14 Hours In A Plane

Afterthoughts

 Tomorrow it will be one month since I left for India.

 When I flash back on my experience now, this is what I think about and see in my mind:

 The white airplane on the monitor at my plane seat, flying over Nova Scotia, then below Greenland, then over Russia, and feeling both panic and excitement

 How terrified I felt to leave the Tour bus and walk through the streets of Old Delhi to Jama Masjid

 The smell of Delhi: smoke and piss and raw sewage and exhaust

 The little girl who held my hand and walked along with me in part of the way to the Orcha Palace.  Her hand so soft and cool in mine…

 The dogs.  Everywhere the sad dogs….

 The temples at Khajuraho that I could have sat in and next to for days

 Landing in Khajuraho and watching 8 men drag the airplane stairs to the plane

 Drinking orange juice and eating scrambled eggs in view of the Taj Mahal

 Mr. Singh and how he could pronounce the “V” sound in Diwali, but always called “Villas”  “Willas.”

 Gagging in Agra

 Paneer.  Every meal—Paneer of some kind

 Walking among the Diwali lights at the Taj Chandela in Khajuraho

 When I first got home, I thought, “Okay, enough of Third World countries.  Been there.  Seen it.  I GET it. Don’t have to do that again.”

 And while I don’t have any interest in going back to India, (at least not at this moment) I am glad I went.  I now know things about the world that I didn’t before.  I know that there are other ways of operating in this life, that there are other ways you can play. 

 I now understand more about a deeply religious culture, and that what we have here is not that.  We are a deeply secular culture, even at our most religious.  There is no judgment in saying that.  It’s just a fact. 

 And I learned that “poor” has many definitions and that what looks like poor, often isn’t, and what looks like rich, often isn’t either.

 I learned that I am easily made uncomfortable, and that I find things sad and disturbing and frightening more than I wish they did.  And that in order to feel okay, I have to pretend I don’t see what’s right in front of my face.    (That too isn’t a judgment, it’s just a fact.)

 As time passes I think I will learn even more about myself as a result of going to India. 

 Maybe someday I will go back. 

 But probably, I won’t.