Varanasi

I have been in Varanasi over four weeks now and can confidently say it feels like one of those special places I could easily make and happily call; my home. Varanasi is a tangled web of little streets and alleyways forming a type of maze of confusion for those not familiar with the place, and equally a maze of confusion for those familiar with the place. The spaghetti street planning could only be possible in Varanasi, where my hourly walks take up to three hours; following a series of wrong turns, despite walking most of the streets regularly and having my ‘man sense of direction’. If you’re not squeezing past cows, you’re dodging their shit, and you can’t just avoid the dead bodies by avoiding the burning ghats; as the Pandas, the people who deal with the dead, come rushing down the street at full pelt carrying dead bodies on stretchers chanting as they go. The speed they move endangers your life to the point were I think they’re just trying to drum up a little extra business for themselves in the hope you won’t jump out the way in time. In Varanasi, more than any other place in India I’ve been, it is advisable to just say ‘yes’, or stop for that conversation as you can be sure it’ll be interesting or at the very least lead to something amusing. Varanasi makes no sense if you try and explain it, and I am struggle to even think how I can do it justice with mere words. You have to experience this place to understand it, and then to experience it you have to embrace it.

For those who don’t know; Varanasi was created by Shiva; the God of creation and destruction, and who is like the Godfather of Indian gods, all one million and three of them. Varanasi is to the best of my knowledge the most spiritual site of the Hindu religion, although I could be wrong, and if you die within a certain radius of the Ganga, India’s most spiritual river, in the vicinity of Varanasi; you achieve instant moksha, which is emancipation from the physical body after death and therefore onto better things, thus saving you the toil of having to go through another tedious life of enlightenment hunting. It is known as the place of rebirth or of death. People come here to die, or have their bodies sent here after death to be cremated on the pyres and the ashes scattered in the water. It is also, although I’m not completely sure I have been witness to it, a common sight to see dead bodies floating down stream, as not everyone can afford to be cremated, or even fully created, and being dumped in the river is at least the next best thing. The rebirth refers to dunking yourself in the river and having all your sins washed away. Apparently it is that easy, but as I’ve already mentioned the river is full of death, some burnt some not, raw sewage from the town and at least five different kinds of industrial waste, not to mention all the other rubbish collected en-route from it’s source and the addition of the Yamuna river which flows into it at Allahabad having gone through Delhi beforehand; a few ‘Hail Marys’ is probably a safer option.

I haven’t mentioned what I got up to in Rishikesh yet, and as it was nearly two months ago I probably won’t, but it’s further up river and I washed my sins away there instead, so don’t really feel obliged to risk my health here. I mentioned this to a baba, who also read my palm and astrology, all is well nothing to worry about, and he said it’s all in the mind and it’s that faith and belief which allows people to drink the water. That’s great for them, my weak western immune system on the other hand will need a little more than belief to go on I think. Positive thought can only get you so far and although I have full faith in Mother India; she probably has her hands full with over a billion Indians needlessly and constantly risking their own lives day after day to have time to deal with another bloody tourist trying to do like the locals do.

 As a result of all this rebirth and death there is a powerful energy to the place. It may have been here first and be the reason for Varanasi’s construction, or as a result of Varanasi, but I doubt I’ll ever fully know. I felt the same about India when I originally arrived and when I re-entered having gone up to Sikkim, but this energy is much more than that; it’s like a concentrated India, and maybe that’s why they say Varanasi is like India in miniature. Varanasi is an intense version of an already intense place, and it is understandable why it’s not to everyone’s liking. Me, well I’ve fully embraced the place, I love it and I’m absolutely exhausted as a result.

Despite the crazy nature I’m not full of big ridiculous stories, or at least ones I can remember, more just little things which amused me or freaked me out at the time. For instance; I fulfilled some morbid curiosity by discovering flesh melts when set alight, and smells like barbeque. I was suitably freaked out by these discoveries that I vowed never to return to a burning ghat again. On my second visit, while in a particularly small and cramped area of the ghat, I had a dead body carried so close that despite my best efforts to get as far away as possible, I was still in what I like to call ‘smelling distance’; so close that you find yourself having dead body Ganga water dripping on you. I may have at this point been either purified or had some dead persons sins added to my own but I didn’t hang around long enough to find out and have not returned, and will not be returning.

There have been some little things while going on my walks. I watched two bulls fighting in the middle of a busy road; oblivious to the chaos ensuing around them, as drivers either swerved at high speeds to avoid them or had to use their brakes for the first time. The whole incident just made me laugh, similar to the time I was listening very intently to the boy in the internet shop complain about Israeli’s and a big funny looking goat just walks past the door, taking the seriousness out of the conversation, for me at least. It’s the little things in India.

I watched a chicken being executed. A quick slice of the throat, the executioner holds it in place with his feet until it twitches it’s last; he then clips the wings before decapitating it and then rips the skin and feathers off in one like he’s peeling off a leotard. After this I left so can’t say what happened next unfortunately. I continued my walk down the high street and amused myself with the idea of what would happen if this scene were repeated in full view on a British high street in the middle of the afternoon. The council would be straight in there; followed by someone suing them for the trauma they suffered by discovering that that’s what their chicken nuggets started out life like. Little Jonny was never quite the same after discovering the realities of eating meat. KFC spend millions on a new PR campaign as word spreads ‘chicken’ is an animal and not just some chewy white stuff you put tomato sauce on. And Paul McCartney writes a song about it. Those were my thoughts and they amused me at the time.

I was kicked out of my first Indian wedding. Unfortunately the men and women were separated so not for anything dramatically romantic as I would have liked; just having gate crashed and then been fed we were asked very politely to leave. A bit of an anti-climax to be honest, but I can at least tick being kicked out of a wedding off the list and I can’t complain about the free and tasty food I got out of it. And finally, I saw a family of monkeys crossing the street. It was all very funny. The biggest went first to test how safe it would be. Head down as fast as he could weaving in and out of the traffic, his life flashing before his eyes as they say. This was followed by an angry encounter with the man who owned the jeep he used to jump from onto a roof; the man in full-on comedy style turning and running away in fear despite initiating the whole thing, much to my vocal amusement which I don’t feel was entirely appreciated. A few minutes later the entire family of fifteen followed him and his exact route, much to my amusement and the man who owned the trampoline jeep’s horror. This was another time in which a few unfortunate Indians discovered what use the other peddle had and a few fat people almost fell out of their rickshaws. These may have all been ‘one of those times you had to be there’ but I thoroughly enjoyed them at the time and they put a smile on my face.

It wouldn’t be India of course without a little suffering. It’s been hot in a humid way and the power cuts constantly; turning my room into a stuffy box without the use of the fan. As the month has gone on I’ve been a little more tired each day and am now fully exhausted. India is intense but as I’ve already said Varanasi is an intense version of India and it’s taken it out of me. I thoroughly love Varanasi and will return, but I am probably ready to move on, I just can’t quite bring myself to do it. The problem is; to leave Varanasi means to leave India and next stop Nepal, so not all that bad, but not quite the same

 Some photo's with no relevance to anything I have just been talking about except that they're of Varanasi

An Evening Puja

Sunrise over the Ganga

Boats, Temples and Soul Cleansing Water

A Little Rebirth

It’s not that I’ve lost the urge to write, or lost the inspiration to come up with ideas, and it’s not that I’ve just become idle, but I’ve not been overly interested in writing another piece on here for these last few weeks, and as a result, well I guess I just haven’t. I am a believer though that if you leave something too long it becomes more difficult to get back into doing it again; the whole falling off a bike thing to a degree you could say, it’s also a handy way of killing time while my washing soaks.

Much has happened these last 3-4 weeks. I’ll go into more detail on it when I write up India as a whole but I’ll throw in a few things now. The last piece I wrote was from beautifully picturesque and cool Sikkim, just what I needed after the sweltering suffering of Calcutta; so I spent only four days there before moving onto swelteringly hot Bodhgaya. Now Bodhgaya is a special place, not only for Buddhists; as it’s the place Gautam Siddhartha experienced enlightenment under a tree and became The Buddha, but for future Williamists too, as it’s the place I was reborn. I did say a great deal had happened.

When I wrote the last piece, all I said was true, and everything still stands, but it was a slightly defiant happiness I was feeling, I was still suffering slightly. In Bodhgaya though, with the heat, I could feel myself slipping back down the same path as in Calcutta but this time with no illness as an excuse. To prevent this, and to regain a little fitness after the feebleness lying down for three weeks results in, I decided to get fit. I started with going for walks for at least an hour everyday, which I discovered is actually a great way to explore a place, I got back into my yoga and perish the thought; enjoyed it and still am, and I even found myself doing some doing some push-ups of all things, evidently desperate times. At that point I was anorexically emaciated and I needed to emancipate myself from this feeble skin and bones I had become, and this I saw as the only way. It was not easy and took much effort to do any of this but now three weeks later I’m finding it much easier and am actually enjoying all these things, I’ve even found a stone to lift like a weight, and as I’m now in Varanasi; the walks are one of my favourite times of the day, often lasting up to three hours as I bear witness to the crazy.

I also had to push myself through that mental suffering in Bodhgaya too. Not only the part trying to be idle, but the part which was going a little insane from the heat and the bit which was still not completely over the tired miserable emotions previously felt. With the insanity issue I just decided not to worrying and thoroughly embraced it, which was great fun, and this also helped in me regaining the ‘love’ which I thought I had lost. I saw that I had been fighting India the previous month, and it had led to my suffering, but I fully embraced it just like I did at first and I remembered what it was I loved about the place, myself and life; a good thing to remember I like to think.

So there I was in Bodhgaya. I was back on the road to recovery of both body and mind; I really felt alive again, like I had been reborn. And then I got the urge to move. It was weird how it happened, it coincided with the new moon, and this I assure you was not intentional. On the last day of the previous moon cycle I suddenly got the urge it was time to move on, and the following day on the new moon I woke up and realised that while the body may have still been in Bodhgaya, the heart and mind no longer was. I paid up, said goodbye to some police officers of all people who had befriended me, fed me and let me hold their guns, and went straight to the train station; next stop Varanasi and the next phase of my new life. Two weeks later and I’m further from describing this place than I was when I arrived, but I can feel it, and it feels good.

Calcutta - A Place of Suffering and Realisation

My god Calcutta was tough. Unsurprisingly the summer here is pain inducingly hot when the rains aren't turning the place into the Venice of India, and as my illness, which I shall call amoebic dysentery, persisted, and persisted, I didn’t really leave my room the whole time. I am only just getting better now and am still prone to bouts of illness if I’m not careful with my diet. This is going to take time to fully fix itself; my stomach has taken a beating. I have also lost a lot of weight, I’m now only 11 stone, 70 kilos to those not familiar with the Empires weighing system, and for someone who’s six foot three, about one metre eighty-five; that’s fuck all. I’m wasting away. On a positive note, which there are always many, something I only realised once I started to feel better and stopped hating life and everything it stood for; I finished War and Peace and read Gandhi’s autobiography. I also had a few moments of realisation about life and my approach to current and future issues, so all in all despite the immense suffering, I feel I’ve managed to come out of it with at least a few positives.

I can’t really tell you much about Calcutta except that it’s hot, a bit of a shit hole and the people are pretty poor. I saw a few sights when my parents arrived, which I’ll talk about another time once they’ve left, but I did my best impression of a zombie the whole time and took very little in. I met a few nice locals, I avoided the tourists in general except for a few who I chatted to only once each, and the whole experience confirmed my opinion that I like nature as it’s full of life and the energy has a positive effect on people and humanity in general. I’m not a big hippy, I can just feel the energy of nature, and I miss that energy when stuck in a big dirty dead city. Calcutta however, I’m sure has much to offer, and I did get that feeling from the place, but I was unable to give it the chance I would have liked to. I will return at some point in the future but probably not in summer as the idea of discovering even more places on my body which I never knew I could sweat from doesn’t really appeal to me too much.

I did though have a lot of time to think, and when you are at your lowest you have a habit of looking at things a little more drastically and therefore, in my opinion, with a little less tint on your specks. I realised at one point what I really want from my life. I still, at the back of my mind, think I’m going to lead the revolution and rescue the world from the police state it is becoming, especially Britain, but I realised I should maybe do something in the mean time; you know, just in case the whole revolutionary period of my life doesn’t manifest itself in the way I’ve always thought it will. I am also now a believer in ahimsa which is non-violence, thank you Gandhi, so possibly my revolution will have to take a different direction. I am also, again thank you Gandhi, now a Satyagrahi; which is someone who follows a path of ‘truth’ (Sat) and ‘firmness’ (Agraha). What a wise man that Gandhi was, full of good ideas. But enough of him; unfortunately the ego still dictates the direction of this particular writing.

I want an easy life. I’ve been saying for a little while now how I like the idea of not being self-sufficient, but not being dependent on society. I love the idea of having my little house with my chickens, goats and a couple of pigs, my vegetables, and depending on the climate some grapes to make wine. I would also like as eco-friendly and efficient house as I can get as I then won’t have to pay bills and monetary cost can be kept down. It would also hopefully be in a little community of people too as I like a bit of social interaction. I have spent much time thinking about all this but it’s always just been an idea. I did however have a conversation with a young Spanish girl while waiting for my plain rice in a restaurant. I will admit my initial thoughts about her were not pure in the religious sense, although a little bit in the Catholic way, but I quickly enjoyed the difference of opinion we had and it was good to discuss something with someone who had differing opinions for once. One thing she said though, and I naturally disagreed with her, was that long term travellers shouldn’t just travel continuously; doing nothing and giving nothing back. I obviously said there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that and people are all doing their own thing in their own way. Doing things?! Working?! Are you mad!! Young idealistic volunteers; wonderful people, truly making a difference. I ridicule, but these people are very important. Anyway, while I was wallowing in self pity the next day, it got me thinking about what I want from life and all that stuff about non-dependence sprang to mind, and I realised she had a point. Endless travelling is great fun, doing fuck all in the process and laughing at fools who complain about working even more fun; but I don’t smoke anymore and that’s half the justification for an inactive lifestyle gone. What I’ve decided is that I’m going to travel but go places and do things that’ll enable me to learn about living my future life; how and whatever this would entail. I can do some wwoofing and learn about food production; permaculture in particular. Working with animals would obviously be important, and as I intend on building my own home I should probably learn how. On a smaller scale I would quite like to know how to build clay ovens so learning that could be fun. And if I was really serious I could get myself back in the classroom and teach again, improve my English all over again. I just want to learn, I want to learn how to live, but to live a life I enjoy living and get something out of. I’m not designed for a 9-5 job, fuck that for a laugh, don’t tell me what to do boss. Tuck my shirt in?! My trousers are a little low?! I’m late?! Fuck off with your nonsense!! Going back to the classroom is suddenly a lot less appealing; maybe I’ll work part-time....from home.

This girl, who seems to have been some type of trigger; firing me out of the inactive, and who will have probably forgotten all about this, will forever have no name in my memory but will simply go by ‘cute Spanish girl with nice bottom and curly hair’. I love innocuous conversations like that which at the time appear to mean so little, but in hindsight have far more of a lasting affect than all those deep meaningful talks with wise people, or even those when I try to be that wise person, put together. People being themselves, people being true and not playing a role they think will make them look good to others or a role the ego wants them to play. They’re the people you need to hunt out, the people you actually learn something from; the genuine people. It really is beautiful when people have an effect on others by just being themselves. She also told me she was writing a short story, and although we both laughed at the fact it was a love story, I was very impressed she had already written nineteen chapters. She’s studying to be a doctor and in her spare time likes to write. I’d like to think I will justifiably be able to call myself a writer one day but my idleness means I struggle to write more than two thousand words. My finger really needs to be pulled out my arse. I’m not shitting myself anymore; I have no excuse for keeping it stuck up there. I have a plan I have told you about and another I haven’t. This one was also inspired by her but will remain a secret until it’s completion as I don’t want it to lose it’s fire by sharing it and talking about it.

India, and Calcutta; with the help of a little dysentery, have pushed me to the limits. Mother India is always teaching, and if you open your eyes you can always learn from her. I seem to do things the hard way. I had to embrace a little insanity to stop smoking, and now I have had to be pushed to my limits of suffering to see where I’ve gone, am going and will continue to go wrong, and what it is I actually want. It’s time I grabbed life by the balls and did a little of what I talk so much about. I have a path in life and a reason for being, and as the Gita says;

‘It is better that one do his own task as he may, even though he fail,

Than take tasks not his own though they seem good.

To die performing duty is no ill; but who seeks other roads shall wander still’

Well maybe it’s about time I stopped blindly wandering and started on my path. We are primitive beasts, and we are eventually going to push ourselves to the edge of extinction before we can develop as a species. In the meantime I’m not going to worry about any of that and get on with my life; start living and doing what I’m supposed to be doing. It’s only taken me twenty-five years; but I think I can finally say what I want from my life, and I can genuinely say it’s a good feeling, one long overdue.

The Venice of India

Calcuttan Gondolas

Calcutta (Kolkata) First Impressions

As I mentioned in my little adventure on the choo choo train I seem desperate to experience India and not just see it through the eyes of the Lonely Planet. I have found myself at the other end of the spectrum from the extreme shanti beauty of Kasar Devi to the dirty bustling metropolis of Calcutta. I’m going to use the old spelling as I’m not only a secret dirty imperialist but I believe what India may have lost on one hand with it’s wealth being stolen it gained on the other with the creation of infrastructure; something lacking horrendously in other countries such as Nepal for example. Added to that from what I’ve seen so far architecturally the influence of the Brits has been felt here, and is still felt, more than in any of the few other places I have seen so far. Calcutta on first impressions actually reminds me a lot of Madrid, but more a post-apocalyptic version, or even the future if ‘El Crisis’ continues.

It’s been a wierd day, this being one of the reasons I feel writing a ‘first impressions’, or more of a first day, to be of such importance. I will also give my opinion of the place when I leave in a little under two weeks as I myself am curious how my perception changes over that time.

When I arrived I wasn’t too tired from the journey as I had more or less slept the two nights but I was exhausted and as a result found myself feeling a little like a lost sheep. It was similar to my arrival in Kathmandu where it was all so much to take in and I was aware I would therefore be rich pickings but was powerless to prevent it. I allowed myself to be lead to a guest house by two local lads and found I had somehow agreed to pay 200 rupees to stay in what I will also allow myself to use the ‘Black Hole of Calcutta’ cliché to describe. I am staying in a sweatbox of a cell with a small window in the top corner, a fan which just pushes the heat around and a small single bed with a straw mattress which acts like some type of radiator. All this is lit with one painfully bright strip light, I think they’re called, which simply highlights the peeling paint and all round barren nature of my room. It is the type of room people describe when trying to shock people with the horrors or realities of travel in India. Calcutta is extremely hot and it just adds to it; I sweat by merely existing in this room.

It was not a good start and my attempts at exploring the place where just as unsuccessful. I ate breakfast in a little restaurant dating badly from the eighties in style, and with none of the culinary delights I had anticipated and hoped for from Bengali food. I knew this when I saw it from outside, thought it again when I walked in, when I sat down, when I was handed my menu and when I ordered. I knew all this yet did nothing about it. I then wandered the streets looking for somewhere to sit down and smoke a cigarette, and walked for ages in the heat before finally settling on a delightful spot beside the main road running through the city. After this I aimless walked through a market place in the guise of exploring, before being befriended and somehow found myself in a shop, almost, buying some silk scarfs. Like the old guy who hangs himself in Shawshank Redemption the outside world was just too much for me, but unlike him I didn’t have to kill someone to return to my cell so promptly headed off in that direction. I felt fresh off the plane and wet behind the ears as a result; I had to get off the streets before it lead me somewhere I really regretted.

Outside my guest house I saw a quite disturbing sight; two street dogs locked in end to end, love visibly being pumped from one to the other while another male quite ferociously tried to get in on the act. If separation occurs with dogs while in the middle of sex, the female’s womb can be ripped out. It was a disturbing site, my feelings being betrayed by my face much to the amusement of the Indians around me. I can now add dogs to the list of animals I have seen having sex, although I assure you it lacked the amusement of chickens raping each other and the beauty of dragonfly making love on my arm. ‘Doggy style’ will never evoke the same emotions within me it once did.

Back in my room I tried to sleep but after an hour or two of sweating and getting more and more angry I eventually cracked, went outside and vented my frustrations to the manager; who was now seeing another side to the timid boy who had walked into the place. The angry Scotsman had emerged and all was not well. What the fuck was I doing here in this place?! I don’t even like cities. Fuck experiencing, I want Kasar Devi. I should never have left. The only solution to all this I decided was that I go walk the streets again. This time the same hawkers, beggars and curious Indians got a different response to my enquiries, some even quite Germanically rude in their wording. I even went into a bar which I thought would have air conditioning, and it did, but as the waiter suggested I sit in every seat except the one I suggested I wanted to sit in he got told where he could stick his seating and I vacated the premises. I drank some chai on the roadside, ate some street food and smoked a little. This did little to appease me and I found myself on the move again, stumbling into a rather tasty looking but expensive delicatessen and treating myself. I spent a slow fifteen minutes eating my disgustingly sickly and over-priced ‘Choco Cup’, but basked in the cool air conditioned room. After I left, with the help of chocolate and a little cooling off, I saw the funny side of the whole thing and laughed at my ridiculousness. I chatted to two young German lads fresh from Thailand, fake dreds and all, and went to look at the dorm they were staying in. Tomorrow I will be in a room full of camp beds and Koreans, for 90 rupees a night with big windows and lots of air I can actually breath.

I returned to my room and discovered the pills I had taken to stop myself shitting my pants had worn off so spent the next few hours severely dehydrated and feeling sorry for myself, nearly passing out a few times in the process. I’ve still not taken the anti-biotics I was given in Rishikesh but very nearly cracked. My heart told me to wait another day, so that is what I shall do, let us hope it is right.

Still tomorrow is not only another day but a New Moon and therefore a new cycle. I have a good feeling about it, it can only be better than the current one which I will be honest has been a real test, but which I have so far survived. In regards Calcutta, I’m positive despite my first day; and like Kathmandu, I have a feeling with a bit of time and an open mind I’ll be able to see the beauty behind the chaos. All I need is to find a nice bar where I can sit on the ground surrounded by cushions and hippies, discuss yoga, drink ginger tea and listen to Bob Marley....actually no; I’ve the rest of India for that type of nonsense, I’m going to embrace the chaos

The Doon Express – Train Travel the Indian Way

The Doon Express

I had spent the two months prior to India in Nepal, and because everyone else was doing it the conventional way round and going to India first I spent those two months listening to stories of India, getting advice about India and generally just getting excited about India. I came to a decision the trains were most likely going to be a highlight for me, and it was with the excitement of a little child that I finally booked myself in for a mammoth thirty-four and a quarter hours across the north of India from Haridwar to Calcutta on the Doon Express.

The date had finally arrived and I would like to say I was all giddy and excitable but unfortunately I had spent the previous week either squatting over a toilet or shitting in my pants and this had bought with it much suffering, weakness and all round general unhappiness. Getting to the train station seemed like an ordeal, the prospect of spending the next thirty-four and a quarter hours trapped inside a moving box with toilets that are nothing more than holes onto the moving tracks below, less that appealing to say the least.

Let me get one thing straight; I don’t like antibiotics. I believe we have an immune system which we should not only use when it suits us but strengthen by trusting in and constantly challenging. I abhor those hand sanitisers people use before they do anything and then wonder why their body has no natural immunity and they get ill all the time. I don’t even use fucking soap, that’s how hard I am. Anyway like I said, I’d spent the last week shitting my pants and I knew I had to do something. I stopped short of those devilish biotics but took something to stop me shitting and as a result only required the toilet facilities for their proper use on two occasions. I did though still feel bad the majority of the way and was in constant fear of emptying myself in my draws.

I boarded my train at quarter past ten at night and by eleven I was asleep. After the advice of others I had my top bunk, which I just about managed to squeeze into and lay down on my sweaty leather bed. It was roughly in line with the fans which therefore did more or less nothing for me. I looked around me to see I had been placed in the miserable carriage with equally unhappy faces; young and old alike. I decided I best not drink any of the chai as I doubted my stomach would appreciate it and lay down to sleep feeling all in all disappointed with the current situation and when I awoke I felt completely underwhelmed by the whole thing, questioning what all the excitement was about. I did though, when falling asleep, get a warm fuzzy feeling that I really was on the move, travelling and adventuring. The only other time I’ve really felt this was when I got the sleeper from Paris to Madrid and it’s a nice feeling; one which I hope others have had similar.

In the morning my neighbours looked as miserable as myself, and it was at that moment I had one of my realisations. Except for the extremes, people are simply reflections of ourselves. As I was giving out sad pathetic miserable energy; this was exactly what I received back. If you’re an angry man people will show you anger, the same goes with love, fun, happiness, sadness, tranquillity and so on. A friend of mine from Rishikesh who is full of love for everyone told me that families where sharing food with her and she them and that trains are great fun. That’s the energy she gives out so that’s the energy she receives. I was miserable and hated life, so everyone directed misery back in my direction, and life hated me. The problem was, I was too ill to do anything about it.

I fell asleep after lunch and a bit of diarrhoea complaining to myself about my fucking desire to experience India and not just see it. Well I was experiencing it alright, the harsh realities and all. When I woke I felt a little better and decided I should take advantage of it. I realised experiencing India is one thing but I need to see it too, that by doing one the other should automatically happen if you have the right approach. The approach I decided was required was to go sit by the open door and watch India go by. This cheered me up no end and I decided I should try and lean out the door as far as I could in a type of yoga move I had done once. Once as it turns out was a very long time ago and moving my shoulders back into place proved a little troublesome to the point where I had a little ‘O Fuck’ moment; but all turned out fine in the end and I got that little buzz you get from putting your life needlessly in danger just to try something that looks fun.

As I now felt a little better I took it upon myself to challenge my stomach; “Fuck you, enough is enough I’ve pussy footed around you and starved myself and all for what, more fucking pain and suffering. Well no more!!” At which point I stopped the man walking past with chai, then the man with the matar, then the man with the garam, then another man which chai, and another and another, and then a man with some chaat, and washed it all down with another lovely chai. And you know what, because I had blocked myself up, nothing happened. I was eating, tasting, experiencing, seeing and travelling; and I was happy again.

A day in the life of the India Police Force

At one stop six policemen came on escorting two prisoners. They were each carrying enormous rifles dating from what must have been the time of the British Raj, I actually thought they were muskets at first. They then sat among the other passengers or where they could find a seat, while one lay down and had a nap. You really have to love the Indian police. It was a ridiculous scene and provided me with much amusement.

Later two transvestites got on and demanded I give them money. I remembered watching a documentary a few years back about trannys in India and if memory serves me the locals fear them because they think they will curse them or something. Either way I have no fear of trannys and they got told exactly where to go, much to the approval of the man sitting next to me. He then gave me some advice and suggested that as the part of the journey between Varanasi and Calcutta was the most risky in regards robbery I should actually padlock my chain properly to the seat and not just have it wrapped around for show. I headed his advice. I chatted to him for a bit and he was a good guy.

In the morning as the train approached Calcutta and the majority of the passengers had got off I had my morning cigarette sitting with my legs hanging out the door enjoying the peace and the waves and smiles from the passengers in the other trains running alongside. The fact this was the first cigarette I had had since two days earlier which wasn’t smoked inside the dirty smelly toilet added somewhat to the beauty of the scene for me.

Despite it being nothing like I had imagined and there being times of hardship and suffering on my behalf, I enjoyed my first train journey in India. It was much fun and once I cheered up and got over my nonsense, I started embracing it all and it turned out great. I had done it, I had not just survived thirty-four and a quarter hours but I had taken it on and come out not just stronger but full of life and happiness too. Now just to find a guest house and a toilet before those pills wore off....

Enlightened or crazy?

I’m leaving Kasar Devi tomorrow, or today depending on when I get round to putting this up. In all fairness it could actually turn out to be that I left Kasar Devi yesterday, or maybe even a few days ago. I know what I am capable of so shall promise nothing. All I know for certain is that it’s Sunday night and I’m writing this with the intention of leaving on the six o’clock bus tomorrow evening.

It has been interesting. For those who’ve never been here I’ve already described the place but I would like to mention one particular thing again; the energy. Kasar Devi has energy, lots of it and you can feel it. It is powerful. A baba told me you either leave this place enlightened or crazy such is it’s power. Now I embraced this energy, but I don’t think I was ready for it. I didn’t give it respect and it came down hard on me.

I’m going to give you an insight into the workings of my brain.

I thought I was on the road to enlightenment. Everything was happening for a reason; everybody I met, every action I made, every route I took, everything, EVERYTHING. And I was analysing all that came before me and spending far too much time in my head thinking about why something happened or for what reason, and how it benefitted me, or how I could make it benefit me, and so on and so on, and there were signs and I tried to follow them and I was doing alright, and with the help of the universe guiding me; I was on the right path. Everything was good.

After a little while I came to the conclusion that it’s not just about reading the signs, but about feeling them too, and then I realised that what you’re feeling is your heart. Trust your heart, it understands you a lot more than you do, especially more than your head does, and it will lead you into some far more interesting places.

I went with my heart and I liked what it showed me, but then there was one thing I was ignoring, and that was what my heart was telling me about smoking and continuing to smoke. I had been smoking a lot these last few months and it had been great, but my heart was telling me to stop. I kept on coming up with excuses, or compromises I knew I would never stick to but I just didn’t want to stop smoking even though deep down that was exactly what I knew I wanted.

After about a week here I was sick. I hadn’t even smoked a lot but I was sick; I puked. Very rarely am I sick. I could probably recount ninety percent of the times in my life I have been. I realise now I had smoked too much over this time and my body simply couldn’t take it.

The thing was; it was as if a lot of negative energy had come up. It wasn’t just too much smoke induced dal in that toilet but a pile of negative crap my body had finally got rid of. For the next three days I didn’t smoke and didn’t want to. I felt good and I had the energy and the drive to go with it. But I’m weak, and in my weakness I invariably came to the conclusion not smoking while travelling, and especially through India, was just not feasible. So I was going to smoke in moderation. I did , for the next week or two that’s exactly how I smoked. Then I had an idea. As it grows wild here, like is natural, I decided if I wasn’t going to smoke it I should at least try to consume it another way.

I made a lot of tea and the other day after a little experimenting, my Swedish neighbour, Peter, came across with a little concoction he had made up. We drank and he was stoned but not too bad, but me, I was fucked. I actually went mad, I experienced insanity for an hour or so before I eventually succeeded in passing out. I was taken to the brink of madness and back again. It was like a bad trip but worse, I have never experienced anything like it. I saw everything in clarity. I saw how me being sick was Kasar Devi and it’s energy helping get all this badness out of me but by continuing to smoke I had simply fucked it in the arse. I’d embraced the energy but not respected it. I was going to be enlightened, but now nothing more than crazy, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I had fucked up and I had to live with it. I had everything and I had lost it all and I had nobody to blame but myself. That’s what was going through my mind but at an intensity my words could not do justice.

On an amusing note though I did come to the conclusion my neighbour Alexa was an actual angel when she bought me a cup of tea, but after drinking half decided she was in fact a witch trying to poison me so refused the rest.

All in all it was the worst moment of my life, and I woke up depressed, really really depressed. I’ve never actually felt real depression before and this was too much. I still had the same thoughts from the night before and they had been in such clarity and so well thought out that there was an answer to every happy thing I tried to convince myself. It was so bad that for the first time in my life suicide became a genuine option. I had fucked everything up and now I had to deal with the fact nothing would be the same. I wasn’t going to find enlightenment, or be enlightened or even live a happy life, this was just the first step into the crazy; the start of the downward spiral.

It was a horrible day and this morning, the next day, didn’t feel much better. I decided to go for a walk down into the valley as I had heard there was a nice waterfall somewhere down there. After about an hour of fucking around trying to convince myself if I follow my heart I’ll find it, but in fact just getting lost and being inside my head too much, I actually stumbled upon a little waterfall. I stripped off desnudo and tied my headscarf around my head in classic Deer Hunter / Platoon mad man style before climbing some wet, slippy and dangerous rocks, and sitting under the little waterfall. It was great, and I screamed and shouted a little and let it all out. I then went and sat on a nearby rock and lay in the sun before falling asleep for an hour. There was one thing which struck me though as important. There was something a little different about my screams and laughter, and it wasn’t just because I was climbing rocks in true naked mad man style, but I could feel a bit of the crazy in there, as if a little had grabbed hold and wasn’t going to let go. I don’t know what it means and am aware I could even have been imagining it, but one thing I do know is I felt good afterwards and it brought me out of my depressed slumber.

I don’t know what the future holds. I’m not on the path to enlightenment anymore and I really struggled to cope with that for a day and a half, and still am a little sad about that fact, but now I’m onto something else. That something may be insanity but equally it may not be. My future is going to be different to what I had spent the last year imagining it would be. It took a bit of nudity and falling water to realise different doesn’t have to be a bad thing though. Whatever I make of it, and I will make something of it, it’ll be fun and interesting. One thing I do know for sure though is I’ve had enough of the smoking. I’ve reached my limit and I won’t risk experiencing thoughts like that again, enough is enough, it’s about time I started really listening to my heart. And although it might be a laugh, it’s probably best if I don’t feed the insanity further. Crazy or enlightened? Either way; I’m not leaving this place the same person who arrived

Stop Press

I hope in future to be able to inflict my own poetry upon you. Of course that would mean I actually have to write some first, but for now I thought it could be fun to inflict someone else’s first. So in honour of someone I would hope I can call my dear friend, this is his word....I hope you find this both enjoyable and rewarding, and please; try not to over think it

Stop Press

Everything means something,

Or nothing means everything.

Anything is not nothing;

So something means everything.

There can only be one

Everything, omitting nothing,

So, everything means something!

If nothing meant anything

Then who cares?

But we all care

So everything means something.

Take care for all, equally

None is lesser or greater,

All is part of one,

One is all there is.

None is superior or inferior

Take care, everything is all, right?

Neil R. Wall

He's the retired Zeus on the left if you're curious