To put this into context, I started writing this a year ago in Jan 2017. Sorry for any confusion.
And now, after a few days in Bangalore, I’m back in kodai
The bus ride was bearable, stopped for dinner and toilet breaks, but the mountains was a bit scary and very uncomfortable. The bus swung so much that you could hear the shock absorbers (I think, it was some solid noice when the bus went around a bend).
Got to Kodi at 7:30, got my bearings, shrugged off taxi drivers, walked to main gate and got my room key.
It is was a cold, fresh morning. Slight mist in the air, fog from your breathe, numbed toes yet warm chested, a natural blue sky with a new world underneath it. Gone were the plains and traffic, now I had hills to overcome on my way from the bus stop up to KIS.
At first I thought that things had change, everything seemed higher than I remember, though upon a return glance this began to become familiar. Possibly due to my lack of a social life last time I was here, many things just didn’t look the same at first.
Got myself to Lockend compound, looked around for 20 min for my guesthouse, it was great exploring a new part of a place id been to, since it brought back all sorts of memories. Ultimate frissbee, gym, sleep over, a bible study.
I got to my place and was disappointed to discover no wifi.
But who really cares about what I did. In summary I re-visited some areas, which were all strangely the same, I ate lunch and dinner at the school and was mistaken for an exchange student, I caught up with Kevin and tried to go on the Tahr camp, I finished my Marenahalli blog and read LotR in the library, jammed in the band room with old mate Jonathon, got recognised by most staff I recognised especially the Principal Mr Corey, played a bit of tabla again, and I watched some Avatar to chill out.
Here is what it was like to see my dorm again:
Looks the same foundation but is brighter with new floor and painting, is cleaner with the kitchen and less dust. Still feels like home, but the same home that someone else moved into. The legend of Bilai endured but it was not of the man I knew. Kevin, dorm parent, kept it feeling like home. It is a happier place now than when I was there, but I miss my friends there. I don’t remember it being dirty or uncomfortable, I remember the people and the experiences. There is a new vibe to the place and some familiar faces.
Motor bike ride after. Is beautiful and cold. Kevin’s body blocked most of it so that I could enjoy the scenery, just like how he has helped me feel more at home in Kodi because he’s such a good friend.
But yea, the reason for me writing this is to remember my thoughts about seeing Kodi again, and it’s weird. I thought I might cry to be back here, but I haven’t and not even come close. I say aloud when I look at all the trees and sunshine and smiling faces that “I’m so happy to be back” yet those words don’t reasonate deeper down, its as if a bit of me is genuinely thrilled and another is just saying “meh”. I have loved seeing people I know and talking with them, though I guess that is what I came back here for, to not be a tourist but to reconnect with people.
It’s almost as if I currently object to trying to relive my old life which results in me not having as much satisfaction out of it as I had expected. Maybe is it the fact that I’ve grown out of that old life, and I feel a need to stop wasting time pretending to be 16 year old again, that I feel like my time is better used working to help others.
Maybe tomorrows hiking will help clarify some things for me.
The hike went well, though I saw it as mostly a test rather than doing it just for the heck of it, and I think that’s what was more motivating. That surprised me. I thought I would like to take it easy and soak it in, but my competitive side was more powerful on this occasion and I felt compelled to keep going. Though to be fair the view from Dolphin’s Nose wasn’t the best, but still I surprised by my lack of awe even just for the misty mountains and seeing a tiny bit of the plains.
It could just be that my purpose for the hike was to test myself, and so the desire to prove myself, as it is in any insecure person, was very motivating.
Also, I got recognised by some more teachers yesterday. One of them was overjoyed that I remembered their name, though I had a bit of help from a year book which had his name and photo in it. The other person that recognised me was a librarian, which for some would bring shame. Being back in the kodi library is special. That’s as simply as I can put it. The library feels more magical than it ever did before. Maybe it’s nostalgia as I see where I sat printing essays or where I absorbed lotR, maybe it’s the separation from a good library for over a month (doubt it, as I’ve avoided libraries for longer than that). I’m not sure, but the library is definitely the place I feel most connected to the last time I was here.
To feel productive, I want to make a start on Uni assignments and textbooks today. This is time I can spend that will make it easier when I get home, this is time I can spend proactively to be kind to others.
Getting onto Tahr Camp
Due to my efficiency at hiking up to Dolphin’s Nose I landed myself a place on the hike to Tahr camp on Friday. I got there at 6:45, on time, and was the last one there, to my pleasant surprise. I also snagged some left over food, so that food plus the own made me the fridge for the hike, and I freely offered sustainance to everyone throughout the day.
We waited on the busy for 15 minutes for our guide, a hiking guide who never showed up. The mantel of responsibility for all our survival was gladly received by the camp organiser (due to her numerous trips to the campsite) and we set off without any further delay.
Well and truly after we had left kodi, and after many failed phone calls, she turns to me and lays out the situation from across the aisle of our bumpy mini bus.
“So, our guide is no longer coming, which means that it will be very hard for you to go back to Kodi. It would be easier for you to stay than to go back tonight. To get you back, someone would need to hiek you out and then try to find our camp with a torch in the dark, but if you stay, we only need an extra sleeping bag.”
I, being a person who is possibly too conscious about causing unnecessary stress to others, optimistically accepted, even though I was actually quite split about the decision as it would take out a big chunk of my time at Kodi and would mean I’d miss the Kodi church service on Sunday morning. But I was in India, had an opportunity at 2 nights free accommodation with some quality natural entertainment, and deserved some reward (besides pride) at my Tahr pin given to me 3 years earlier. It was time for it all to pay off, and my Tahr camp adventure was on it’s way before I even knew it.
We got off the bus at what appeared to be a drinking fountain at the top of the mountain. One of the students asked if it was safe to drink and a staff member said no, which meant little except cemented a difference in standards as we watched a man fill his drink bottle. I called the Alumni Officer and a future dinner guest to inform them of the change in plans, and the camp-organiser-turned-guide informed the entire group about the absence of the guide and my sudden inclusion.
And down into the road-side jungle we went, my Return to The Jungle… but it was really just a return to hiking, no capital letters required. We walked through the sholas (forests) and through batches of tall yellow grass, through lantern bushes (thorny, and no nice) and through beautiful scenery. We left behind all signs of humanity except for the trail beneath our feet and the lines of plantation trees on our sides. It was a normal hike, but it was not normal for me to be there. Amongst all the familiar sounds and smells and scratches, I missed people to share it with. My time for hiking with my peers was over, and I had never noticed their absence as strongly as I did on that hike. Names, faces, and laughter all travel through my head and I walk these lands without them, and instead I look down onto a crowd of young bright faces that are initially concerned to look back at me. I am alumni, they are students. On day one of Tahr camp, they are not my friends. I am a stranger who lives in Australia and may be able to give some advice about college.
To overcome this I try to fit in by going to the front of the hiking line, or by offering support to those at the back. Things are hard at first and interactions had awkwardness mixed into them, but I knew that this was something that would take time and so I gave silence and the rhythm of walking its respect. And in that silence my eyes would watch the ground for obstacles as my mind’s eye would re-live old hikes with older friends.
I also contradicted myself in my attempt to fit in by also acting like a chaperone, being the last one to leave our rest stops, seeing if anyone needed a hand, cleaning up after people, and doing a tiny bit of nagging. It’s tough finding a balance though, and I’m not even sure if I would had said the same things even if I was a student, maybe being a concerned nagger is my nature (my mum must find it hilarious to hear me ask that).
We get to the Nathan’s point falls, an excellent point for cliff jumping, except I did not experience the thrill of dropping about 7 metres. I reasoned it by the fact that I didn’t have more clothes to change into for the rest of the camp, but in the eyes of the students, they would have seen a boring rando who doesn’t know how to have fun. Although I hated to be ‘that guy’, it was something I needed to accept, at least for now. There was a similar feeling at other swimming spots on day 1.
We did some rock hopping for 1 hr as well, and they were very good at it. I tried to keep to the front so that I wouldn’t ‘show my age’, but that failed as I deserved.
Howver, things changed when it got to rock sliding. In order to allow the guys of the group to run ahead I volunteered to try keep up with them and help if need be. And so we set off down the sandy side of a mountain down to the plains, and it was damn awesome. We ran along the track (when it was visible) using the few living trees as either brakes or turning circles on our dash to the bottom. In the softer parts we went directly down, making big cascades of sand with each step, and we did it all to a symphony of pumping hearts, pounding feet, birds, yells as people slipped, and a choir of “OH SHII****’ and ‘FFFUUUUUU…’. Then to the bottom we pant like parched dogs and bend over like hags as water as water, food and tamerine are passed around in aid. It was the sound of bonding.
The guys sat in the tree and started asking me questions about my life and my experience of Kodi. They began to call me Ash rather than sir or Mr Ashley, and they accepted my offerings of food and water more openly. They were surprised that I kept up with them, and they appreciated me more because of it.
I wish kindness was an easier way to a teenage boys heart, but it’s hard to beat impressive displays of strength.
We kept going to camp which was along from Rat Tails Falls, walking through the hot farmland of the plains as late afternoon approached sunset. We got lost, and ended up going in a long circle, though we made it and met the family who owned the land we were camping on. In the family were 3 boys, the oldest was named Kartik and he spoke basic English. His brothers seemed entirely different, with bloated bellies and bitten skin. They were a simple family, taking care of cows on the land. Their two youngest boys were in poor health, and here we come along with all our food and gear and we set it up in their back yard. A group of fine health kids here for a holiday. Ofcourse I know virtually nothing about the life the family lived, but the stark inequality was worse than a fly in your face; I hope the eyes of the students were open wide enough to ask why this injustice is so vast, why do you come to a place of poverty for a holiday and expect a peaceful sight-seeing adventure. Rather than being in awe of God’s creation, the Tahr camp could have also highlighted humanities failures, failures that you just walk past whilst hiking but need to stop at in your life.
The second day began with me being a crouch after a bad nights sleep feeling the cold from a sleeping bag that was just too small and the lumps of the sandy ground that was too firm. I even made a list of issues/recommendations, and I lay in my tent with contempt and frustration. It was one of the first time’s I’ve disliked camping, and it was very interesting for me, as I looked out my tent to the cold outside world, to realise that this was how camping-haters felt whenever they went camping. Rather than me missing a sleeping mat or a bigger sleeping bag, they missed their soft mattresses and nice sheets. The only reason I like campign was because I was used to it, and I could enjoy this less-comfortable camping if I got used to it as well. And with that revelation in mind I put away my notebook and my pen, I curled up and put on my beanie, and breathed in fresh Indian air whilst I still could.
The rest of the second day was filled with more joy as I swam and rock-hopped around with the gang, free from my self-imposed exile from the previous day. The Frisbee came out and so did the sun, and as a resulted I ended up taking away good memories and a good pink baking on my shoulders.
Evening came, dinner went, and it got to about 8:30 when everyone was cosy in tents various tents as the night-time activity kicked on. People crammed into a tent to play card games, others had isolated conversations, it was the general buzz after an exciting yet long day. I sat outside on a big rock and listend to it all. I couldn’t understand conversations but I could understand emotions. This was the student’s time, a time free from the control of chaperones and plans, a time to be your quiet self and to share that with others in whichever way you felt comfortable. It was surreal for me, a stranger who had bonded into the group yet was still excluded from their most peaceful group moments. In that space of friendship where I felt alone on a rock, this song came into my head. I resonated with the start and end of the song, the feeling of exploration, hope, and disappointment, but not anger as it is in the middle of the song. I felt no anger towards me nor the kids. I understood my unique place on this trip, and also I know my place with My God, but I’m still working on finding my place in the world, and that’s something I shouldn’t be angry about.
Also, in those times I was by myself, I felt old. Obviously I’m not properly old (19), but it was the first time in recent memory that I had the feeling. I felt my body hurt, I felt exclusion from friendship, I felt weary but more weary than from the days activity or the nights bad sleep, and it was the cocktail of these feelings which made me understand Bilbo Baggins’ view of being old as “butter spread over too much bread”. The fact I took away from this was that feeling old is real but it is controllable. Feeling old is more about the lack of feeling alive; the lack of adventure, the lack of friendship, the lack of true laughter, the lack of love. Being old doesn’t mean that you have to feel old, as long as you have people to share life with, people who make you feel alive, you don’t have to feel your age, you don’t have to feel alone.
(You’re not alone, David Bowie)
It was also weird at first that the kids called me Mr Ashley. I made a big deal of it at first but then accepted it as they kept doing. It was the first time someone had called me sir and meant it, rickshaw drivers and shop keepers don’t count. I accepted it because I wasn’t a student and it was easier for people to instinctively call me Mister, and it became a challenge for me to accept my place in the group. It is something to get used to, and after 2 days it became insignificant. It wasn’t about what they called me, it was how they were engaging with me that I cared more about, and the fact that they let me run and play water Frisbee with them meant a lot more than the fact that they sometimes called me Sir. No where was this more potent than on day 3 when we played water Frisbee (a brutal and messed up version of ultimate Frisbee), and I was an equal team member. I tackled hard and they tackled me hard. Even though I got more sunburnt and cut because of it, I really enjoyed it. I had a similar feeling of acceptance when we were leaving camp and the students invited me up onto the trailer for the ride from our campsite to the waiting buses. It was a bumpy and painful ride where I stepped on too many toes and struggled to take photos, but it was a great time by all. We unload the wounded from the truck when we arrive at the buses and we take a chill ride through the mountains back to Kodi.
The temperature drops and so does the ground as you look out at valleys of trees surrounded by guarding mountains. It was just as wonderful as the first time I saw it, and I explained to the group was I was particularly in awe of the view outside.
And also as we climbed through the bends and over various peaks, I am reminded of how big Kodi is. What I knew of as Kodi life was around the lake, down to Spencers, to tibs/market, to dominoes, up to dorm, and Bendy. That was all you needed as a student but coming back I want to know more. And to start I need to cover the bits I know.
After I got back and had an incredible shower where I also washed my clothes.
Off to Aby’s I went, and enjoyed some pasta with white sauce, chicken and mushroom (with some surprise chilly powder), then a classic quesadilla with egg. It wasn’t as fun as it is with other to beat in Connect 4 or Uno though.
Then hungry for more I checked out HFC, which was barren of chooks but had some classic fried chicken for me to have. I took it back to my room, closed the door, and consumed it in all the laziness it embodies. In bed I lay with Avatar the Last Airbender playing, and after a weekend of hikes I relaxed on that Sunday night as well as I could. It felt devilish, and it was awesome! I really wish I had that freedom to do what I need with my time everyday. Thank goodness for holidays but, upon reflection, that freedom to choose is so much more than an hourly thing. It is a consequence of my ability to choose how I live my life, a consequence of immense opportunity. A consequence of privilege. An injust consequence with some purpose.
The next day was back to school for the little kiddies, yet I had a nice simple breakfast of Poori Kurma at a breakfast place across the lake, down past Spencers and up the other side. It was a wonderful, and authentic wider-Kodi experience as opposed to the routine of eggs, toast, cereal and fruit with the occasional sausage, pancake or dosa. After breakfast I make it school, and I see the kids around the place. They say hi to me, just as their walking past, from across the arts building, from their classrooms, and it just fills me with joy. I feel accepted into the school again, like I’ve taken that first step towards the family that Kodi provides. I seek refuge in the library and let my unstable soul roam across the plains of Rohan in the Lord of the Rings.
On my last day at Kodi, and I awake early to make the most of it. I arrive at my old dorm East House whilst the current students are leaving for school. The magic of my alumni pass and the recognition of the gate guard result in a smooth extraction operation. I grab the bike and see Kevin to get the helmet, then I’m released into the tamed jungle world of Kodaikanal. When you go out the dorm gate you have 2 options, to the left means uphill and towards unfamiliar territory, and right means downhill towards my school and the familiar lake. I take the high road.
Up we go and the steeper it gets. From churches and scenic walks we get to covered mountain roads. I stop and breathe the beautiful air for free, I truddle my way up the hill at pleasure not pace, and exhale nature’s breathe. Although there are houses on either side, and an immense population behind these walls of tree trunks, this was one place that had a similar isolation to the hills of Melbourne, winding through the Dandenong range. The eucalyptus trees building a colonial bridge to my place of origin.
I follow Observatory Road, following the mechanical footsteps of the bike ride with Kevin, and reach Upper Lake View, and see the signature view of Kodaikanal International School. It’s incredibly cheesy to look around and see the variety of tourist gifts with terrible hats, racks of sun-glasses, and rolls of snacks. It felt nice to ride past them with a bit of a ‘Ha, in your face’ attitude as I had the freedom to feel at home in this place, on someone else’s bike, when I can’t speak Tamil, and my camera could fit under a microscope. Through all of my disqualifications to feel like I belonged in Kodai, compared to those tourists, I definitely felt at home.
After collecting some iconic pics it was a steep up-hill climb, and I went down side-streets to extract any secrets of Kodai. At the top of the hill, at the end of upper forest road, there’s a sharp right-hand turn that takes you down and down and down into the heart of Kodai and towards the lake. But its not an adventure if going the straight path, and I guess its just arrogance if you try to make things harder for yourself. This time around, I take the path that’s a bot of both, and to the left we go. The road is a gentle rise with a climb on my right and an open view down to fields on my left. I pass driveways with scenic views and tin shops with locals chatting and watching this skinny white guy ride past them with an ecstatic grin.
‘The road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began’ and indeed it was tempting to follow that road wherever it went, but at the top of the hill I halt and spin my wheels around for an epic descent. I blast down the road, a gentle rise has become rocket fuel, and it is awesome!
While bolting down the hill I pass a tree-covered street to my left. That road was a gateway to a new part of Kodi, and it climbed up the side of a mountain. From the top of the mountain, I could see the observatory and the undulation of Kodi. I got some weird looks from villagers as I was climbing up the steep path, and I had to drop the bike to make it up.
After looking around I went back down, and stopped along the way at some beautiful houses and a cool rocky side path.
I ride down the hill and then around the lake.
I get back to school in time for a final lunch, and some students from Tahr camp recognised me. It means a lot to me that they are happy to acknowledge me whilst it may look weird in front of their peers.
I can’t really remember what I did after lunch. I know that about 5 o’clock I was returning the bike to Kevin, and I ran into Anup again and I forgot to call him when I got to Kodi. I think I watched Avatar on my bed, and cleaned up my room. Grab some dinner somehow, then pickup the compulsory few bananas as snacks for the remarkable voyage to Chennai.
But before we get to that bus journey, here are some closing remarks on Kodi:
The first signs of the day are from 4am when the sky gets brighter just above your sleeping head. The cold wakeups are envigorating rather than depressing. As you walk to breakfast you see golden sunshine silhouette the trees, you begin in shade then as you eat breakfast your face is blasted with a halleluiah of sunshine through the dining room windows.
The sun rides across a sky of different hue than that of the flat ground. I see the poverty and the filth and the poor, but even these seem less offensive or exposed than they are in other Indian towns.
It sets in various ways, yet the night reveals the sounds and settings of an extended home, a hallway that starts at the junction and goes down to the dining room of Tibs. The welcome mat for new travellers rolls to dominoes and subway, and the bedroom of the dorms lies peacefully on the club road hill.
Kodi is a magical place. It’s magic is what made me doubt me actual existence here and lead me to read LotR, and it’s magic is what has drawn me back. I know it is cliche to say that a place is magical, and I hate cliché, but if it helps you understand my relationship with this place then its done its job.
Yes, there are more beautiful places like Kodi, yes, there are better places to visit, but I have been glad to live here, and I am glad to have lived here a tiny bit longer. Kodi has charm. Kodi has memories. Kodi has a vibe. Kodi is a magical land on top of a mountain, and KIS is my home, my castle, in that land.
But that’s the thing. Kodi is magical, it isn’t real. It is a place to get lost from the rest of the world. It’s a place to take a break, to rethink.
Day for Anand in Chennai
Slept well on the sleeper bus, and then began a long chain of texts with my brother Anand who was waiting for me in Chennai.
He told me to get off at a different bus stop, and he had ot describe the stop to e through text messages, and I had to brave telling the bus driver where to drop me off. It was far more stressful than it ought to have been, but I really do prefer the simplest of journeys, those where you see the journey through to the end, and it stops you rather than you stopping it.
I got off the bus, and then struggled to find a bathroom. After 10 minutes I just went in an alley.
After several more texts with Anand (who’s just getting out of bed) I get a platform pass from an old man at the ticketing machine. His finger is curved upwards as he taps the screen with elongated fingernails, it looks as if he has pushed against that glass wall so many times that the joints through his finger are more flexible because of it.
I go on the platform, and sit, and wait, and relax. With my big bag of luggage and a food stall next to me, life coasts by as the sun rises over the train station.
After some food and time, Anand got off a train with me noticing and appeared out of nowhere. Boy was that an amazing meeting.
Grabbed started to walk for our breakfast. Was still quite early and many things were closed. We got some Chikoo juice just on the side of the street from a juice press
shop, and it was wonderful. Some of the most refreshing drinks I’ve had, I bet it could put out some bushfires just with a few glasses.
Eventually we found a place and we grabbed a classic south Indian bite. Utha-something (my pen failed hallway through) and Vaada for me, and Idly for the other kid.
After some brekkie we jumped on a bus back to the train station the morning rose, and we headed off to Anand’s uni. It was a fun train ride, not only for the lack of doors, but for the coolness (in terms of temperature and being awesome) of sticking your head outside of it. We speed past communities, hills, lives and logs.
We got off at Tambaram station and then a short walk across to the big uni. The stretch from station to campus looked fresh and orderly amidst the lens of yellow-red sand everywhere. The university campus was an entirely different story.
I’d never seen wounds inflicted from a battle with a hurricane before. 2 months on, and they still show and will leave splinters in the wounds for long to come. As we walked around this demolished jungle, Anand tells me of the loss of fame for the place, as once it was renowned for calmness and beauty through the graceful protection provided by its tree. And now that part of its identity is lost, and piles of branches linger.
We drop my stuff of in Anand’s room, which is incredibly small with the single sized bed taking up about half the total floor space. We walk around the various sports grounds, each of the equal sun-baked sand. Whilst talking we try to ride a rope swing next to a small rise at the edge of a pitch. It’s painful yet childish and fantastic.
I learn about life in this place, the theatre games of improvisation that they play, Anand’s passion fighting national obesity, the struggles and friendships to keep us afloat.
Roamed back to his room, grabbed my belongings and went back on the train to Gueny station. First train we got on was packed, tried to move to next carriage but had several people sitting down in a space which we thought was free. Ended up getting the next train which was much better. At Gueny there is a mall that’s Doncaster Shopping town basically. It was nice. After walking around and struggling to know how to spend the precious hours, we ended up going to watch a movie in the cinemas, and boy was it a bit schmancy.
We couldn’t decide between Moana (Anand had already seen it) and Resident Evil, so we asked the guy at the counter for his recommendation and he decided on Resident Evil for us. After getting the tickets there was still time before the movie started, so we grabbed chilled in the food court and ate some grilled chicken and Smilies, the combo that Anand usually eats with his biological big brother when they come here.
After finishing our meal we return to the cinema and walk into a near-empty theatre and take a seat. As the movie progresses we move further along the spectrum of bad-movie-ness; from confusion to frustration, to resignation, to humour, to hilarity. Resident Evil: Final Chapter’s ratings were appropriate to say the least, and we regret not checking them before going into the movie. At least it was memorable.
After leaving the mall with our minds smothered by the movie, I got some cash out, we drink some refreshing musk juice (just rock melon juice I think) in the hot Chennai sun, and then we found a small bakery called Hot Breads to have some snacks and to chill. The bakery has wifi and air-conditioning, so we set up camp there for an hour or so. As well ate eating and consuming conversations of nostalgia, we make a Whatsapp call home. I speak to mum and dad, just giving them a quick update as I’d see them in a couple of days, but they spoke for a while with Anand. That was quite beautiful to see from my perspective. It was as if the roof of our home was extended out of the phone and to bring Anand under some shelter for a little while. To see two significant parts of my life reconnecting was simply magical, as though my phone was a semantic wormhole that brought two separate places together.
From there we took an Uber to Elliot’s beach which was one of the most chill places I’ve been in India. Sure it was loaded with people from all sorts, with fishing communities to beachside communal gyms, to fast food to temples. We walked and talked along the beach, tried to do chin-ups with our backpacks on. After some time we went to a shop next to the beach called Pupil, and we had burgers. It may have been my deprivation for over a month from the beauty of a BLT, but those burgers were damn good. I can’t remember what flavour, but I can remember the joy of truly safe company and a probably-safe-yet-delicious meal. We jumped over the fence to the next shop to try Pani Puri or Gulgappa, a street food I had seen many times but not tried. Of course it was awesome, which explains why it was as common as street dogs.
Following the meal, it takes several attempts to find a bathroom, though there was another tourist going place to place, looking for an available loo. A casual comradery between two strangers with a common quest, the shortest and yet the most urgent of friendships.
The magic of Uber gave us a calm ride to the departure point for my bus. We listened to some familiar music and relaxed before getting dropped off at the departure point. It was a slow end to a busy day, as if we were tucked in bed listening to a bed-night story as the car beeped its way through Chennai’s streets. O the power of music amidst apparent chaos.
We said our farewells at the bus stand, though it really was a seeya soon kind of feeling. We got some nice indian sweets for the journey back, and those sweets would cause me trouble though. Eventually, onto the bus I go, and I sleep in the shaking and bleeting cradle of the sleeper bus back to Bengaluru.
Final Day in Bangalore:
Arrival in Bangalore/Bengaluru: too early to really know, I think it was 5am. Still dark. It was a dirty bus stand which welcomed me back, and a filthy toilet block to help start the day’s proceedings. It is super difficult to keep an eye on your belonging when all your stuff + you doesn’t fit into the toilet cubicle.
I start to walk around the place, I see a garden on my map but its all locked up with high fences when I arrive. I sit in defeat at the walls of the garden and look around to see the hustle of early morning sales for flowers and food as the sky turns to an ocean mirky blue and then grey.
The streets are filled to capacity with people and trucks, and moving through it all is the bumbling backpacker I am. Through ancient streets which were European in look but vacant of charm, except from the golden sunshine which washed their dusty walls, I walk for 3 kilometres towards the centre of town. The sky brightens and gradually these streets speed up towards their congestion point at around 11am.
I walk to a restaurant which is open this early and looks over the public transport centre of this shining city. I have a casual Indian breakfast as I spectate the awakening of millions of people. I try to find an internet café yet they are all closed at 7am, so I go to the main bus station, eventually find a bus that goes where I want it to (this involves getting in line at an enquiries desk and then trying to take advantage of a spare second to ask your question before someone else does, then trying to find the bus number that the enquiry person said, then asking a bus driver with a similar number if they are going to the place you want to go to, and then jumping on if they nod their head). This time I go to Bagalur cross, but need to jump out as the bus accelerate because I wasn’t quick enough getting to the door with all my bags on the crowded bus. At least it was cheap though, about 25 ruppees as opposed to 300 for an Uber. As the bus pools away the ticket inspector just shakes his head at me, us both knowing that the potential injury was easily avoidable, possibly by not jumping and just yelling the bus to stop.
After surviving that little jump I try to get an auto rickshaw to see my home one last time, Marenahalli. Its an aggressive haggle to get the price down, but that goodness there’s a meter on every rickshaw which you can trust to give a fair price (as long as the driver goes the right direction). We get to the town, Maz as we were told to call it, and I went to the home which was all locked up. I sit on the steps to drink some water and relax when the current volunteer residents of the home arrive. I explain the surprising situation to them, and they let me come in and see the place. I point to the picture of me on the wall so that they know I really was here, that I’m not that creepy. Ofcourse after 2 weeks its basically identical to how we left it, though you should see that the new team had made themselves at home with all their gear on the floor. After leaving I ran into other members of the same team s they were interviewing village members to understand how the company, 40K, had impacted their lives through after-school English education.
I kept my visit quick and respectable, then back to Bagalur for a final nostalgic lunch which some self-indulgent icecream to top off the trip down memory lane. Get a rickshaw back to Bagalur cross, then a long wait for a bus back to the centre of Bangalore. In the heat it was especially draining. After another cosy bus ride with many others through the sardine-packed roads, I got on the metro to another suburb called Indira Nagar and spent the afternoon in the relaxing and air-conditioned sanctuary of Jhatkaa, an organization I had previously visited and was welcomed it. I relax there, listening to music and preparing for life back in Aus; recharging my computer, my drink bottles, my phone, and my soul. I also did some internet research about getting back to the airport. I tried to meet up with an old school mate, but it proved too difficult with the short time remaining. It was nice to hear their voice on the phone though. After about 3 hours there I leave and grab a bite of dinner in a nice big and clean restaurant. As day turned to dark in my final day in India, I sit alone in a busy restaurant, luggage as burden and not company, eating some food with my freshly-washed hands. It was simple, it was quiet. That is all.
I walk to the bus bay with 30 min or so before the bus is scheduled to arrive and take me to the airport. The bus comes 10 minutes later, and I am thankful for the punctual habits my parents (mostly mum) helped foster in me.
Here's a bit that I wrote on the bus to the airport:
I’m on the bus bound for the airport. Amidst its bumps and rattles, I feel rather flat and calm. I feel a bit sad to be leaving such a vibrant and thrilling place, and that stress and distraction await me. I feel very tired I’ll admit. I have sprinted to the finish, and my body wears the marks of it. Pinching sore feet, twisting tight shoulders, scratched up hands, crusty hair, heavy eye lids. Peeling burnt skin, sun-dried hands.
I’ve had a good time here, but today especially it got to the point where my plans had run out and the thought was like “well, nothing much else I can do here. What crazy thing can I do instead?”. And I don’t like that cause I feel like I’m wasting time. My second last day here was 14 hours spent with Anand, the young man who lived with me and my family for 6 months and who I knew from my exchange time in India. That was 14 hours well spent, and when I left him I really didn’t want to leave. But today plans fell through, I got bored and had to make up my own fun from minute one, ehwn the bus got in at 5:30am and I just walked for an hour through markets, quiet streets, saw creepy alleyways, and watched the sky brighten. I hate those moments throughout the day when I’m just trying to distract myself with some touristy experience. My time is precious, and India always reminds me of that. When you spectate a person making street food and their move so quickly and are habitually efficient, when you walk past a dog lieing in the dirt to tired or sick to give-a-damn about you and the surrounding chaotic world, when you forfeit lane markings in the pursuit of 1 more metres progress, when train doors and left permanently open to allow more people on, when you hear the life of an old lady who lost her husband and lives off three cows that consume all her time to learn sowing. India shows you the problems of the world and everyday its yelling at me “HOW CAN YOU LET THIS GO ON? THIS IS HOW IT IS BUT IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS”. And I, in my quiet but increasingly firm voice, reply, “I’m doing something about it. I’ve already started, and I’ve got to keep going. I need to keep working. I need to keep loving. I need to keep hoping.”
From this experience I feel stronger and more determined in my call to help others. I feel also born for this simple rural living, but I have not narrowed down what I would do there. I don’t know how to help them. I don’t know how I have any authority to help them. I just want them to know 2 things. The first; that they are loved, and the second; that there is more to life than they imagine.
I don’t know how I’ll do that, though my faith says that I’ll find a way somehow, and today I will just keep doing whatever work I can for the amazing people at Oaktree.
There is work to be done, much work, and I’m thankful I’m not doing it on my own.
On an even brighter note, the bus to the airport has a horn that’s the same sound as the buzz when someone wants to get off at the next stop on a Melbourne bus, so whenever he uses the horn I think that we’ll be stopping soon. Also, my flight leaving Bangkok played Thailand tourism ads non-stop until we tookoff. I suppose its to help the travellers to spread the word, to make them hungry for more, but after 10 minutes it got a bit irritating. On both flights I had quite a few ‘ear farts’, not farts that are audible but the poping in my ears
I think that the sadest part of this flight home is that I need to throw out my Indian snacks. There’s memories just tied up in them, and they’ve helped me out. I expect life to be busy and usual when I get back, no fan-fare and no spectacle. I will be busy, I have work to do, though I hope that I do work differently now. I hope that I have some more fire and passion behind it so that I can properly work to stop people needing to work in quarries, to stop people needing to beg, to bring more justice and love.
I work to keep working, its hard knowing what to work with and what to work for. It’s all about just showing love and when you don’t know how to, you ask someone who might.
I get home, I get on with it since there is work to be done. My ears ring from their pressure in the aircraft today, but also they listen for some directions this year.
Back in Aus
About throwing out those snacks. Well... I kninda made false assumptions that customs would have bins in their area to let me throw them out. Thankfully they were somehow all good, but to this day I am still not sure if the customs official was doing there job or just giving me the benefit of the doubt and saving me a fine. And so through the arrival gates I went, and onto the skybus, then just missing my train at Southern Cross, then waiting in a mixture of semi-consciousness and also routine for the next train to home.
And here are some thoughts I have when I got home:
I slip on my runners and I am startled. I feel non-chalant but obviously a bit of my mind is still amazed by the familiarity. Yet, in my absence, a fair bit has happened in life, more than my semester away in high school. My dad seems older mentally, my brother’s girlfriend has made herself at home, my little brother has moved into college, and my parents have the effects of a couple being alone together for too long. I turn on my mobile data with an effort, but no longer do I need to worry about it. My bed and pillow felt like a putting on a sock, familiar and surrounding comfort. My body still hurts though, and I know I’m more tired than I appear. I’m hungrier than I expect too, my stomach is full from a can of soup and a sandwich but still a want to devour a peach. I feel like a dog who gets their favourite dog food. Some chocolate cake with blueberries goes down the gluttony hatch next.
I look out the train window and see a collection of people that belong to a place different than those I flew back with. When I got off the plane I saw all ranges of people coming to the country I love, people that made up the multicultural nation I long for. Yet on the train platform I struggle to see diversity. But the fact is that I went past them on a train, it was a quick generalist glance. I’m sure that if I looked into the lives of those people, I would see the rainbow of places and stories that collide in this open nation. It is more open than we think, but it takes more than a window seat to know that.
I sit on the Burnley Train Station platform, and raise my head without a pair of rose-tinted glasses. I see the awkward construction, the graffiti, the grime-covered bricks, the cracks and bumps, the weeds, all the filth I accept here yet is confronting in India. Why must my perception be biased towards ignoring the flawed parts of Australia yet highlighting the flaws of India, no society is perfect but Australia is more ordered and maintained in general. As I look out the train window I see flowers rather than plastic beside the tracks.
