Frank is off on his own this morning, looking for a bike shop that might have patches for a tear in his pannier. He might have to look in a hardware shop instead. Western concepts of what a “hardware” shop or bike shop might be often differ here. They are more apt to be repair shops here. I go crazy shopping in the crowded shopping streets here and trying to find a place using the directions given. You have to live here to find your way around. I suggest he should go to the tourist office on Janpath and they will help him find what he wants.
I head off on my own shortly after he leaves to follow my advice. I am only going as far as Connaught Circle with the hope of finding few travel agencies where I can compare air fares to fly home. I only get two blocks when something I have eaten has come alive and is trying to claw its way out. I stop two distinguished gentlemen on the sidewalk and ask them where I might find a public toilet. They chuckle, woggle their heads and reply in unison, “India IS a public toilet!”
It’s true, though I wasn’t going to say it myself. And I am not going to squat at the edge of the sidewalk to empty my bowels. That would be easier to do when wearing the loose fitting robes, like the loose-fitting “kurta”, a man’s shirt that hangs down to the knees, but I couldn’t have brought myself to do it anyway. Mahatma Gandhi’s campaign fifty years ago to convince Indians to build latrines and not shit in the open public for sanitary reasons was not very successful. I struggle back to the hostel and make it just in time to avoid an embarrassing eruption.
I set out again, a few minutes later, and visit three different travel agencies. They had comparative prices for a trip back home over Europe and the Atlantic to Toronto, but the third agency asked if I would prefer to fly over the Pacific instead. It is a bit longer and a bit more expensive but I could stop off for a couple weeks anywhere I might want to. At the moment, I admit I have had enough psychologically and mentally, trying to adjust to new cultures. I think I would prefer to spend two weeks in Vancouver visiting my sister and my good friend Bill Emery. That thought feels like a welcome offer for a hot bath after a week of hard labour, but I only have one quote for that route so I delay my ticket purchase at least until tomorrow. While walking between Outer Circle and Middle Circle, and an thrilled to find a shop that sells goods from the ashram that Mahatma Gandhi once belonged to. It is a sizeable store with a wide range of home spun cotton clothing, sandals and simple leather goods.
Gandhi’s life and works have astonished and impressed me more than any other leader in history. After seeing Richard Attenborough’s film “Gandhi” (1983), I became consumed with studying his teachings. I feel totally humbled by his accomplishments and the integrity with which he lived his life, something I feel I should be able to do, but have not been very successful at. No visit to India could possibly be complete for me without some encounter with places he had been. He had visited the well in Jallianwala Bagh Park in Amritsar after the massacre, which was featured at the sobering half-way point of the three hour film.
The ashram store had Gandhi quotes mounted on the walls of inside the store such as:
“I dreamt that all life was bliss, but woke to find that all life was toil and duty. So I toiled and did my duty to serve my country and I discovered that all service is bliss.”
“An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind.”
“You must be the change you wish to see in the world.”
“Every international friendship is a step towards world peace.”
“A small body of determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the course of history.”
“First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.”
“Nearly everything you do is of no importance, but it is most important that you do it.”
“Poverty is the worst form of violence.”
“Live as if you were to die tomorrow, and learn as though you were to live forever.”
And my favourite, in answer to a reporter’s question when he was visiting England in 1931, ‘What do you think of Western civilization Mr. Gandhi?’, Gandhi replied, “Yes, that would be a very good idea.”
So in spite of the extra weight I would need to carry, I bought a homespun kurta, and pair of churidars (loose cotton trousers that gather at the ankles) and a white cotton Nehru hat. I am not sure where or how often I will wear them but I am very proud to own them.
I walk back to the hostel and try them on, and then wait for Frank to arrive back. He is really tickled when he sees me in them, telling me that they look good on me. I am sure they will look better once I have regained 10 kg on my emancipated frame. We stay in after dinner, after dark, and talk about our plans. Frank also plans to fly home shortly after I leave. We agree to cycle through Rajasthan, south-west of Delhi, catch a bus to Mumbai (Bombay) and then on to Goa before leaving India. He suggests it would be better to fly home from Mumbai instead of returning all the way to New Delhi. That makes sense. We will wrap our business here over the next two days, take a bus tour to Agra to see the Taj Mahal and the Red Fort, and then set off towards Rajasthan on Sunday.
PHOTO 1: street near Connaught Place
PHOTO 2: Paharganj shopping district, west of Connaught Place
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