nilima en el mundo

Copied from paper journal -- (not that you're following, but this is out of order, it's the ride from Ghaziabad (outside of Delhi) to Dehra Dun, where we did the Hope for Women filming project, now I'm already in Rishikesh, but computers have been hard to find (pictures even more difficult to upload, hopefully soon)

Phew, we're in the train, leaving The Family. I feel giddy, free and happy to be out of the oppression. We wanted to leave two days before, I had pressed for the recommended express train from Delhi to Dehra Dun, but everything i did needed to go through the family i was staying with and it "wasn't possible" to leave that soon, because there had been some caste conflicts and our train "might get stopped." So, instead our tickets were for 11:30 the next day, great.

So, two really wonderful and sweet members and one boy from the Family drive us to the train station at 11:30. We approach a half empy lot and see bodies all around in the shadows. I try not to look as the cities be-ragged masses slept, us with our bright packs and overpriced sandals.

We trudged up the steps to the platform, the 14 year old boy protectively hearding us left and right, away from shady -looking characters (side note, i hope that this story doesnt seem to present that I think, or that India is full of scary people, that is DEFINITELY not the case, in fact, I told many people that I feared parasites, but not people. The thing is, we were in a train station, at night, in Ghaziabad, Uttar Pradesh. UP is known for its crime and corruption, and when Vasi innocently asked the family what is special about Ghaziabad, the father said "industry" and the son said "crime." Plus, it was late and everyone there, if not travelling was probably quite empoverished, and desperate). Okay, so we find our platform, Vasi staring nervously at me, I too was quite nervous, but sort of thrilled by the whole experience. We huddled in a circle, Vasi removing the sneakers she'd left dangling from her pack (which two people had tried to steal), and re packed them. We stood with the Family and made small talk -- the snow in Vermont, the running joke we had about Vasi and I cooking the 12 member family breakfast.

Vasi whispered to me in Spanish:

"Muchos hombres estan mirandonos" (many men are starring at us). I was vaguely aware that we were attracting a crowd, and nodded and laughed. I didn't feel too scared because

1) We were with three Indians, protectively watching over us.

2) the situation was so potentially dangerous that I didn't want to think about it

3) I had been stared at many times before, and perhaps unlike Vasi, knew that 99.9 % of the time, the starring does not portent trouble. Sure, it was sort of weird with a whole hoard of men gawking, but only a few looked creepy, the rest just really curious. We were, afterall a sight, I'd be curious too. It's like when the Somali Refugees landed in VT, with their bright robes, babies slung on backs- we all wanted to stare too, but starrings not accepted, so we avert our eyes.

So things are okay, our onlookers are multiplying in numbers, and we're all laughing and joking about this in hinglish, and then the lights go out. stealing a bag would be easy now. Anything could happen. We wait. Nothing happens. Finally the light comes on, our train comes and we jump in.

I ask a man in hindi where our seats are and he sneers
"cant you speak english?" I'd probably offended him-- him assuming I'd assumed he didn't (god forbid) speak english, but I was still hurt. I found my seat, and stayed up virtually all night, too much excitement.

This entry was posted on Sunday, June 10th, 2007 at 7:54 am and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.