I am stationary, and it feels nice.
A month of non stop travelling India, through the provinces of Rajistan from Jaipur and Jeiselmere up close to the border of Pakistan into Punjab to come back down into Uttar Pradesh into the holy city of Varanassi to then head straight back across the country in over 50 hours of public transport into Himacheal Pradesh in the mountains of Manali to relax amongst the Himalayas and enjoy a smoke of the best Charas in the world “Manali Cream” and as I previously stated, “it feels nice”.
It’s a day after and I have arrived after another extensive journey cross country bouncing over potholes for 17hours being heavenly rocked into a deep sleep of weird Xanax influenced dreaming. I have left Manali and am currently sitting in the air-conditioning of the hostel with my head phones loudly playing LoFi beats to lullaby me into a coma of food and self satisfaction, after a chai and a rant of course.
India! How is it whilst one minute your so beautiful and the very next your one to confront every fear I’ve ever felt, you break down barriers and kick me in the balls all at once!, flying into Jaipur, as the word Delhi send shivers throughout my entire body was most definitely a good decision, little tourists and a whole ton of reality, though how naive I was to think that a major city 2 hours from where I was trying to avoid could be any better, I had the feeling the next 2 months would be quite eye opening.
Two hours in and I’ve been offered by a husband to “fuck his wife” “500” Rupee, are the words from her mouth as she’s looking me up and down, 500 Rupee, that’s $10, Ten dollars sounds more then reasonable to relax and ease myself out of jetlag with some sex with the old Indian bird, though I respectfully declined and continued into darkness of a place I have only just arrived to find and relish in my first taste of real Indian culture.
I was greeted by a local who was more then happy to change his entire plans for the night to escort me for dinner at his favourite local spot, we arrived a a small pale pink cement cubicle aligned with an abundance of shiny things, tables, chairs, cups, jugs in fact besides the concrete it was just chrome and leering reflections.
My plate, what I imagined there serving in prison, came out with a mixture of spicy vegetable curries, Dahl, rice and butter chapatti, I was most certainly in Shiva’s presence, or just that of a rare breed of Indian who’s actually out to help a fellow human being and not see him/her as a sack of money, the food was great, the vibe was weird, after having been starred down with the eyes of ten thousand daggers as I eat with the hand I am supposed to shit with it was time to make my way on back to my accommodation, of course a quick stop at our new friends house, well, more of a one room, one bed and 3 brothers sharing type of situation, nothing weird, just surreal, six of us sitting on the rock hard bed drinking down two bottles of whisky and water. This becoming a common scenario in India one of the few that make you fall in love with this culture. Though lets not judge this book under the covers of the darkness, first night in the city of Jaipur.
It was time to go to bed.
An uncomfortable sleep under the consistent dry wind that’s softy punching you in the face from the ceiling fans that you don’t dare not have blasting on full power in the musky basement building, heat building from the 4 boys residing in its humidity, no windows, total darkness, this was quite nice to sleep in to midday after the claustrophobic journey in the plane.
I hate planes, a contradiction as the traveller, also that of my lack of patience and frustration of having to wait. Though a good rest is exactly what was needed to immerse ourselves into this chaotic wonderland.
That first night was one of a kind, each day from then forward was a total fuck with all you think you know, a day to day rollercoaster of loving and hating everything around you, the sheer chaos that this many million people create in such small living environment. So much makes me sad, and I will sate my observations as means of change. It’s the copious amounts of rubbish laying in the streets, tangled and embedded through and landscapes, this is what the animals are feeding on, its the trash and the storm water that they’re eating and drinking, and the odd greens the the locals sell the tourists for them to feed as part of there ultimate Indian experience.
Seeing your holy animals head in the trash bin is a sad perception of the belief that so many people here dedicated, its this that’s hard when all around you are these bright beautiful colours of worship and commitment.
I don’t want to paint the wrong picture of this place, it is beautiful, looking past the rubbish there are the vast landscapes from arid deserts to the holy meccas like Varanasi and the Gangies, to Himacheal up in the redwood forests with gigantic trees and snow capped mountains, gorgeous treks through a whole different perspective of community and a belief that shines out of every living creature.
This is India, admirable entropy
Organised chaos at its best.
I guess next after a rest I shall digress with more words of my Indian quest.
Good night my friends.