Chandigarh

This week, I had a business trip to Chandigarh.  Well, actually, my trip was 3 hours outside of Chandigarh in a place the name of which I have not a clue.  Chandigarh is unique in that it is the capital of both the state of Haryana and the state of Punjab.  As well, it was a completed planned city from the ground up after the capital of the existing Punjabi state, Lahore, went to Pakistan in the partition in 1947.   It also has the destination of being the cleanest city in India and the highest per capita income in the nation.  I wish I could say that it was truly spectacular, but as I have said before, India is all about degrees.  In this case, degree of clean.  


We departed out twin propeller sardine can of a plane at the Chandigarh airport to much fanfare.  Apparently, the entire city must have read my article in Apparel Magazine, because as I entered the main terminal, thousands of people were throwing flowers and chanting.  News crews shined their lights at me and people began to rush my position.  I began to turn to the man next to me who was dressed in white with a huge smile and ask what was the deal, but before I could people dropped down in front of us and began to kiss his feet.  I took another look at the guy and still saw nothing recognizable.  He was a short man, dressed in white with a fluffy beard and a huge smile.  He was quickly separated from the group by the crowd and I made the lonely trek to the parking lot to meet my driver.  It was not until later that we found out the man was Sri Sri Ravi Shanker the famous guru and founder of the Art of Living Philosophy.  Apparent this is truly huge in India.... and the US.... and Europe.  A household name in these parts, for sure.  


Anyway, with my fame torn from me, we proceeded to drive the most terrifying 3 hours anyone has ever spent in a car.  At 70 miles per hour, we jetted down country lanes, passing around blind corners and skirting huge trucks on the opposite shoulder.  I was exhausted when we arrived.  Honestly, I had to be helped from the vehicle as my ass had clinched so tight, I had become one with the leather seat.  


As we exited the car at the factory, we were greeted with a quite the reception.  Maybe not the equivalent of Ravi Shanker's, but it was a reception none-the-less.  We were led into the garden in the front of the building where a group of traditionally dressed Punjabi men were performing a local dance to welcome us.  We were adorned with a large necklace of flowers and led to three small holes with our names on them.  As we arrived, small saplings were brought out and we planted and watered them.  I now have a tree in a town that I cannot name in India with my name on it.  Very cool!

My own personal tree .... somewhere in India

Al Gore - eat your heart out!

A traditional Punjabi Dance

We spend the next few hours touring the facility and discussing cotton pricing and then it was back in the car.  This time, though, we got to do the whole thing in the dark.  Yea!  Nothing like flying down a country road at breakneck speed where those that have lights only use their high-beams and those that don't have lights appear without warning.  Image: pitch black, black road no lines or reflective devices of any kind, all on-coming traffic with high-beams.  You swerve around a truck only to find you are face to face with a horse and cart without any lights.  I eventually just stopped watching.  


We spent the night in Chandigarh and returned to Delhi, apparently not the cleanest city in India, the next morning thus ending my second business trip in India.