well, it’s never as easy as you think it will be, especially when ‘it’ is ‘getting from point a to point b in a timely manner in india.’
after much german deliberation, i bit the bullet and bought a plane ticket from delhi to bagdogra, in west bengal. i was going to take the train, but last minute scheduling snafus conspired against me, and in the end it seemed kinder to myself to pay the extra hundred bucks and not have to get a taxi/hotel at midnight after 24 hours without sleep, and then spend 2 solid days on a train that has no food. so… flying seemed like the ‘easy’ answer. but of course it never is. in almost an exact replay of my last delhi-to-bagdogra experience, the security officer at the delhi airport who inspected my ticket said, ‘to where is it in india that you are going?’ not ever having heard of bagdogra. sigh.
after my 3rd night spent trying to ‘sleep’ on a chair in the airport lounge, i made it to my flight to bagdogra running, having paused to take pictures of the beautiful life-size statues depicting surya namaskar (yoga’s sun salutations) in the domestic departures hall. it figures that indian punctuality would kick in the ONE time it was inconvenient for me… which means i had to run like a leopard (a leopard with two carry-on bags weighing it down) to the gate.
the flight was pleasant enough, until we approached bagdogra, at which point we were informed that the visibility was too low to allow planes to land. keep in mind, this is an airport the size of gualala’s grocery store (literally) that only takes one plane at a time. so it’s not like there was a risk of colliding with another plane. but apparently it was risky enough to keep us circling the airport for 2 hours, hot and muggy. blessedly, i slept, and was glad of the excuse.
when we landed i looked around for subhan-ji, the kindly driver employed by apne aap who was supposed to pick me up. but he was nowhere to be found. since i myself was already over two hours late, this was disconcerting. borrowing a local’s phone, i discovered that there is a strike in all of west bengal due to some corrupt minister (surprise surprise), and it’s affecting transportation workers (apparently the airline didn’t get the memo). and so now here i sit, outside the bagdogra airport, with a handful of indians, swatting at mosquitos and dogs, waiting for my driver, who is apparently going to be about another hour in getting here. already a throng of men has come by, chanting and marching and carrying indian flags, the air force (which owns the airport and has a huge base next door) is flying unbelievably loud warning flights overhead, and i have been interviewed by a minuscule tv crew for siliguri’s nightly news about how the strike is affecting me and how i like india and so forth.
an hour later, and a slightly skeezy looking driver has arrived for me (subhan-ji couldn’t come because of the strike, so a taxi had to be sent) and we drove 100 meters out of the airport ‘parking’ before he pulled over to the side of the road and demanded 50 rupees for his lunch. this i declined to supply. firmly. several times. so i’ve not high expectations for a smooth or pleasant drive, since it’s begun with me sitting in the car while he eats at the roadside ‘hotel’ (two brick walls, one wire fence, corrugated roofing, two tables, 4 chairs, and a hand pump.) and i’m expecting the normally 4 hour unpleasant drive to be significantly longer and more unpleasant than usual. but once you’ve bitten the bullet you’ve got to keep on chewing, i guess.
and so here i am, near the bihari border. a papaya tree grows dustily beside me, and the rear window of the car is entirely obscured by a giant stuffed dog that is vaguely uncomfortable. i have the familiar feeling of unrest in my stomach, that i know will dissipate with time, but is sad and scary nonetheless. here i am. back to bihar…

‘and then you leave again.’

i went home. or i came home. either way, i was in the redwoods by the ocean for three months. i’m not sure which word to use – ‘went’ or ‘came’; whether i am based in india and traveling to california, or vice verse. i feel in flux and constantly confused.

being home was beautiful, as only home can be. i soaked up my family, my friends, my boyfriend; my trees and beaches and storms; my bunnies. for the first time in 15 years, i was unemployed… a strange and terrifying phenomenon that helped me to better understand the plight of so many. i had a home to fall back on, parents to feed and shelter me, a luxury that put me in the minority. being afraid of money (or its lack thereof) is a hard thing.

whilst home i put on a number of fundraisers for ‘my girls’ in bihar… screenings of The Tibetan Photo Project’s beautiful film ‘India 101,’ silent auctions with scores of stunning items donated by my amazingly generous community, food and drink prepared by friends eager to lend a hand, a live dance performance, etc. they were beautiful evenings that showcased my beautiful community: people came out in the cold of a california january to talk, to bid, to buy, to donate, to inquire, to empathize, and to show that they cared about the fates of a handful of girls they have never met, in a town on the other side of the planet. i was awestruck; stunned with gratitude and love.

these fundraisers raised over $5000 (almost 250,000 rupees) – a substantial amount of money in india that will make a huge difference to my students’ lives. it was overwhelming, and i am grateful beyond description. i cannot wait to see their faces when i tell them they can stay in school instead of returning to the red light district.

and then i left again.

i write now from my friend elise’s kitchen table, in berlin, germany. it is my european home-away-from-home, and serves not only as a beautiful and friend-filled european excursion before the anti-luxuries of bihar, but a place to adjust my body to the time difference (i found that breaking the 12.5 hour time change into two legs was a huge help in not feeling like the walking dead for your first week in india). and, most importantly, germany makes THE BEST lice remedy known to man. why america can’t figure out how to make a non-toxic one-time lice solution is beyond me, but the germans did it, and i love them for it. though i did get an odd look from the pharmacist at the apotheke when elise explained to her that i needed not one, but TWO bottles… i am fairly certain she was on the verge of declaring me a bio-hazard. (of course, two bottles of said remedy set me back about $50, so… maybe that’s why it’s not in the states…). anyway, i will travel much better knowing that when i inevitably start to itch after a week in forbesganj, i have help.

i have noticed my hindi trying to return, as i struggle with my limited german… my inclination when spoken to is to respond in hindi, which is a change from the past when french was my go-to language when my brain didn’t know how to process the language being spoken. given that i still harbour dreams of a summer cottage in provence, (and have no such fantasies about a summer shack in delhi…) i am hoping that the relocation isn’t permanent. my body and brain know i’m returning; the language shifts, my stomach is unsettled, my manner begins to soften ever-so-slightly in preparation for attempting to blend in to forbesganj again.

in all actuality, i probably didn’t have to go back to bihar. all the administrative work to institute the scholarships could have been done by email with the delhi office. but i promised the girls i would be back. i swore to them. i told them that i would return before the mehndi had grown out of my fingernails. when i left forbesganj three months ago my nails were stained dark with henna. now only the tips are coloured- a strange orange french-manicure look that is hardly flattering and looks vaguely fungal. but i am keeping my promise. i will not be one who shows up in their lives and then never returns.

and so, at 4 in the morning on monday, i will be riding the U Bahn through berlin, bound for the airport, to paris, and then to delhi. i haven’t arranged my in-country travel yet, so i’m a bit nervous about that, but with any luck on wednesday next i’ll either be in bihar proper, or on a train bound for it. either way, i’ll be back.

i can’t thank you all enough for your love and support… truly. your thoughts and prayers and words of wisdom and guidance keep me afloat when i fear sinking, and i am eternally grateful and humbled. love and blessings from She Who is Clean for the Last Time…