Actually, the journey is continuing. As I settle back into my life, I know that there are things yet to be learned, yet to be understood, yet to become a part of my life. I returned seven pounds lighter, 2,000 photos richer, and physically, mentally, and spiritually stronger than when I left. As I seek to sort out my images, my impressions, my journal entries, and my memories, I have yet to find a clear way to articulate it all. Perhaps I never will; perhaps it is not meant to be neatly reported.What follows is my first “post-India” blog. I will continue making entries each weekend.
August 31: We are on the road from Delhi to Rishikesh by 5:00 AM. Though I don’t know it yet, this departure is a great awakening for my senses, and will serve me well in the weeks to come. As we drive this morning, the sun doesn’t rise, so much as the haze becomes increasingly luminous. Over the next two weeks we will experience many sunrises, from the road and on the trail. There will be those days when we look up to see the sun lighting the tops of the mountains above us, and look down to see the clouds engulf the mountains below. In Seema, sunrise finds us inside the clouds, while at Tapoban the sky is blue, the peaks of Shivling and Bhagirathi glistening white and gold.
These experiences still await me this morning.Today as the haze grows brighter, it is clouded over at times by the dust from the road, or the infrequent patch of fog. The cacophony of noise, even at this hour, is almost overwhelming. Painted on the rear of every truck is Horn Please. We oblige, frequently. Honking, like so much else on the roads of India, carries a different meaning than it does here in the US. It is not about aggression, or dominance, or bravado; nor is it an expression of testosterone. Honking is a means of communication. It is telling the driver in front that you are behind, and that you are preparing to pass. It is telling the driver around the curve that you are coming in the other direction. Each time you honk, you are asking the other driver to be aware of your presence, to let you know if “the road is clear” to pass, to pull further to the left if possible (in India you drive on the left side of the road).
I quickly begin to learn the language of the horns, and to trust our driv
ers. The first of these lessons is interesting. The second is indispensable. Two lane, two way roads quickly become one way as vehicles pass one another in an intricately choreographed dance. The bicycles, motorbikes and oxcarts dance with the cars, taxis, buses, and trucks. Each moves at a different pace, finds its own space. All forms of conveyance share the roads, whether highway or byway, city or—increasingly—country. Tractors pull carts laden with grass while oxcarts are loaded with brick. Mini-buses (many three-wheeled), bicycles (again, many with three wheels), donkey carts weave a living fabric of noise, sight, sound, and motion. Through all of this wend the cattle, the dogs, and the pedestrians. One lane in each direction becomes two, three, or even four leading a single way. The road doesn’t change width, only flow, until there is no choice but to reclaim its original two-way identity.
ers. The first of these lessons is interesting. The second is indispensable. Two lane, two way roads quickly become one way as vehicles pass one another in an intricately choreographed dance. The bicycles, motorbikes and oxcarts dance with the cars, taxis, buses, and trucks. Each moves at a different pace, finds its own space. All forms of conveyance share the roads, whether highway or byway, city or—increasingly—country. Tractors pull carts laden with grass while oxcarts are loaded with brick. Mini-buses (many three-wheeled), bicycles (again, many with three wheels), donkey carts weave a living fabric of noise, sight, sound, and motion. Through all of this wend the cattle, the dogs, and the pedestrians. One lane in each direction becomes two, three, or even four leading a single way. The road doesn’t change width, only flow, until there is no choice but to reclaim its original two-way identity.We stop along the way for breakfast. This is our introduction to virtually two weeks of vegetarian eating, though we don’t know that at the time When we arrive in Rishikesh, all of our senses are awakened. We will rely on them in ways unanticipated in the coming days.
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