Travel to India - February 2020
Once back in the UK the throbbing urge not to forget pushes me to write these lines. After having slept in my lovely bed, I awake and feel that everything has been a long dream, a dream that I do not want to forget. It is as if such an incredible experience could hardly ever have happened, but it has, and I have to account for it.
The first week in Bangaluru
The heat says us hello at the airport. A new passport stamp after a slow queue. First impressions, knackered after a flight with no long visit from Morpheus, of one of the most populous cities in India: Bangaluru. It occurs on the bus trip to Silvepura, where we will rest and meet Kieran, a friendly guide and ambassador of the area that offers his house and his wisdom.
The week in Bangalore takes place with visits to the city and with school teaching in the morning, at one of the Pakrirma Foundation schools, followed by daytime activities at the Baale Mane orphanage. We make different handicrafts with the girls in a more relaxed environment.
My impression of the city and its people is positive. However, everything goes fleetingly, without so much time to sit in the cafeteria and watch the scene, walk around the city, stand to observe. Stop the time where contemplation really takes place. In our trip, everything runs quickly, but you can take some impressions, although the trees still prevent you from seeing the forest.
I am struck by dead animals in butchers, hung on hooks, surrounded by flies and dust without any refrigeration. The soil mixed with the tarmac in the streets, the dirt, the dilapidated state of the buildings, the traffic chaos, without signals or traffic lights and with the constant honking. The ceaseless movement of people merges with the passive contemplation of shopkeepers waiting for a new client. Everything is full of shops and small businesses of all kinds, even within the most rural zones. The area is making its way forward. A positive attitude immediately rubs off on me when observing the will of these people to prosper through their work. Many things are going on in Bangaluru: construction, improving infrastructure, expanding the city. It seems that everything is more or less underway, in the process. This also makes me happy. I do not see the existential emptiness of the west in these people, that strange nihilism, melancholy, which plagues rich countries because they have lost their connection with nature, with the need to improve that gives so much meaning to life: a purpose, to survive, to improve, to thrive!
Although this suffering seems sad to others, I understand it as a positive means for improvement. My mother tells me, poor people, they have no way out, but I say: no mum, every way is a way out, a way forward.
I spend some time thinking about the school. Inspiring, its founder, Shukla Bose, offers us a story of social change. An example of "yes you can". Once being very experienced in the corporate world, she decided to found the Parikrma Foundation, today with more than 4 privately-funded schools through donations serving hundreds of disadvantaged children in the area. We can observe children's joy in learning, their desire, their momentum. It is beautiful to be able to teach children like these, who can only find ways to improve.
Baale’s girls take some time to connect with us...it’s normal, but once it happens, the relationship goes deep with a beautiful joint visit to the local temple on a Friday holiday. We cry when we say goodbye for they have touched our hearts.
Second Week: Trip to Kerala
On Saturday we prepare the backpack and leave for Ernakulam accompanied by Kieran, on a train that leaves at 7 in the afternoon (approx) and arrives at around 5 in the morning. The trip evokes memories of Harry Potter. A slow train, with open doors during the journey. Our couch has beds and air conditioning. I fall asleep listening to the rattle of the tracks, the slow rocking of the wagon. The intermittent tossing and turning pushes me to observe through the window, in a quick glance, the distant lights of unknown places.
Upon arrival, we meet Bajiu, a friend of Kieran. A new bus takes us to Aluva to observe the final ritual of the festival before dawn: people bathing in the Periyar river that we observe from Manappuram bridge. Then we head to Fort Kochi, tired, where we leave our backpacks and set out to walk around our new city. The heat is suffocating, humid, very different from Bangaluru. The former mayor welcomes us and tells us the history of the place, among fishermen's nets and Portuguese influences. The area is friendly, cheerful for tourists. We learn about spices. We see the elephants’ parade. At night we drink some beer and meet local people, two guys from Fort Cochi. We meet other foreigners, two German lads and an Italian lady. These experiences are enormously enriching for me, the relaxed contact with the locals allows us to visit their thoughts, their worldview, while tasting nice Indian drinks and laughing.
After some shopping and some local visits, we depart. We stop at a coir factory in our way. We also stop to swim at a beautiful beach in Marai. Then we arrive to Alappuzha for one night. We watch the sunset and take a boat ride, watching the rice fields, the way people live, the vegetation of the area. The weather is nicer and a bit colder.
Soon we leave for Periyai Park, in Kumily. Of course, with a mandatory stop to see the endless tea fields. The area offers us with charm the best hotel, in my opinion, thanks to the better temperature of the mountain. It is very fun to observe the behaviour of the little monkeys that live in the area. A ferry on the lake delights our taste at contemplating the wild nature. In Kumily we observe the martial arts of the area, Kalaripayattu. Also, the strange facial dance, offered to ancient monarchs, which focuses on facial movements: Kathakali. On top of this, the Jeep trip across the mountain trails with lots of fun. We are not leaving without a full body massage, for 1,000 rupees (around 10 pounds). An excellent massage, carried out in a different way than I have ever tried in Europe. Perfect and exotic to never forget.
Then we leave for Madurai. I wake up that day sick, with diarrhoea and fever. I vomit all the chicken I ate last night. The trip becomes unbearable. My stomach has decided to shut down. See you later, thank you. The passage of water is no longer allowed.
Half dizzy, and having fasted all day, I visit the Madurai temple. Perhaps, it is a gift from India, as fasting is an essential ingredient of proper religious experience. The temple impresses me greatly. I find it difficult to put it in words, but I am surprised by the ancient character of the aesthetic expression of Hinduism. The mix of animals, the long columns. The way stone is sculpted. It is the sensation of a very ancient spiritual representation, much older than the Roman or Greek. There is no mathematical order of Greco-Roman columns and harmony. It is different. It is deeper as if it was embedded at the bottom of a primitive human psyche, before the numerical reason that configures other architectures. I also reflect on fasting and its consequences on me. I feel calm, in a huge peace that I have never felt before. There is no apex of anxiety. Not a hint of thoughts crashing into my mind. It is pure contemplation, peace. Connection with the place. It is just now, living the moment.
Madurai is intriguing and utterly different to the other cities. Dilapidated, with stained buildings. Dust and dirt on the streets, cows, other animals mixing with people on the streets. It is a dirty, messy city. No tourists are seen around. Lack of hygiene makes me think me of filth. I am surprised that there is such a thing as I get amazed at the richness of variety in the world. I wonder why and I calmly find no answers. Unconcibeable for some, a reality for others. People flow. A bunch of people live in Madurai, anchored in another time, in another century, in another world? They belong to that world and inhabit it. I imagine for a moment what it would be like to belong to that world, to have been born there and not to know the world from which I come. It is so different. I find such a difference incredible and I wonder how it can exist. Difference becomes the richness of existence. What a privilege to have known a bit about this culture.
At night I eat some cooked rice, my stomach has opened its doors again. Finally, we depart from Madurai to Bangaluru. Another train trip, even better than the other. A deeper rest. We arrive at "home" (at Kieran's house in Bangaluru, known land), rest, pack up and prepare to return.
The flight goes well. I have pain in my back after being sat for a long time. I appreciate the taxi that takes us to Sheffield. What a rest from traffic suffering! I go to sleep and wake up; I feel that everything has been a dream; I quickly sit down to write this text.
Francisco Canovas Garcia.
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