Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Thankfully, it didn't take long for me to find him again. After the drive to the village
and my impromptu dance performance, I was feeling the exhaustion.
“You are very popular,” Ajay laughed.
“It's amazing,” I told him. “Your people are amazing. But I don't how much longer I'm
going to be able to stand. Never mind dance.”
“No problem, no problem,” Ajay replied as he led me and the rest of the village to an
elder's house, where I could get some rest. Outside the front door, however, hundreds of
Indians waited, taking pictures, videos, and singing and dancing. Finally, Ajay was able to
convince the crowds that I needed some sleep.
I hadn't slept in a bed in over two days, during which I had run into a wall, been kicked
in the face, and had traveled more Indian roads than I would ever want to again, and though
I was overwhelmed with the love and attention, I was also, quite frankly, overwhelmed.
The next morning, the village was calmer as Ajay took me around and introduced me
to the people who made up his home. So many stories, so many lives, all pulsing together
in one common rhythm. When I was a kid, this was the school I had dreamed of attending.
There were no facts and figures, no dates and names—just the shared and miraculous hu-
man experience of people living and dying and trying to create the best lives they could in
the process.
Ajay explained to his neighbors what I was doing and though I knew that my choice
to travel with no money confused them—as much as on some days it confused me—they
were all excited that I had come to their village.
Ajay laughed, “They think next time you should bring some money.”
I agreed with him, “Next time, I will.”
As the morning sun began its ascent, the villagers made sure my tank of gas was full and
that I had a solid breakfast, and as I rode alone away from my new friends, their love at my
back, I knew yet another miracle had arrived.
I had decided that my next stop would be Varanasi, the city of fire, and the holiest city of
India. Varanasi is not like New York. It doesn't have skyscrapers. Varanasi is not like Bar-
celona. It doesn't have a beautiful coastline. Varanasi is not like my hometown of London.
It doesn't have tree-lined avenues leading into a lovely inner city park (that's Hyde Park,
for those of you who haven't visited). Nestled on the banks of the most famous river in the
world, the Ganges, Varanasi is a city of life. But also, it is a city of death.
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