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| Red Fort, Delhi - Joanne Orion Miller 2013 |
Traveling
solo is more common than one would suspect. My dear friend Sharyn Trevillyan
has been doing it for years, and is something of an expert on getting around.
After university she dreamed of seeing places that were very different from her
native England; she wanted to experience cultures that remained unaltered for
centuries, but would likely undergo radical change due to the increasing pace of the world.
Sharyn
saved up money for travel for seven years; her first solo trip circumnavigated
the globe in 1990; her first flight was to Delhi, with a return ticket from
Sydney. Here are excerpts from her diary, including a glimpse of India of 25
years ago:
“Until
today I’d only seen pictures of India and knew little of this country of a
billion people. I knew no one. As I exited the plane in New
Delhi at five in the morning, I was met with a sea of faces; the taxi
drivers engulfed me like a wave. They jostled for position but none wanted to
take me to the hotel I booked. Some claimed it had closed, and offered me
their cousin's hotel instead. This was the first of many games I would need to
play as a lone female traveler. I picked the frailest man and told him he would
get my fare if he took me to my chosen hotel. As he led me through the throng,
he wore a look of pride. Victory for both of us! An hour later, after stowing
my bags in the hotel, I walked through Connaught Square; an elephant with a
painted face passed me, his handler atop his back. This is why I travel.
That
night I slept as only one can after fifteen hours on a plane, leapfrogging over
several time zones. The cacophony of sounds outside the window stirred me from
my jetlagged slumber. It was the middle of the day and the people of New Delhi
were ardently going about their business. In a nation where a majority of
people are considered by western classifications to be underemployed, they
seemed awfully busy.
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| Delhi street scene - Joanne Orion Miller 2013 |
Two
weeks later, I spent time at the River Ganges, a sacred place for
Hindus. It is their tradition to burn their dead and scatter the ashes in these
holy waters. As most people are too poor to buy enough wood to burn an entire
body, many are dropped into the water with little more than scorch marks. I was
appalled, but then I heard the story of how widows were once expected to throw
themselves on the pyre with their deceased husbands. Given the widow would have
no means of support, this was a practical maneuver rather than a display of
undying love. I was grateful that this tradition is changing
and I’m spared the smell of live flesh.
I thought
of how different my life is and the opportunities I have in comparison to those
in India. Most are not in charge of their future and are compelled
by society’s rule to marry whom their parent deems appropriate governed by the
strict cast system.
A week
later I sat with my glass of chai tea in a Darjeeling cafe. The street outside appears
unchanged since the last century; women in beautiful saris clutch baskets with
their tiny boneless hands, dogs roam mindlessly. I had associated
India with the peace and tranquility of yoga and meditation, yet when I arrived
I was overwhelmed by the noise, bustle and sheer volume of people.
At
first I thought the country needed a good sweep but India has cured me of my
superior attitude. Now I can embrace it for what it is, not what I want it
to be.
I stare
at the tall glass--a beautiful tumbler with silver wrapped around it to form a
handle. Something so delicate may seem at odds with the dusty surroundings and
the lack of what I consider to be the basic necessities of life, but now I know
better. The Indians take time for their ceremonies, for family, for
tradition; tea drinking is one of the most important pastimes: It brings people
together--the entire family can participate--and encourages conversation. It
was right that something so beautiful, yet so fragile, would be here.
I took
a sip of the milky liquid and felt the spices on my tongue, soothing yet with a
hint of fire. That summed up my time in India.
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| Delhi market - Joanne Orion Miller 2013 |
