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Published: April 24th 2010
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If I had to describe India in a word I wouldn't. There is no single word that can encapsulate the experience of traveling there. If I had to describe India using two words, I would use beautiful yet haunting. Every day was an assault on the senses, a festival of human existence, and there was a haunting beauty to it all.
First of all, let me apologize for the long space of time between blogs. I feel that I never fully recovered from the illness that I had in Jaipur. I was functional for most the last several days that I was traveling with Caroline in Rajasthan, but I started to get really sick again in Mumbai. By the time I reached Varanasi a few days later I knew I needed to see a doctor because I wasn't getting better on my own. Going to the doctor's office was an adventure in and of itself and I found myself on the doctor's motorcycle, sandwiched between him and his assistant, all three of us without helmets of course as we weaved in and out of Varanasi traffic. I was told I probably had an amoeba, and was pumped full of antibiotics
Bathing Ghats
Where pilgrims across India come to bathe in the Ganges once the doctor finally found a needle that wasn't defective. I can finally report the I am feeling back to normal, so I made the long trek up to Nepal a couple days ago.
Leaving India a couple days ago I was struck by two different experiences that together sum up the paradox of travel here pretty nicely. The first experience falls into the beautiful category. On the train ride out of Varanasi I sat in unreserved class, the lowest class available on Indian trains. All the seats were full so I sat on the floor next to an enthusiastic 18 year old from a tiny village who was positively thrilled to meet a foreign traveler. Over the course of the train ride he called nearly everyone in his family and put them on the line with me, so that they too could talk to the foreigner. Indians have really really large families. He taught me a number of Hindi phrases to use, and ended up inviting me to his sister's wedding next month. Unfortunately I will still be Nepal then, so I won't be able to attend. As we sat there a young woman, her head fully covered
Ghats
Varanasi is also the city of Shiva, the god of destruction and transformation. Devout Hindus believe that dying here will cleanse them of their sins. in Hindu modesty, couldn't take her eyes off me the entire ride. Aditya, the 18 year old, told me that she had never seen a foreigner before and that she kept making comments about my white skin in Hindi.
The other image that still burns in my mind haunting me occurred right before I boarded the train where I met Aditya. It was 3 in the morning but the lingering heat still hung heavy in the Varanasi air. All of a sudden, out of nowhere came a boy of maybe 10 or 12 years old. He was starving to death, and already had the death rattle when he breathed. Psychologically, mentally it was clear he was already gone. While I had seen my share of poverty and child homelessness while traveling, this was the first and only time I saw a child who so clearly was about to die. As the train pulled up hoards of people pushed and shoved their way onto the train, seemingly oblivious to the boy right in front of them. Indians who could clearly stand to lose a little weight pushed their way past bumping the boy in the head repeatedly with their bags.
Hard Work
It was 45C/113 F every day I was in Varanasi. This man had to row a boat in that heat for a couple dollars a day. A part of me wanted to scream out to save him, to get him out of the way, but it was probably as clear to me as it was to everyone else getting on the train that it already was too late, that we must accept the things we cannot change. Varanasi is the city of Shiva, the Hindu god of death and transformation, and devote Hindus come from all across the country to die so the image of a dying boy is not all that out of place there. As I stood there I looked through my bag for food, for anything that I could give to him, but I could tell deep down that nothing would do him any good. I got on the train bitter and resentful towards the lack of care shown by my fellow human beings. By people who, in a heartbeat, would invite a traveler into their home and gladly share their limited resources for as long as I wanted to stay. Travel in India is like this. It is both haunting and it is beautiful. It is possible to experience both the kindness and sharing qualities of humanity, while also being repusled by
Bathing Ghats
In addition to bathing, bodies are cremated along the steps and the remains are put in the Ganges. its less desirable traits.
I can now gladly say that I am in Nepal, which seems a world away from India despite its geographical closeness.I will hopefully post another blog soon about my experiences here. Because I was sick for so long in India, I will be staying here in Pokhara until I gain my strength back, before I do any serious trekking. That's all for now. Again I apologize about my absence from blogging.
Take Care
Steve
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Heather
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I really enjoyed your India post and photos, especially of the Ganges River! India has been high on my list to get to, but haven't been able to yet. My blog is looking for travel photos, reviews, etc, to share. If you have the time, check it out at dirty-hippies.blogspot.com, or email me at dirtyhippiesblog@gmail.com. Continued fun on your travels! Heather :)