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To embark on a journey is commonplace, a matter of routine. But what one must try to embark on from time to time is a pilgrimage; a walkabout. A journey of rediscovery and un-learning, a journey fuelled by spirit and exuberance. When we boarded the Hazrat Nizamuddin express, we had unwittingly embarked on our pilgrimage.
When the train finally rolled in we lingered on the platform only long enough to make sure our bikes were loaded. After a few minutes arranging our luggage and getting ready to settle in for the night, we opened up a pack of cards and settled in comfortably in that cabin lit by the lights of the night. After almost an hour, the train jerked suddenly and began its unhurried journey to Delhi. I tried imbibing this spirit into me, this unhurriedness, with an objective of better experiencing the minute moments of the trip that occur suddenly, like the flash of a falling star in the dark of night, and that disappear just as quickly. And as the train chugged along the heart of this land, holding us in its arms like a machine trying to distill things, this spirit rose to the top of our emotions and everything else was left far behind.
Two nights we spent on that train, playing cards, drinking tea, smoking weed, staring out at the stations that rolled past with a strange feeling coursing through the pit of our stomachs. It wasn’t a deep emotion, but it was a wide one – in that it spread through the mind and soul, disturbing us at various levels. We walked the connected bogies searching for girls to flirt with and found none, taking pictures of tiny towns and dusty cities and large industries filled with lights, and talking. Friends can talk forever, the most meaningful things and the most meaningless. Friends can talk with words, with expressions understood over time, with a sly wink, with a meaningful glance, with thoughts and with silence. You pay for such telepathic cognition by spending time in each other’s company. To be able to talk of the most absurd and the most awe-inspiring, to be able to, to be even allowed to paint a picture of the turmoil of the great dark storm of your soul using all the words available in the dictionary of friends is friendship.
For me, everything was exciting, everything felt new - as if rain-washed. I walked through the train, discovering travelers of a million kinds, tasting the turmeric and vermillion flavors of India in the many dialects and languages spoken by them. Each compartment was a stained-glass window into the many ways of life. I will not exaggerate and say that everything had a deep or profound effect on me, although to travel by itself is an exaggeration, a deviation from the mundane ways of routine life. But I will say everything had an effect on me in varying degrees of strength. I remained open to all experiences and felt a sense of joy at anything related to the journey, which allowed the million shards of the elements of the journey to enter me completely; they may not remain with me in precise visual memory, but they do remain with me in the form of words, sense and spirit. In infinite ways this pilgrimage added to my nature, to my core being, to my vocabulary of words and emotions and smiles, to my vocabulary of philosophies and principles. In one short fortnight, it increased infinitely, the expanding vaults of my memory.
As day turned to night and night into day, we saw evidence of the massive diversity of India both inside and outside the train. The many bogies provided a kaleidoscopic view of the rich Indian heritage, colored in the inks of its many cultures. With every state we crossed, we saw the change in theme and scenery. The first to change is the language and with it the scripts on the name boards of shops. Some scripts are round and cursive, some sharp and slanted. With the change in language, the flavor and warmth of a place changes, for every language carries within it a certain degree of hospitality. Food, culture, religion and industry add elements to the entire experience of an Indian state. The final ingredient to this heady Indian mixture are the people – they are formed and molded and informed by the language, food, culture, religion and industry that decorates each state, which were formed and molded and created by the people in the first place.
Each Indian state, divided by language and culture, is united in that they have all come together to accept this certain shape, this seemingly random outline of lines we call boundaries as their country and their nationality. They have come together to form a billion people; to form one patriotic sentiment. Who convinced a billion people to accept the notion of ‘India’ as their nation? What is a nation but a powerful idea in the minds of its people? Then, aren’t we divided more by ideas and imaginary boundaries than by geography and distance?
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Delhi to Chandigarh
Life is partly what we make it, and partly what it is made by the friends we choose.
Dr. Tehyi Hsieh
Day 3
Elevation: 709 ft.
Distance from Leh: 1240 km.
The Anatomy of Journey Page 10
