"Don't Worry About These Things" (India 2)

4.13.2010

My friends, Steve & Elizabeth, handed me ‘The Alchemist’ as a gift at my farewell dinner to read on my journey - the book makes quick work of getting to the point that the world presents omens that can guide you through life and help you to recognize your dreams & goals, if one is only open to regard these coincidences as more than chance alone. India is increasingly tapping me into the importance of considering omens, and the realization that my next move is entirely in my own hands gives me further freedom to follow these omens.

I left Delhi yesterday after a day of touring on the 11th. I explored lots of spiritual shrines and temples with the help of ‘Steve’, my guide, and our seikh driver Surrinder. (We visited Raj Ghat, the grave of Ghandi, The Bahai Lotus Temple, Hindu's Iskon Temple, Qutub Minnar, the Red Fort, India Gate, Jamma Mosque, President's House and India Gate.)

Steve, a slight Indian man in his 20’s, wore a pearl ring on his right hand. He related to me a story about how his own guru had previously prescribed a similar pearl ring to him, and instructed that if the ring should every break or chip Steve should avoid going out that day. There was bruising on Steve’s face that evidenced a recent accident. He told me that it was after the pearl cracked, on that very morning Steve was in a violent auto accident. As his story goes, he went back to his guru for advice, more certain of the wisdom of that man and fearful of ignoring the omen. This time the guru offered another ring, one that should only be worn outside of Delhi for protection, a custom that Steve now follows religiously. There are similar stories and experiences of almost every religious sect in this country, be it Muslim, Seikh, Jane, or Hindi. Odd voodo-esque Talismen hang from rear-view mirrors of taxis to ward off the Evil Eye, while some Buddha or dragon statues summon wealth or vitality for shop owners.

So far I have not met a spiritual guru to share even one simple enlightening truth with me, though I had imagined that such influences would be ever-present in this place. Perhaps I need to be in an ashram for such things, and my stay in the spiritual city of Rishikesh is just a few days away. Spirituality is ever-present, though, and I notice that every person in India holds some reminder of a holier power on or near their person - either a symbol (a swastika, star of David, Om) or flower offerings to their G-d of choice.

Yesterday I left for Goa. Having allocated 1 hour for the 30 minute ride, I was stuck in Delhi traffic for 1 1/2 hours on the way to my Spice Air flight. My driver apologized for the stop-start traffic, it made me nauseous and I tried to suppress the worry that I would not make my flight. I tried to channel that worry and recognize that I could easily make alternate plans if these fell through. I’m still a neophite at mind over matter. Fortunately, I made it with minutes to spare, reinforcing the valuable message that India is unpredictable and no amount of planning can prepare you for its eventual alterations to one’s well-conceived ‘schedule’. IST, India Standard Time, ask your Indian friends.

I made friends on the flight with an Indian child and an adult with some sweet chews I had picked up in London. Without words I sensed immediate appreciation. A Brazilian woman had asked to share a cab, while we were in line to board the plane. Initially, I explained that I was staying at a hotel and that she would need to stay at the same in order to ride in the hotel’s car. Mid-flight I had a sense that my response needed to be more charitable and sensitive. On the flight, I found her row and introduced myself, she invited me to sit down next to her. After talking with her for a few minutes, I learned that she was amidst writing her third novel, she composed violin music, and she was a teacher on holiday seeking a little quiet and some scuba-diving. Sensing her sincerity and her budget, I offered her a place to stay in my room. I offered that she could pay whatever she felt comfortable, and I would make sure that we had a second bed. She was appreciative but declined because she felt that she would be embarrassed to accept a rather expensive gift. I’m certain that the lesson was to have been more immediately responsive when I was asked for help, rather than waiting to see if the person ‘qualified’ for it. In that way, perhaps I would have had more opportunity to talk with this very interesting girl and learn something from her ambitious pursuit of her own happiness.

I arrived in Goa on time and sat in the backseat of the cab for a peaceful 45 minute scenic drive through the lush palm-seeded landscape along the coast. The Lemon Tree hotel was nice enough, and had all the basic Western amenities, namely toilet paper and A/C, which are completely uncommon to all Goan and the majority of all Indian homes.

On arrival last night, I caroused with a set of Brits, 4 living in London, 2 in Dubai and then a couple from Holland. We took turns buying Kingfisher beer in rounds. At one point, around 9pm, I left to clean up for dinner. I laid down on the bed for a moment. I suppose I knew that it would happen, but I woke up at 4 am to the sound of the television and lights at full blast. The lighter side of being up so early is that I could experience the section of Goa where I’m staying before the incessant heat of the sun and the business of this seaside state begins (roughly at 9am).

I was out on the street outside of the Lemon Tree ‘resort’ in North Goa by 7:30 this morning. Yesterday I only made it to the beach side of the property for a few minutes of sun and a chance to share a cool drink and songs with 3 hindu ladies who were hawking bracelets, shirts and massages. Since I wouldn’t buy anything from them, I offered to buy them sodas since they were keeping me company and playing along when I started singing to them.

As I was walking down the main dirt road that morning, I noticed an older woman on the opposite side of the road from me at 7:30 this morning, pulled over, fishing something from her purse, which was laid between her legs on the floor of her motor scooter. I said good morning, and instantly she said, “Hey, America? Come here!” We exchanged a few acknowledgements about Goa and the people, and she invited me to ride with her, on the back of her scooter.

I’m beginning to pursue whatever makes me happiest rather than allowing myself to consider what I ‘should’ be doing. I’m wobbly at determining what I need to make me happy, though my morning with Kathy, the 5-time Irish tourist of Goa, was a true start.
We rode 1km down to the beach, where she was supposed to meet a new friend who wanted to join Kathy for her morning walk.

Kathy mentioned that the woman asked to join her on her daily walk, which Kathy guarded as her own daily pleasure. Kathy felt sorry for the woman and conceded, but Kathy is clearly a person who does not like to let other people disrupt her happiness. Then the woman, she relayed in unabashed annoyance, asked if Kathy could delay her daily walk from 7 to 7:30 because the stranger found it more appealing. Ironically, the woman never showed up. I can’t decide whether this way of selfishly guarding one’s own happiness is toxic, or rather the healthiest way to live. Though, I believe that the time she spent with me was a pleasure to us both. She was filled with thoughts and stories (which is a quality that I envy greatly), and I listened intently and with genuine interest, which I believe was appreciated on the other end. I was curious about her life and thoughts, and she was interesting, and one of those people who can pluck life’s most interesting stories easily from her fingertips.

Even in Goa, where traffic is just a crawl compared to the busy streets of Delhi, traffic here is chaotic...stay to the left as a driver, as a pedestrian, look every way 6 times before crossing the street and even then, double-check. I say that only to remember that I mentally debated getting on the back of Kathy’s scooter, when she clearly had no helmet for herself or me. Later in the morning she would tell me about her driving record, a litany of speeding tickets that had, on many occasions, nearly led to the suspension of her driving priviliges in several countries. My own anxiety for safety was piqued, acknowledged, and then relegated to the part of my brain that is labeled ‘Don’t think about this now, or you will certainly not enjoy the experience.’

Kathy invited me to drive her scooter which I declined politely (I will never consider it a missed opportunity). She took me to her morning coffee shop, where I had my first poop on an Indian commode. It reminded me of my brother Steven’s joke about the spendthrift’s lesson of how to efficiently use one square of toilet paper. Use finger to put a hole in the center of the square, insert finger, clean offending area with finger, use square to clean finger. I never expected that I would be so close to this reality, yet here I was with a bowl with no seat, covered with an uncomfortable sweat, and there is no TP in sight. It pleased me that I was able to McGuyver some makeshift TP from small 1-ply table napkins from a drawer in the upstairs of the restaurant, where two employees were sleeping.



After my second cup of Chai, I picked up the tab for our coffee break, and Kathy drove me to see the apartment that she was considering. I sensed that maybe my opinion was a surrogate for the opinion of her children who were overseas in the US and Ireland and could not themselves offer an informed approval. I suspect I’ll be a reassuring voice to help her to make the decision to buy that condo - the building was quite lovely, and at 30,000 US, it seemed a bargain.

Amidst the sun and food, I have developed a case of Delhi Belly, and I’ve been room-bound for the last several hours. The worst thing is that I thought I was being so careful, and now that I have no idea what it was that turned my stomach into a churning, unhappy mess, and that will make me concerned about what I might have eaten when I consider meals after my tummy returns to normal. Tummy sounds happier right now, since if I was going to describe my stomach as anything fitting right now, it would be a tractor refusing a refill of sawdust or mango flavored yoghurt lassi.

I am letting myself be ok with doing whatever it is that I want to do. I am ok with wanting to be in my room for the A/C and security over the past few days. I still experience guilt about coming all this way to be alone in the hotel room, but I am learning to also acknowledge and happily accept this as my pleasure. I used today’s room time to begin a timeline of my life to track my memories, accomplishments and life events, and the lives and deaths of those important to me. (Thank you Sharon for this inspiration, and thank you Mom for filling in several of the blanks)

I’m staying at what is considered the nicest place in North Goa at about $90 a day. I also feel guilt about being here, when some part of me is insisting that I should be muddling through life in a hut without A/C and running water. I think that I’m getting through this feeling as well. I guess I cannot jump into a hot jacuzzi thinking that I will be comfortable immediately without some getting used-to.

In other lessons, I just listened to Eat, Pray, Love and recognized the folly in making another person a scratching post for physical or emotional satisfaction. Something about not minimalizing physical or emotional satisfaction resonated in me. I want to experience love in its fullest, but for the moment, I want to avoid considering relationships entirely, to see what that feels like and give myself time to consider without feeling like a timeline is being imposed.

I also took from this book that I need to explore the feeling of being alone - it’s discomforts and comforts. I need to seek my own genuine pleasures and pursue those without asking for approval or having to consider someone else. India is inconvenient, hot, and uncomfortable most of the time, it’s unpredictable, and just about the best place in the world to wreck the mantra of the planful person. That must be why so many ‘seekers‘ find themselves on it’s doorstep.

The omens are all around me. Meeting Kathy at 7:30 on a whim, getting to share coffee because her morning walk with the random stranger was cancelled. And my having the good ‘sense’ to hop onto her scooter and make a spot decision that it would be safe to follow. Omens are occasions to pursue your dream, if you call them a coincidence, you discount their power and meaning to yourself, if you allow yourself to follow them, I believe that you will find more and find it more easy to follow your own unique path - one that feels in concert with the world.

I’ve been up to the toilet 5 times as I’ve written this. Ugh. Hopefully tomorrow will be a new day and I’ll be able to stomach something without issue.

I’ll be here until Friday - it’s just turned Wednesday, and then off to Kerela by flight for some back-water boat tours and Ayuervedic healing centers which the city is known for. Then a flight back through Delhi to Haridwar and Kishikesh for some deep thinking and yoga study. I’m looking forward to this most of all.