dear india, dear me
dear india,
please stop trying to kill me.
sincerely, natalie rogers
the khajuraho mantra:
om, leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone , jaya jaya hai!
the orchha ode:
o beauteous orchha, how lovely art thou!
some vultures, some ruins,the occaisional cow,
shy monkey mornings, parrots for friends,
o my dear orchha, i hope to see you again!
ok ok, enough of my foolin'. so seriously india, stop trying to kill me.
i woke up in agra in the middle of the night and began to get those o so familiar "i knew i shouldn't have eaten that cold thali" cramps. after a few hours of tiptoeing to the toilet i started another round of antibiotics, of the "if nothing else has worked yet" variety, and slept fitfully. up at five to see the taj mahal. what a surreal experience. it felt like walking in and out of a postcard. a bizarre sensation to reach out my hand and touch its surprisingly warm marble surface. i wobbled between almost crying for its beauty to wanting to slap people in the face and yell, "can't we just be quiet for once in our lives!?!?!?" i tried to leave after two hours but just as i got to the exit gate i went back and did it all again and another hour passed like nothing.
i then went to take a bus to fatehpur sikri, a nearby city which also has some famous old buildings. while waiting at the bus stand a sweet wallah adopted me and force fed me petha and peanuts. he told me in broken english about his newborn son and a lot of things i didn't understand. when my bus came he ran over to it and got me a seat and waved and waved and waved as i left.
once in fatehpur sikri i went first to the mosque, which is said to be a copy of the mosque at mecca. they were having a festival there to mark the end of ramadan and i was treated like an honoured guest. i got a free tour, free chai, offers of food, clothing, shelter, anything i wanted. people were practically fighting over me to be a guest in their homes. many people there were visiting from villages for the festival and hence weren't too familiar with foreigners. a group of old ladies tried to make me sit down with them as they inspected my scarf and clothing. they looked at me with their watery old eyes like i was the strangest most wonderful thing that they had ever seen. i had many people asking me "what part of india are you from?" ummm, not from india.... then a knowing nod of the head, "ahhhhh, pakistan".... ummm, no, actually i'm from canada....."o. are you a sufi?" ummm, no......then some hesitancy, "muslim?" ahh, sorry, no. and for a moment it looked like their hearts would break. then a certain assurance would come over their faces and i think they convinced themselves that i was in fact muslim and was just joking with them. then i got free entry to the palace there, which is normally 250 rupees, and a free tour as well. on the way back to agra, the bus ride was free. all of this because i covered my head in a mosque and was speaking a few words in urdu. nothing more.
it was one of those days in india, both for my stomach and my soul. a feeling of light emptiness and yet an overflowing of sensation that makes me feel like i will vomit. everyone told me that agra was full of assholes but i received almost nothing but kindness. in fact, it's been like that for the past week. if i drink another free chai i think that my heart may explode both from gratitude and excessive caffeine. yes, sometimes being a woman alone here sucks, such as when you buy a general class train ticket and no one will let you on the super-crowded car. but it is also a wonderful thing, because when you explain that to the ticket collector, he'll smile and let you ride in sleeper class for no extra cost. it sucks because the guys at the dhaba will try to charge you 40 rupees for rice and dhal. it's wonderful because when you start arguing with them loudly in hindi in front of all your fellow bus passengers, the guys will be so embarrassed that they give you the fair price. sometimes i love this place so much that i just want to shout or run around throwing flowers in the air or who knows what? but what about imrana? it sometimes feels wrong to love this place as much as i do. for every golden temple, there are lakhs of amritsars. for every taj mahal, there's a river of diarrhea, garbage and misery. dear india, dear me.
i'm in rajasthan and oops! it's time for the pushkar camel fair! meaning that everything is overcrowded and overpriced. i thought the fair ended in october... but, well, i can finally buy that baby camel i've been pining for. do you think they'll let me take it on the plane? maybe i'll give eben sleeping pills, dress the camel up in his clothes and try to sneak it on that way. shhhhh- don't tell eben!
please stop trying to kill me.
sincerely, natalie rogers
the khajuraho mantra:
om, leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone , jaya jaya hai!
the orchha ode:
o beauteous orchha, how lovely art thou!
some vultures, some ruins,the occaisional cow,
shy monkey mornings, parrots for friends,
o my dear orchha, i hope to see you again!
ok ok, enough of my foolin'. so seriously india, stop trying to kill me.
i woke up in agra in the middle of the night and began to get those o so familiar "i knew i shouldn't have eaten that cold thali" cramps. after a few hours of tiptoeing to the toilet i started another round of antibiotics, of the "if nothing else has worked yet" variety, and slept fitfully. up at five to see the taj mahal. what a surreal experience. it felt like walking in and out of a postcard. a bizarre sensation to reach out my hand and touch its surprisingly warm marble surface. i wobbled between almost crying for its beauty to wanting to slap people in the face and yell, "can't we just be quiet for once in our lives!?!?!?" i tried to leave after two hours but just as i got to the exit gate i went back and did it all again and another hour passed like nothing.
i then went to take a bus to fatehpur sikri, a nearby city which also has some famous old buildings. while waiting at the bus stand a sweet wallah adopted me and force fed me petha and peanuts. he told me in broken english about his newborn son and a lot of things i didn't understand. when my bus came he ran over to it and got me a seat and waved and waved and waved as i left.
once in fatehpur sikri i went first to the mosque, which is said to be a copy of the mosque at mecca. they were having a festival there to mark the end of ramadan and i was treated like an honoured guest. i got a free tour, free chai, offers of food, clothing, shelter, anything i wanted. people were practically fighting over me to be a guest in their homes. many people there were visiting from villages for the festival and hence weren't too familiar with foreigners. a group of old ladies tried to make me sit down with them as they inspected my scarf and clothing. they looked at me with their watery old eyes like i was the strangest most wonderful thing that they had ever seen. i had many people asking me "what part of india are you from?" ummm, not from india.... then a knowing nod of the head, "ahhhhh, pakistan".... ummm, no, actually i'm from canada....."o. are you a sufi?" ummm, no......then some hesitancy, "muslim?" ahh, sorry, no. and for a moment it looked like their hearts would break. then a certain assurance would come over their faces and i think they convinced themselves that i was in fact muslim and was just joking with them. then i got free entry to the palace there, which is normally 250 rupees, and a free tour as well. on the way back to agra, the bus ride was free. all of this because i covered my head in a mosque and was speaking a few words in urdu. nothing more.
it was one of those days in india, both for my stomach and my soul. a feeling of light emptiness and yet an overflowing of sensation that makes me feel like i will vomit. everyone told me that agra was full of assholes but i received almost nothing but kindness. in fact, it's been like that for the past week. if i drink another free chai i think that my heart may explode both from gratitude and excessive caffeine. yes, sometimes being a woman alone here sucks, such as when you buy a general class train ticket and no one will let you on the super-crowded car. but it is also a wonderful thing, because when you explain that to the ticket collector, he'll smile and let you ride in sleeper class for no extra cost. it sucks because the guys at the dhaba will try to charge you 40 rupees for rice and dhal. it's wonderful because when you start arguing with them loudly in hindi in front of all your fellow bus passengers, the guys will be so embarrassed that they give you the fair price. sometimes i love this place so much that i just want to shout or run around throwing flowers in the air or who knows what? but what about imrana? it sometimes feels wrong to love this place as much as i do. for every golden temple, there are lakhs of amritsars. for every taj mahal, there's a river of diarrhea, garbage and misery. dear india, dear me.
i'm in rajasthan and oops! it's time for the pushkar camel fair! meaning that everything is overcrowded and overpriced. i thought the fair ended in october... but, well, i can finally buy that baby camel i've been pining for. do you think they'll let me take it on the plane? maybe i'll give eben sleeping pills, dress the camel up in his clothes and try to sneak it on that way. shhhhh- don't tell eben!
posted by natalie at 4:18 AM
1 Comments:
oh no! as much as i love camels i do love eben more. though they definitely are tied for cuteness and hairyness.
oh natalie, my heart breaks when i read your stories. i miss india so much these days; that amazing kindness and generosity from people who have so little. travelling as a woman alone was the most eye-opening wonderful terrible life-changing thing, and i'm so glad you got a chance to make it on your own. for every groping and leering mustachioed creep-o there are five other saints looking after you. i had a bus conductor look after me for ten hours - forcing a child to stand up so i could sit (though i protested), making men change seats when they sat too close, chatting with me about canada and then even making the busdriver drive me to another company's busstand and waiting for me to get on!
also, i know what you mean about the loud fuckers at the taj. i mean, hello, it's a holy place. the world would be a better place without chit-chatters.
anyways, i miss you, i miss india, i miss a million different lives i've lived. i hope you are feeling better and i can't wait to see you. i hope you are ready for us.
also, an Indian man on a train once asked ME if i was indian.
ha!
love and hugs
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