India #1

Ah, India, the place where all your patience will be tested and all your buttons pushed.  We spent over 2 years traveling and living in India and were tested over and over again.  It is a great place to go when you feel that you have learned to be a very calm, patient, loving person as your experiences there will tell you just how much more you have to learn!!  LOL!  I don’t think we ever met another traveler who didn’t have a story about “losing it” somewhere in their travels.  I do so love India and her people, the land of many lessons.

I will write more than one story about India but this first one takes place very soon after our initial arrival.  I will present it as I wrote it at the time in November of 1990.

                                        We Survived Our First Train Trip In India!

We arrived at the mobbed station last night clasping our bags closely to us, watching warily for all the thieves that we were told about.  When you purchase a ticket in second class your names are posted on the railway car you are assigned to, so we walked down the length of the train scanning the lists of names until we found ours.  We boarded an old, dirty looking, drab brown railway car passing by the reeking bathrooms on the way in. I was determined that I would NOT have to pee all night!  As we made our way down the corridor of the train, on our left were three-sided compartments with six bunks each.  Sitting perpendicular to the corridor, on the right, were two tiered bunks running horizontally which left the middle with very little room to move.  We found our compartment, which was busy with the two Indian families and their children who would be our bunk mates for the night.  The middle, of the three-tiered bunks, folds up so that people can sit on the bottom one when it isn’t time for sleeping. Since we had the middle and top bunks we really couldn’t occupy them yet as the families were busy eating their dinner.  We heaved our bags onto the top bunk, almost beheading a couple of people in the process, and sat down on the lower bench with the family.  Soon after we were seated, two young men came and sat next to me and started talking. They wanted to know how we liked India and wanted me to write to them after we have been here awhile.

The train got ready to leave and everyone started fixing their “slab” to sleep on. The bunks did have a bit of a cushion to them but very little, it really was more like sleeping on a piece of plywood.  I crawled into the middle bunk which didn’t have much room for both me and my pack which I used as a pillow and scrunched the rest of my body into what was left. I had started coming down with a cold soon after arriving in India, so with my head pounding, sinuses aching, nose stuffed up, coughing, crunched up in a ball and trying to be wary of anyone coming to try to steal the pack I was lying on or guys that were walking by grabbing me, I tried to sleep. Unable to dull the pain in my head, I broke down and took a Sinutab and quickly dropped off into a restless, uncomfortable sleep, awakened frequently as the train stopped, buskers came on peddling their food and drinks and others on the train made noise and walked around. About 3 AM, when the pill had worn off, I opted for another to keep me sleeping.

Awakening at a stop around 5AM Sky and I got more and more concerned that we wouldn’t know when to get off. As we started to slow down again at 5:30, Sky went to look for someone to ask if this was our stop, but just then, a nice young man came over to tell me that this was the stop to Jalgoan. We wrestled our bags out of the bunks and tumbled into the darkness of the station totally bleary eyed. We waited a bit until it started to get light and quickly found a hotel nearby and fell into bed.

                                                    The Adventure Of Getting On A Bus

The next morning we woke up to the alarm at 5:30 AM. Since many hotels here are on the 24 hours system, and we arrived at 6:30 AM yesterday, we had to be up and out early. We grabbed some breakfast then walked to the bus station which was about ten minutes down the road.  We were on our way to the small town of Fadapur and, thankfully, a couple of university guys started talking to us who were going on the same bus, which made things much easier.   Everything in this country is written in Hindi script which is indecipherable to us which makes finding the right bus almost impossible without assistance. In the big cities, English is printed underneath the Hindi but not in the smaller towns.

The scene trying to get into the bus was really incredible. Everyone pushed and shoved, not letting anyone off, then shoving people out of the way to get on. We finally pushed our way on with everyone else, Sky got a seat in the back and I found one near the front. Many people were left standing and we held our big packs in our laps. Once on the bus everyone is quite civilized but getting on they are like animals. OK, I can push too, especially with my pack.

The one and half hour ride wasn’t too bumpy, it was cool, no one smoked and the scenery was great. We were finally in the countryside out of sight of houses and people for miles at a time. Shady trees lined the narrow tar road we followed to Jardapur. Dry, wheat colored, rolling hills with small trees and brush passed our view as did occasional glimpses of light glimmering off curving rivers and reflective ponds. White egrets flew overhead and large, light-colored monkeys scrounged in some freshly harvested fields. Water buffalo with twisted horns munched grass and wallowed in the mud holes and colored cattle grazed in groups. Herds of multi colored, flop eared goats were watched by shepherds. Some families seemed to live in grass and stick huts near their cultivated fields of cotton, grains, and vegetables. Naked children scampered around in the dirt, brightly saried ladies beat their clothes on the rocks in the streams and white-clad men herded their cattle. The other traffic on the road consisted of ox carts and delivery trucks which were big stake bodied vehicles carrying who knows what, with a colorful sign perched over the cabs that were bedecked with flowers.

                                                          Ajanta And Ellora Caves

We arrived in Fadapur, checked into a hotel and left almost immediately to visit the UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Ajanta and Ellora Caves we had come to see.  There are 29 rock-cut Buddhist, Hindu and Jain caves, which date from the 2nd century.  The caves include paintings and sculptures described as “the finest surviving examples of Indian art, particularly painting”.  To get there, we had to take one more short bus ride where we were smushed near the door. As soon as we disembarked, we were besieged with young men trying to get us to buy something or look at something or to go to their shop. We made it through the crowd and proceeded up the steps toward the caves with a young boy following us trying to get us to buy a guide-book, but we resisted.

Upon reaching the caves we discovered that today was the start of some special week and the entrance fee had been waived. We did, however, by a “lighting ticket” which allowed us to go into four caves with the lights on so we could see the paintings on the walls.

Cave number 1 was one of these and Sky started things off right by almost getting his camera confiscated as he took a flash picture of one of the frescoes and was “attacked” by one of the guards. We hadn’t read the sign out front that forbid taking of pictures with a “flashlight”.  The guy eventually calmed down and Sky did get his camera back.

The caves were pretty spectacular. Twenty nine of them carved into the face of the long cliff of a rock canyon which horse shoed around to a waterfall and deep blue pool at its middle.

These caves were literally carved into the rock, three of them were two stories high and some were ornately carved with designs, pillars and statues on the outside as well as in. The interiors of the caves were magnificent. Large, pillared rooms with huge seated or reclining Buddhas in alcoves, paintings covered walls and ceilings and frescoes depicted Buddha’s life. Some caves were monasteries with small two person monk cells and beds carved from the stone. Some caves were temples with tall vaulted ceilings and many tiered monuments which almost reached the high ceiling. A few caves even had huge bee’s nests hanging high up on the cliffs with large bees to attend them. White and black monkeys cavorted above the caves on the cliff face while the river twisted in the sunlight below.

When we finished touring the caves, one of our “friends” (Rafik) from when we got off the bus, met us to remind us to come visit his rock shop. He took us to the waterfall then back towards the shops. He stopped to give us each a small geode then we wadded across the cool river to have a thirst quencher. We slugged down three sodas as we sat in his friend’s shop and had two fans blown on us. The shop proprietor brought us a banana and showed us his stones.

We then went to Rafik’s friend’s rock shop and got the royal treatment from Edward who brought out all his “special, unique” pieces. Sky bargained hard and bought a couple of stones which made the other shop keepers crowd around trying to get him to buy from them as well. He later found out that he had paid way too much for his “bargains” so the vultures were ready to pounce on this foolish American.  We needed to clear our heads, so went to get something to eat but our friends were outside waiting for us and even had a rock delivered to our table. They were giving us more rocks than we were buying!

After lunch, Sky bought more rocks, I talked with the guys and then we all went to wait for the bus back to Fadapur.  We waited and waited but it didn’t come so we decided to walk with Rafik and Edward who also lived in Fadapur. They knew all kinds of short cuts through the fields, by rivers, over hills, through the gardens and over back roads. Instead of walking 5 km via the road, we only had to walk 2 to 3 km. The scenery was beautiful, peaceful, and quiet. We saw only a few people, a couple of women carrying wood and a few farmers driving their cattle.

                                                                     Village Life

When we reached Fadapur, the guys invited us to their village, which was near our hotel. It was just like the movies, incredible! Mud and stick houses, small winding lanes with rivulets of sewage/water running down the middle of each hard packed dirt row, goats, cows, kids of all sizes in stained clothes or no clothes, runny noses, saried women, grim-faced, white-clad men, hellos, a train of kids following us, beautiful young girls with black braids and rings in their nostrils, small shops, a “small’ fish market, minnows in two metal bowls, fruit and vegetable market, a maze of lanes, it was fascinating!

We left Edward, who would meet us later, and followed Rafik to his home to meet his family and have some tea. A simple, clean house with a goat and buffalo calf tied just inside the front overhang of the house munched hay while momma buffalo grunted from the other side of the wall, stretching her head over the top to see her baby. We were seated on a bed that rested against the outer wall of the house under this overhang. The critters were in front of us and Rafik’s family was preparing dinner and chatting in the open kitchen alcove to our left. His young, 44-year-old, mother, beautiful sisters and father’s sisters and various sets of children all watched us as we sat there feeling somewhat uncomfortable. One of the sisters prepared the tea as Rafik’s brother milked the buffalo to provide us with milk for our brew. While tea was being prepared, Rafik showed us pictures of other tourists he had met and brought home and also gave us some more rocks as gifts. After drinking the rich, sweet tea we took some family pictures which they readily posed for and headed off in the dark to meet Edward. 

Edward lived, with his family, within the walls of an old fort. He first took us to the top of the fort which overlooked the surrounding villages twinkling in the darkness. He then took us to the house of his aunt who lived, like the other families, within the compound which was within the actual fort itself. Their entrance way/portico was one of the arched stone entry ways leading into the bottom rooms of the fort where the families have their homes. We were seated on the bed and again offered the delicious sweet desert like Indian tea. After tea we again took family pictures and then moved to Edward’s house where his mother also served us tea and more pictures were taken. 

After being filled up on three cups of tea the boys walked us home where we said our good-byes and made promises to write.

This was our first, but not last, introduction to Indian hospitality in the time we spent there.  Again, as in all the countries we visited, people are people, the vast majority very friendly, kind and aways wanting to help.  Despite what you see on the news and read online, people everywhere are just like you, not ogres to be feared.

Until next time…..be fearless in helping people you don’t know or who you think are not like you, we are all brothers and sisters.