India challenges us on every level.
I had never thought I’d go to India. I knew I’d see and smell things I didn’t want ever to experience. But I am so curious too! And I have seen other travelers report on their experiences that make India look so mysterious and exotic. When my friends shared their retreat page on a Northern India trip , I felt I needed to go.
What does it mean to be challenged on every level? Well, I think first of all you cannot find a comfortable place to be. Anywhere. Just when you get complacent, something shows up to challenge your perceptions and assumptions on how things should be.
There are gorgeous fabrics hanging in a ‘store’ (stall) and there are packs of starving beggar kids selling pencils. Around the corner you see a beautiful building then notice there are very sick dogs all around the entrance. You get excited by some eye candy, then you see something that breaks your heart.
We’d be in a comfortable car heading to dinner and be able to watch the scenery go by, then see a family of four all crammed onto a scooter with zero safety gear on any of them including the baby.
I’d be starving one minute then completely nauseated the next. I ended up losing 11 pounds! Not that I minded the weight loss but diarrhea ain’t the way I’d chose to do it.
And don’t get me started on the toilets. Or lack thereof. But mostly the lack of any semblance of hygiene. Ninety percent of the time, the toilets available in restaurants and public places are holes in the ground with places for your feet. The floor is slippery with piss and poo. There isn’t any toilet paper. Because people don’t use it. They use their hands. Maybe some wash their hands, but I have been in stalls where the walls were painted in poo. That’s where people wiped. I tried not to look at it, and simply refused to fall over from my squat.
The hotels will have ‘western toilets’ and nicer homes too. Thank goodness.
India is a land of contradictions. In our group of 9 guests and 3 leaders, we couldn’t agree on much about India other than it was stupefying.
It was a really great group! Just very different reactions to what we were experiencing.
My intrepid room mate Sarah, was just thrilled all the time. She enjoyed the hell out of everything. On top of that , she is an amazing shopper and found the best clothes, jewelry and items. She negotiated like a pro. She could eat anything without fear, only curiosity. There I was, surviving on potato chips and corn flakes, and she’s eating firebrand Marsala. I was in awe. She had the attitude I felt guilty for not having. One night in our freezing cold tent underneath mildewed blankets she asked, “Patti, can’t you just enjoy the sound of the rain on the canvas?” and I grumpily replied “NO. I’m miserable.” And damp. And dirty. But nothing compared to what the people out there were suffering. The guilt had me hating myself.
The next morning, I tried to communicate with my travel mates my tears and anxiety. Those at my table were sympathetic and I think we could have had a great talk, but we didn’t have time. We were supposed to be having an evening meditation and processing session, but that had stopped in the first week of the trip. As did the morning yoga. Man, I really needed it now.
I’m still uncovering what was going on with me. But much of it was I was never relaxed. I couldn’t stop my heart from breaking. The rain meant all those people sleeping in plastic bags were wallowing in mud and filth. Those kids! I kept trying to get in the spirit of things, but something inside me couldn’t. I would be blown away and excited about something only to have something else crush me. Ah well.
The highlight spots for me were Rishikesh and Dharmshala.
We stayed in an ashram in Rishikesh called Parmarth. I was really excited to see what life at an ashram would be about. One of the big focuses for me was spiritual growth. And that’s what India is all about,right? And this trip was called “Discovering the Guru Within” and promised a spiritual development program of meditation, yoga and classes. Perfect!
In the ashram, morning meditation starts at 4:45am ( I am not kidding) followed by a lesson ( in Hindi) and then yoga. Breakfast is after yoga and our group would have an excursion of some sort.
In the evening there’s a yoga class at 4, then the Arrti ceremony at the river, dinner ( lentils and rice) then Sat Sang ( question and answer with the Swami). All of this is great with me.
I showed up every day for morning meditation and attended all the yoga classes I could unless we were out on an excursion. I loved seeing the young boys sitting in meditation and listening to the swami teaching the lesson of the day. Sometimes they’d just slump forward totally asleep, like young boys do. No one seemed to mind. It was rather sweet. The first day several of our group was up for morning meditation. But after that I was the only one.
I really enjoyed it. Except the food.
AND the construction. I thought life at an ashram would give us a welcome break from the incessant eardrum-breaking noise of the cities. But NO. They were under construction for a huge yoga festival that was happening a couple weeks hence. Dust everywhere and noise til 11pm. But I actually was so tired that with some meditation I was asleep pretty quickly to the dulcet singing of the saws and hammers.
Leaving was bitter sweet. I wanted to stay but was excited about what was next. We went to Hardiwar, of which I will say little. The next highlight was Dharmshala. This is where the Dali Lama has his India compound. We were lucky enough to be there when there was a ceremony going on. The Dalai Lama is only in Dharmshala about 20 days a year. And he was in attendance! I was about 10 feet away from him at one point. I was actually and surprisingly moved to tears I cannot explain. He was just like his photos and interviews. Smiling, so deeply sweet and aware. Generous. We stayed for hours, enthralled by the ceremony. When the Dali Lama spoke, all the monks and nuns were riveted. It’s clear they revered him. Loved him deeply. He’d say something and make them all laugh, quite a lot really. It was incredible. And we had no idea he’d be there. This was truly a gift.
The last third of the trip we were assigned cars. I was in a luggage car which meant most of the space inside was full of our bags. There was space for three plus our intrepid driver, Deepak. I learned more from Deepak than the guru in Parmarth. He spoke very little English, but he had a way of communicating. Mostly he really didn’t care if he did. He was very young, the youngest of the drivers. And he was a fantastic driver. If you have ever been to India, you know that is saying something. It’s incredible we were never in an accident or fender bender. There are no rules of the road in India except you must lay on the horn constantly. In fact I believe the horn is connected to the engine. But Baby Driver, my name for him, NEVER USED HIS HORN. He was known for this oddity. He was always careful and polite to the other drivers, even if a hand gesture would spontaneous erupt now and then. But it was never rude. Unlike mine in Los Angeles. In spite of his calmness, he was never behind the convoy of our group.
Car 3 had three passengers, as I have said. Ryan, Michelle and I turned out to be, at least according to me, the most compatible trio I could imagine. The two of them are crazy hilarious, and I am deeply appreciative of the funny. So Ryan, who has a Ryan Reynolds delivery, and Michelle-soft spoken but quick witted as they come- would start the conversation and I’d laugh, and Baby Driver would not get us killed. It was the perfect team. Thank you Sexy Shiva.
Without them, I would not have made it. We never complained, we’d take note but never hang with the negative of any sort. It was all just hilarious. We’d poke at the imperturbable Baby Driver ( Deepak! Why are there lines painted on the roads IF YOU NEVER USE THEM?), marvel at all the marijuana growing… well… like weeds, and flinch going through the cow obstacle course, or ‘Indian roadway’. Holy COW! It was all so mind-bendingly crazy I didn’t even know where to start. I tried to count how many times I said “What the absolute fuck..” or “Wha” as it shortened because I said it incessantly, and gave up.
As the time approached for us to risk our necks getting onto a train heading back to Delhi, Deepak opened up. He told us he was going to a big family wedding ( there isn’t any other kind in India, FFS) and while there his family was going to arrange a marriage for him. He was very excited about this, hence his sharing it with the firangi in his car. Showing ENORMOUS restraint, we actually teased him very little out of respect for the conservative nature of the Indians. I personally think he was disappointed.
We had 6 more nights ( I had 8 more) and we stayed in places that were just awful. But I made it home in the end. I had bronchitis, a tummy bug and was 11 pounds lighter. And I had a vast experience I am still trying to understand, some cool times, and new friends. I’m more aware of what I have, and more grateful for what I can take for granted. Like potty chairs and T.P.
India isn’t for anyone who is a germaphobe. Or claustrophobic. Or who likes to breathe. But if you are an experience junkie, it could be worth your time. But maybe go to the South.
I have a lot of other places to explore. Onward!
