Journey

 

In just there the midst of the turmoil, in the busiest city of all the sacred temples, I sit down on the stone stairs in the shade, finally having my phone work, reconnected to the external world and everything is good. Just like that.

I sit down to just for a moment breathe and integrate all that’s been happening. With me, to me, for me. I have somehow come to a state of surrender. To a state where I don’t want anything from this place, from this country or from these people. I just want to be. I just am. Here.

Four days that feel as if weeks have passed. Four days of taking buses, cars, trains, Autos, walking, pushing, screaming, crying, short moments of joy and gratitude and everything in between. 

The journey from country to country challenging me in expected and unexpected ways. 

Twenty hours later. I'm in the train. Upper bed under the ceiling, 20 hours of train ride ahead. Hopefully my last journey in a train for some time. At least in this country. Hopefully my last exhausting journey in general for some time. This country taking my last nerve, making me surrender. Starting from entering four days ago over land.

After my beautiful relaxing and insightful three weeks in the mountains and a warm welcoming community in Nepal, I leave the place to return back into crazy spiri town. Only this time integrating new perspectives, changes, feelings and maybe even values, about myself, for myself and how I want to live my life. Shifting profoundly through the mirrors of others, finding stability in myself asking myself why I keep exposing myself to all this disrespectful primitive, premature animalistic behavior. This nation that seems to be so easily manipulated, brain washed almost, everyone running blindly after what they have been told to. Living in illusions, all following along with something they don't even know what it is. The opposite of enlightenment. Blindness, darkness, lost souls, unconscious minds. 

Starting from the moment I leave the bus from Nepal, walking into the dirty dusty border crossing zone. Making my way through finding the right immigration building, my blood pressure already starts rising. Eight hours in the bus behind me it's early evening and the sun is about to set. Somehow I make it through the first immigration amongst hundreds of monks and Chinese people, walking down the dusty road for the next immigration office. Everything is just chaotic. Indians running around selling, buying, yelling like in any Indian city. Shops on shops on shops selling anything imaginable, busses, cars, Rikshaws, Autos...Chaos. I look for the last office when already multiple drivers start approaching me to take me to the next city. By approaching I mean aggressive yelling, attempting to taking me right with them. When I manage to get all the stamps I need, I finally enter one of the cars of the multiple drivers shouting at me to get into their car. 

I already feel a shift in my perception and behavior. I'm fully focused on managing to get to where I need to, surrendering to certain circumstances, rather than getting too stressed or aggressive. Letting it go, focusing on my goal, my destination. The ride is smooth and fast. Only now I have no internet on my phone anymore and am therefore totally dependent on the benevolence of people which...

This is where the worst part of my 24 hours begin. Arriving in the dark in a rural city somewhere in the North of India, I'm being confronted with my worst apprehensions. I get out of the car in front of the train station, in the middle of the chaos, some basic Indian standard hotels in front of me. Walking toward the first entrance I can sense already that something is off. The faces of the people (men!!!) aggressive, mal intentioned, angry, rejective, reactive, full of disgust. They throw me out the place before I can even set foot inside and so it happens with three other ones. They clearly do not like foreigners to say the least. The aversion, their disgust giving me so much discomfort that I don't feel safe anymore. I need a place to sleep asap. Anywhere, anyhow that I can rest and be safe for a night. 

Finally I manage to find an Auto driver who takes me. Not a word of English and a lot of difficulties reaching the location but somehow I manage without falling apart or losing it. Totally in focus, in the here and now, managing each and every step. Arriving around 9pm to the place that  I was smart enough to book some hours before in the assumption that something like this could happen, I am glad to have a room to sleep in. The man who gets me inside seems polite and not to have any bad intentions. The staff is simple minded but follows their orders and lets me in my room. The room is fine, I am fine. I try to catch some sleep and plan the next steps. Booking a train ticket, mission impossible, I let it go. Trains only also go in the afternoon which gives me some hours for my mission to get a SIM card so I can finally get internet on my phone for my own safety and independence. The mission fails me. 

Making it fine to the phone shop, the two youngsters who work there seem at least open enough to try to fulfill my request. They call the 'senior', the boy goes to buy me a drink. The first time after 24 hours I feel myself relaxing for a moment, a smile crossing my face when he is starting a conversation. His senior manager arriving shortly unfortunately is not the brightest candle on the cake and not capable of managing the formalities regarding my visa and passport sufficiently to get the SIM card request through. Error appears on his screen and he doesn't let me help him as I've gone through this process countless times. His young colleague looks at me apologetically. Frustrated I have to leave after one and a half hours of trying. I openly show my frustration, express my anger about the system, the people, how nobody is helping, how I am helpless, how hard all of this is. The boy looks at me empathically telling me that he totally understands and that he feels helpless too now as he really wanted to help me. He says don't trust anyone. Everyone is bad. And if someone is trying to do something bad you can defend yourself. Hit them. He is throwing his fists like he's going to punch someone in the face. Another smile is crossing my face. He's sweet, he is kind, he means well. I've seen this before. This purity and yet there is so much ignorance. 

I put my backpack on the floor he asks me what I need and gets me a local priced Auto for the railway station. I'm glad for the short glimpse of light in the midst of all this heaviness. Arriving at the train station, out in the dust I get a sugarcane juice, grab a pack of cookies and enter the building. What I see here is one of the worst conditions I've ever encountered in India. Hundreds and thousands of people lying on the floor, inside outside, on their bags, in the dirt, in the seats, under the stairs. Everything is thoroughly filthy. Grimy. Absolutely disgusting. Mad chaos. The level of noise is blowing out of proportion. The smells a mix of foods, exhausts, fumes, excretions and a whole lot of other things that can't be distinguished.

The place is a mess and I am not being watched less than like an unwelcome alien they want to get rid of. With all my mental and physical will power I make my way through the crazy crowd, punching themselves through the front of the counters, waving their money to get tickets. I manage in less than five minutes to hold my general ticket. Mission accomplished. I still feel ok although I feel like I'm in a mad house. Finding  my train is the next challenge that takes me through a journey of asking about ten people receiving ten different answers, finally following my instinct, actually leading me directly to the right platform just by following a crowd moving. I look through the window bars and ask the boys if this is the train to Varanasi and am pleasantly surprised when they say yes.

I get myself into the train, play the typical white foreigner game of introducing, taking pictures and exchanging IG accounts. Finally I can start relaxing in my seat. It is not too crowded. The train takes one more hour before it finally starts moving but it is on its way. It will be a late night again. With some annoying and frustrating encounters and also a few moments of interaction that make me smile. Watching the sun settle through the window bars, the wind in my face, watching the remote Northern India landscape passing by, the dust, the hills of trash, the people living outside, I just observe where I am and what I am going through. I integrate. Arriving at 9pm in the holy city I am having another encounter of Indian drivers  calling me mad when I am trying to find internet, telling each other not to take me, making me look like a crazy person, taking my last nerve, until I finally make to the place from where I have another good 20 minutes of walk through the crowded streets.

The atmosphere is indescribable. The masses of people pushing through the streets like it's a popular music festival, the stalls and shops, and stands, the sounds, the noises, the smells, the lights, it is overwhelming and I can barely move through the masses and all the alleys finally taking me to my homestay. It's definitely one of the craziest places I've been to. I already feel that much. Moving through these crowds not being able to walk for even a few meters with my backpacks, crawling into the house, lowering my head to get into the metal door without hitting my head, I just want to find my bed and rest. Late night, so much more to figure out the next morning.

The next morning welcoming me more exhausted than the one before. Having hundreds of remote controlled Indians lining up for the temple right beneath my little window scuttle from 4 am in the morning expressing their excitement to be here. She warned me but I didn't know what it meant at all. Religiously mad Indians shouting and yelling from four in the morning basically standing inside of my tiny dark room. The house literally connected to the temple. I am frustrated, tired, disoriented, missing my morning coffee, ready to find another place. In the best way possible my hosts convince me to stay. I shall give it another shot. I stay. I change the room. A bigger one, a dark one. The house is an old strange building without any windows, a big squared hole in the middle throughout all the three floors connected with metal bars. I make my way out for two missions. Food and internet. I succeed in the first one as the streets of Varanasi are paved with street food stalls of all sorts. Squeezing myself through the tiny alleys filled with religiously driven Indians, I get some local breakfast, a fresh lassi in a little stone hole and start walking into the mess to find a phone shop. Sunday. No success. It seems like it's just not meant to be. It's never made so hard for me to get access to a SIM card.

People again literally standing in my way for everything. I feel the urge to move, to connect to like minded people and find a space where I feel comfortable. I'm near my tears coming out like the day before feeling completely deranged, disoriented and frustrated with my journey that seems to take all of my energy. 

I pull out my mat and do the only thing I know to do in these situations. Yoga. I take my mat to the blistering roof, the afternoon heat is hitting. I don't care anymore. I get going, I start flowing and so is my energy. My mood is slowly dissolving as multiple people, some kids are watching me from the roof tops around, smiling and waving at me. I'm trying to soak in the vibe of the city, mother Ganga, the place that I am in. Connecting myself to where I am.

Once I finish I shower, get out freshly, starting to walk down the Gaths on the Ganga. Having a lemon soda, I spot a small cafe and decide to sit down. I walk up the tiny stairs, sitting down in a pad seat on the floor. The owner is smiling. Queen's seat. I feel I deserve it. Next to me my new travel companion. A girl from Mexico. Similar topics, our frustration about the communication, the traveling alone as a female Westerner in India. Instant connection we decide to make our trip together. We're exploring the streets, the tiny dirty alleys that smell from rotten foods, pee and trash. A mess that's hard to describe. We're shown our first burning body in the fire, have Momos and Lassi on the street as a third woman is joining us before heading for the ceremony. She's talking about her female rage that this country is bringing it out of her. The unconsciousness of the people that's causing her frustration, making her yell at them, the streets full of men, she points out. 

I feel like the Universe is generously throwing at me everything that I need in these difficult days. The validation and support of like minded women, initiating the conversations, sharing their hardship, validating what I have believed for so long was my lonely perception. Between all the 'spiritual' crowds and peers, devoted to the Gods and Krishna, following the Gurus and the Babas, practicing yoga, chanting Mantras, dancing at Kirtans, praying and meditating in the mornings, I felt it must be something with me that I cannot always feel this sacredness when I'm being pushed around by an unconscious, sleeping primitive people, making my life hard, disrespecting me, making me feel like a ghost. The things nobody wants to speak about. All there, all out in the light now, specifically for me. Especially now over the last weeks until here and now.

I don't know where my journey will take me but I feel that the last weeks, peaking in the last days have lead me to build some sort of distance, some resilience combined with surrender to this country. As if my mind is slowly departing, reflecting, integrating, understanding what this country has done for me over a period of three years and a total of a year and three months staying. All the lessons I've learned about myself, who I am what I need. How it's taught me to be truly and fully me and forced me into my own boundaries. Finally understanding when it's too much. When I need to step out, step away, step up, draw a line, let go. When I will speak up and defend myself. When I will command respect.

All these lessons that have shaped me into who I am today. Making me softer more sensitive for myself. Making me more aware for myself. For my desires and needs. For all that I deserve. For showing me that I don't need to fight, struggle or challenge myself all the time to deserve the beauties of life. To deserve love, peace and respect. To deserve the utmost attention and dedication from people. It's taught me how precious I am by treating me as if I didn't exist.

Sitting in the train back to Rishikesh, I feel totally calm and content with all that is. I feel grateful for the last weeks and days and what they've shown me, what they've taught me. The clarity that's slowly spreading inside of me. The clarity of not having to work or fight for what I want or to feel comfortable or to receive love. That I do not need to earn my happiness. But that I deserve to be happy and at ease by merely existing.

This journey seems to open new doors for me. New gates. The gates to life. Opening my heart and soul for everything that exists. In total, offering me access to all of it. The open field of potential to choose from. 

Managing the last day in Varanasi to even get our tickets when they all tell us they're sold out, getting my SIM, surrendering totally and completely into the driver taking me far away to another place than I asked him to, the employees in the shop sending me out to go to a small shop to be scammed for money, I actually end up getting what I wanted, not being ripped off, having bonding moments, paved the path to walk back throughout all the Ghats that I've wanted to see, tasting the most amazing street foods and lassis, making my day complete. Surrender. This is where I sit and start typing. On the stairs in the shade.

Having different people approaching me in the next hours I can see through my attitude how I am changing. This calmness I carry, this I don't care attitude, not giving a tiny spark more energy than I've been given, yet not being rude. It’s new. Only replying when needed, turning away when people overstep when I show them that I don't want to communicate. I manage to find my middle. I'm becoming uninterested in the most healthy way. I learn to reject what's not for me. I learn to refuse to reject to refrain when I need to.

I start paying attention to myself instead of all the things people say or do or yell at me around me. I start feeling my center. Slowly and attentively I listen to myself, observe what I feel and what this feeling wants to tell me. Grounding myself back into this country with all the doors open for whatever it is to come.