Our travels in India were kaleidoscopic, encompassing the full spectrum from opulence to indigence, from spiritual euphoria to profound destitution. The energetic extremes were oftentimes overwhelming. Case in point, riding the Maharajas’ Express (picture Agatha Christie’s Orient version), sipping Turkish coffee while gazing out the window at a rural village surrounded by a mountain of rotting trash that rivaled the Himilayas. Filthy, naked children running through the debris with stray dogs and open-range cows, laughing with glee as children do, oblivious to their pitiful plight. And then there was the unspeakable…a confluence of adults sitting on the rails to perform certain morning ablutions. The lack of indoor plumbing is endemic in the country, we learned. My liberal, bleeding-heart guilt went into overdrive.
The luxury train ride from Mumbai (aka Bombay) to Delhi was truly an experience, but not one to be repeated. Truth be told, we did not resonate with most of the European passengers, whose pinkies curved just so as they sipped their afternoon tea. My favorite, or more appropriately, my least favorite anecdote was the day a snooty Spanish society wench accused her Indian valet of stealing her watch (no need to say it was an expensive one, right?) She brought the poor boy to tears and had the entire staff in a turmoil, only to discover that her Alzheimer-addled husband had tucked the bauble in his dop kit. More than just shades of Agatha.
We felt most comfortable amongst the real folk, like our guides, drivers, cooks and just regular ole “man on the street” peeps. And speaking of chefs, we were in plant-based, whole-food heaven for a change! Sadly, we were witness to the Indian culture slowly veering away from its vegetarian roots, as KFC and burger joints sprouted up all over. In the nothing-is-sacred department, we even saw pork butcher shops!
We loved the traditional Indian cuisine but discovered that they use a lot of ghee and milk products in their dishes. Fortunately, we were blessed to connect with some amazing chefs who embraced our dietary wishes and became friends in the process, sharing recipes and a mutual love of cooking. Chef John from the Maharajahs’ Express took great pride and joy in creating extraordinary meals just for us, and at the end of our journey extended an open invitation to stay at his home when we return to his beloved country.
Another small victory on the food front, we escaped the dreaded Delhi Belly by avoiding the tempting street fare that looked like exotic ambrosia fit for the gods, of which there were many. The curries, dal and chutneys boasted flavors and aromas virtually unknown in our neck of the woods. But alas, no harm, no foul, no Delhi belly. 🤭
I could write a novel about the extreme traffic conditions and crisis-level pollution, and perhaps one day I will. Suffice it to say that my lungs are slowly, painfully recovering from the pollutant damage, and my heart rate still accelerates at the mere thought of the crazy, no-rules-no-problem chaos of the streets. Makes CR traffic seem beyond civilized and orderly.
But the air, oh my god, the air! We wore hi-tech masks much of the time and still found ourselves hacking up toxic mucus, even to this day. I winced to watch young moms proudly coddling their newborns out in the open air that was so thick you couldn’t see two blocks away. Fossil fuels have to be banned if our planet is to survive!! How many hundreds of thousands have to die every year from air pollution before it’s recognized as the global crisis that it is?! And that’s just in India! Besides finding alternative fuel sources for the gazillion cars on the road, the 24/7 wood-burning cremation pyres and the agricultural purges have got to stop. Every life is precious, even if the country boasts 1.3 billion people.
On a much happier, zen note, the rich Hindu and Buddhist history of the country nourished our souls. I found myself being inexplicably drawn to all things Ganesh, the elephant-headed Hindu god of beginnings. When I discovered that he is considered a patron of artists and writers, I wholeheartedly embraced the connection.
We followed Gandhi’s inspiring steps from his home in Delhi to his funeral pyre at Rajghat. I was moved by his mission to work for an India in which all communities, rich and poor, live in perfect harmony. There is much to be done, indeed, to realize his dream.
On my personal spiritual quest, I was blessed to find a full amethyst geode on the sacred Elephante Island, and a Himalayan healing bowl in Kathmandu. We spent a lot of time in the Nepalese shop with the artisan who had hand-crafted his bowls, exploring the various tones of the singing bowls and the audible waves of the healing bowls. The healing bowl that I chose was transformative, especially when the artisan placed it on my head and struck it on all sides with his mallet. I am now using it at home to meditate and alleviate headaches. But even better, I use it on K’s shattered femur to help stimulate the healing process. Ommmmm.
Long, long story short, and despite the environmental and socio-economic challenges, we thoroughly enjoyed our adventures in India and the extraordinary beauty and warmth of its kind and loving people.
From the pyre of Gandhi comes the message, “Lead me from the Unreal to the Real. From Darkness to Light, From Death to Immortality.”
Namaste.
💗 🕉 🙏💖
Nov. 23, 2019
Judy Richter 