Sometimes there is only one millimeter, a second, or an act of grace that separates you from danger in India. Landslides, mountain roads teetering on the edge of abyss, drugged truck drivers, dangerous ferryboats, contaminated water, and all manner of lethal creepy crawlies threaten. But risk you do to get to the beauty of it all…
(I can still hear my mother’s exclamations on one dangerous mountain road. They advanced from “Jesus” to “Jesus, Mary and Joseph” to “Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Ganesh”. I think she would have added “Mohammed” had the drive not ended.)
I took the kids on one last big India adventure last month. We traveled through the states of Meghalaya and Assam. This is the area on the other side of the thin neck of India in the northeast. Meghalaya borders Bangladesh and Assam sits close to Burma and China.
Our travels included overnights in primitive villages as well as luxurious tea estates. My children barely noticed the difference even though not much as changed in a century in some Indian villages. People cook over open fires, water flows from iron hand pumps and sunrise and sunset bookend a day.
We read by candlelight at bedtime; George and Eddie ran freely and played soccer with the local children; we ate duck eggs for breakfast and watched a chicken meet its fate for our lunch table.
The pictures tell the rest and confirm that we made it safely through mountain and jungle and over river and range:
For readers of my last post: Italy has returned the sailors to India…
And I am heading to Rome this week to look for an apartment and to check out the schools. How can it be that four years ago I did the same here in Delhi?