia, showcasing the arts and crafts of India’s diverse states a good place to shop for gifts and souvenirs.
Delhi is a true cosmopolitan city ever on the move, always open to change, encouraging, absorbing, and assimilating new ideas in every sphere.
