Rumpled Trousers

Holy Cow i'm in India!

Posted by The Holy Goof , Monday, October 4, 2010 6:10 PM

My head rested heavily on my hand as i stared out of the window lost in a never ending deluge of thought. The black outside was suddenly streaked with silvery whisps of cloud, and the distant glow of lights. a city emerged. new delhi. as we descended toward the landing my anxieties became very real. I was about to land in India at 2am with nothing but an address for a hotel i'd booked on the internet. Wtf. I grew quiet, almost catatonic. Throwing my bag over my shoulder and moving through the crowd as if i knew where i was going. The truth was, i was just following the crowd. Still. after all of these years. I found myself pushed through customs and spit out onto the sidewalk amidst noise and traffic and the violent sour heat of an indian metropolis. i looked around for a ride and found cab. i held the piece of paper in my hand feebly trying to communicate my desire. Connaught Place, park 55? hum…are you? a taxi? can i get a ride?" What followed is something that would take months for me to master. it is a yes, that looks and feels like a no. it is a yes that is communicated by tossing ones head to the side in the direction of no and then bobbing it emphatically back and forth. "Yes, Yes, Connaught place 500 rupee." this worked out to roughly 20 bucks. "Sure, Fine" he lead me through the parking lot, which is a generous term for a large field with thousands of taxis, cars, motorcycles and auto rickshaws smashed into one another with seemingly no way out except honking, screaming and the grace of God. i loaded into his car and we pulled on to the motor way and headed for the CBD. My senses exploded with the sights and sounds and movement of Delhi. I'd lived in developing nations before, so the poverty was not necessarily a shock, but still, no matter the preparation, you can't help but be overwhelmed by the shear volume of it. It's aggressive and confronting and heartbreaking. once stopped the car was suddenly swarmed by children pushing their hands into the window and asking for money. pointing to open wounds on their arms and legs. How could anyone resist? i floated between complete and total empathy for their suffering and admiration for their genius. i'm crap at this part. i'm just crap at it. but the only way to survive is to turn off. to focus your eyes forward, to not speak, not engage and not encourage. it feels heartless at first, but then just watch. watch as a westerner in this situation empowers themselves for the first time. i still haven't mastered this either. i still feel like a schmuck. but i understand all too well how dangerous it is not to play by these rules. so the traffic. traffic in india. one of my favourite things in the whole world. an alice in wonderland of obscenely risible characters and props. a brand new mercedes next to an ox cart, next to a bike, next to a motorcycle with six people clinging to it from all sides, next to an elephant. all moving in the same direction, all oblivious to the hilarity in any of it. This is perfectly normal. This is india. the past and the present violently collide creating a vortex in time where the most advanced technology in the world exists in harmony with the most primitive. We sat, arrested by the chaos of cars and noise and i watched all of it, the spectator of a tragic comedy that's been going on for centuries. i watched the reflection of the cab in the beautifully paned glass of a sky scraper that was being built, it's frame festooned with ladders of hand made bamboo and tethered with old rags. it's workers sleeping on mats at the site, bathing in the run off gathered in murky pools. i am so far from home. If anything struck me at that moment, it was this. This is the first time i have gone, without a plan, without a deadline, without knowing anything. just gone. I am so fucking far away from home.