I did it. I arrived half way around the world to beautiful Mother India, the farthest I have ever been away from home. After 27 hours of time travel, of planes and buses, lines and waiting, a huge snowstorm and losing all sense of time, I made it to my final destination. I am a swirling bulge of emotions as I reflect and digest the journey thus far. As I stepped on Air India’s plane, I sensed that this was not going to be any ordinary trip. Everything from the orange and maroon ornately sewn seats, to the stewards’ saris, to the vegetarian meals served, life began preparing me for all that is to come. The fourteen hour flight passed quickly in a blur of sleepiness and snacks, and the blatant, borderline uncomfortable stares from an array of Indian men. Sebastian amicably referred to this as the “ST” and forewarned me that is going to be a frequently occurring experience during my travels.
We arrived in Mumbai around 11pm, never having lived Tuesday but feeling as though I traveled through space, perpetually dark outside the plane’s window. I was greeted with an assault on my sense of smell. It aggressively invaded my nostrils, as I fought not to let it sicken my stomach but rather inhaled it in and attempted not to fight it. A mixture of heat and ailing help, toxic pollution and smog, heaviness, putridly aggressive. I immediately thought about turning back and going home. Where am I and what have I done? But within a few breaths, the smell’s harshness lessened, and I began to take it in, to let it penetrate. And in doing so, it uncovered more of what India was about…struggle and progress, spirituality and the knowingness, the origins of love and divine connections and temples of burning incense, of truthfulness. The smell of millions of bodies crammed together in the intense humid warmth, breathing this one breath, as one organism existing as a whole. There was no need to long for home or to be afraid, for I stood in the soul of the world.
Having a seven hour layover in Mumbai, we were denied access to our departing gate because of the filming of a Bollywood film. Another typical occurrence Sebastian explained. As we watched a hunky guy in a cutoff sleeveless shirt being chased by airport security guards, my attention was distracted but the rambunctious gang of children running and screaming and playing on the luggage trolleys. Some barefoot, some dressed in westerners clothing while others in sequined dresses, but all with the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. Big, brown, almond shaped with long lustrous eyelashes, bearing innocence so pure, so divine that I couldn’t help but stare and admire. I immediately made eye contact with one sweet girl in a white skirt and matching belly shirt, a toothy grin, and a warm smile. Oftentimes, she would run and halt completely in front of me to gaze wide-eyed and curious. After several times, all the children followed and they stood, anticipating with such love and questioning and friendliness that I had to fight the urge to reach out and hug them all. We began talking, or rather trying to communicate through broken English, broken words. We discussed the film and how they were extras in the movie. They excitedly told me about school and sports and their favorite past times. They were fascinated when Sebastian played a movie on his laptop. They listened intently as I told them about the biggest snowstorm of the winter and how it almost prevented us from leaving New York that very same morning. They were curious as to why my cheeks were pink and where my home was if I liked to eat mangoes. We spent the next two hours in the airport terminal, playing games, laughing, and living.
Ironically, a couple months ago, I had a vision that someday I would be working with Indian children and now here I sat, no more than an hour into my landing, surrounded by this sweet group of children, and already my eyes were being opened to the different possibilities my life path could take. I felt so strongly the whole trip was worth it for such a perfect moment. Communication boundaries no longer existed, for we connected on a deeper level. I will never forget those children. Never. And as we hugged tightly and said our goodbyes, I feared I would never see them again but felt richer for knowing them, however fleeting.
We boarded our final plane headed for Kerala, our final destination. Exhausted and delirious, I fought hard to stay up and watch the sunrise. Finally the darkness lifted, revealing blazes of gleaming golden pinks and oranges, sparkling blues and greens. A symbolic omen to me, as the sun was rising so a new chapter of my life was unfolding. A new dawn, a new day, a new life. Within minutes, the colors disappeared into pure white light and the luminous sun pierced through the plane’s windows, warming me to my core. As we flew over Trivandrum, Kerala’s capital city, I could see coconut trees for miles, flourishing hills of lush greens along the austere coast of the Arabian Sea. A quick drive though the most chaotic, horn blowing, crazed driving I have ever experienced, we arrived at Sebastian’s grandmother’s home, beautiful, inviting and spacious and with modern amenities. My own room and adjacent bathroom, air conditioning, a driver, a cook, a gardener. I spent most of the afternoon meeting relatives, taken back by their kindness and welcoming warmth. I sat on a rocking chair overlooking the garden, giving myself permission to slow down, to let go, and adjust to the much slower pace. To do absolutely nothing but just to be. I have had the pleasure to enjoy delicious home cooked meals of rice and vegetables, seasoned chicken, curries and spices, fresh fruits and juices. Retiring for an afternoon nap resulted in me sleeping for almost seven hours. And now I sit, wide awake in bed as I write my first blog entry, charged with energy and anticipation of all the awaits, all that lies ahead.
