12/26: A Half Day in my Life
3:30AM: What a disaster of a bus ride. They double booked my sleeper, so they gave me a chair. There was not much I could do since I have a connecting bus to Dwarka the next night. It was the last seat at the back of the bus, so it was really bouncy on these "not so fine" roads. And the window wouldn't shut, so it was really cold. The bus arrived at 3:30AM, instead of 5:30AM, so at least the pain and suffering is over, though I think I didn't get any sleep.
4:00AM: I took a rickshaw to the train station to leave my luggage, since I have another night bus tonight. A man came up to me and started talking Hindi. "I don't speak Hindi," I told him. He was totally perplexed. Either he thought I was Indian or he thought everyone speaks Hindi.
4:30AM reflection (or sleepless ramblings): Every day is just another day - ordinary in its common place and special in its uniqueness. Every day is an adventure, and since this is true at every moment, there is nothing special about this moment. We are living continuous newness - every moment of our lives.
5:00AM: I left the train station and went walking. There is hardly anyone on the streets, at least not anyone awake. There are more homeless than I care to count - sleeping at the train station, on the sidewalk, under the bridge, covered like mummies under rags, blankets, or big plastic bags. Old people, young workers, whole families sleeping together to keep warm. I see a toddler sitting up. I see a young girl staring out at me. Overhead there is a huge billboard advertising "Majestic Living" - with a picture of a plush, high-rise condo complex. These two worlds exist side by side everywhere. Maybe it is just more extreme here.
6:30AM: On the banks of the river the shanty town is waking up - corrugated metal walls, canvas and plastic tarp roofs held down by boulders, bricks, and old tires, the smell of plastic burning in the fires. What magic blessed me with the life I was born into?
8:00AM: I found an idli, sanbar and coconut chutney stand. Delicious! Then I found a chai stand. Next to where I sit a woman sweeps the garbage of the street into a pile, then burns it. I have to move due to the toxicity of burning plastic. She slides her foot out of her sandal and puts he foot in the fire to warm it. Then replaces the sandal and does the same with the other foot. Even though she is a street cleaner, she wears a colorful sari and has silver bracelets around her ankles. A man squats next to the fire, while another stands over me, watching me write. I go to get a second cup of chai. "Ek or" (one more), one of the few things I know to say in Hindi, besides counting and food on the menu. The two men go to the fire to warm their feet.
I'm reminded of a book I just read called White Tiger, about a man who rose from poverty to becoming an entrepreneur. He went to Delhi as a driver of a rich man. For weeks he was afraid to order chai, because he didn't know the proper way to drink it in Delhi. Some drank from the tea cups and others poured their chai into the saucer and drank from it. Finally he realized that everyone from Delhi was from somewhere else, so, unlike the village where he came from, there was no "proper way." Fortunately for me, as a foreigner, I am given the benefit of the doubt and do not have to worry about such things.
12:30PM: I had lunch at a street stand - vegetable pakoras, fried chilies, and samosas. When I finished, the man asked if I liked his food. When I gave him the "thumb's up" sign, he put his hand to his heart in gratitude.
Pictures from the Mahatma Gandhi Museum
Temple in Ahmedabad
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