On the side of a wall of what I expect is a restaurant: Fish Fried Breakfast
On the side of a bus, indicating the company name: New Tantra
The name of the toll when crossing the Punjab/Himachal border: Shiva toll
Oh, India.
Updates:
-I own three salwaar kameez suits.
-I can now use present, present and past continuous, and completed past tenses in Hindi, albeit the last two with a bit of difficulty and usually my verb agrees with the subject when it should agree with the object, and vice versa, but people understand for the most part. Mostly I just ask questions. More often than not, I do not understand the answer.
-My vocabulary is extremely limited, but that is changing quickly.
-My last day in Mussoorie, after my classes, and after lunch, I shared a taxi with two other gents from the language school who were heading to Rishikesh They agreed to drop me off at the Dehradun train station where I would board an overnight train to Jalandhar. In typical Indian fashion, two taxis showed up for the job; one of which was requested, the other drove all the way from Rishikesh but had been told not to come. He was sent back.
-On my overnight train, my ask, in my best Hindi, what time the train will reach Jalandhar, so that I can set my phone alarm to wake me up 15 minutes prior. I am told three different times, each about an hour apart. I wake up every hour, and find someone awake to ask where Jalandhar is: kay aahgay ya kay peechay? ahead or behind?
-I get off the train at 5:45 am. My connecting train is at 1pm. Chai time.
-An excerpt from journal:
"Literally just spent7 hours at the train station in Jalandhar, the last two of which were spent with this Indian woman, her daughter, and her daughter's friend. At first, it was very nice, I tried practicing my Hindi, they asked me questions, and were very friendly. Then they suggested (or requested, rather) that I come with them. I said no, my train is coming, I need to say (or some approximation thereof in Hindi; I made sure to use "nahee" a bunch so as to reinforce my stance of "no"). They continued to insist, and I held my ground. Then they dropped it, fairly abruptly, and said it was time for lunch. They offered me some parantha, and I declined. Again, they insisted, and what with me not knowing the customs, I did not want to be rude, and accepted one. At this point, the mother was on the phone and I could understand enough of what she was saying to know she was telling someone about me. This freaked me out a bit, and it occurred to me that if I ate their food, I might be obligated to go with them. I stopped eating, said I was full. Seemingly suddenly, the whole scene of myself, and these women is a spectacle at the train station. There is a group of Indians surrounding me, and I can't understand anything. This makes me nervous and I begin to pick at my nails (a nervous habit I've kicked previously several times, but it reoccurs in situations like this) and I begin to bleed around my cuticle (not uncommon for me). Now, ALL of the women are distressed, wagging their fingers at me and repeating the phrase, "Achhaa nahee hay," "not good," over and over. I nod, and sit on my hands. Now, I not only want my train to arrive, I want them to leave me alone, and I am annoyed (as I am with anyone who addresses my nervous habit, particularly in a language I don't understand). Then train is late, and I am internally freaking out. I stand up, strap on my pack, and step a few feet away from the group, all of whom now know that I am an American student studying health, who is going to Pathankott and speaks very little Hindi. I remove myself until the rain comes, listening intently to the loudspeaker for my train number and any updates I can understand. I turn, and say "namaste," to the group when the train (finally) arrives. Now for those who are unfamiliar with India train protocol, every passenger's name is posted with their seat assignment on a paper outside of the car. My name is not on the list. I get on anyway, figuring that it's got to stop at Pathankott, and it's definitely better than the train station. Well, one point for me, because the first person the train that I ask about Pathankott, tells me that it does indeed stop there, and he is, in fact, getting off at that stop. No one asks for my ticket. So while I still haven't figured out how Indians know when their stop is coming up, other than just being familiar with the routes or looking out the window for a sign that may or may not be there indicating the station stop, I do know that I will not miss my stop at Pathankott: Chakki Bank."
It is at this point that I am settled on my top bunk and studying my Hindi notes, when I realize that my phone has died. I wonder how I will contact Shivam when I arrrive in Bhagsu, because he is supposed to take me to take me to my accommodations at the yoga school. I decide to deal with it later, and trust that it will be just fine. Meanwhile, I overhear the fellow on the bunk across from mine on his cell phone, speaking in English, and telling his friend about a white girl studying Hindi on the train. I laugh because he is using the pronouns he and she interchangeably. I do not take offense. I put my notes away and we begin talking, in Hindi. He asks me if I feel bold, traveling alone. Bold? Thoree thoree, a little bit, I tell him. Mostly, I just want a warm place to sleep tonight.
During my three hour and $30USD taxi trip, the very sweet driver let me borrow his phone to call Shivam. My phone turned on just long enough for me to jot down his number, Shivam answered, and agreed to meet me in town in an hour. A very steep hike up the stairs on the side of the mountain later, I am laying on the floor of the yoga hall, which is decked out with pictures of Shivam's Babaji, full of burning incense, and Sunil is playing the harmonious and chanting. The harmonioum is definitely in my top 5 favorite instruments. I am informed that dinner is ready, and I retrieve my daal (lentils), chawal (rice), and chapati (like pita, but better), and in the absence of utensils, I am in heaven, and I sleep like a baby.
A more structured and reflective post coming soon.
Om Namah Shivaya
On the side of a bus, indicating the company name: New Tantra
The name of the toll when crossing the Punjab/Himachal border: Shiva toll
Oh, India.
Updates:
-I own three salwaar kameez suits.
-I can now use present, present and past continuous, and completed past tenses in Hindi, albeit the last two with a bit of difficulty and usually my verb agrees with the subject when it should agree with the object, and vice versa, but people understand for the most part. Mostly I just ask questions. More often than not, I do not understand the answer.
-My vocabulary is extremely limited, but that is changing quickly.
-My last day in Mussoorie, after my classes, and after lunch, I shared a taxi with two other gents from the language school who were heading to Rishikesh They agreed to drop me off at the Dehradun train station where I would board an overnight train to Jalandhar. In typical Indian fashion, two taxis showed up for the job; one of which was requested, the other drove all the way from Rishikesh but had been told not to come. He was sent back.
-On my overnight train, my ask, in my best Hindi, what time the train will reach Jalandhar, so that I can set my phone alarm to wake me up 15 minutes prior. I am told three different times, each about an hour apart. I wake up every hour, and find someone awake to ask where Jalandhar is: kay aahgay ya kay peechay? ahead or behind?
-I get off the train at 5:45 am. My connecting train is at 1pm. Chai time.
-An excerpt from journal:
"Literally just spent7 hours at the train station in Jalandhar, the last two of which were spent with this Indian woman, her daughter, and her daughter's friend. At first, it was very nice, I tried practicing my Hindi, they asked me questions, and were very friendly. Then they suggested (or requested, rather) that I come with them. I said no, my train is coming, I need to say (or some approximation thereof in Hindi; I made sure to use "nahee" a bunch so as to reinforce my stance of "no"). They continued to insist, and I held my ground. Then they dropped it, fairly abruptly, and said it was time for lunch. They offered me some parantha, and I declined. Again, they insisted, and what with me not knowing the customs, I did not want to be rude, and accepted one. At this point, the mother was on the phone and I could understand enough of what she was saying to know she was telling someone about me. This freaked me out a bit, and it occurred to me that if I ate their food, I might be obligated to go with them. I stopped eating, said I was full. Seemingly suddenly, the whole scene of myself, and these women is a spectacle at the train station. There is a group of Indians surrounding me, and I can't understand anything. This makes me nervous and I begin to pick at my nails (a nervous habit I've kicked previously several times, but it reoccurs in situations like this) and I begin to bleed around my cuticle (not uncommon for me). Now, ALL of the women are distressed, wagging their fingers at me and repeating the phrase, "Achhaa nahee hay," "not good," over and over. I nod, and sit on my hands. Now, I not only want my train to arrive, I want them to leave me alone, and I am annoyed (as I am with anyone who addresses my nervous habit, particularly in a language I don't understand). Then train is late, and I am internally freaking out. I stand up, strap on my pack, and step a few feet away from the group, all of whom now know that I am an American student studying health, who is going to Pathankott and speaks very little Hindi. I remove myself until the rain comes, listening intently to the loudspeaker for my train number and any updates I can understand. I turn, and say "namaste," to the group when the train (finally) arrives. Now for those who are unfamiliar with India train protocol, every passenger's name is posted with their seat assignment on a paper outside of the car. My name is not on the list. I get on anyway, figuring that it's got to stop at Pathankott, and it's definitely better than the train station. Well, one point for me, because the first person the train that I ask about Pathankott, tells me that it does indeed stop there, and he is, in fact, getting off at that stop. No one asks for my ticket. So while I still haven't figured out how Indians know when their stop is coming up, other than just being familiar with the routes or looking out the window for a sign that may or may not be there indicating the station stop, I do know that I will not miss my stop at Pathankott: Chakki Bank."
It is at this point that I am settled on my top bunk and studying my Hindi notes, when I realize that my phone has died. I wonder how I will contact Shivam when I arrrive in Bhagsu, because he is supposed to take me to take me to my accommodations at the yoga school. I decide to deal with it later, and trust that it will be just fine. Meanwhile, I overhear the fellow on the bunk across from mine on his cell phone, speaking in English, and telling his friend about a white girl studying Hindi on the train. I laugh because he is using the pronouns he and she interchangeably. I do not take offense. I put my notes away and we begin talking, in Hindi. He asks me if I feel bold, traveling alone. Bold? Thoree thoree, a little bit, I tell him. Mostly, I just want a warm place to sleep tonight.
During my three hour and $30USD taxi trip, the very sweet driver let me borrow his phone to call Shivam. My phone turned on just long enough for me to jot down his number, Shivam answered, and agreed to meet me in town in an hour. A very steep hike up the stairs on the side of the mountain later, I am laying on the floor of the yoga hall, which is decked out with pictures of Shivam's Babaji, full of burning incense, and Sunil is playing the harmonious and chanting. The harmonioum is definitely in my top 5 favorite instruments. I am informed that dinner is ready, and I retrieve my daal (lentils), chawal (rice), and chapati (like pita, but better), and in the absence of utensils, I am in heaven, and I sleep like a baby.
A more structured and reflective post coming soon.
Om Namah Shivaya
POWER.
ReplyDeleteYou are stateless being, accessing universal energy.
How else could you get through a day like this so well?