Impressions of India: Day 5

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Goa passed in a jet-lagged blur. I could only muster short walk-a-bouts with my son. Most of them along the shop-filled dirt path to the beach beneath a scorching sun. Sleep took priority for us both, but we did get a small glimpse of this Portuguese-influenced region.

A young man close in age to my son, K.K. from Country Inn added the magic to our otherwise sleep-infested trip. He engaged us with lessons on the food and culture of the region. He also gave us ideas of places we should see during our stay – all of which, unfortunately, went unseen.

Even our plans to connect with a friend of a friend never happened. Despite their willingness to take us around to a different part of the region, they got caught up in working on a festival and we knew we’d sorely underestimated our jet lag. I berated myself for adding this leg to our trip when we could have stayed where we landed and slept through the jetlag. However, K.K.’s spirit and sincere wish to help us enjoy our stay changed that. 

In the end, he and my son exchanged emails. Cole promised to teach him the latte art of a barista via correspondence and K.K. gave us a send-off by preparing a special espresso drink for Cole. My son was truly touched by K.K.’s random acts of kindness, which made our otherwise misaligned trip worth it.

The ride to the airport turned into more of an adventure than the ride from it. Our driver seemed to be a daredevil, racecar driver type. He kept picking up speed even when the road ahead seemed to refuse to welcome it. When a slow moving cow meandered across the highway, he swerved effortlessly at an unbelievable high speed to avoid it. 

People pay big bucks for this kind of thrill back home at Six Flags. When our driver sped through hairpin curves edged by mountain-sized drops, while passing cars against high-speed oncoming traffic, I realized there was nowhere to veer except off the edge and down. It kept Cole and I wide-eyed and a bit delirious with laughter considering we had no alternative, but to relax and enjoy it.

Once we arrived at the airport, we had to split by gender to go through security. Machine-gun carrying police were ever present around the airports reminding us of the threats of terrorism that lingered all around us. We flew to Bangalore, miles away from our destination, but somehow a cheaper flight to it. There we enjoyed a traditional curry and charged our phones over a flight delay to Pune that created a four-hour wait.

In the lounge area, children ran screaming, laughing and playing freely.  No one scowled or gave them an irritated look. In fact, most watched endearingly, others engaged with them as they passed, patting them on their heads or holding their hands for a moment. It seemed as if everyone felt connected to one another in a sense – there was such tolerance – such compassion.

Overall the sights, sounds, and smells have felt as if the volume has been turned up – to eleven. Everything pitched at such a high octave that my entire being has been forced to engage in a very active way.  At the airport there was no ignoring it or diverting it with books, iPhones, or computers. Lines queued with prism-dressed ladies shimmering head-to-toe, men with their work-a-day smells, precious babies screaming to workman sawing, and the paint smells wafting through -there was no other choice but to merge with it all.

At that moment, I began to understand how Pranayama (breath regulation), Pratyahara (sense withdrawal), Dharna (concentration), and Dhyana (meditation) can and must develop within the individual here, at least to some extent, consciously or unconsciously. Anger, frustration, worry and anxiety have no power. It is useless.   

There is way too much to be anxious about. There is way too much to make me worried or frustrated, which is probably why submerged in all the over stimulation, something happened  - all my defenses or psychological neuroses laid down their swords to the sensational phenomena of India.