Jump to content
  • entries
    159
  • comments
    0
  • views
    2795

In darkness.


PeeMarc

185 views

 Share

"When all around becomes so dark, we cannot see, even ourselves.

In darkness, it's so easy to stop seeing the light and all the beautiful things in our partner; all the wonderful reasons we came together and loved and admired each other in the first place.

When things become so dark, we get scared and we feel alone. This is natural. Even when we reach out our hand for each other, we cannot see and it is easy to miss and pass right by. And then we fear that the other is not there for us.

In fear, we cannot see or hear clearly or properly. Our sight, hearing and senses are too narrowed and not wide as normal. This is how humans are.

In a sea of darkness it is easy to float and drift away from each other as we panic and try to deal with our own fears and our own survival. In this way, it is so easy to begin to believe that the one we love and depend on most to be there by our side... the one we trust so much to be there for us when we need them most... has left us forever.

In darkness, the only things which can keep us together is the faith and trust is our partners love and commitment that, one day, they will find their way back.

In the meantime, all we can do is shine our own light as bright as we can."

__________________________________________________________

A story.

Many years ago, I cycled with my best friend up the west coast of India in a journey and adventure that started in Trevandrum, in the southern tip of India, all the way to Mumbai. From there, we left our bicycles behind and journeyed further north, all the way to the foothills of the Himalayas.

During this epic journey, one morning just before dawn, we somehow lost each other in the middle of nowhere in the south. It was duringn a short train trip we took to visit the famous Kala Caves (the location of the movie "A Passage to India").

It was a silly, small mistake with dire consequences. When we arrived at Kala at 4am, our bicycles were still in the baggage carriage at the front of the train. We ran long the platform from out sleeper carriage at the back of the train to unload our bicycles. But, we did not realise that, due to an error on the paperwork on the bikes (our error), the baggage handler refused to release then to us. During the argument that followed, the train began to pull away, and all we could do was jump back on and hope we could sort it out at the next stop.

We found ourselves standing in an over crowded 3rd class carriage filled with sleeping bodies, crying children, filth and old newspaper and rubbish everywhere. 

Twenty minutes later the train pulled in to the next station, in the middle of nowhere, 400km south of Mumbai. We again tried to reason with the baggage handlers to release our bikes, but they refused because of the paperwork. No matter what we tried they insisted the bikes must go to Mumbai and that we should take the matter up with authorities there. 

Frustrated, tired and confused, we did not know what to do. In the end, we decided to try one more time at the next stop. Suddenly, my buddy decided to make a run to go back to out sleeper carriage, some 100 meters down the platform. I decided to stay where I was, next to the baggage carriage.

As the train pulled away, I could hear a lot of noise and commotion outside. People were waking up and looking out the window cheering and laughing. I looked out the door and saw my buddy running as fast as he could along the platform, trying to keep up with the increasing speed of the train. He was grabbing at every door handle he could, desperately trying to open one so he could jump on the train. I yelled at him, along with everyone else, hoping he would make it. But try as he could, all his efforts were in vain; all the door were locked on the inside.

Finally, he ran out of platform and I watched him fall to his knees and throw up from the exertion. At the last minute I screamed at him: “I will see you in Mumbia!”. And he looked up and screamed back: “I will see you at Kala!”

Neither of us knew at that time that neither of us heard the other.

I stood there in the crowd of that 3rd class carriage, zooming along into the morning light, surrounded by smiling all the smiling locals. I wondered what would happen next. I looked at what I had and I then saw I had even more trouble ahead. In the confusion, we had taken each others’ bags by mistake, so he had my passport and I had his. He had all the cash, and I had none. He had the paperwork for the bikes, I had no paperwork at all, not even the tickets. Everything was swapped. I crouched on the floor and held my head and wondered what to do.

Later that day, I arrived at Victoria Station in Mumbai; a massive British-built building, looking rather like St Paul’s cathedral, with its imposing dome on top; proudly standing in the middle of this bloated city of bustle and insanity. With some smooth talking, and a little polite begging, I was let out of the station and onto the street. No money, no passport, nothing but the clothes on my back. And I knew that my buddy would be in the same situation wherever he was.

Next to Victoria Station is the main Mumbai GPO post office. When I walked past, I had an idea. When we left Sydney to fly to India, my buddy had forgotten to bring his credit card (I didn’t have one) and he wanted it for emergencies. He’d mentioned that he would perhaps get his girlfriend to mail it to him via the Post Restante service. I figured it would be worth a try, even though a long shot idea, to see if she had mailed it to Mumbai.

I went inside and asked and, sure enough, they had a letter address to my buddy. They wouldn’t give it to me to see what it was, but at least I knew it was there. Now I knew that the only chance I had of seeing my buddy again and getting out of this situation was if he could make his way to Mumbai to collect his letter from his girlfriend.

Standing outside on the huge steps of the G.P.O. I looked out at a the millions of people, cars, bicycles, carts, dogs, buses, stalls and everything all swirling in a mass that makes up Mumbai. Imagine the busiest area of Bangkok, then increase everything there by at least a hundred and you will have some idea of the immensity of this city. Suddenly, I felt so small and completely insignificant against it all. Suddenly I was no better off than the lowest beggar on the street; perhaps even worse, since I had no idea where to go from here and no local knowledge at all. I had nothing.

I sat on those steps for a long time that afternoon, watching the Indian world go by. It was Good Friday and I could smell sweet hot cross buns cooking somewhere. I felt so hungry and alone. I wondered if my buddy had heard me when I yelled at him from the train and I wondered how long it would take him to reach Mumbai with no money or passport… or if he even could.

What I didn’t know at that time, as I sat there, was that my buddy had jumped another train and made his way to Kala station where he had yelled to me that he would wait for me. Huddled somewhere in the station there, hundreds of kilometers south, he was making his own plans to survive and had decided to give me 3 days to arrive to him.

So, there I sat, all day and all night, waiting on those stone steps of the Mumbai GPO; my only hope was to stay there and believe my buddy would eventually turn up. I got to know the local beggars and touts who worked the street outside and a few of the workers and regulars to the post office. At night I could hardly sleep, though the beggars told me the best ways and where to sleep to avoid the huge rats that prowled and scavenged the streets each night. Some kindhearted travelers helped me with bits of food, but I never took anyone’s money, nor did I ever ask or expect it.

In the end, I waited on those steps for 5 days. Then, suddenly, just before sunset, my buddy finally arrived! He’d waited the full 3 days for me, and then figured that I wasn’t coming so spent the next 2 days dodging inspectors, hopping from different trains to get to Mumbai as fast as he could.

Needless to say that we both needed to get a good feed as soon as we could get our money, and now we had our passports, we got ourselves a decent room to wash and sleep.

________________________________________________________________________

Faith and Hope can sometimes do amazing things.

Have a great day :)

 

 

 Share

0 Comments


Recommended Comments

"When all around becomes so dark, we cannot see, even ourselves.

In darkness, it's so easy to stop seeing the light and all the beautiful things in our partner; all the wonderful reasons we came together and loved and admired each other in the first place.

When things become so dark, we get scared and we feel alone. This is natural. Even when we reach out our hand for each other, we cannot see and it is easy to miss and pass right by. And then we fear that the other is not there for us.

In fear, we cannot see or hear clearly or properly. Our sight, hearing and senses are too narrowed and not wide as normal. This is how humans are.

In a sea of darkness it is easy to float and drift away from each other as we panic and try to deal with our own fears and our own survival. In this way, it is so easy to begin to believe that the one we love and depend on most to be there by our side... the one we trust so much to be there for us when we need them most... has left us forever.

In darkness, the only things which can keep us together is the faith and trust is our partners love and commitment that, one day, they will find their way back.

In the meantime, all we can do is shine our own light as bright as we can."

__________________________________________________________

A story.

Many years ago, I cycled with my best friend up the west coast of India in a journey and adventure that started in Trevandrum, in the southern tip of India, all the way to Mumbai. From there, we left our bicycles behind and journeyed further north, all the way to the foothills of the Himalayas.

During this epic journey, one morning just before dawn, we somehow lost each other in the middle of nowhere in the south. It was duringn a short train trip we took to visit the famous Kala Caves (the location of the movie "A Passage to India").

It was a silly, small mistake with dire consequences. When we arrived at Kala at 4am, our bicycles were still in the baggage carriage at the front of the train. We ran long the platform from out sleeper carriage at the back of the train to unload our bicycles. But, we did not realise that, due to an error on the paperwork on the bikes (our error), the baggage handler refused to release then to us. During the argument that followed, the train began to pull away, and all we could do was jump back on and hope we could sort it out at the next stop.

We found ourselves standing in an over crowded 3rd class carriage filled with sleeping bodies, crying children, filth and old newspaper and rubbish everywhere. 

Twenty minutes later the train pulled in to the next station, in the middle of nowhere, 400km south of Mumbai. We again tried to reason with the baggage handlers to release our bikes, but they refused because of the paperwork. No matter what we tried they insisted the bikes must go to Mumbai and that we should take the matter up with authorities there. 

Frustrated, tired and confused, we did not know what to do. In the end, we decided to try one more time at the next stop. Suddenly, my buddy decided to make a run to go back to out sleeper carriage, some 100 meters down the platform. I decided to stay where I was, next to the baggage carriage.

As the train pulled away, I could hear a lot of noise and commotion outside. People were waking up and looking out the window cheering and laughing. I looked out the door and saw my buddy running as fast as he could along the platform, trying to keep up with the increasing speed of the train. He was grabbing at every door handle he could, desperately trying to open one so he could jump on the train. I yelled at him, along with everyone else, hoping he would make it. But try as he could, all his efforts were in vain; all the door were locked on the inside.

Finally, he ran out of platform and I watched him fall to his knees and throw up from the exertion. At the last minute I screamed at him: “I will see you in Mumbia!”. And he looked up and screamed back: “I will see you at Kala!”

Neither of us knew at that time that neither of us heard the other.

I stood there in the crowd of that 3rd class carriage, zooming along into the morning light, surrounded by smiling all the smiling locals. I wondered what would happen next. I looked at what I had and I then saw I had even more trouble ahead. In the confusion, we had taken each others’ bags by mistake, so he had my passport and I had his. He had all the cash, and I had none. He had the paperwork for the bikes, I had no paperwork at all, not even the tickets. Everything was swapped. I crouched on the floor and held my head and wondered what to do.

Later that day, I arrived at Victoria Station in Mumbai; a massive British-built building, looking rather like St Paul’s cathedral, with its imposing dome on top; proudly standing in the middle of this bloated city of bustle and insanity. With some smooth talking, and a little polite begging, I was let out of the station and onto the street. No money, no passport, nothing but the clothes on my back. And I knew that my buddy would be in the same situation wherever he was.

Next to Victoria Station is the main Mumbai GPO post office. When I walked past, I had an idea. When we left Sydney to fly to India, my buddy had forgotten to bring his credit card (I didn’t have one) and he wanted it for emergencies. He’d mentioned that he would perhaps get his girlfriend to mail it to him via the Post Restante service. I figured it would be worth a try, even though a long shot idea, to see if she had mailed it to Mumbai.

I went inside and asked and, sure enough, they had a letter address to my buddy. They wouldn’t give it to me to see what it was, but at least I knew it was there. Now I knew that the only chance I had of seeing my buddy again and getting out of this situation was if he could make his way to Mumbai to collect his letter from his girlfriend.

Standing outside on the huge steps of the G.P.O. I looked out at a the millions of people, cars, bicycles, carts, dogs, buses, stalls and everything all swirling in a mass that makes up Mumbai. Imagine the busiest area of Bangkok, then increase everything there by at least a hundred and you will have some idea of the immensity of this city. Suddenly, I felt so small and completely insignificant against it all. Suddenly I was no better off than the lowest beggar on the street; perhaps even worse, since I had no idea where to go from here and no local knowledge at all. I had nothing.

I sat on those steps for a long time that afternoon, watching the Indian world go by. It was Good Friday and I could smell sweet hot cross buns cooking somewhere. I felt so hungry and alone. I wondered if my buddy had heard me when I yelled at him from the train and I wondered how long it would take him to reach Mumbai with no money or passport… or if he even could.

What I didn’t know at that time, as I sat there, was that my buddy had jumped another train and made his way to Kala station where he had yelled to me that he would wait for me. Huddled somewhere in the station there, hundreds of kilometers south, he was making his own plans to survive and had decided to give me 3 days to arrive to him.

So, there I sat, all day and all night, waiting on those stone steps of the Mumbai GPO; my only hope was to stay there and believe my buddy would eventually turn up. I got to know the local beggars and touts who worked the street outside and a few of the workers and regulars to the post office. At night I could hardly sleep, though the beggars told me the best ways and where to sleep to avoid the huge rats that prowled and scavenged the streets each night. Some kindhearted travelers helped me with bits of food, but I never took anyone’s money, nor did I ever ask or expect it.

In the end, I waited on those steps for 5 days. Then, suddenly, just before sunset, my buddy finally arrived! He’d waited the full 3 days for me, and then figured that I wasn’t coming so spent the next 2 days dodging inspectors, hopping from different trains to get to Mumbai as fast as he could.

Needless to say that we both needed to get a good feed as soon as we could get our money, and now we had our passports, we got ourselves a decent room to wash and sleep.

________________________________________________________________________

Faith and Hope can sometimes do amazing things.

Have a great day :)

 

 

Link to comment

Please sign in to comment

You will be able to leave a comment after signing in



Sign In Now
×
×
  • Create New...