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I spent last night sleeping with four women and one other guy.
In my defence, I was riding the night train from Chennai to Mysore and shared close quarters with this group (who shared two words of English amongst the five of them). I did it the Indian way in a sleeper carriage with no air-conditioning. I was the only white man on this train other than a few Siberian Buddhist monks who preferred to discuss the Australian-Russian boxer Kosta Zu than Buddha’s three teachings (So much for non-violence). Unfortunately, the conversation was stifled by my lack of boxing knowledge.
This was my maiden voyage on India Rail. The rail company is the world’s largest employer in the world with 1.6 million workers, half of whom were busy giving me instructions about where I can or can’t sit on this 11-hour journey. That said, all in all it was a great experience I am hoping to repeat.
Today I discovered the reincarnation of Michael Jackson in the form of a break dancing Indian youngster who was showing of his moves on the stairs to the temple of the Goddess Chamundeswari – who is said to protect the Mysore region for evil (proving once and for all that Jackson was not evil). For the thousands of followers of the Jacksonian faith, fear not – the lama has been found.
I am back in India, that splendid country full of life’s true colours. I landed in Chennai (Madras) yesterday. Before landing, I had to fill out the immigration forms of the Tamil couple on my right after I realized the man (who could not make head or tail of the English form) was copying mine. I thought it may not be a good start to my holiday if I enter India in triplicate.
At nightfall, I went to Marina beach where tens of thousands gather in a carnival atmosphere every weekend – horse back riding; sugar cane juice; fairy floss; rifle shooting; fortune telling robots and a hundred stalls with every knick and knack. As the sun set, hundreds stood where the water met the land as the tide let water beat earth in this battle of the elements. At the other side of this ocean was my home.
I purposely left home without a shaver or a watch as part of a grand sadomasochistic experiment. In the past 24 hours, I came close to buying a watch on three occasions and a shaver on one. I only now realized that both instruments constrain time to an extent (hair growth like sunset is but a measure of time). So in this timeless day, I spent half of it at the railway station (where I am at present) trying to buy a rail ticket; photographing strangers and having a blast. Something I would have never done happily if I had a schedule to follow.
Time takes on a different dimension when it is unmeasured. I think it was Einstein who said: “Time is an illusion, albeit a persistent one”. On cue, I have Bob Dylan singing in my ear “the future for me is already a thing of the past”. He too must not have worn a watch.
