India
On Sunday I said good bye to all my new friends in Kathmandu. I warmly parted with Dr. Fatima and promissed I will visit her sometime in the future - if I decide to study Chinese medicine I would love to do some acupuncture intership with her and closely observe her skillful hands. I parted with Sanjeev and his family and friends - wonderful people.
I left Kathmandu on Monday morning and got to the border with India at Sonoulie at 8 pm. The first bus I boarded broke mid-way and I was transferred to another one and then there were many checkpoints and we were further delayed by the thorough checks of the bus in search of Maoists and their weapons. So, instead of eight hours' ride it was twelve hours. At the border I met Ivan from Slovakia and Miki from Hungary. We eate dinner and crossed the border together. The Indian immigration office was the most modest I have seen so far: a long desk with three man sitting at it and a chair for the customer. The power was cut so we filled out the customs forms by the light of two candles. We got on the bus which took us to the nearest train station which was still three hours away. When we got there I felt too tired to be going any further and decided to spent the night at Borogpur (roughly - I don't rememger the spelling). I walked Ivan and Miki to the station to say good bye to them - they got on the train bound for Varanasi last minute and while the train was in motion Ivan was writing his e-mail for me... I turned back in search of a place to rest my bruised butt. I looked at four hotels opposite the station and in terms of standard they beat the Hotel Valparaiso in Santiago de Chile - I thought there could be nothing more shabby than Hotel Valparaiso so it was a shock... It's hard to describe how dirty a room can be... I finally found a place which had at least clean sheets. It looked like a bathroom because it was tiled the way a bathroom can be. I have no problem sleeping in the bathroom as long as it is clean... In the morning I went to the train station and it turned out that the reservation for the ticket has to be made at least 4 hours in advance - something they forgot to tell me at the information booth the previous evening. So I couldn't go directly to Agra as I planned ("because the computer doesn't pick up the booking any more" so technically there can be a seat but...) and instead had to first go to Lucnow at 1 pm and then catch a train to Agra at midnight. Well, all trains in India seem to be delayed so the first one was delayed 4 hours and the second 5 hours. When I got on the train at 5 am instead midnight I was so tired that I just crawled into my sleeping bag and fell asleep... and when I woke up a few hours later it turned out I was going east instead of west - the people at the tourist information place put me on the wrong train. If I got them into my hands when I learned this... They were telling me "Why don't you want to go to Varanasi?" and I kept saying "I don't want to go to Varanasi, I want to go to Agra." I think they just decided I cannot leave India without going to Varanasi... (I sniff sabotage here) and that's where I am now. However, I am so pissed, and so tired (also of gringo pullers who fell like voulters on me when I left the station, wanting to sell me all kinds of services I don't need) that I decided I will leave India without seeing Varanasi. I went to some posh hotel for tea and lassi and now I am at the internet cafe. The train to Agra leaves at 5 pm and I intend to take it. I went to a posh hotel to hide... from dirt, misery, beggers, crippled people, the overwhelming stench of urine and excrement, human and cow... This is the biggest culture shock I have experienced... I will get used to it in a few days but at the moment it's hard... I feel like running away... I was sitting yesterday in the restaurant connected to that only clean hotel with just bathrooms and saw a bus, double-decker Mercedes, full of western tourists and for the first time ever I wanted to be part of such organized trip, to see India hidden behind the glass, free from all the hassle of train tickets, street harrasment, filling out endless paperwork... The beurocracy exceeds that of the one in communist Poland by thousand times. When a guy came to me on the train asking to fill out a questionnaire about the tourist information services I explained what happened and told him to get out of my sight or else... poor guy... it was not his fault but I was just so annoyed... I rarely get mad but when I do I look like a charging bull. The guy disappeared in an instant. People in general are very nice. I enjoyed talking to them on the trains and in tiny restaurants. (The government workers do look like the workers in communist Poland though: as we said it then "they pretend they work and the government pretends it pays them salary." I think government workers are everywhere the same...). I talked to a group of men on the train to Lucnow and a few of them were trying to flirt with me, asking if I was married and if not, whether I would consider an Indian husband. "But can you cook, my dear? - I asked - "because I like to be employed and lead professional life outside of the house, you see, and I need a husband who can do the regular household chores, you know the washing, ironing, taking care of the kids, etc., and that on top of his regular job - no tolerance for wondering too much around, spending too much time with male friends and playing pool..." They looked at me blinking their eye-lids nervously and quickly changed the subject. I think, as a "man repelent", it works better than saying I am married or have a boyfriend. The situation of women in India seems very difficult, more difficult than in Nepal. In Nepal women seem to be raising their heads. New laws were passed a few years ago and women have more rights than before, for example they can keep half of property and goods if they get divorced; before all stayed with the ex-husband. I am reading a book about India now, to get more knowledge about the caste system and how Hinduism influences its followers. In Nepal I read articles how the government and various NGOs encourage inter-cast marriages and encourage women to study. I read articles explaining that the caste system doesn't have anything to do with religion, that it is rather a distortion of the religious thought and that the caste system is more a socio-economic system designed by those who benefit from it the most. I know that Mahatma Gandhi was very much against the notion of the untuchables - people having no rights whatsoever, whom the high caste people can abuse as much as they want. The hours I spent yesterday waiting for the delayed train I spent at the waiting room for "upper class" people... I had to sit somewhere so I went there and they didn't turn me back so I stayed. Most of the floor of the train station was occupied by sleeping people, many of them in rags... These must be the "low class" for whom no waiting room is provided... It's hard for me to swallow all this... I feel great compassion for the people. In South America people were poor and led simple life but didn't seem miserable. Here, so many seem at the end of their rope... I feel sorry for all these baggers I see but at the same time I know I can't possibly help them all... It's a frustrating feeling... very frustrating...
I will write more from Agra or Jamnipur... when I get there eventually...
I left Kathmandu on Monday morning and got to the border with India at Sonoulie at 8 pm. The first bus I boarded broke mid-way and I was transferred to another one and then there were many checkpoints and we were further delayed by the thorough checks of the bus in search of Maoists and their weapons. So, instead of eight hours' ride it was twelve hours. At the border I met Ivan from Slovakia and Miki from Hungary. We eate dinner and crossed the border together. The Indian immigration office was the most modest I have seen so far: a long desk with three man sitting at it and a chair for the customer. The power was cut so we filled out the customs forms by the light of two candles. We got on the bus which took us to the nearest train station which was still three hours away. When we got there I felt too tired to be going any further and decided to spent the night at Borogpur (roughly - I don't rememger the spelling). I walked Ivan and Miki to the station to say good bye to them - they got on the train bound for Varanasi last minute and while the train was in motion Ivan was writing his e-mail for me... I turned back in search of a place to rest my bruised butt. I looked at four hotels opposite the station and in terms of standard they beat the Hotel Valparaiso in Santiago de Chile - I thought there could be nothing more shabby than Hotel Valparaiso so it was a shock... It's hard to describe how dirty a room can be... I finally found a place which had at least clean sheets. It looked like a bathroom because it was tiled the way a bathroom can be. I have no problem sleeping in the bathroom as long as it is clean... In the morning I went to the train station and it turned out that the reservation for the ticket has to be made at least 4 hours in advance - something they forgot to tell me at the information booth the previous evening. So I couldn't go directly to Agra as I planned ("because the computer doesn't pick up the booking any more" so technically there can be a seat but...) and instead had to first go to Lucnow at 1 pm and then catch a train to Agra at midnight. Well, all trains in India seem to be delayed so the first one was delayed 4 hours and the second 5 hours. When I got on the train at 5 am instead midnight I was so tired that I just crawled into my sleeping bag and fell asleep... and when I woke up a few hours later it turned out I was going east instead of west - the people at the tourist information place put me on the wrong train. If I got them into my hands when I learned this... They were telling me "Why don't you want to go to Varanasi?" and I kept saying "I don't want to go to Varanasi, I want to go to Agra." I think they just decided I cannot leave India without going to Varanasi... (I sniff sabotage here) and that's where I am now. However, I am so pissed, and so tired (also of gringo pullers who fell like voulters on me when I left the station, wanting to sell me all kinds of services I don't need) that I decided I will leave India without seeing Varanasi. I went to some posh hotel for tea and lassi and now I am at the internet cafe. The train to Agra leaves at 5 pm and I intend to take it. I went to a posh hotel to hide... from dirt, misery, beggers, crippled people, the overwhelming stench of urine and excrement, human and cow... This is the biggest culture shock I have experienced... I will get used to it in a few days but at the moment it's hard... I feel like running away... I was sitting yesterday in the restaurant connected to that only clean hotel with just bathrooms and saw a bus, double-decker Mercedes, full of western tourists and for the first time ever I wanted to be part of such organized trip, to see India hidden behind the glass, free from all the hassle of train tickets, street harrasment, filling out endless paperwork... The beurocracy exceeds that of the one in communist Poland by thousand times. When a guy came to me on the train asking to fill out a questionnaire about the tourist information services I explained what happened and told him to get out of my sight or else... poor guy... it was not his fault but I was just so annoyed... I rarely get mad but when I do I look like a charging bull. The guy disappeared in an instant. People in general are very nice. I enjoyed talking to them on the trains and in tiny restaurants. (The government workers do look like the workers in communist Poland though: as we said it then "they pretend they work and the government pretends it pays them salary." I think government workers are everywhere the same...). I talked to a group of men on the train to Lucnow and a few of them were trying to flirt with me, asking if I was married and if not, whether I would consider an Indian husband. "But can you cook, my dear? - I asked - "because I like to be employed and lead professional life outside of the house, you see, and I need a husband who can do the regular household chores, you know the washing, ironing, taking care of the kids, etc., and that on top of his regular job - no tolerance for wondering too much around, spending too much time with male friends and playing pool..." They looked at me blinking their eye-lids nervously and quickly changed the subject. I think, as a "man repelent", it works better than saying I am married or have a boyfriend. The situation of women in India seems very difficult, more difficult than in Nepal. In Nepal women seem to be raising their heads. New laws were passed a few years ago and women have more rights than before, for example they can keep half of property and goods if they get divorced; before all stayed with the ex-husband. I am reading a book about India now, to get more knowledge about the caste system and how Hinduism influences its followers. In Nepal I read articles how the government and various NGOs encourage inter-cast marriages and encourage women to study. I read articles explaining that the caste system doesn't have anything to do with religion, that it is rather a distortion of the religious thought and that the caste system is more a socio-economic system designed by those who benefit from it the most. I know that Mahatma Gandhi was very much against the notion of the untuchables - people having no rights whatsoever, whom the high caste people can abuse as much as they want. The hours I spent yesterday waiting for the delayed train I spent at the waiting room for "upper class" people... I had to sit somewhere so I went there and they didn't turn me back so I stayed. Most of the floor of the train station was occupied by sleeping people, many of them in rags... These must be the "low class" for whom no waiting room is provided... It's hard for me to swallow all this... I feel great compassion for the people. In South America people were poor and led simple life but didn't seem miserable. Here, so many seem at the end of their rope... I feel sorry for all these baggers I see but at the same time I know I can't possibly help them all... It's a frustrating feeling... very frustrating...
I will write more from Agra or Jamnipur... when I get there eventually...
posted by Asia Kabat at 1:53 AM
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