String Attached NOTES
"Wow, I had no idea that kties were such a great way to get at the essence of waht Lucknow is and I can't wait to do some more exploring on my own. But first I should learn how to fly one and that is a long road. But when you come back, I will be challenging you to a duel."
-resident (Lucknow)
"A kite-such a thing once in someone's hadns forget abouteating, drinking, sleeping,...."
Salamat Thali, manjha maker (Lucknow)
"We meet at Rishikesh Ram Jhula Beach and enjoy the kites _ _ _ _ _ _ the same partners. Place is peacefall at River Holy Gangi, your kite went to water. So you want to enjoy more I bring a few kites again at about 2'0 clock in afternoon I am glad feel pleasure in your company. "
K.K. Gauti saddhu (Rishikesh)
Sunday, April 08, 2007
To leave Delhi gift of relief. The acrobatics to secure a visa to Vietnam kept me in Delhi longer than I needed.
I took residence in Pahar Gang, an area adjacent to the New Delhi Railway swarming with the backpacker species. Something overcame me. what I am not sure. I transformed into a monster of consumption. I amassed goods: indulging in eye candy: stainless steel lunchboxes, kashmir tea, books, and colorful fabrics... The want endless. The more I collected, the more my range of freedom got restricted. I accumulated so much stuff that I became immobilized in my bed- bug infested hotel room. The truth is I got lost in these indulgences, in the game of bargaining and acquisition.
Once I had my visa, I went straight to post, parcel my packrat collections, and then Houdini out.
During the last 24 hours, I travel across the country, hop a train to catch a flight to Kolkata. Case of spontaneous choice coinciding with original palns to return to Kolkata. I thought it would be one of those masochistic ventures, not to have waited for the offices to reopen after the elections, to book a flight from Delhi. But I craved fresh air (breath that did not coat my nose with grime and burn my throat) and wanted no more of the fluorescent night, dim interiored mornings, or vortex of Pahar Gang, Peace out.
I slept more comfortably on the sleeper class train than I did the entire week in Delhi. Credit it to fresh ventilated air and exhaustion. The second leg of the journey turn out to be on masochistic side(not so bad beacuse expectantly so), without a bed secured, I sat 17+ hours. there,, I contemplated the comfort of a seat on Biman Bangledesh fleet and a 5-star hotel in Dhaka layover.
But I am glad for the chance to meet certain passengers, see Varanassi, and fall in love with India again, as the emerald chapati fields, mud brick houses, village cricket game, women collecting water, ...peering out from my passenger window to these rolling simple scenes of the life of rural people, cast in the dust, light, and mist of dawn lifting.
I folded two origami cranes for 2 girly munchkins and flew a miniature kite (made from a broken frame and plastic wrapping for cashews).
Yes, I am glad for this leisure train pace to say goodbye to India.
At Howrah I am back in the rush. I bypass the taxis (300RS) and rickshaws...ignore the recommendations of the staff and official (because I know a minibus exists despite their insistence of "it is impossible madam" and also because I only have pocket change remaining). Shuffling pacing further inquiring, I find the elusive minibus to the airport (7RS). As the bus L238 speeds pass the autotransport (mentally cheered on at added advantage) to Dum Dum international terminal, I mentally travel down lanes we pass to my favorite samoasa shop, chai stand, book binding shop,...alleys where I first lost and found myself in India. I surprise at all I recognize and remember. I think this is good somehow to see Kolkata again, to be awe by the berth and weight of things ppl carry on their heads,..to feel this sense of familiarity in a foreign land, to leave the same way as I came...only that the person who came is same same but different.
I took residence in Pahar Gang, an area adjacent to the New Delhi Railway swarming with the backpacker species. Something overcame me. what I am not sure. I transformed into a monster of consumption. I amassed goods: indulging in eye candy: stainless steel lunchboxes, kashmir tea, books, and colorful fabrics... The want endless. The more I collected, the more my range of freedom got restricted. I accumulated so much stuff that I became immobilized in my bed- bug infested hotel room. The truth is I got lost in these indulgences, in the game of bargaining and acquisition.
Once I had my visa, I went straight to post, parcel my packrat collections, and then Houdini out.
During the last 24 hours, I travel across the country, hop a train to catch a flight to Kolkata. Case of spontaneous choice coinciding with original palns to return to Kolkata. I thought it would be one of those masochistic ventures, not to have waited for the offices to reopen after the elections, to book a flight from Delhi. But I craved fresh air (breath that did not coat my nose with grime and burn my throat) and wanted no more of the fluorescent night, dim interiored mornings, or vortex of Pahar Gang, Peace out.
I slept more comfortably on the sleeper class train than I did the entire week in Delhi. Credit it to fresh ventilated air and exhaustion. The second leg of the journey turn out to be on masochistic side(not so bad beacuse expectantly so), without a bed secured, I sat 17+ hours. there,, I contemplated the comfort of a seat on Biman Bangledesh fleet and a 5-star hotel in Dhaka layover.
But I am glad for the chance to meet certain passengers, see Varanassi, and fall in love with India again, as the emerald chapati fields, mud brick houses, village cricket game, women collecting water, ...peering out from my passenger window to these rolling simple scenes of the life of rural people, cast in the dust, light, and mist of dawn lifting.
I folded two origami cranes for 2 girly munchkins and flew a miniature kite (made from a broken frame and plastic wrapping for cashews).
Yes, I am glad for this leisure train pace to say goodbye to India.
At Howrah I am back in the rush. I bypass the taxis (300RS) and rickshaws...ignore the recommendations of the staff and official (because I know a minibus exists despite their insistence of "it is impossible madam" and also because I only have pocket change remaining). Shuffling pacing further inquiring, I find the elusive minibus to the airport (7RS). As the bus L238 speeds pass the autotransport (mentally cheered on at added advantage) to Dum Dum international terminal, I mentally travel down lanes we pass to my favorite samoasa shop, chai stand, book binding shop,...alleys where I first lost and found myself in India. I surprise at all I recognize and remember. I think this is good somehow to see Kolkata again, to be awe by the berth and weight of things ppl carry on their heads,..to feel this sense of familiarity in a foreign land, to leave the same way as I came...only that the person who came is same same but different.
I find myself wanting to combineand repeat these two events over and over until the date ofmy death: the first kite in my youth flying up there in theclouds coupled with the event in Khajuraho. I imagine it hovering quietly in the sky above and my older self sharing something precious there in the magical kingdom of India, something precious,beyond telling, something which had the power to enter into our being. From that moment changing forever our character, who we are. - Tal Streeter
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