Thursday, December 29, 2005

Bangalore-Hyderabad; Hyderabad-Delhi; Delhi-Frankfurt; Frankfurt-Brussels

Last day in Bangalore… Packed my bags, took pictures of the campus, spent a bit of time with my boy, called an auto… Time to leave… I'm quite independent and even if I develop strong relationships with people, it won't affect my willingness to travel and to discover the world. I don’t cry when I leave a place. I'm not scared when I'm in a completely new environment. One could think that I'm not sensitive, that I'm unable of linking myself to others on a long term basis. He would be wrong. I love my friends (and I always will) but I don’t want to dependent on them. This is my life… and I’m the one in charge.

This time was different. I use to travel a lot. I use to meet a lot of people. I use to have boyfriends. I’m not just leaving a place, my boyfriend and my friends. When someone leaves his country, he might feel homesick. But how to express the exact same feeling towards a country which is not mine?

I left the hostel room.

I cried.

The auto arrived.

I cried.

I passed the entrance gate.

I cried.

I reached the airport.

I cried.

My jaan had five exams over the next three days. No need to say that he should have kept himself busy with his studies. He went with me to the airport… I'll miss him…

At night, I reached Delhi. Never been there before. Had to move from the domestic airport to the international one. 12kms… Asked the rate for a taxi. Rs650! Well… No choice. No other taxi agency and impossible to take an auto with all my luggage. It was 10pm already and Delhi is the Indian city with the highest rate of rapes.

Have to find a place to spend the night. Vikas told me I could call his cousin in Delhi. No network. No phone boot. The rate for a hotel? Rs1600 (non-AC), Rs1800 (AC). It was 5°C. I guess the AC was not really a must. Anyway, told them I was not interested. Thinking of catching some sleep at the airport itself. In the taxi, the driver asked me what was my budget. I was sick of all those people trying to fool me. I said: no more than Rs500. He told me about a dormitory near the airport. In other words, a “hotel” for people with low income. Went there. Nice guys but they were looking at me like if I was an alien. Probably the first foreigner to go in such place. They didn’t want me to share a room. A bit scared for my security. Ended up paying Rs350 (=cost for 4beds (1 room)). Asked a guy to wake me up at 5.30 the next day by knocking as hard as possible on the door. Went to sleep…

Freezing… My flight was on time despite the fog. Left India… Spent a few hours in Frankfurt and then back to Belgium. I could see Brussels from the plane. Looked like a Black&White picture. No colour. No sun.

My parents and one of my friends were waiting at the airport. I expected to see my parents. But since I only vaguely told my friends when I would be back in Belgium (because most of them are studying for their exams), I was positively surprised to meet my friend. Her present: Beer and chocolate ;o)

Warm bath. Comfortable bed. Kilo’s of chocolate.

Material satisfaction is not of any help. I miss India. Can’t cure my mind by pleasing my body.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

"Material satisfaction is not of any help. I miss India. Can’t cure my mind by pleasing my body. "
................

This is exactly what i felt when i visited to US this year ( for 2 months ).
If one is spiritually oriented , there isn't a better place than India.

krishna.bg18@yahoo.com