A Day in India

Take a minute to start this story, this day has given me a few things that I want to share with You.

My life has been unfolding naturally the last two weeks. After two days down a blackhole I decided to just let go and let it unfold. That was the moment it all fell into place and synchronicity took hold. I felt it, just admit: at the very deepest level your life is not in your hands. It is in God's hands. Offer yourself up.

I had always promised myself to keep a journal. All the travel I have done, all these places I had meant to remember with words. I wrote for the first years of my journey, but somewhere along the way I learned to live in the moment and I had never read what I had written, so I stopped writing. Year after year passed without as much as a single entry and by now its been about 10 years since I’ve written a journal. There was so much magic here that I had to write it down and one day look back, better late than never.

I had planned to stay in Delhi only a few days. Dusty, dirty crazy concrete jungle it grew on me and I couldn’t leave.The city had weaved its way into my life, events just flowed into each other like kinetic waves of energy. I was up that morning at 7. A few nights before a friend I met up north had left his Enfield and flew back to the States, so I now have a 350cc Enfield to rip around on. Thanks Jeff for the bike, you’re amazing and I will take good care of her.

The streets are wild. Something brought you here. Something inside is delighted. Cows and crowds, rickshaws and everything else you can imagine, you just need to dodge everything coming at you. Just when you think you’ve seen everything, along comes something that you can’t quite understand and you have to stop and stare. Like a holy cow. Like a two foot tall man with Polio that writes with his feet. I see this man mesmerized, beautiful, brave heart of a lion. I park the bike and I’m watching dazed as he writes his name and phone number. A crowd had gathered within 10 seconds, a white man sitting on the ground with a guy with Polio is enough to gather a crowd. As I’m watching I realize how hard it is for this man to ask for money, he’s dependent on people seeing him first. I grab his cup and I put in 100 Rupees then I walk around the crowd. Please give, just a little. Everyone gives something. 10 Rupees, which is about 15 euro cents… then 20. A guy from Chile gives 100, a Nowegian another 100. A Brit tells me to shove it. But I realized that 9 out of 10 Indians would give, and well, the foreigners couldn’t hand out 10-15 cents as easy. After about 30 min I had raised nearly 1,500 Rupees. It was kinda fun, and he told me it would have taken him about two weeks to make that money. I’m blessed with feet, hands and ability, everyone can do something. Theres an old saying, no man can do everything, but everyone can do something. We talk for awhile, he’s from Bihar, I learn a few things about his family. At night he sleeps in a Rickshaw and has about $40 dollars to his name.

We played cricket in the morning on this tiny concrete field and now Franzi and I are rolling around on this bike just exploring the backstreets. We see a snake charmer with a yellow turban using his cobra to steal 500 Rupees from an unsuspecting university couple. He sees us and walks off. We drive south, all eyes on us. When you’re white in India you have celebrity status. At every corner people stop and stare at the foreigner driving. Since I have been in Delhi I haven’t seen one white face on a motorbike.

We see this giant monkey temple, a massive Hunuman Hindu Diety, so we drop in for a quick prayer. I’ve been praying a lot lately. It sounds kinda funny, prayer, but I realized the last few days (again) that prayer is not the tool of old people afraid of dying. Its a direct and powerful connection to your true self, a meditation, a spiritual break, a nourishment. I pray as a Hindu, Buddhist, Muslim or whatever way comes in the moment, its all the same. A direct connection to the source of all energy, whatever that may be for you. A quick duck into the giant monkey temple, give thanks and love to all the hindu Diety Hunuman and keep driving. It’s not my first time here.

We need to get down to this place called Karol Bagh. It’s pretty much a one stop shop for motorbikes in Delhi. I’m taking this beautiful bike on another long journey of India, a nonstop addictive adrenaline rush. I need to tune her up, put some oil in her and hopefully I be on the road by lunchtime. Max just left for Nepal and I have a few days before we’re supposed to meet up in Varanasi, so ya, a slight rush but all good… theres time.

We get to the mechanic and it’s full service for 1000 Rupees, about $14 bucks. Drop off the bike and the owner invites us for tea. Two more Enfields pull in and these guys are dusty, caked with dirt from the high mountains. Very cool, we sit and chat for half an hour. Another bike pulls up, this guy clean from France ready after a year in India. We all get on well, and funny enough we’re all going in the same direction. I got riding partners… ok, we go together tomorrow. Plans change.

So we rip back down to Pahar Ganj. Funny thing about this place, sometimes I love it, and sometimes I can’t wait to leave. This time its blessed me endlessly. I’ve met more spiritual people here in the last two days than I would two months living in Europe. To be fair, I’m also a different person in India. Here I’m open mind and heart, in Europe I just try to stay out of the rain. There are some good places, Rome, Berlin, Barcelona… but the winter winds are cold. Give me the Indian sun.

I get back to Pahar Ganj, drop Franzi off and bump into this friend that I had met 2 months ago when I first arrived. We chatted a bit, she’s gotta eat, I’m also hungry and we go to the rooftop restaurant. We walk in on this group of people from all over the world, Nigeria, Colombia, Chile, Germany, US, Palestine, Israel, all good people, sit down at their table and chat about life. They’re part of an NGO for leadership building and the talk is good, enriching. Spirituality and the world, good combo. One guy in particular I connected with on the way out the door, a Nigerian called Opas, so ya, lets meet up around 10 tonight, same place. Go through the trivialities of changing contacts and if we make it, we make it. It’s India, nothing is ever a solid plan.

Head back out to pick up Franzi and we just cruise the highways of Delhi. Tons of traffic, its intense. But after endless people we get to an upscale mall and we walk in for a coffee somewhere. I’m pretty toasted, but as we walk into this exclusive wealthy shopping mall we move out of the third world and into the first. First thing, clean off the inch of dust from my face. Check. We’re both hungry and we see this Benihanna restaurant. I remember this place from when I was a kid, they have this crazy acrobatic slice and dice dance before they serve. We walk in, just wanting to check it out before they open and the managers Diljeet and Anshand pull us aside to say hello. White people have such privilege in the country, everywhere you go you’re treated with high status. We laugh with him and his staff and they tour their five star restaurant, meet everyone in the resturaunt and they invite us for drinks. Drinks turn into a 6 course meal and a long talk about life touching on so many subjects. I thought I had understand alot about life in Dehli, just when you thought you understand this place, you realize you don’t have a clue. Get this, a professional Indian, highly educated, fluent english speaker with 10 years managerial skills… I ask him after expenses, how much do you save? YOU READING THIS, CAN YOU GUESS? I was thinking, maybe he saves anywhere around $800-$1000 dollars. Nope, 6000 Rupees! or $100 dollars. In 2013, the Benihana restaurant mega chain sales increased 9.5% to $390.2 million. Benihana, I speak direct to the universe aimed at you, can give this guy a better wage? Be good to your people, especially the great ones like him.

We talk for two hours straight, this amazing exploration of cultures and life… everything from his arranged wedding, to his parents just making a religious pilmagrage and it was his duty as a good son to finance the trip… the conversation flows within the human expression of consciousness, let it be. It has been given the room to express itself, and at the end, we had somewhat expected to pay at least something for this incredible feast, which probably costs the salary of an average Indian for a month… no… they didn’t want one single Rupee. We tell them to get some bikes and invite them Varanasi or Bodgaya in a months time. They give us their word they will.

We are walking out the door and Anshad calls us back in. There’s a party of 40 people in the corner and they saw us and wanted us to join them. We come back in and say hello, its a 50th wedding anniversary of a wealthy family and they would like for us to be their guest. Amazing india. After a few toasts, drinks and pictures and exchange of ideas we say our good byes and we’re back on the bike. Literally walking back in an instant into the third world. Three hours have passed effortlessly and now the streets have gone more calm.

Have you been to Old Delhi? It’s an ancient site, and about a 10km stretch back but at this time of night all of Delhi is like a drag race. I got the bike up to about 80km/hour through city streets. We arrive back in Old Delhi. We roll around the Muslim quarter, heavy congested with people but somehow making perfect sense. You can see everything here, and again we walk into a wealthy wedding celebration, check it out and go and explore the crazy maze of these ancient streets. There’s one dark alley down from the main drag, 10 meters from the wealthy shop is a side street full of heroine addicts shooting dirty. Really its that crazy. We roll around these streets, we have some time to kill before we meet the Nigerian. We see a typical muslim Indian home and they invite us in, have a tea. We walk past a sweatshop (it really is a sweatshop) where they make clothing for export, these boys are around 14 and make about a dollar and a half per day. You can see a lot in 30min if you follow your intuition.

The streets have gone a bit mad by 8, its Krisna’s birthday day after tomorrow. A Carnival - Burning Man event has taken over Pahar Ganj, full of music and free food. Full on. I can’t even really say much about this, it’s an entire story unfolding unto itself in a book. I could write about the smells, the food, the flavors the people. I could go on for awhile, but I’m getting tired so I will leave it be, only to say its sheer madness. By 10 we’re back in that rooftop restaurant and trying to decompress. We meet up with this Israeli named David from earlier and a Nigerian called Opas, chat a bit about life in our countries. Israel seems stressed, Nigeria seems pretty good. I’ll visit you guys one day. Opas gets a text message and theres a party held by a few Americans at a club down the road at Connaught Place. Cool, we hop three on the bike and we get there in five minutes flat.

Those of you who are expecting wild nightlife in Delhi, guess again. You walk in there and, as always, you get groups of guys shaking it with each other. There are only men, a pervasive macho atmosphere and its upscale Indian style. It gets more uptight as me move into the American private VIP room in the back. Ten Americans just kinda hanging out trying to make conversation, half on their phones. We walk in and immediately one of the girls ask Opas to take me aside and ask me to leave. Invited guests only, you can’t come to my party. Sure, I didn’t want to be here anyway. We head down the stairs back onto the streets and here is where the story really unfolds, here is why I am up, 3am writing for the first time in years. We step out of this posh glamorous Delhi bar and back and the street and the first thing we see are three children with a birthday cake, “Sir, please have a piece.” I like cake, and it’s pretty good, leftovers from a rich children’s party…. yum. They give freely. The poor give more because they know what its like to be poor, they share. Here was the deepest lesson of the day… all day long Indians have welcomed me to their country with boundless hospitality and brotherly love, while the Americans, guests in this great nation, wouldn’t even let me in the door because I’m not part of the VIP group. People from my own country, shut me down. Thank you India, you have showered me with life lessons, giving and giving until I’m full and cannot possibly take one more beautiful gift. And then you give more.

A dear friend of mine told me a few weeks ago that it’s been hard to be with me lately because I’ve been bored with the world… Europe, US, and even Thailand… Before India, I had fell into a pattern of staying home, being a bit anti-social and not wanting to explore. And its true, I was afraid to be disappointed. Thailand is good for meeting people for pointless fun, something that I’m not even looking for anymore. India is good for meeting people who can teach you about yourself and your true potential. When I come back to India, all day people and experience flow into my life. Once you realize the true need of your soul you can feed it any form, any experience. Water has no shape, its nature is to flow. If you put water in a glass it will take the shape of the glass. It is the same with consciousness, which is subtler than water. It has no form, but it takes the form of whatever concept it identifies with. Once you decide what direction you point, you lay a compass and nourish your soul and life is easy.

I almost never take pictures but I will put a few here. If you haven’t been to India and you’re reading this, you may not believe all this can happen in a day. Those who have touched this miraculous country will understand.