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Published: October 31st 2006
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Haunted Hallway
this still gives me the heebie jeebies It is my last night in Calcutta. I'm pretty happy about that. I don't
know if it's best to analyze my experience whilst still in the middle of it,
or wait until my senses have had a chance to decompress to give it a fair
opinion.
Whatever, i have time to kill so i might as well ramble. To reuse one of
my headlines, i think Calcutta to me, can be most accurately described as
purgatory, as defined by the internet dictionary:
3. any condition or place of temporary punishment, suffering, expiation, or
the like.
-adjective 4. serving to cleanse, purify, or expiate.
Given this definition, i think it is fair to say that i have many sins
for which i should atone. But i guess things could always be worse. There
are many in calcutta who lead far more difficult lives than i, but my
underpreparedness and my general inability to digest what it has thrown upon
me has made it nothing short of shocking.
The web of heat is one place to start. It's gross, and it makes lots of
other things, including myself, gross. There's the people in the postal and
internet worlds that i have dealt with that have an enraging lack of
interest in your business, and treat you as if you were a drunk carnie.
There is of course, the poverty. It is pointless for me to even attempt to
describe it. All i can say about it is this is the first place i've really
FELT poverty. It's not just a random beggar here and there, it is a mood.
There are the ever loathsome mesquitos. Considering that Calcutta is
more or less built on a swampy bog, they are somewhat rampant, mostly in the
dark corners of bathrooms or hovering ghostlike below the computers. It is
particularly unsettling that the area is pretty much a breeding ground for
malaria and dengue. The lonely planet advises taking malaria tablets (which
i haven't been doing), and says really the only way to avoid contracting the
diseases is to avoid being bitten. As i survey the 6 or so odd welts on my
legs and ankles i harbour a small fear that my little tummy upset could have
its roots in something dirtier. I had to quit my yoga early one day because
ONE mesquito was buzzing around
me like i was a piece of warm steak. I was
so distracted by her (only females bite i guess?) presence and her
persistence that i called it quits, and stomped sulkily back to my room, and
then to the bathroom, where i was bitten anyway.
There are the bastard automobiles, which, much like the computer and
postal attendants, could really give two shits whether or not you live or
die. This goes for crossing the street, or walking down the sidewalk. In
crowded alleyways they will creep behind you and lay on the horn, even
though there's no possible way you can get out of their way due to the
rickshaw in front of you. There are times when i have been walking and they
will pull out or back up directly into me (slowly). I usually hit the hood
and unfortunately have stooped so low as to give them the finger once or
twice. There is no concept of 'yield.'
There is the unspeakable pollution......from the guttural cough of car
engines to the reactionary loogie hawk that lands centimeters from your toe,
from the dead rats, to the stained buildings. Again, gross.
There is the
bizarre element of suprise. Like today, while i was
pissing, i looked out the window and noticed a pigeon. It was 'flying' in a
very odd manner, like it was on a pendulum or something. After i wiped, i
went to the window ledge and noticed that this live pigeon was somehow
connected to a piece of fishing line. One wing was working, but the other
was immoble. I thought maybe that some kids were playing some cruel game a
few stories up, but noticed instead that the pigeon was suspended from a
very very very tall palm tree. Below, out of my field of vision, someone
with a bamboo pole was trying to capture the pigeon. It looked for a while
like the pole was trying to beat it against the trunk of the tree, but
eventually it wound the pigeon around it and brought it down. Whether they
ate it or set it free will be forever hidden by the concrete wall below.
Odd though, don't you think? I will also note that while watching this
spectacle, i aquired two more mesquito bites.
There is of course, the suprise of my contact with the supernatural.
After our
tombstone
makes for a good read initial contact, i am here to report that the presence has visited
me every night since. It always grows louder right as i turn off the lights
to go to bed, and right before i fall asleep. It is stronger (to max's
suggestion) on days when i do yoga or pranayama. I have gotten to a point
where i can live with this 'presence' but that doesn't mean that i
particularly like it. I don't venture into hallways mid-night anymore after
my gut turning chill, but i do still have to breathe through it and it makes
sleeping an effort......like everything else in this city.
Volunteering, though rewarding on so many other levels, is extremely
taxing. The teacher managed to disapper for the last couple of days,
leaving me to run the class. Trying to talk above 11 SCREAMING 4 year olds,
and simultaneously try to teach them something while they yank on your
braids, tug at your pants, hit the kid next to them, cry, fiddle with
whatever is in your hand, refuse to give you something they stole,
etc.......is somewhat grating on the nerves and throat. I leave feeling
utterly exhausted only to be followed home by
a honking cab, hungry eyes, a
blanket of heat, and a swarm of flies.
I came here with the intent to help, but i can see that in my short
tenure here i can't really seem to call what i've done 'help'. I've done a
heck of a lot of 'experiencing', but even this with some unease. After
reading a bit about the history of this city, it sounds as if it really has
a lot to offer. There are many things i did not venture out to see.....it
was too hot and i was too tired. But maybe if i had i would've felt as
though the city had given me something as opposed to sucked everything out
of me. I feel, somehow, like my opinion is unfair......like it's too
clouded with western perception and too framed by the perspective of an
american girl who more or less has everything.
At present, the whole of my experience has seemed like a series of
tests. How did i handle the screaming kids? Did i teach them anything?
What did i do about the poverty? How did i accept and breathe through the
scary ass ghost? How did i
react to the cabs and to the unconcerned postal
workers? How did i meander through the streets without stepping on human
faeces or dead animals or a beggars arm? How did i find air amidst the
pollution?
Physical, mental, and spiritual purgatory.
The end of which lies one very gleaming reward.......my lover man. I
cannot tell you how his arrival has seemed like a beacon of light in a very
long and dismal tunnel. How, after 7 long days of inner dialogue and
sensory processing unlike anything i've experienced, his arrival signals a
safe harbour. A place to dock and unload, to be held.....to be home.
And how a punch in the gut, like the city itself, the news of his missed
plane hit me. I really really do feel tested. I know it's only one extra
day (hopefully) of not getting to see him, and after 6 weeks it shouldn't be
THAT big of a deal........but i cried.....hard.
My reaction is evidence of the fact that i am a long way from where i
need to be. In yoga, you are supposed to do your 'work' without thought of
its reward, but for the sake
and the necessity of doing it. Attachment to
reward brings unhappiness, and when this little girl's 'reward' was dangled
away, she threw a hissy fit. THIS, is my purgatory. How it will 'cleanse',
'purify', or 'expiate', me, i guess only time will tell.
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