Varanasi: Rat-Gate

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For those of you that I’ve spoke to and know of the leg…you’ll get why this is a long’un:

So after our tearful farewell with Sanj, we entered into Agra station to make our first Indian sleeper train journey.
It started well. We walked in and were confronted with the sound of millions of tiny squawking birds nesting in the roof of the station. They were so loud that they were deafening and it looked like they were about to launch into full on bird attack any second so we were VERY grateful when our 100 year old porter who spoke no English somehow managed to get our tickets and lead us into a waiting room away from the 160,000 death birds (that were only about 2 inches big but when there’s a lot it’s scary) :p

When we got in we were met by 3 girls who looked strangely familiar. Turns out they were the sari-envy girls from the Taj – still looking immaculate but less sari-afied. They were Canadian and all had really cool jobs – like wedding photographer and oil rigger, and they were pretty, and as me and Matt always say, it’s easier to talk to beautiful people :p JK. We all got chatting straight away and decided we would hang out in Varanasi over a few beers.

We then all split up to get on the train as they were 2nd and we were 3rd class. 3rd class didn’t actually turn out to be that bad – we got our own blankets and curtain things and even a mirror and a water bottle holder – almost as good as the Hilton. The train carriage itself was tiny – you get 3 ‘beds’ in a row facing three more beds on the opposite wall and the middle one folds up so everyone can sit on the bottom one in the day – basically a free-for-all. The only bed that stays a bed is the top bunk. So basically unless you are top bunk you have to wait until an appropriate time to put your beds down at night and you have to put them away early in the morning so people can sit the next day. There’s no set time or rules to this it seems so Jake Gillenhal knows when is an ‘acceptable’ time to make your bed. If we go by the lady opposite us (who snored like a masturbating rhinoceros I might add) then 9pm seems an appropriate bed time hour. The best thing about it was the snoring – it was hilarious. EVERYONE, and I mean everyone, was at it – men, women, children, all proper exhaling like dying giraffes. They also like a good fart in the night. Our little woman opposite let off a few stinkers. I was glad to be middle bunk as the smell took longer to waft up. Considering the fact that we were all shitting ourselves that we would get mugged, robbed, drugged, murdered or I’d have my hair cut off in my sleep, I slept pretty damn well. There’s something about the gentle rocking of a train and the aroma of Indian bad snoring breath and farts that just makes you feel very comfortable and lathargic.

So 14 hours later we rocked up in Varanasi and within an hour of checking in we were sat on a rooftop restaurant in our hotel overlooking 3 dead bodies getting ready for cremation. It was reeeeeaaaally odd. We were literally right on the river bank and we could see all these men bringing in piles of wood and making a fire down by the water edge and then there were these body-shaped shapes on the floor covered in goldeny orangy shawl-type things. From the height of our restaurant we weren’t 100% sure they were bodies though so I of course rushed off to get the bi-noc-u-lars.

Turns out they DEFINETLY were bodies. It was the most surreal sight. Sitting there eating omlette on toast and drinking a cup of tea and there are 3 bodies waiting to be burnt down below you. The thing that got us the most about the whole place was how completely un-private the cremations are. Basically each family comes in their thousands and they walk the body through the streets and down to the river edge where they then bathe it in the river for good luck in the next life. They then carry the body back to a temple where a priest does some sort of priesty thing and they then agree how much wood they need and it’s all weighed out on these big scales and you can choose between fancy pants wood or normal pine tree wood. Then the fire is built by these special people who are not related to the family – they are sort of workers for the afterlife and then once it is built the fire is lit and the body burnt. The family aren’t allowed to cry because they have to have already passed through a stage of mourning and be completely over it before they can come to the Ganges to cremate their dead…coz it’s all holy and shit innit :p So whilst all this is going on, there are up to 12 other families all doing the same thing…and not even like further up the river, all on one small section of the river bank so it’s really impersonal. On top of that you’ve got all us idiotic tourists sitting and standing on the ghat steps watching the whole thing happen, agog like two gogs as Georgia Nicholson would say. Crazy.

But despite the hecticness of it all it still feels strangely magical. There’s just a strange atmosphere to the whole place, probably because everyone coming here is so religious but there really is something in the air …. Other than cremation ashes I mean.

That night we met up with Canada for dinner and beers at their rooftop restaurant and went for a walk along the riverbank where there were all these ceremony things happening with lots of men with candles and gongs stood on platforms with music and people ringing bells as they carried out some sort of ritual/dance-a-thon. Was an amazing atmosphere and so much was happening. We all agreed to go on the boats and watch it all form the river the next day after an afternoon sesh of Yoga. Sadly the boat and the yoga never happened due to the next event which I now refer to as Rat-Gate.

So we were walking along the river ghats after a very nice dinner with Canada and as usual were chatting away about nothing when I saw Matt sort of freeze a bit…then I saw a rat run out in front of us and understood why. Now a normal person would stand still, maybe squeal a bit and wait for it to pass. Considering I was at a rat temple a few weeks before with them running around my feet I shouldn’t have even flinched. Unfortunately the rat experience has made me more terrified of them rather than cured me so as soon as I saw the fucker I jumped about a foot and a half in the air and did a jiggly-type dance backwards…onto a drain. More unfortunately, the drain wasn’t secured properly and as soon as my weight hit the drain cover it moved out the way so my leg feel into the drain and then the corner of the cover smashed into it.

I knew as soon as it happened something wasn’t right as my reaction was to get away from the drain as quickly as possible like a wounded dog scarpering off after being hit. I then felt the leg of my jumpsuit and could feel a massive lump which I immediately convinced myself was bone and then I went into shock. I’ve heard people talk about shock before but I never really grasped quite what it meant. It turns out your body goes limp and the blood all rushes out of your legs so you can’t stand, then your head goes fuzzy like someone has put a dark cover and a clamp over it at the same time. Then your sight goes black from the corners inwards and your ears ring and you feel like you might shit, piss and vomit on yourself all at once. A bit like smoking too much weed after a night of beers….I guess :p

Anyway, Dodds and Matt managed to keep me upright and matt had a quick look. I could tell by his reaction even though he tried to mask it that it wasn’t good but he kept saying ‘it’s a bad graze but you’re going to be alright’. Then I remember some drunk local guys walking by and asking if I was alright but it had all gone fuzzy and then Matt and Dodds were trying to get me to walk and I really REALLY didn’t want to. They somehow managed to half carry me home though and when we got in the hotel the man came rushing over and helped me upstairs where we then began to try and get me out of my jumpsuit.

And then I saw it for the first time. Turns out, not so much of a graze. More of a big V shaped gash smack bang in the middle of my shin with something that looked suspiciously like bone in the middle. I completely freaked out but Matt was really good and told me to stay calm (some tough love was definitely needed) whilst Dodd’s got me into some more sensible clothing and grabbed my insurance stuff. The hotel man then came and wrapped some material round my leg for me and rung us a taxi to take us to the hospital and was really sweet and reassuring saying they were really nice and all spoke English there. He then helped get me out to the taxi and I lit a cigarette to partly try and calm my nerves and partly because even though I was a complete mess the addict side of my brain was saying “once you’re there you won’t be able to have one for a while”. Sad but true!

So we got to the hospital looking forward to the friendly English speaking staff we had been promised but quickly realised they were obviously on vacation or strike as these fuckers were anything but. At first it seemed okay – I got put in a wheel chair and wheeled straight into the casualty ‘ward’ (small INCREDIBLY HOT box-room with about six beds) and a few nurses came and helped me onto a bed and unwrapped the bandage to have a peek at what the damage was. Then they all pulled a grimace face (not something you really want to see as the wound-ee) and shrugged a bit before walking off to the corner for a chat. I was then pretty much left there with my rat-gash uncovered for about four hours and blood running down my leg and onto the bed every so often.

Eventually a doctor came over that did speak some English but was definitely NOT friendly. Considering we were the only westerners there and clearly freaked out he pretty much refused to answer any of our questions and just said ‘it needs stitches’. Great. Thanks a lot.

Things then went from bad to worse. A man got wheeled in who seemed to be having a heart attack, Dodds decided the whole experience was too much and collapsed so they put her in a bed for a few minutes whilst Matt tapped his foot like it was an automatic drill and looked at her then at me not really knowing what the fuck to do –understandably. Luckily Dodd’s recovered a bit and managed to continue trying to sort out the insurance and Mattt stood next to me keeping guard as the taxi driver that dropped us off realized he was onto a good thing money-wise and insisted upon hanging around to take us back even though we had clearly said we had no idea how long this whole thing was going to take. He kept coming over and then annoying matt and then he would get right up close to my leg and inspect it whilst pulling the face of someone who is inspecting a rotting corpse and then just stand there…saying nothing, looking at my leg. What a dream! Eventually a very irate Matt and Dodds managed to get him to fuck off just in time for the heart attack man to go into a flatliner. Matt got the privilege of seeing him die surrounded by doctors that didn’t seem that overly bothered. He then went out for a cigarette and what we presume to be his wife was outside wailing. Less to say Matt was completely freaked out by the whole thing.

After that a young women then got wheeled in screaming and put next to my bed. The nurses drew the curtain round her as the doctor came to see her but they left her head-end exposed so I could see her from my bed- literally about a foot and a half away – face to face. She then proceeded to scream and cry in absolute agony for what seemed like an eternity and then started crying out “mummy” in the most pathetic voice I have ever heard – it was literally awful. Me and Dodds both started crying as it was so heartbreaking to hear and (and see from neck up) and then I started to panic thinking that that might be me next as I had no idea if I would get any aesthetic before the stitches were put in. It was literally terrifying.

On top of that I kept looking down at my leg every so often and then getting inwardly hysterical when I saw how wide and bloody it looked and what I still thought looked an awful lot like bone. So the next four hours were spent with me going in and out of panic, Matt and Dodds trying to calm me down, the taxi driver ‘popping up’ to inspect my leg, the doctor ignoring me and the nurses laughing at me every time Dodds had to carry me to the toilet with blood running down my leg (which I might add they seemed none to bothered about clearing up). Who needs entertainment when you’re spending the night at an Indian A&E!

Some menacing looking policemen rocked up at one point as well and surround a bed with a woman in with a large head injury. The whole thing was just bizarre. Anyway, after hours of staring at the grimy looking wall clock and wishing Bash was there to give me a cuddle and Matt and Dodds trying to cheer me up and stay positive, the doctor finally came back to administer the stitches. Luckily this included anesthetic which he lackadaisically dripped into my wound and then Matt held my hand tight and we sung Cyndi Lauper ‘Calm Inside the Storm’ and Natalie Imbrullia and Alanis Morrisette for the 20 minutes it took to get the six stitches in. Job done.

I have never been so thankful to my friends in my life. Dodds was so amazing with sorting out all the paperwork and insurance so they would treat me and telling me exactly what was going on and giving me hugs and kisses and telling me how brave I was being and Matt was my rock that kept me strong and gave me some tough love talk like “don’t you be crying Britcher, not when we’re singing Cynders” when it was needed. He also did the clever trick of telling me they hadn’t started stitching yet when they were actually a few in so I wouldn’t freak as much. They were both absolutely amazing and I have said to them and have said since, I couldn’t have wished for better friends that night –it really made me realize how close we all are and how we can all get through the shit when necessary. I know in reality it is only a nasty cut and a couple of stitches but chuck in an Indian hospital and being miles away from home and it really is a different ball game. All I can say is I am one lucky girl to have a Matt and a Dodds watching my back – they are both one in a million. It really was an emotional night that I don’t think any of us will forget.

Anyway, stitches in, grumpy doctor gone, I was then told I was having a tetanus shot so I closed my eyes not wanting to look at the needle. After about a minute when I realized they were still fiddling with my hand and something didn’t feel quite right I opened them to find myself being attached to a drip. I freaked out again and asked Dodds what was going on as the doctor was talking to her and she said really apologetically that they had just told her they wanted to keep me in. Fuck. We honestly thought I’d have the stitches, hobble back to the hotel and be hopping about down the ganges again the next day. I even thought I might me able to give one legged yoga a go! Apparently not.

So off I got wheeled, again without any communication, down for an xray and then down a million different corridors and a slope (where the nurses nearly let my wheelchair go and found this hilarious) and finally into a private room with a bathroom and a visitors bed. And there we stayed for the next two nights. To be fair I soon saw why they had to keep me in. The first time I got up to go to the loo I nearly collapsed. I couldn’t walk on it at all. Dodds literally had to carry me and drip in tow into the bathroom and back out like an invalid. By about the third time and feeling like shit I just started crying. I felt so helpless and useless and was super freaked out about how long it was going to take to recover- we had a train leaving in a day and a half and two people, one invalid and lots of bags is not a great combination for a 30 hour train journey.

On top of that the shit nurses that did my drip had buggered it so every time they injected antibiotics or fluids into my arm the pain was so intense that I immediately burst into tears. I think the guys thought I was overacting at first but by day two when a different nurse came in and went to touch my hand and I yelped in pain suddenly she realized something wasn’t right. I managed to convince her to take the thing out and just give me all the medicines in tablet form and I have sworn that I will never have another drip again – seriously – the pain was overwhelming….probably not as bad as childbirth or having your ballbag stamped on but a good third place I would say :p

Anyway, with me out of the loop Matt and Dodds were left to sort out what the fuck we were gonna do now I was a hop-along for at least a week. We all agreed that if we could make the train and somehow get to Go Go Goa, land of dreams where everything’s, cheap, the sun is shining and the food is awesome then it would be the best place for me to recover and Matt and Dodds to unwind. I’m sure their blogs will fill you in in more detail but basically they had a shitter of a time having to pack all of my stuff as well as theirs, check out of the hotel and into my hospital room (where one of them slept in a chair) and organize the rest of it all but I am very VERY grateful as by the time I was discharged we had a 30 hour train and a flight from Mumbai to Goa booked and a thoroughly worked out plan as to how to get me and all our bags onto the train, plane and whatever there was available the other end of things. They super tag-teamed it to the max and on no sleep so once again – amazing friend award – rewarded.

So all in all Varanasi wasn’t quite what we’d expected! It went from being the best place to the worse place on our trip so far within a matter of hours. Just goes to show you never know what’s going to happen next. But what you do know is that when things go tits up and a rat, a leg gash and an Indian hospital all scare the shit out of you, your friends will be there to (firstly) pass out, secondly sing to you, thirdly give you some tough loving and tell any annoying taxi drivers or shit nurses to fuck off. They will also make you laugh even when things are really pants and all you want is a cuddle from your nearest and dearest- which in a way I had – as two of them were right there 😊 Who knew a blonde, a gay and a liability would deal with a crisis so bloody well! I think its time we had a drink to celebrate….bring on Go Go Goa the Land of Dreams….it’s only a 30 hour train journey and an hour flight and hour taxi ride away….what could go wrong…?!

Jasmina Asiapants, over and out.

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