mrsjono

As I write this last entry about my journey in India,
I thought about the 2009 India tourism board commercial,
A traveller holds a pen thinking about his adventure in India and what to write on a postcard.
At the end of his recollection, he wrote merely two words
Incredible India.

This clever slogan sums up my India experience aptly.
I woke up to a nightmare in Kolkata;
I was frustrated by red tape in Siliguri;
Thrilled to see India's highest peak in Darjeeling;
Almost threw up in Pelling;
Culture shocked in Varanasi;
Mesmerised by Taj Mahal in Agra; and
Conned in Delhi.

Apart from these intense emotions,
I discovered a new-found appreciation for so many things I have taken for granted.
On my first train ride in India, I scrubbed my berth and laid it with toilet paper.
In Pelling, I watched students walk to school carrying books in their hands.
Locals eagerly waiting to collect gas tanks and carefully filling up their pails from a water tank in Darjeeling remain deeply etched in my mind.
It's ironic we complain about 7% GST in Singapore when India's VAT is 12.5%, minimum 20% on liquor and fuel, 3% on patrons dining in restaurants selling liquor, regardless whether you order alcohol or not.

I felt relieved to be home,
Thankful to be living in a clean and cosmopolitan city.
Secretly proud of our efficient government and infrastructure.
More importantly, I must not forget the enlightening moments.
I found my moral compass in Pelling.
I believe in karma ever since.

That's my incredible journey in India.

Our plane was descending. As I watched the rows of neatly arranged standard factories and the greenery from the plane window, I heaved a sigh of relief. It's been two weeks since I get to visit a nice smelling toilet (with toilet paper and soap) without having to hold my breath and roll up my pants. Fish&Co taste so good after being deprived of seafood for two weeks. We had Swensen ice cream for dessert and were seated next to a family of three. They were young parents taking turns to feed their son while the other have his/her food. The wife requested for an ice cream cone (just the cone) for her son from one of the many temp staff working at the restaurant - Waitress 1.

The cone did not come after 15 mins and she asked another temp staff "Waitress 2" for it again. "I asked for an ice cream cone just now but it's not here can you get it for me first." Waitress 2 disappeared into the kitchen for a while but came out empty handed. Wife was furious and called another waiter (who happened to be another temp staff) "Hello you are the third person I'm asking, where's my ice cream cone?! Waiter 3 was startled by her anger, hurried into the kitchen and passed her a cone quickly. Husband concluded "See, this is what you get when you hire students."

Waitress 2 happened to walk by their table and wife berated her. "Excuse me, I asked for an ice cream cone and I told you to give it to me first. You don't understand English is it?!" Waitress 2 explained she needed to check with her manager. Wife found her explanation absurd. "Check what?! What's there to check? I asked for a cone just give it to me!"

Manager arrived just in the nick of time, apologised to customer and told Waitress 2 "Don't worry, I'll take it on from here." Waitress 2 muttered sorry and hurried away.

We witnessed this ugly episode just when I felt so relived to be back home and proud of my country. Yes, the service was not prompt enough. However, as working adults and parents, shouldn't they be more forgiving towards newbies or young staff due to their lack of experience? It was totally unnecessary to kick up such a big fuss over an ice cream cone. What a disgrace!

Udar ranked Delhi as the number one place in India with the most scams, followed by Agra and Varanasi. He was right.

It's our last day in India and the plan was to shop. We read up on Delhi when we were in Agra and went to the capital of India with whatever piecemeal information we had gathered. Connaught Place (often abbreviated as CP by locals) has an urban form shaped like a spoked wheel and we had difficulty locating Palika Bazaar using just a tiny map saved inside his camera. Just when we needed some help, a man appeared out of nowhere offering to give us directions.

He first lied about the location of Palika Bazaar (the direction he pointed was way off from the map and we later realised it was just across the street from where we were standing). Next, he successfully tricked us into believing Palika Bazaar only sell electronics (we guessed our cameras gave us away leading him to deduce that we already own decent electronics and we wouldn't want to go to a place selling items we do not require). He asked what were we looking for and we replied that we wanted to buy some souvenirs and T-shirts as it was our last day in India. Banging on that, he recommended Pachu Bazaar (there is no such place), frequent by locals selling a wide variety of goods at affordable prices. He opined that CP was for tourists and retail prices were inflated. He suggested we take an auto to Pachu Bazaar which only cost Rs 20. He knew that by showing he understood our concern of being ripped off by drivers and telling us the market rate, he could gain our trust. We insisted walking there and he offered to guide us there. This made me believe that he had no ill-intentions since he was going out of his way to help us and I thanked him for showing us the way.

We followed him along a major road and started to ask casual questions about him. He introduced himself as a 28 years old student from Delhi University (he had a thick moustache but still this was not sufficient to ring our alarm). He was just wandering around aimlessly and since it was weekend he decided to do some shopping. We followed him for quite a distance about 20-30 mins along Panchkuian Road and our suspicion grew when we saw that the place was deserted. He quickly rationalised the lack of tourists was due to the location of Pachu Bazaar being more out of the way as compared to CP. At this point, he scurried off saying he's going to buy his socks and left us on our own. We walked further down the street and he appeared again, urging us to visit this store which had its door swung open at the same time. Just when we were wondering if this was a trap, the cheater bug had disappeared. We were finally on our toes and anger started to set in. What a waste of our precious time and now we have to try and find our way back! Fortunately, we found the metro station just in front and bumped into him on the escalator. My donkey friend was furious and shouted, "Where's your socks?" The liar just smiled and walked away.

We have been so cautious throughout our journey in India we would rather walk 4km with all our heavy bags than take a cycle rickshaw. We did that not just once but twice and we had to let all our effort go down the drain on the last day. Luckily we didn't lose any money. We turned apprehensive, distrustful and even a little mean towards other innocent folks we met during our remaining time in Delhi. Thanks to this cheat, we walked at least 1.2km and had the opportunity to take the metro from Rama Krishna Ashram Marg back to Rajiv Chowk. Conned in Connaught Place. Pro liar.

We didn't have the opportunity to try South Indian food as we were in North-Central India. I told him I wanted to eat a dosa before going home and he brought me to this place called Sagar Ratna recommended by Rough Guides. There were different types of dosas to choose from and since I enjoyed all the cheese toasts I ate in India, I ordered a cheese dosa. Wrong choice. It was soooo salty I had to wash it down with lots of plain water!

Last train ride in India. As the train moved, I found my head shaking gently sideways. I looked around the train and everybody else's head was shaking too. Maybe that's how all the head shaking started in India. An unspoken game of musical chair began after some seated passengers alighted along the way, freeing up seats and standing passengers rotated among themselves to have a seat. An Indian Muslim man sitting opposite dig his nose. An Indian woman with a sleeping child in her arms sat beside dig nose man. She stretched out her leg and put her foot right next to me. 14 days here have made me accustomed to what I was seeing. Just when I was starting to get used to this environment, it's time to go home...

I was sitting down in the geometrically arranged gardens facing the Khas Mahal and listening to the audio guide when this lady approached me to help her take a photo of her and her husband. It was like any other normal instance of strangers brushing past each other, a moment too brief one would not usually remember. I took hold of her camera and waited for them to take their position. The man walked over with a limp and looked bothered with his physical disability. His glum expression was in stark contrast to his wife's radiant smile. He forced a smile when I clicked the camera. The history of Agra Fort unfortunately just did not register in my head but the love this lady has for her husband did.

After walking around for three hours, we sat down for a rest facing the white marble building. The sun was setting and the dome had a tint of orange. Birds were circling around the finial. I thought about our journey thus far and I'm fascinated by India's vast diversity. I know I'm in India (Kolkata and Varanasi) but sometimes I feel like I'm not in India (Darjeeling and Sikkim). Now that the national symbol of India was right in front of eyes, I'm 'back' in India again. But it doesn't really feel very India at the same time because the icon of India is a piece of Mughal architecture constructed by Muslims, not Hindus. I'm glad he insisted we come to Agra after all. I was blown away by its phenomenal beauty at first sight. As we headed towards the exit, I turned around and took one last look. That's how mesmerising Taj Mahal is.

10.30pm Singapore time set up my middle berth and prepared to sleep. It's been years since I slept in a middle berth of a three tier bunk. I almost let my guard down with regard to the position of my bags. An elderly lady in pink sari was on the opposite middle berth. She saw me shift my bags to a more secure position against the wall and started speaking to me in Hindi. I figured she should be saying be careful of your belongings. We're on our way to Agra. Our journey is ending soon. While I'm feeling really glad we've finally left Varanasi and Fish&Co is drawing near, I know eventually I'll miss my time in India. I'm already starting to miss the snow-capped Kangchenjunga, starry skies, momos and hot lemon honey ginger tea...

*Udar met Ying at Yogi few years ago. It was low season and there weren't many guests in the lodge. Ying came with a friend and she was not feeling well. Udar helped take care of her and cooked fried rice for her. When it was time for her to go back to China, she promised she'll visit again. A year later, Ying returned as promised and they went to Nepal together. Udar showed us their Kathmandu photos enthusiastically. He must have looked through the album a million times as he could remember what's the next photo. They parted again and remained in contact via text messages and phone calls. Until recently...

"She told me she is in hospital. But she don't say what happen. I'm very worried. I cannot sleep. I cannot focus at work. When she finally pick up my call she doesn't sound like she is in hospital. Why she lie to me? I will continue message and message until she respond. But most of the time she only reply one word after I send 100 messages. I sent so many these few days, no reply. I just called this morning, phone turned off. I going crazy! I really don't know what she wants. If she doesn't want to continue anymore, why don't she just tell me?" Udar was distraught.

"Are you sure?" I looked at Udar carefully.

He sighed. "Ok don't say that. Just ask her what she wants."

I transferred Udar's SIM card into my phone and we started translating to Chinese.

你怎么了? 怎么关机这么久? 我发了这么多简讯怎么你一点回应都没有? 我非常珍惜我们之间的感情但是你总是不理不睬 我知道你很爱你父亲和家人 那我呢? 你到底还爱我吗?

Arranged marriages are still common in India but Udar is taking romance in his own hands. We have no idea how his relationship with Ying turned out to be and we wished him all the best before we left. For the small favour we did, we got a free boat ride, two chocolate bars, free wifi and huge discount for staying at Yogi ;)

*To protect the identity of the employee, his real name was not used.

I have never counted down the number of days to home and never looked so forward to going home. I miss my comfort zone. He sank into the seat opposite me and posed a sulking expression as I pointed my camera in his direction. We just had lunch after locating the real Shiva Guesthouse and the plan was to spend the rest of the day walking around town and along the river. But in less than an hour, we were back in Yogi. We’d rather stay indoors and stare at the walls than get out again. It was only just our first day here and we still have two more days??? Ugh...

Varanasi is the place Hindus would wish to die in. They believe spending their last days in Varanasi and being cremated along the Ganges River will free them from the cycle of birth, death and reincarnation. Everyday, approximately 150-250 open air cremations take place along the ghats of the Ganges River. It's a raw and fairly quick affair. He watched the entire process from a closer distance than I did. I was too disturbed with the smoke and ashes to move any closer to the cremation site. Dead bodies lie on bamboo stretchers, wrapped in white cloth like mummies. Some are covered in yellow-orange shimmering cloths with garlands of flowers all around. Untouchables lower the deceased into the holy river for his last bath. Family members decide what type of wood to use for the funeral pyre. They say their final farewells amid wails and tears. Nearby, another corpse was burning away. A charred leg was jutting out and a worker used a long bamboo pole to poke it back into the flames. That was the most horrifying image I have ever seen. Another dead body comes. It is the constant arrival of bodies brought to the burning grounds that makes death a numb and impersonal business. It's almost like disposing a piece of litter. Priest lights flame. Off you go to heaven. End of ceremony. Next one please. Death is real and it's inevitable. It's pervasive in Varanasi but it's a taboo subject in most other societies. It's not a bad idea to be exposed to death once in awhile for it is the best reminder to how we should live our present lives.

Sudhir Kumar (top right corner) is from Manipur. He's from the army and he's swimming to Andaman Nicobar. Kidding. He's on his way to Delhi to take a plane to the islands for military training. Rajdhani Express trains link Delhi with the regional capitals in India. We are not going to Delhi (yet) but alighting halfway. We decided to pay for the full fare just to get on this train to Varanasi on time. Clean linen and meals are included in the train fare. Morning tea, breakfast, lunch, evening tea, dinner, dessert and supper all served at your berth. Vegetarian and non-vegetarian options available. He had a great time munching every item in the tray. 11.30pm Singapore time eating prata and curry chicken at my berth, trying not to spill anything on myself again while everyone else around me were eating their meals on wheels effortlessly. 

2.30am Singapore time watching the clock constantly and looking out the window as there was no station broadcast and no one to ask as folks around us were asleep. I could hear snores and Hindi music on speaker phone down the aisle. The train was due to arrive at Mughal Serai station in half an hour's time. We alighted and made our way to Junction Station on auto rickshaw, squashed with 10 other sardine passengers plus a mountain of bags. As we passed the Ganges, we saw a passenger threw a coin into the river and prayed. It was a magical moment I could still remember, even a year later as I write this. It reinforced my brief understanding of Varanasi as a holy place that we were about to visit.

There were many cycle rickshaws waiting at Junction Station to pick up passengers to town. We didn't know the rate and didn't trust anybody so we walked. We freaking walked more than 4km for an hour, waking up some of the cows sleeping along the empty streets. The town was heavily guarded by security officers on duty throughout the night and we were lucky one officer led us through the maze to Yogi Lodge. By the time I washed up, it was 4am India time. Finally, I can knock out in peace.