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Published: January 19th 2020
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It started with one single sneeze at dinner last night. Afterwards when I returned to my tissueless room I became aware that my nose had begun running like a leaky faucet. Hmm, maybe I was coming down with something. I popped in a couple of Nyquil and hoped for the best. By the time I settled down for sleep I began to sense how strong the air conditioner had gotten. The previous days it had barely managed a ripple, but currently it had the feeling of a roaring refrigerator. I thought that could not possibly be good for someone with a budding illness. I turned it way down. As I gradually slipped away into slumber, I pulled the covers tight around myself, but the chill remained. I guess it was just a random wintry night.
Throughout the night there would be a few urgent dashes to the bathroom. By the morning the only thing coming out of me was a yellow, then clear liquid. Add in a few stomach pains with a fever and it was official. I was sick in India. What a damn cliché.
I staggered out into the bright sunshine and sat at my favorite table
and ordered my usual breakfast: vegan pancake, yogurt, fruit, muesli, and a pot of chai. I was going to summon all my strength and power through the meal and compare how it felt to previous days. I took a bite of pancake. Unexpectantly, the pancake felt extremely rubbery and stuck in my mouth as I tried to swallow. I switched to the muesli with fruit and yogurt. I managed to consume half of the entire plate. Thinking that if I ate at a steady pace, I might just be able to get it down before my stomach protested. But protest it did, with twinges and waves of radiating revulsion. I had to stop and returned to the pancake, rubbery but at least bland. Even my beloved chai wasn’t going down well.
I began to perspire from the effort of keeping the food down. I decided I was completely done with the yogurt. With the plate of fermented dairy sitting in the sun for as long as it had, even I knew that would not turn out well. Sanjay wandered by with a concerned look on his face. “Why not eat?” I must’ve looked as bad as I felt. I
My Salvation
Sanjay's hot honey lemon drink said my stomach was a bit off. He took away the yogurt and muesli. I continued pathetically nibbling away at my pancake and sipping my chai. Sanjay came back and said that too much chai was not a good idea either and that I should come back in one hour for a special hot honey lemon drink. OK!
When I got back to my room it felt like I was literally stabbed in the abdomen with a sharp lance and I collapsed onto my bed in agony. Bed felt good though and I curled up into a comforting fetal position. The pain subsided and an hour later I wandered back onto the sunny deck for my honey lemon drink.
Sanjay was right. It was going down fine and felt nourishing and restorative. As a solo traveler it was reassuring to have someone looking out for me, even if it was only the waiter. He said he had worked at this same restaurant for over twenty years. I could only imagine the sheer number of sick westerners he must’ve seen during that time. He was practically as good as a doctor in my book!
My plan for the
day had been to walk down to Manikarnika Ghat and haggle for a boat ride across the Ganges to Ramnagar Fort. But now that idea had flown out the window. Luckily, I planned to be here in Varanasi for eight days. So I could afford to miss a day or two while I recover from this ailment. Today I will be a relative recluse. Even though, one can never be a complete recluse in India, as there is always someone about.
My room overlooked all the sights and sounds of the Ganges. There is a patio rooftop restaurant mere steps away from my door, I could see the boats drop off all the colorful Hindu pilgrims out onto the holy steps of the Ganges. I could hear all their chattering and commotion filtering up to my window. Across the water was an expanse of dry river plain with god knows what going on. Horses, camels, tents, wayfarers and dust.
One thought lingered as I sat shivering in bed at the end of my day of solitude. Varanasi is the place where people with all sorts of incurable diseases come to die. Who knows what malignant organisms are lurking
out there and in here. My fever climbed past a hundred. Another long night awaited.
* * *
I awoke the next day to day two of my illness. My stomach was feeling better slightly. Although the head cold remained and my fever while diminished still lingered. I worked on eating a pancake and some dried muesli with the aid of another hot honey lemon drink. I couldn’t get it all down however and felt generally weak and washed out.
I had to do some kind of activity though. I couldn’t waste another day in Varanasi shut up in my room. I decided to wander around the rabbit warren of alleys behind my hotel and take some pictures of the exotic scenes. As I wandered, I began to sweat. It felt like I was hovering outside of my body, like some kind of fevered dream. There were spooky looking cows. Blazing pallets of color. The air was filled with a smokey haze and every so often a ray of light would cascade into the corners of my eyes. All around were the sounds of foreign voices. I wound up getting stuck behind a man pulling
an old oxcart loaded down with cannisters of propane. I was in a strange state of unreality. That night I also forced myself to attend the Aarti for 20 minutes. Back at the hotel I crashed out into an exhausted sweaty sleep.
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Dancing Dave
David Hooper
Sick in India
My biggest nightmare...maybe why I have avoided the temptations to go there. Reading your blog I saw the word "yoghurt" and reacted like your stomach. Our daughter had a lassi in Tibet which is a yoghurt drink and was sick for days. In Mali we risked a salad at the No Problemo Hotel...you experienced bright yellow...we bright green! My father, a doctor who had been to India a number of times, used to say everyone who visits India gets dysentery.Yet you are in Varanasi where people come to die or be cremated. At least you had the view from your balcony...and you seem like a very tough guy!!! Ah...maybe it's karma!!!