Good bye India

(photo editing on the left compliments of Gilmar : ) I was really sad to leave India. I had such a remarkable few months there! As Mark Twain once said, "India is the cradle of the human race, the birth place of human speech, the mother of history, grandmother of legend and the great grandmother of tradition." So well said and so true. Where else can you get a phd in yoga, worship over 30 million gods and qualify for a youth fare till you are 30? I got into cricket and realized how little they care for politics. The country is too big and too diverse for them to take much interest, but when it comes to cricket; all religion, caste and language barriers fade. I learned to love Indian curiosity "where are you from? where are you going? why are you travelling alone? how old are you? why aren't you married? children? how much do you earn? how much does your father earn? ........". My father told me that most Eastern languages don't have a word for privacy since no such concept really exists. Well, with a population of over a billion people, you are forced to redefine your concept of "space" really quickly. You learn to share everything you have, always offering to others before yourself. One hand to feed yourself and one to offer to others. I learned the concept quickly and sadly parted with a few too many good treats on trains and buses. In return I got some great food from other families. No matter the distance, they always seem to bring home cooked food aboard. Yum! Despite the poverty, few people go hungry. The worst experience I had sharing was in Mcleod Ganj. It was hot, I was about to take a sip of water, but first offered it to a monk walking next to me. He took a huge sip (lips touching) and then a few seconds passed me a laminated piece of paper. "I am a refugee from Tibet, I have no money, I don't speak any English"......blah blah blah and you flip it over "....blah blah and I have TB, no job, any money is appreciated. God bless". I was so glad that I didn't take a sip after him and ditched the bottle once he was out of site.
Misch, Audra and I all flew out of Ladakh together. I was onward to Nepal and they had a few days in Delhi before heading home; Audra to US and Misch to Canada. Each of us had been in India for at least 3 months and were all sad to leave. On our last night we had the annual India awards, here are the highlights of mine:

1. worst advice my dad gave me-don't smile at anyone
2. most post offices visited in one day-7. Delhi, tyring to send an international package.
3. Hottest temperature-tie-45 C (113 F) Hampi and my last day in Delhi
4. best mode of transportation- piggy back rides from Aaron
5. only possible better way of getting to Pakistan-rollerblading (hopefully next year).
6. Most joolays in Ladakh-27!!! Misch and Audra, I had a dream that Madonna made a Joolay song!
7. best Ladakhi advice- "take rest only"
8.worst hotel/sleeping accommodation- Amritsar-we couldn't find another room, so Solveig, Ian and shared. they got the bed since they were a couple and I......well, they brought me a table and put some blankets on it as a mattress.
9. most yoga classes in a day-6-international yoga festival

We left Ladakh early in the morning and I had a 3 hour layover in Delhi before connecting to Nepal. The guy behind me at the check in overheard that I was going to Kathmandu. He asked me if I would help his friend transfer in Delhi since he had never flown before, didn't speak English and was also on his way to Nepal. The guy (MP) was in his late 30's, travelled lightly and seemed really friendly. After all the people of India had done for me, I was honored to return a favor. His friend spoke English, checked him in and then sent him off with me. I spoke to him in my limited Hindi. We didn't sit together on the first leg of the flight, but he was waiting for me once I deboarded in Delhi. After saying bye to Audra and Misch, but knowing in my heart I'd see them again, MP and I ventured off to the international terminal. We had time to kill and I had some Indian rupees to burn before leaving the country. He carried my bag like a nice gentleman and also came shopping with me before going to check in. I had no problems; ticket and passport in hand and my completed immigration form. MP tried to check in with no customs form and I found out he couldn't read or write. Indians don't need a passport or visa to go to Nepal and all he was traveling with was a national ID card. It turns out he was Nepali and his card had no birth date on it. The agent and I worked through his info and filled out the form, but there was no d.o.b. listed. The agent asked him his bday and he didn't know it! They kept on telling him to make one up, but he was really confused! Dada, since you have 3 I gave him your least favorite, Jan 25th and declared him 32 years old (even though he looked older). It was and wasn't funny. He was illiterate and didn't know his bday, I made sure not to laugh, but the agent did a horrible job at hiding it. The only time he left my side was when I went to the bathroom. The ladies room was right next to the Jet Airways executive club; I snuck in, feasted on cucumber (finally, fresh veggies) sandwichs, drank tea and watched tv for a few minutes. (I smuggled MP some sandwiches, which he didn't eat). The flight was empty, but MP insisted on sitting together. No problem. They brought us drinks, he took one sip of some nasty lemon juice and spat it on the floor. Food came and he didn't eat. I then found out he was fasting since his mother had died and that's why he was heading home. Sad.....very sad. He was in good shape once we made it to Kathmandu and I was happy to have helped him.

All in all, India was amazing. I finally came to terms of not being able to get a proper reading from a vedic astrologer. My final hope was personally going to the Paddington Hospital in Sydney and asking them to dig up the records to find my exact time of birth. Deb shattered all hopes when she told me the hospital had been torn down and apartments built in its place. My parents think I was born around either 5pm or 7 in the morning; that could mean the difference between 1 or 2 husbands, 3 or 4 children and god knows what else. I was so lucky to not get sick (besides Udaipur where my dad babied me), bought a tongue scraper of which I am quiet fond of, met amazing people and really feel as though I spent enough time there to experience the culture. India really does reward those who go with the flow and you realize that their is a system to all the chaos. Yes, at times I saw things I might not agree with, but then reminded myself I was there to observe, not judge their culture. You learn really quickly to give money to the hijras on the train or at a wedding so they don't flash you. (Hijras are transvestites dressed to the nines and beg on the train or show up at weddings. If you don't give them money, they flash you. Yes, I saw it happen! It was nasty). You get used to everyone going to the bathroom along the train tracks and always wave back to all the children living in the slums by the tracks. After a while things in India just don't phase you. I finally stopped glaring at people using a cooli walla (porter), children or old men transporting people on cycle rickshaws, or people carrying what looked like tons on their heads; despite what I thought was abusive labor, they had a job, were proud and were earning a living. I was fortunate to experience the difference between the South and North of India, of which there are many. I came to use the infamous head bobble with confidence and found myself speaking in some of the same strange broken English Indians use; phrases like "same same, but different" and knowing EXACTLY what they mean. Yes can mean yes or no and they have the same word for tomorrow and yesterday. Always ask at least two people for directions, never trust that the bus is really going where the sign says it is and get ready to push, shove and fight for a seat on the train and then laugh and chat with the same guy you wanted to kill. Hindi songs, the same4 commercials over and over on tv, Bollywood gossip, sunsets over the Arabian Sea (well, yes and no-I just think there is something magical about saying "Arabian Sea"), quotes from Rang de Basanti..... I will miss it all! Lastly, I finally got used to the orchestra of burps, farts, spitting, vomitting, babies screaming, old men fighting and the occassional cattle on the bus and train. In India you are constantly reminded of both the significance and insignificance of life. A third of the population lives on less than a dollar a day, but they are happy and all smile and laugh. In the East people look down at others worse off than themselves and are thankful, always realizing that things could be worse, but in the West, we look up at others and wish we had more; more money, more "things", a better job.....a better life. Enough for now.... I'll miss India, but know I will be back. For now, good bye Bharat Mataji.....