It was only during the last 10 minutes in Varanasi that I truly understood (and enjoyed) the city.
I had bought a bag from a small shop in one of the alleyways near my hotel. After a day's walking around the city, when I got back to the hotel to pick up my bigger bag I found that the outer layer of the bag I had just bought had been torn and the inner lining was poking out from the bottom.
I had an hour and a half before my train was due to depart from Varanasi to Delhi, so I had enough time to go back to the shop and complain about the bag.
The shop owner had shoulder-length hair and spoke in a slow, relaxed, calm way. I tried my best to stay calm as I pointed furiously at the gaping hole in my bag. Gently he took the bag from me and agreed to fix it.
He gestured for me to come into his shop (more like an extended cupboard in the wall) and I sat and waited.
A few minutes later a little girl walked up to the front of the shop. She had a very cute face and looked a lot like the girl that had sold me the body paints when I was waiting for the fire ceremony on the Ganges. Her English was also excellent.
'Do you want to buy my postcards', she asked.
'No thanks', I said automatically. She tried a little harder but in the end gave up and sat down next to me. After I asked her what she did with the money she earned, she told me that she gives it to her mother to pay for her school.
We kept talking and as we spoke more and more I felt like giving her the entire contents of my bag.
As I said before, she reminded me of the girl who sold me the paints by the river. I was determined to give this little girl in front of me as much confidence as I could so that she could go through the rest of her life believing in herself. I made sure compliment her on her language ability and her humour, which she made note of.
'You came to my shop very angry', the shop keeper told me. He continued to talk to me in a very relax, calm way. It was then that I realised I had come to Varanasi with completely the wrong mentality. I had come with the 'Delhi-city' mentality. The one where you have to constantly watch your back in case someone was about to put a knife into it (not literally). I had come to Varanasi very high strung and worked up about nothing.
'Life is easier than this', I thought to myself. Instantly I relaxed.
The little girl had edged closer to me and was leaning her little left arm on my leg. I got out my passport so that she could flick through it. As I looked closer I realised that she had a very small twig in her nose. I asked her about it and she told me it was because jewellery (and nail polish) were not allowed at her school.
A while later a tall, pale skinned man came to the shop, looking for the shop owner. He gave the little girl and me high fives then what followed was a few minutes of hilarious banter between the man and the little girl, covering topics like basketball and school. I was amazed at her incredible wit, at such a young age.
The tall man kept saying 'yalla' and 'habibi' but I didn't really register what he was saying until he was about to leave.
'You speak Arabic?' I asked. He told me he was Lebanese.
It's been only 3 weeks that I haven't been in a completely Arabic-speaking environment but it was a shock to the system to jump right into Arabic again. He told me he was in Varanasi for a month, waiting for his friend to make him a tatoo. He was also as laid-back and relaxed as the shop owner and I began to realise that this was the predominant attitude in Varanasi. Then I began to notice that everyone in Varanasi was actually a lot more gentle and easy-going than Delhi.
Suddenly, the skies above us turned grey. A huge monsoon storm was about to hit the city. My bag was fixed so I said goodbye to the Lebanese man, shop owner and sweet little girl. Before I left I bought a postcard from her then held her shoulders in my hands, looked into her eyes and told her she was very intelligent and that she had to go to school and learn lots of things. She agreed and smiled. The Lebanese man high-fived me and I made my way to the train station, with a completely new appreciation and understanding of the city.
As I walked the road to the rickshaw station, the sky grew darker and darker. Suddenly, a roar of thunder resonated across the skies and the skies opened. I never knew a road in India could be cleared so fast but almost instantly people, rickshaws and animals ran for cover under the shop roofs. I had no choice but to run in the rain, otherwise I'd miss my train to Delhi and who knew when I'd get back if I did.
With my green scarf over my head, I ran down the street. After a few attempts I found a rickshaw. He overcharged me ridiculously, considering there were five people in the rickshaw, but I didn't care. I just needed to get to the train station.
I was lodged under his left armpit, another boy similarly lodged under his right and three people and their luggage were squeezed into the back. The storm was getting stronger and stronger and each time the lightening struck the sky , the sky was completely lit up.
Thankfully we got to the station in time, I found my bed and slept until Delhi.
I had bought a bag from a small shop in one of the alleyways near my hotel. After a day's walking around the city, when I got back to the hotel to pick up my bigger bag I found that the outer layer of the bag I had just bought had been torn and the inner lining was poking out from the bottom.
I had an hour and a half before my train was due to depart from Varanasi to Delhi, so I had enough time to go back to the shop and complain about the bag.
The shop owner had shoulder-length hair and spoke in a slow, relaxed, calm way. I tried my best to stay calm as I pointed furiously at the gaping hole in my bag. Gently he took the bag from me and agreed to fix it.
He gestured for me to come into his shop (more like an extended cupboard in the wall) and I sat and waited.
A few minutes later a little girl walked up to the front of the shop. She had a very cute face and looked a lot like the girl that had sold me the body paints when I was waiting for the fire ceremony on the Ganges. Her English was also excellent.
'Do you want to buy my postcards', she asked.
'No thanks', I said automatically. She tried a little harder but in the end gave up and sat down next to me. After I asked her what she did with the money she earned, she told me that she gives it to her mother to pay for her school.
We kept talking and as we spoke more and more I felt like giving her the entire contents of my bag.
As I said before, she reminded me of the girl who sold me the paints by the river. I was determined to give this little girl in front of me as much confidence as I could so that she could go through the rest of her life believing in herself. I made sure compliment her on her language ability and her humour, which she made note of.
'You came to my shop very angry', the shop keeper told me. He continued to talk to me in a very relax, calm way. It was then that I realised I had come to Varanasi with completely the wrong mentality. I had come with the 'Delhi-city' mentality. The one where you have to constantly watch your back in case someone was about to put a knife into it (not literally). I had come to Varanasi very high strung and worked up about nothing.
'Life is easier than this', I thought to myself. Instantly I relaxed.
The little girl had edged closer to me and was leaning her little left arm on my leg. I got out my passport so that she could flick through it. As I looked closer I realised that she had a very small twig in her nose. I asked her about it and she told me it was because jewellery (and nail polish) were not allowed at her school.
A while later a tall, pale skinned man came to the shop, looking for the shop owner. He gave the little girl and me high fives then what followed was a few minutes of hilarious banter between the man and the little girl, covering topics like basketball and school. I was amazed at her incredible wit, at such a young age.
The tall man kept saying 'yalla' and 'habibi' but I didn't really register what he was saying until he was about to leave.
'You speak Arabic?' I asked. He told me he was Lebanese.
It's been only 3 weeks that I haven't been in a completely Arabic-speaking environment but it was a shock to the system to jump right into Arabic again. He told me he was in Varanasi for a month, waiting for his friend to make him a tatoo. He was also as laid-back and relaxed as the shop owner and I began to realise that this was the predominant attitude in Varanasi. Then I began to notice that everyone in Varanasi was actually a lot more gentle and easy-going than Delhi.
Suddenly, the skies above us turned grey. A huge monsoon storm was about to hit the city. My bag was fixed so I said goodbye to the Lebanese man, shop owner and sweet little girl. Before I left I bought a postcard from her then held her shoulders in my hands, looked into her eyes and told her she was very intelligent and that she had to go to school and learn lots of things. She agreed and smiled. The Lebanese man high-fived me and I made my way to the train station, with a completely new appreciation and understanding of the city.
As I walked the road to the rickshaw station, the sky grew darker and darker. Suddenly, a roar of thunder resonated across the skies and the skies opened. I never knew a road in India could be cleared so fast but almost instantly people, rickshaws and animals ran for cover under the shop roofs. I had no choice but to run in the rain, otherwise I'd miss my train to Delhi and who knew when I'd get back if I did.
With my green scarf over my head, I ran down the street. After a few attempts I found a rickshaw. He overcharged me ridiculously, considering there were five people in the rickshaw, but I didn't care. I just needed to get to the train station.
I was lodged under his left armpit, another boy similarly lodged under his right and three people and their luggage were squeezed into the back. The storm was getting stronger and stronger and each time the lightening struck the sky , the sky was completely lit up.
Thankfully we got to the station in time, I found my bed and slept until Delhi.
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