Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
“So, I don't have a place to stay for you,” Ajay began. “But I'm going to the bus station
on the way to my village. If you like, I can take you there, and you can stay there.”
“How far away is your village?” I asked.
“From Lucknow, it's a hundred kilometers. I can take you there, and you can see new
things, and they will show you kindness. If you want to come with me, I will take you on a
safe journey, and I can buy you a bus ticket to it.”
I explained that I had my motorbike and offered to give him a ride if he could take care
of the gas. He gladly agreed, and added lunch into the deal as well.
A good friend once told me, “Don't quit before the miracle happens.” I had applied
those words to my career, to my relationships, to my life choices, but I had begun to realize
that nowhere did they apply more than in India. The miracles were there, hidden beneath
the thick smog, the piles of trash alongside the road, the hurried and desperate pace of its
people. You just had to be willing to wait, and sometimes you had to wait a really long time
(like, a really, really long time), but somewhere in that mess of smells and people and color,
miracles occurred.
As Ajay and I drove into the village, I realized my new friend had evidently called in ad-
vance, telling his friends and family of my impending arrival. The whole village had come
out to welcome me. All of them. Even the cows.
I felt like a Bollywood star coming back to his hometown for a visit. During our short
drive there, a whole show had been put together in my honor. There were singers. And dan-
cers. And cows. And children, lots and lots of children.
Everyone in the village seemed to own a cell phone, and they were all taking photos and
videos of our entrance. It appeared that the digital revolution had reached the backwaters
of India, but white men on yellow motorbikes had not.
Music seemed to fill the air. I wasn't even sure where it was coming from, but as the
children and the people from the village danced around me, I felt myself join in. Almost
instantly, it was as though we were one moving body, and not separate people. We danced
past the small mud huts of the village, moving across the dirt road. I felt myself laughing
so hard, I had forgotten about the days of travel, the exhaustion, the fear. I forgot about
everything but the present moment, dancing with strangers who without a word had be-
come my friends. For a while, Ajay joined along with us, bouncing up and down next to
me, sharing in my laughter, but in the mayhem of people and dancers and cell phones and
cows, I lost sight of him.
