Meltdown Moment

10-11-06

We are in Patna. We traveled all day yesterday from the South. It was a long a difficult day of travel, and I am exhausted. We arrive late, and get the last cab at the airport to take us to the hotel we requested. Lonely planet says this is a fine city in the day, but do not be out after 8 pm. We arrive at the hotel, and the front entranced has a locked cage over it, and we are asked to enter through the side. The driver spends the whole ride telling us how bad the train is to Bodgaya, and that we should hire him instead. It is 10 p.m. and stiflingly hot. The hotel lobby is FILLED with bugs, and a beat up, rag taggy butterfly that looks, to me, like India. Broken, bruised, torn, dirty and barely able to fly.

After the usual arguing with the reception guy and bag boys we arrive in the room. I look into the bathroom and a gecko scurries up the wall-I let out a bit of a yell. I have been feeling sniffy and snuffly all day, and now I’m feeling congested and miserable. I have not really eaten (only snacks) and I am shakey. We have traveled too far for such a short visit and I am feeling the lack of thoughtful planning in a resentful way, although there is no one to blame. I feel hot tears in my eyes, I am miserable, and there are bugs in my bed. I shower and climb into bed wet and naked to try and reduce my body temperature. The fan is broken, and makes a loud hummmm. I put in ear plugs and try to escape.

My sleep is choppy, I do not dream. I am still hungry.

We were told there is a train at 10 in the morning to Gaya. I wake at 8:10 and think we’ll never make it given our normal routine in the mornings. I am painfully hungry and shakey. I wake up Ced and he says the alarm is set for 8:30. Alright….I decide to shower. Ced goes to the bathroom, and I hear the shower come on – okay, so I’ll eat! Room service is not terribly priced, and if I do not eat I fear I will not be able to carry my own bag. I am still hot and shakey and cannot seem to catch my breath, the air is too hot and heavy to breathe. I ask Ced if he wants room service breakfast, he says no. I order eggs. They arrive while I am in the shower, and Ced is visibly agitated (I think about my ordering breakfast). He decides he needs to work on the budget, so he gets out the computer. I am worried about making the 10:00 train that we are not sure exists. Ced does a good job leading, but he does not communicate to me what we are doing, or what he is thinking. We are offered a taxi, but we say no and walk outside. He gets two bike rickshaws to take us to the train station. The ride is like something from a movie. Broken down rickshaw with skinny, muscular drivers, over dirt roads, congested, alongside cars and autorickshaws. There are cows and tractors and bikes hauling huge loads and people with packages on their heads. It is a surreal moment. Cedrics rickshaw passes mine, and he is in front now. We arrive at the train station and load on our very heavy packs. Mine is 40+ pounds. We run from window to window to find our correct tickets. The terminal is full of people sleeping in piles here and there, many of these children and old people clearly live on their small piece of burlap in this terminal. In Delhi, I saw children who looked to have been intentionally burned (severely) in order to better beg money. Now there are people in all variety of ailments lieing throughout the terminal. It looks like a trauma ward from MASH. It is heavy and hot, and we are POURING sweat. It is dripping off my nose, chin and ears. My bags feel heavier and heavier, at every turn we are approached with offers of taxis or help or information or something that they want us to pay for. We are rushed, but I do not know why. The ticket counter told us the train was at 10:30, it is only 9:30, but Cedric is very hurried. I am chasing along as fast as I can. There are children everywhere, these are not the happy smiling faces of the village children, these are hungry desperate faces. We have been told to not give to the beggars, as it encourages them to continue begging instead of working. An old man grabs at the hem of my pants, I feel as though I must walk on past as if he were not there. And then a young boy, about 12, crawls up to me. He is crippled and carries his useless right leg over his right shoulder, he moves like a worm on the ground, pushing a tin can in front of him with each inch worm movement. He can move rapidly, and I cannot get away from him. He continues to push the tin in front of me and say something I cannot understand verbally, but can clearly understand energetically. With each worm movement he makes, he also makes a loud slap on the concrete with his hands. I consider giving him money, but my hands are full, I am physically pushed to my max, and my wallet is far away. If I stop to get money, I realize I will actually have to look at him, and that is more than I can do. I feel tears begin to come, but I am loosing Cedric in the crowd and must continue. The boy grabs the hem of my pants, and I must pull away to continue. I cannot look, I cannot look, I cannot look. As I get out of his reach, I continue to hear the slapping on the concrete and the plea in his voice as he chases after me. As I catch up with Cedric he is turning around and mumbling under his breath as he pulls out our “common wallet”. He goes back to the boy on the ground, and drops rupees in the tin.

As I follow Cedric into the air conditioned restaurant that was our destination, I can no longer stop the tears. This human condition is not something I can understand or assimilate into my experience of the world. How can there be this much suffering. I am struck with the idea of Karma, and that it may have been a construct to simply allow the human psyche to accept this sort of pain and misery.

The people in the south were very curious about us, and wanted to engage in conversation in any way possible. These people are not curious, they are aggressive. They do not smile at me with warm, welcoming, wondering smiles. They look at me with lust and dominance and jealousy. I have been told again and again, the south is very different from the north. I am learning that for myself.

As we sit in the restaurant I cannot stop crying, I am feeling the hysterical kind of sobbing coming on, but this does not feel like a safe place to do that – so I fight to stop it. It is the first time I want to go home. So I decide to call Eddie, and see if I can get a taste of home. Cedric reminds me that I do not want to walk among the crowds looking scared and vulnerable – that would be dangerous. I should not go to the phone until I am more controlled. The idea of talking to Eddie helps me stop the tears and gain composure. Ced stays with the luggage and I go to the phone. I am standing at a counter with a regular desk style phone, surrounded by people also wanting to use the phone, and the foot traffic of those in the terminal behind me. As soon as I hear Eddies voice I begin to sob again. I cannot breathe. I want to go home. Eddie talks me down in a very short period of time, and I’m feeling a little stronger and a little more able to continue.

The train ride is long and miserable and crowded (although we have bought “upgraded” seats). I spend the first part of the trip standing on the platform outside our train car at the open door, watching India pass before me. Eventually, it becomes farm land and green and picturesque. But I am too tired and scared and uncomfortable to appreciate much. There are men standing around me talking about me. I do not know what they are saying, but I am compelled to go sit in my seat instead.

I spend the next couple hours calming myself down by listening to my Ecstatic Dance music. I am able to travel through the 5 rhythms, and relate my trip to those rhythms. I dance in my head, I see my friends and family, I run stories of them over and over and over in my very vivid imagination. I watch re-runs in my head of things that have happened in the past, and write the scripts of how things may be in the future. I am surprised when Ced taps my shoulder to tell me we have arrived.

Arrival in Gaya is surreal, we find an autorickshaw to drive us to Bodhgaya. The ride is long and bumpy and mostly dirt roads. The surroundings are becoming more beautiful and rural. We are entering sacred territory, this is where the Buddha found enlightenment under the Bodi tree. I am wondering if I will find some too.

I want to go home.