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.