India – 2001 April (take 2)

Day 1
Caught in a whirlwind, brain spinning, feet on the ground. Which way is up? Not sure. Landed in Calcutta and took a taxi to a guesthouse, horribly overpriced, the driver wouldn’t take me anywhere else; tired and in need of a shower, my tenacity waned. Driver disappeared into the next room to accept his share of my overpayment. Ate dinner at a roadside café. No point of reference to compare appreciation for tastes or smells, thought both were abundant. Slept easily with a full belly.

Day 2
Last shower before two days of coach class, breakfast at another roadside café. Then, jumped a bus directly to the train station. Less than twenty-four hours in country, from the safety of a bus window, saw my first fistfight. Poor man wanted nothing , but to free himself from the clutches of an irate homeless woman. Arrived at the train station with plenty of time to spare. Found the appropriate line; curious how the line was in orderly fashion up to the point where I stood. Surrounded by people, as the line progressed, so did the crowd. When I reached the teller window, approximately twenty or so people crowded in front to the window, realization dawned. The foreigner was a pigeon. With a quick swing of my duffel (weighing roughly twice anyone in the crowd) a path to the window was cleared and tickets were bought. Early afternoon, off in the distance, the Taj Mahal came and went. Water and food vendors at every station stop. Again, slept easily with a full belly.

Day 3
Though sitting on a train, this was quite a busy day. Early in the morning, the train stopped at a station like any other. Vendors made their rounds, provisions were bought. However, this time, when the vendors returned to the platform, the train remained. The water vendors scurried about their business with all the passengers to watch. Quite a remarkable system they had worked out. All the water vendors collected the empty water bottles out of the trash cans. Sorted by brand and condition, the used looking bottles were given to and old man for recycling, while the new looking bottles were divided amongst the vendors by brand. About fifteen yards away, in the middle of the platform was a statue in the middle of a large fountain. The reservoir, approximately twenty-five feet across, was just large enough for everyone to sit on the edge and refill their bottles to sell to the next train-full of unsuspecting customers. A few children emerged from the station house, wearing long strings of bottle caps; with in-tact safety rings, all bottles were returned to a saleable state. The vendors smiled and waived as the train left the station.

The remainder of the day, attention was focused on cabin-mates. A group of friends, of which I was not a part, decided it would be fun to go through my duffle. Smiling and nodding, while making direct eye contact, trying to unzip my bag for closer inspection. With one hand on my bag, direct eye contact and a smile returned, I offered a quick knuckle-tapp to the back of the offending hands. Hands retreated, words exchanged, a few minutes lapsed, and the cycle began anew. Two choices presented themselves, sit and watch unchanging landscape while pretending to be impervious to childish advances toward my belongings or find a way to alter perception toward the situation. Long after anger toward my cabin-mates resigned, the game continued. My new found friends had offered something far more interesting than landscape to pass the time. Once they realized my appreciation for their willing participation in this game, where I was having fun and they sat clutching bruised hands, they decided to find another compartment. Once again, slept with a full belly.