Great Martial Arts Stuff

In 1999 as I was teaching I noticed five people who looked like they were from India watching at the door of my dojo. When class concluded I asked them if I could help them. One responded yes. He introduced himself as Rajpal Singh a Martial Artist from India. He said he wanted me to invite them to my tournament which was three weeks from the present date. I said you are invited. He said no, I would like two written invitations, one for the Embassy and one for his instructor. I said fine as I started writing down the names of the individuals. There were 16 names, all were Black Belts. I was jazzed with the request.

I asked Rajpal to come back and work out with us. He said he would the following week. They returned and we exchanged each others self-defense techniques with the class. They returned the next class when we sparred with one another. They were hesitant at first until I encouraged them to engage with us. They did and we had a great time. As we were saying good bye Rajpal said “you should come to India, -------all expenses paid”.

The group was unable to return to my tournament due to the Embassy’s refusal to issue visas. India and Pakistan were then considering going to war with each other. In 1947 the British gave India independence and Pakistan was created as a Country apart from India. The two countries since then have been enemies; they have fought 3 wars over Kashmir (predominately made up of Muslims as is Pakistan).

Rajpal notified me that they would not be able to attend my tournament. I heard from him again in about 3 months when he invited me to come to India. I had no idea what I was in for and I really didn’t know where I was going in India.

I traveled via Areoflot, Russian Airline to Moscow where it was 7 degrees below zero when we landed. We had a lengthy unexpected layover at Moscow due to the adverse weather conditions. Well, we finally arrived in India about 10 hours later than expected. I had not slept for 30 hours at the time. When I was in Moscow I rested on the floor of the airport terminal with everyone else. Apparently my passport fell out of my pocket. My passport was considered mutilated, at the Indian customs counter. A page had been torn out of my passport (even though it was a blank page, the passport was technically mutilated). I was returned to Moscow on the next flight after the military searched and questioned me in a side room. The flight to India from LAX was 23 hours in the air. I was treated like a prisoner in Moscow when I got of the plane. I was told it would be 2-3 days until I could leave. Well, after 4 hours I was told there would be a flight in 15 hours. Believe it or not, that news was good. I was so glad to get home I was emotionally spent when I set foot on the greatest place on Earth, the USA.

I was contacted by Rajpal to see what had happened. He said there wee 600 competitors at “My tournament”. He invited me later in the year to return to India. I again traveled to Moscow and then to New Delhi. When the Indian customs agent told me ok you may proceed, I was actually shocked. Rajpal sent two of his students and a parent to pick me up. They approached me in the greeting area with two bouquets of flowers and they said Sir, you are two hours late. It was after 2:30 a.m. and they had driven 8 hours to pick me up. They had been waiting for me for over two hours. I still didn’t know what I was in for.

We started our trek to Amritsar which is in Punjab, India (Northern India). The Indian are basically two lane roads which have tractors, busses, trucks, motor scooters, bicycles and trailers pulled by cows, water buffalo and camels, going in each direction. There are no rules of the road there. We passed everyone on the road. We swerved several times to miss policemen who were in the streets of many small towns we passed through. It took us about 10 hours to get there because we stopped to eat and twice and we stopped at several relatives houses. The car horn wasn’t silent for more than seconds for the 8 hour trip. The first time we stopped to eat there was a policeman on my side of the car. I thought the other policemen might have radioed ahead about the erratic driving and we had met our fate. To my surprise the policeman approached my door and opened it for me. I was so happy we weren’t going straight to jail. I had never had a policeman open my door for me as an act of courtesy.

My new friends wanted to show their relatives the American Champion. I didn’t understand their language but, I understood American and champion when they were talking. I blushed a great deal. To them I was considered a champion because I was from America. In India it is customary to have tea with guests. They also have a phrase which they use regularly which is “one more”. I had many “one mores” which were accompanied with smiles and looks of adoration. It was apparent what the Indians thought the USA. Everyone wanted to take snaps (photos) with me to show their friends. The last place we stopped was by a market place. An older Indian man starred at me from about 60 feet away. He asked me are you from America? I said yes sir. He asked me very solemnly, New York? I said no sir, California. He smiled and said welcome; he was relieved that I was not from New York. You see it was then 6 weeks after September 11th. His compassion made me feel very welcome. At my friend Surinder’s (who was my driver), his neighbor across the dirt road wanted me to come have tea with his family. The man’s mother (who was about 75-80) sat staring at me. She approached me and knelt down and touched my knee (which is a way of showing respect) she then returned to where she had been sitting. She spoke to my friends in Punjabi and they translated what she said. She told them she respected me and repeated it again. I experienced an emotional meltdown when I was told what she said. This house had little more than the tea and nuts we shared but, there was abundant hospitality which is common in India.

I met Rajpal who invited me to India to attend his tournament to teach for him. An American was a major draw to an Indian Tournament. He told me the arrangements had been made for the Hotel. Rajpal later met with me at the hotel and said he would see me in the morning, that he had many things to do. He and several friends arrived at about 7:00 in the morning and ordered breakfast for me. He said he would return later (this was the day of the tournament). He returned at 11:00 a.m. and ordered lunch for me. I said “when does the tournament start”? He responded when you get there. I had no idea what that meant. My mind was playing out a number of possible scenarios, none of which came to pass.

As we walked into the facility the tournament was being held at there was a row of city officials, school administrators, and Black Belts waiting for me. They lined the entrance into the building and they started clapping and as I passed by them. They also shook my hand and placed flowers around my neck as passed by. I then was directed to what I called “the big couch”. As I sat on the big couch there was a steady rotation of those wanting a snap with me. They would place my arm around them until I got the message and started doing it on my own to expedite things. The photographer took at least ten rolls of film that day.

Many in attendance approached me to introduce themselves to me. They lined up to meet me like I was a politician giving away blank checks. One young lady (approx. 22) punctuated the line of my new friends like no other. When she faced me she said, sir, my name is Lovely from Kashmir (about 12 hours travel from the tournament location). She then caught me off guard when she said, sir, give me new name. I had no idea what to say, this was another first for me. Fortunately, there were many others waiting to ask me questions. She respectfully faded into the crowd.

After about an hour and a half we left the tournament. Rajpal took me to the Golden Temple. This world famous Sikh Temple is covered with gold. They say the miraculous happens there in the waters that surround it. We visited several places of interest. I hung with three other Black Belts as we explored Amritsar.

The first time I taught there, was a respectable number of students in attendance. The second time there was a considerable growth in the number of participants. The third time I taught was even better. I let the Black Belts hit me in the solar plexus. Many of them hit me 4-6 times. They could not believe I could withstand the blows. One of the Black Belts later asked me if I was a street fighter (another first for me). I said no as I laughed inside. Three Black Belts and a Brown belt came to my hotel room to talk until 12:05 a.m. They asked me how I could take the repeated blows. I told them I had been working for decades on sit ups, crunches and leg lifts. I also told them I had been hit there possibly thousands of times. A Black Belt named Dinesh asked me if we ate beef in the USA. I said yes we do. Dinesh is a Hindu, a vegetarian. Sikh’s and Hindus abstain from eating beef. He thought it was a beef thing possibly.

The tournament was a three day event. I saw Lovely the next day. She said sir, do you remember my name. I said yes Lovely I do. She was elated. I told her that I had thought of a new name for her. I told her it was Sophia. I said that it comes from the Greek Language and the root meaning of the word is wisdom. She was as happy as she could be. I thought of the name when my friends left the hotel, after 12:05. Before the end of the day Lovely asked me what hotel I was staying at. She said she had something for me. Red flags went off in my mind. I advised her to ask Rajpal, I knew but I wasn’t saying. I knew Rajpal would protect me from problematic situations. I didn’t see her at the hotel but I did see her at Rajpal’s Parent’s home the next day. When we met she was still smiling and she took off a necklace she was then wearing. She gave it to me and said that it was for my wife. I liked this present very much.

I spend a couple more days in Amritsar and then we traveled back to New Delhi. The day next day Rajpal got a phone call that a best friend in Amritsar had died. He returned to Amritsar for the funeral. He sent one of his Black Belts Dinesh, to stay with me. When I met Dinesh he said sir, let me carry your bag (camera bag). I said call me Craig. He said no sir, you are my sensei. I relented and gave it to him. There was a flyer from Domino’s Pizza when we returned to the hotel room by the bed. It is amazing what advertisement can do to the salivary glands. I asked Dinesh if he would like to get a pizza. He didn’t answer me, I thought something was amiss. I remembered that he was a Hindu (a vegetarian) and I asked him if he would like an onion and mushroom pizza. He said ok to that. His concern was that I might order chicken on the pizza (chicken is the “meat lovers pizza” at the Indian Domino’s; they do not serve any other meat there). We walked to Domino’s and I ordered for us. When I took out my rupees (money) to pay Dinesh respectfully protested my doing so. He said no sir, you can not pay. I looked him in the eyes (remembering what he had said earlier) and said “am I your sensei”? He lowered his head as a sign of resignation for the moment. It was the only way he would ever allow me to pay, the respect he had for his sensei overpowered his desire to honor me by paying. Until then I wasn’t allowed to spend my money in India, the Indians thought that was unthinkable, I was their guest. It was the best (only) onion and mushroom pizza I have ever eaten.

The next day we rented a car and traveled to the Taj Mahal at Agra, India. I was overwhelmed by this wonder of the world. It took 20,000 men 22 years to build this feast for the eyes. We also visited the Red Fort in Delhi, the Lotus Temple, and the Parliament Buildings.

I made good friends with Lateef Goona a young Muslim travel agent. Unfortunately, his travel business was then non existent due too the 9/11 tragedy. Tourism was at a standstill as it was all over the world. Lateef tried to scrape out a living by taking tourists to shops, the owners would pay him a very small commission for any purchases that were made. I was at the time a rare find. We visited the shops and I kept saying no, no, no, I do not want to buy a Kashimr rug or anything else. Thank you. Lateef and I talked in his very small upstairs office (6 ft. /8ft.). I gave him my Karate business card. He was impressed, a laminated color card. Karate instructors in India are thought of as they were here in the 1970’s. There is still a since of mystery they connect to being a Black Belt in India. He told me he had back problems. I told him to sit up straight; as he leaned over his desk. He complied as if I was an Orthopedic Surgeon. I showed him some exorcises to do for his back. He was impressed, he told me the doctor showed him the same exorcises. I was batting a thousand with him. A Karate Instructor with vast medical knowledge (or so he thought). We spoke to each other as though we had known each other for ever. I asked him if he read the Koran (Muslim Holy Book) he said yes. I knew the right answer; I looked into his eyes and said “no you do not”. He looked into my eyes and said “no I don’t”. We laughed together as two old friends. Lateef invited me to his house for dinner. I consented to go but I was concerned while we traveled across town to the Muslim section of Delhi in a small three wheeled taxi motorcycle. I dinned on Kashmiri food with Lateef and his two friends from Kashmir. They ate with their hands and I used a fork. The food was delicious and the conversation after the meal was like a good dessert.

The last two days in Delhi I walked around seeing the sights hearing the sounds and greeting the people. Kids would line up to shake my hand as they would say “allo”. They were amazed that a foreigner would talk to them. We all desire a since of affirmation, that we are all connected to one another. Many Indians asked me if I was from America. I would say yes sir. They would smile with approval and shake my hand. There were thousands of children begging for money. There were cripples that crawled along with a hand extended outward. I was only able to spend about $60.00 while I snuck off by myself. About half of the $60.00 was given to beggars and hotel workers. How do you think you would feel to get .50-$1.00 given to you in India? Don’t bother considering because we would have no idea how it would be. I had heard of poverty however, my understanding changed in 2001. The smells in India were at times repulsive. Poverty was off the chart as I had understood it before the trip.

However, I will never forget the hospitality I was shown in this Third World Country. I learned to appreciate the Indian concept of family. Friends were easy to come by in India. Martial Artists are held in very high esteem, as it was here three decades ago. I would have never thought I would find myself in India as the guest of another person with all expenses paid, before 1999. Even dreams that haven’t been dreamed have played themselves out.

The relationship of the instructor to the training hall is very difficult to define, as it encompasses many varying aspects of life. The instructor must flow through the student in many levels of communication and reach to the far corners of his life. The instructor is a father and at times , a mother; an advisor and a chastiser. The instructor though different, is the same as everyone else. He is human and deserves respect, for he has traveled very long upon the way.

The instructor is a good teacher. By this, it is meant that he can convey the appropriate knowledge to his students at the correct time in the best manner. He must be able to see them and their problems as they seldom can - impartially. The instructor shows no favor. As progression is attained he becomes harder on those who progress. He is kind but firm to the beginners on the path.

He advises in an appropriate manner on the inner spiritual aspects of the art. He always has a friendly ear to listen, but is not outwardly moved. Many people are unable to see the instructor properly. They tend to seem him as a teacher or friend. He is neither. He is both. He is more. He sees a student in a free way, unmoved by the external face or appearance, and helps in the best way. If he has to be hard, he is so. If he has to be soft, he is so. His attitudes are in the best interest of the student.

Often the instructor may test his students by taking views diametrically opposed to theirs and watch their reaction. He will seldom openly praise. In the martial arts, silence is the best praise. He will note what affects the student in and out of the training hall, how he acts towards his friends, family, fellow students; and act accordingly. He will say nothing when he should speak. He is kind and understanding. He can be hard. He can be compassionate. Through all these externals, his heart is forever with them. He listens when they speak and understands their feelings. He is unmoved but can move charitably if necessary.

He is active in a subdued way. He gives while others take, and asks no reward. He is sad. He is happy. He is let down. He is uplifted. He holds to the way, for that way is him.

Through outside may change, the instructor does not; though he can adapt at will, he inward ideals are always there.

He may be abused, but he thanks in return; blamed or criticized, he persists. He persists when there is no reason to, that is why he is a Master.

On the average, it takes 2,000 students to produce one good master/martial arts instructor.

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